The Narcissist Ballet

The narcissist always has a force of flying monkeys at her disposal. They are always ready to do her bidding. Many are willing victims and others are deceived and have no idea the role they play in the narcissist's life. I am dismayed at the knowledge that even I have been a flying monkey. They are artfully and skillfully manipulated by the Narcissist.

If I were a dancer I would create a ballet about this delicate dance of doom. I wanted to dance when I was young. I brought home ballet books and when my MNM was not around I would practice the difficult foot positions and imagine myself dancing for crowds of adoring fans. There was something so pretty and beautiful in this dance. It was the stuff of fairy tales for me. My mother said she sent me to tap dance lessons and I cried and had no talent so she never sent me again. She said if I had wanted to dance I would have danced when I had the opportunity to do so. I guess it never occurred to her that maybe at four year of age I may not have been ready. My sister was the one who got the dancing lessons and she suffered horribly as the favoured daughter. I would not have wanted to dance in her shoes.

My ballet would have me, as the heroine; dressed in white. I would be on the stage, a wisp of being, very ethereal and delicate. I would be running hither and thither trying to escape the flying monkeys and my evil mother. The monkeys would be a dark grey and would have green faces. They would have big scary wings that they would flap at me and I would be scared and run and jump away from them. I would hide my face with my arm to protect myself from their onslaughts. I would look over my shoulder in fear.

My MNM would have a mask. One side would be beautiful and it would be the side that she would show to the flying monkeys. They would love her, pity her, help her, believe her, and adore her. What a beautiful woman she is, and that is how the narcissist gets her victims. I would see the ugly, green, jealous, envious, evil side of her face. The true face. The scapegoat child, me; always sees the truth and becomes the truth teller if they survive. She turns to me in her macabre dance and you can see her mouth moving to spew out words of hate and destruction. Her fingers are pointed in bony accusations towards me. Her dress black and tattered with decay.

She then spins and pirouttes towards her monkeys and swoops with and adoring arms wide open welcome. They dance a celebratory dance in their mutual admiration for one another. I run all over the stage looking for escape as I watch in mute silence, knowing what will happen.

The flying monkeys and my MNM nod and laugh in agreement and move in on my. I am tossed like a ship in the sea, and I flounder trying to get away. My evil MNM is directing them, arms waving madly in the arm, swooping her and there, commanding her army. The monkeys spin faster and faster. Their arms stretched out they knock me from side to side. Their legs come up as they pirouette faster and faster, arms and legs flying.

I dance faster and faster. The fear is in my face and I know my fate. I am caught by the leg of one of the monkeys and fall crashing to the ground still and silent. Crumpled, broken, and dead.

Soul murder. You can only withstand the onslaught of such evil for so long. When you are attacked from all sides and there is no way to escape you will fall. When you are so ripped apart and you have nothing with which to compare the truth, you believe the lies.

"You deserve to die."
"You don't deserve to live."
"Why don't you kill yourself."
"You'd be better off dead."
"You useless piece of s***. You'd be better off if you were out of all our miseries."
"Tell me why I should let you live."
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."
"You're a coward and suicide is the cowards way out. Why don't you try it?"
"It would be better that you killed yourself before I do it for you."
"Why do you want to live? You aren't good for anything."
"Do you know how much I hate you and want you dead?"

The first time I can recall trying to take my life I was about 12 years old. I ended up in the hospital for about 2 weeks. I drank almost an entire gallon jug of vinegar. It said pure alcohol on the side and I heard my mother talking about people dying from drinking alcohol. It didn't work. I gave myself a case of pancreatitis which puzzled the doctors. I was too young. I didn't dare tell them why.

When I was about 13 I tried to hang myself. It didn't work. I told my stepfather and he told me not to do that again. No help from the flying monkey. Not even a bit of concern.

When I was thirteen I drove a big rusty nail through my hand hoping to get tetanus and die. We took it in health and I learned about it. I didn't die. Didn't even get infected.

Stupid things. Desperate things. I made more attempts, the most serious when I was 17, and the last one when I was 39. I fight suicidal thoughts all the time.

I will dance a new dance now to my God. The old dance is no longer who I am.

Psalm 30:11  You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
12 that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
Lord my God, I will praise you forever.

I am thankful that I now know my worth as well. This is what the Bible tells me I am worth:

Matthew 10:29-31 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.
But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.
Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.

Isaiah 13:12 I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a man than the golden wedge of Ophir.

I Don't Like the Dark

Evil grows in the dark
Where the sun it never shines
Evil grows in cracks and holes
And lives in people's minds
-Poppy Family

I don’t like the dark. I don’t think I am afraid of the dark, I just don’t like the dark. Bad things happen in the dark. My mother’s mind is dark. It is shrowded and covered in the mystery that is her, and nothing will penetrate that darkness. Not even love that conquer even the hardest hearts. She keeps who she is closely guarded and will not let anyone in to see who she is besides evil. She tells this person this much, and that person that much, and much of the much is lies. Dark is evil.

My MNM did bad things in the dark. When I was about 6 years old we moved into a house that had a cellar. A dark, damp, decaying, that smelled like decay and damp earth. I think it would smell like that if you were buried alive. There were big spiders under the stairs and in the corners. There were some wet spots where water dripped and they held salamanders. One little light with a pull chain barely lit this dark place.

Somehow or other, in my MNM’s brain, she decided this was a good way to punish me. To place me in the cellar and drop the trap door on my head and fingers as I tried to claw my way out. I could scream as loud as I could, until I had no more voice; and no one would hear me. I would cry until I had no more tears and no more voice. I even fell asleep sometimes. I don’t know how long I spent down there. Then one day I realized I could turn on the light. I would hear the footsteps across the floor and know when she was coming and turn it off again.  What a small relief! At least I could see where the spiders and salamanders were and keep my eyes on them. It was no less frightening.

One day I was tricked. I guess perhaps I hadn’t been screaming or crying enough so she tiptoed to the cellar door and pulled it open and caught me red-handed. That day the light bulb was removed. I hated the cellar, I hated the dark, I hated the person who put me there, I hated myself for being unlovable, and I hated God for making me. Yet I prayed to him to make me loveable and to make me good.

On this same property we had some outbuildings. One was a coal shed where the coal for our stove was delivered. If you have never experienced coal, well; it is very dusty and it is very black. Dark. The dust is everywhere and the smallest breeze stirs it up. One of my MNM’s gleeful punishments was to place me in the coal shed and tell me to stand there. It was always in the summer and I only remember it being done when I had my white socks and black patent shoes on. Prairie summers can be oppressive and in a coal shed with one closed window, it was sweltering. I would be told to stand there and not get dirty, that if there was any coal on my socks I would be in so much trouble. I would stand there for what felt to be an eternity. I don’t know sometimes if it was 5 minutes or five hours. Little kids fidget. Gosh, adults even fidget if they are hot and have to stand in place. But I couldn’t even shift my feet because of the dust that would come up. Black, dark, dust. I hate coal and the blackness, and the dark.

Bedtimes. Again the dark. I slept in a bed with two brothers. I’d be sent to bed and be told not to make a sound and go to sleep. She’s always hear something. Sometimes she really did, but many times she imagined it. Those times were really hard for my punishment wasn’t justified. I really disliked bedtimes for a number of reasons. This one was plain crazy. I’d have to sleep on the chair. If I didn’t want to sleep in bed I’d have to sleep on the chair. That was the reasoning. You see, if I wanted to sleep in bed, I would have gone to sleep and not talked, therefore I didn’t want to sleep in bed. I would get so cold on the chair as the coal in the stove would burn down. I would itch. Sometimes I fell asleep and then sometimes I fell off when I fell asleep. I’d cry and only get yelled at. “Maybe next time when I say go to sleep you’ll listen. You have yourself to thank for this!” I don’t know how many times my head cracked the floor and it really hurt. I learned not to cry because then she tied me into the chair with a large tea towel. That was horrible because I could move around, or fidget to well, or scratch places that itched. The nights were so very long, and dark. I really don’t like the dark.

So much more happened in the dark and many things happened that we were told to keep in the dark. Don’t talk, don’t tell, don’t remember, don’t bring me shame, don’t embarrass me, don’t make me beat you…..just don’t. Don’ t live, don’t think, don’t care, don’t feel, don’t love, don’t hate….why don’t you just stop existing.

I know that it wasn’t me now, and yet that doesn’t make the damage to my mind and my body go away. I understand, I get it; but it doesn’t make me better. I am angry and I want to cry and cry and cry. I spin in circles and don’t know which way to go or what to do. I want to hurt my MNM and I want to help her. I want her to suffer and I want to save her. I am double minded and tortured. I want to rage, but at who? My MNM doesn’t even get that she has done anything wrong and will make me the crazy person. God? What does he have to do with this except to hold me close to his heart. My life is my gold that God will use to help others. If I let him. Of course I am. Something good must come out of this because I do not want my entire life to be nothing but sadness.

My MNM wants to keep her secrets and she wants me to keep her secrets and others don’t want me to tell my story, but God is compelling me tell it. I heard him very clearly one day tell me that I had buried my gold and I must dig it up and use it. My life is my gold and God and I, with his help; will use it for good.

Genesis 50:20 You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.

Ghostly memories

For three days I have been troubled I have been tortured by not knowing. In front of me things are clear, but my past, which I thought was clear; is now shrouded in foggy shadows. Foggy indistinct shadows, silent, or with unintelligible whispers. It's like a scene from the Twilight Zones. Who are these people and what are they doing in my head. What are they saying and why can't I make it out or see them?

For years I prided myself on my memory. My siblings had great lapses in theirs and I could proudly fill it in for them. I thought I had it all. I was the eldest, the scapegoat, and the story teller. The truth teller. It didn't matter that I don't remember being eight. I don't even like the number of 8. It reminds me of orange and I don't like the color orange either. Strange connections and perhaps they are clues to the shadows in my mind.

In the wonderful blog Sanctuary for the Abused, she writes:

Almost all Victims report impaired memory; this may be partly due to suppressing horrific memories, and partly due to damage to the hippocampus, an area of the brain linked to learning and memory.

Not only do I have that, but every single item on the page. Our abuse was severe, prolonged, horrific, and it changed all of us as human beings. I often wonder who I might have been had I not had this to deal with.

So, how did this happen. Well my MNM was on the phone with and quite skillfully and insidiously eroded my defenses until I was a quivering ball of clay in her hands, to do with what she wanted. What I had forgotten was that I had God on MY side. He is my potter and I am his clay. He reclaimed me and I was able to pull back and end the conversation. Wow! That was close! In the meantime I was crying like I hadn't since I was a child. Deep wracking sobs that came from some wear deep, dark, and hidden. I could almost hear the echoes of years of hidden sobs. I was shocked and unprepared.

While I was crying I saw people in my sobs. Shadowy figures. I could reach out and almost touch them. I could hear psst, psst sounds of their speaking and the whispery words disappeared like vapor. They were familiar, but I didn't know them. Who were they? And I became distresses. More and more distressed. Who are these people in my head. My heart pounded and raced. Who are you? It seems I was invisible to them.

I visited with my counselor on Thursday and told her about this new  experience. We talked about it a bit and I started to cry. Very emotional tears for me. I KNOW I don't remember. WHY can't I remember? WHAT is it that I don't want to remember. WHY is it blocked. WHAT is so frightening?

At the same time I tremble and shake and want to put my hands in my face and cry "Oh God, please don't make me remember. I don't want to remember. I can't do it God. Oh God please help me. I don't want to remember". I am absolutely petrified. More than terrified. Petrified. Frozen. Crazy with fear of what I don't remember.

It may have something to do with the sexual abuse, or it may have something to do with the violence. My MNM would do despicable things while being violent. Like making us be all naked in front of one another. Calling our body parts by filthy names. Telling us all to "LOOK AT IT!!" to "PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THEM!" I'd feel so bad for my siblings. I just wanted to cover them up. For me, I felt humiliation and shame. I felt guilt if it was something I had done that brought this one, or if I could have done something to stop it and didn't. I was embarrassed and I felt rage. I wanted to hurt some people very badly, and instead I would pray to God and ask him to help me to be a better girl so my mom would love me. Then I have my sort of bad prayer when I asked god to not let me wake up in the morning. I would as "God can you make me die in the night or maybe just put my in a coma until I'm old enough to leave home." Then my mixed prayer, good with really bad, "God, came you my my mom love us? and if you can't god could you make her die tonight? I know that is a sin god but we just don't want to be beaten any more. Help us god."

I also asked God for strength to not kill her, as I really wanted to. In fact, at times she even dared me to. She would hand me the knife and scream and scream and scream "Stick it in me! Stick it in me!" Then call me a coward, a baby, a crying sniveling good-for-nothing. Then she said that if I really wanted her dead that I would have killed her, therefore; because I didn't, then I knew she was right and I was wrong. Otherwise I would have killed her. Her crazy making logic at work. Right now I want to scream. I want to scream at this memory, I want to scream at the injustice, I want to scream for the tears  never cried, I want to scream because now I know I too have memory blanks. Part of me is missing. What did she steal? What happened to me! I don't know if I can bear this.

One of my night terrors, which is about one of her murder attempts, I wake up screaming because I am about to die as the knife comes to me (which happened in real), and then it is all blank. I don't remember. I wake up sobbing, I don't remember, I don't remember, why can't I remember. Oh God, I just DON'T remember. Obviously she didn't take out life that day, but what happened to causes me to wake up to this day in the middle of the night, holding my head, screaming, and shouting "I don't remember!"

I am grateful for Psalm 139. I will remember when the Lord thinks the time is right and he will be with me. In the meantime I will take comfort in these words.

Psalm 139
1 Lord, you have examined me
    and know all about me.
2 You know when I sit down and when I get up.
    You know my thoughts before I think them.
3 You know where I go and where I lie down.
    You know everything I do.
4 Lord, even before I say a word,
    you already know it.
5 You are all around me—in front and in back—
    and have put your hand on me.
6 Your knowledge is amazing to me;
    it is more than I can understand.

No More Tears

You had me crying again. Crying because I wasn't loving you enough. You felt I loved others more than you. What is really sad is that I don't think I did. I should have loved everyone more than I loved you. I loved you so much and kept trying to love you more and more that you really got the most of my love. I never tried to love anyone and show someone as hard as I tried to show you. And yet, you feel I loved my SOB (your words) of a father more than you. Someone who never beat me. Someone who made me laugh. Someone who made it fun to be a kid. Someone I couldn't wait to be with. You knew that and took him away. Your jealousy and unhappiness sent him running for the hills to escape from your wrath. I can still see the bacon and eggs sliding down his windshield. I recall on the mountain highway when you pulled the keys out of the ignition and threw them out the window. I think there is a reason that car manufacturers make it so you can't do that anymore while the car is in gear. We ended up crashing in the side of the mountain. You, dad, and four kids. You were willing to risk anything, because to you weren't any"one". We were just things to be controlled and manipulated. Like chess pieces on a board and when you didn't get your way, you'd knock us all over.  I remember when you jumped out of the moving car. I was screaming at you to not do that. "Don't mommy, don't mommy". "Mommy, please don't. We're scared". "Mommy, we love you, close the door." At times I had very dishonoring and evil thoughts and wished you had died.

Your little pawns in your game of life. That's all we were. If you could make us look bad to make you look good, well game on. You did not care about the level of shame or humiliation you brought on us. You had us steal for you and told us not to get caught. Good one there. If we got caught you would berate us and shame us in front of the authority and play the poor single mom, or the poor struggling mom with some terminal illness. How you tried so hard to keep your kids in line but they just won't listen. Oh, the tears came so easy. They'd be so suckered in and feel so sorry for you and they'd look at us with disgust. We would have to make apologies and retribution to them. We'd work for free, cleaning yards, houses, whatever they needed. All the while filled with shame and embarrassment for something we did not do on own accord. I hated my life so much. I really hated it.

Then the knocking the pawns over. The rage that would take place because you had to act your academy award winning part due to your nacissist injury. We would have to be humiliated even further for doing you bidding. We would have to be "punished". Not punished for stealing, but punished for getting caught. "Didn't I tell you not to get caught?" Thwack! "What are you crying for? I haven't even hit you yet!" Thwack! "You brought it on yourself so don't cry to me!" Thwack! "Pull your pants DOWN!" Thwack! "What does "Don't get caught me to you"?" Thwack! "So what are you going to do next time?"

It would go on sometimes for an hour or more. I'd cry and beg "Please don't hit me." She'd laugh and say "Take it like an adult. You're such a baby. Can't even follow the simplest instructions. How are you ever going to make it in life if you can't do the simple things?" And the conveyor belt would lash out over and over on my bare bottom, my back, my legs, my shoulders. She'd pull my hair if I tried to move off her lap and slap me in the face if I wasn't responding to her in the correct tone of voice or the right words. When she was all done I would have to tell her I loved her before I could leave the room. Sometimes that would entail more beating before I would break down and say "I love you mom."

Shortly after that we'd be sent out again to raid gardens, steal pop bottles, a carpet sweeper once and a carpet, apples off trees. We'd get home and MNM would demand "Did anyone see you?" We'd say no and she would exclaim that they better not have because you know what will happen if they did. Next we'd she in doo doo up to our necks because we didn't get enough of this or that. Then we'd have to decide which us useless ones would do without since we hadn't thought to bring enough for everyone.

I cried then. Every day. Every night. All the time. I cried the other day. It washed away some of the blindness I had for you. I don't think I will cry because of you again. My heart is drying up.

I await the blessed return of Jesus and believe and live in hope of his words:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:4

Tactics

Malignant narcissist psychopath disordered people have an enormously immature attitude of entitlement. To them you are not a person, but an object that is there only to satisfy their needs. Their need is to be noticed and they don't care whether is love or hate. As long as they are getting attention it is okay. If you hate them, these people are so twisted that they are able to twist it and maniputlate into something to suit their needs and purposes.

Always be aware that if they do not get their own way  you will be on your way to the MNP disorded persons ways of controlling you and putting the focus back on them.  Your job is always to gratify them and they will become vindictive, they will bully you, shame you, rage at you, put you down, treat you contemptuously, and attempt to make you doubt you own sanity.

Blame shifting: They blame you for their bad behavior.
Financial abuse: They control the finances and manipulate expenses to be in their control.
Smear Campaigning: They have subtle or overt conversations with friends and family which contain false concern for your mental health or behavior.
Compulsive lying: These are lies that are told in order to control the victim's reality... they might seem silly or to serve no purpose unless one looks deeper.
Rage: Sometimes, the person with NPD will simply rage at their victim. This can include emotional, verbal and physical abuse.
Threats: The person with NPD is a master of intimidation. They will make you fear for your life, children, reputation or job.
http://www.examiner.com/article/how-to-weather-a-narcissist-s-storm

My MNPM just put me through a silent treatment after I lost my cool with her. Not a good thing to do with narcissists as it feeds their need for attention. They sit back and gloat that they have won the round. You are now as angry and upset as they feel. I managed to get in control of myself and used a lot of "I" statements and set some boundaries with her. She was not a happy narcissist! In her days of the silent treatment she worked and honed her skills to manipulate me when she called again. It was perfection and such a work or narcissisitic skill. I was prepared and armed and didn't fall for it.

HER: Hello.
ME: Hi mom, how you doing?
HER: I thought you were going to call me.
ME: No mom, I said that I don't like to call when you are so sick and can't take my call, so I told you from now on you call when you are feeling well. That way I don't disturb you.

This was decided after three episodes of her refusing to take my call for 1 day, 2 days, and then 4 days because she was sick. The last episode of 4 days had her flying monkey tell me that she was so sick that he was scared. "She won't let me call the doctor, she won't let me take her to the hospital, she won't let me call the ambulance....I am so scared, I don't know what to do. I think she is going to die. She says such bad things and says such bad words to me."  English is not this gentleman's first language. My MNM has a filthy mouth. If there is a curse word, she knows it and she knows how to string them together in such a horrifying string of filth that you want to shower after you hear it.  Hearing that she was saying bad words let me know she wasn't dying. She had a lot of energy left. I explained to my MNM that I would no longer call her and bother since she is so sick so often. I was showing her concern and respect. That was the new rule and new boundary. I was not going to be rejected or punished by her and I didn't need to worry about whether or not she really was dying, and I didn't need the Flying Monkey adding his own worry and stress to the situation. I didn't need or want 2 people trying to manipulate me.

HER: That's not fair. I shouldn't have to do all the calling! (Trying to make me feel guilty.)
ME: Mom, I called you every day for over 2 months. I explained what would happen if you refused to take my call again and you did it again. These are the rules. I don't like being made to worry and I don't like bothering you when you are sick.
HER: Well, that is silly, you don't need to worry.
ME: Mom, it is natural to worry when someone is sick.
HER: Not if I told you not to.
ME: Mom, turn it around. If you called her and my husband told you I was sick and wouldn't go to the hospital, etc (read the above). Would you worry?
HER: Of course I would, and I would be in my car and at your place as fast as I could get there to make sure you were okay. (Bingo! If I loved her, I would have rushed to her side.)
ME: Well mom, that is you. I think you are an adult, and as such can make your own mind up whether or not you need to go to the hospital. If you thing staying at home is best, then I trust your judgement.
HER: Well, I guess I just care too much. (Indicating that I didn't do what she wanted -- rush to her bedside -- so therefore was lacking).
ME: I care too, but I respect your wishes to be left alone.
HER: Well, if you say so. (Letting me know she is not happy, and that she doesn't believe me.)
ME: Mom, if I came over when you said you were sick and wanted to be alone, then I would not be respecting you or your wishes.
HER: (Time to change the subject as she knows she is not winning.) How are you sleeping?

My MNM knows I have insomnia and night terrors. She is fully aware of what caused them. She knows I have terrors because of the fear of being murdered by her. I relive them over and over. She pooh-poohs them with, "Oh no, I loved you and would never have hurt you."  I don't know how she can make that statement without going up in a pillar of smoke as she hurt us everyday, and in every way you can imagine. It was a life filled with horrifying brutality and pain.  So, she gets me all riled up a few nights earlier and she KNOWS exactly how I slept. She wants me to know how she can control me.

ME: I don't want to talk about my sleep. I sleep the way I sleep.
HER: Well, I want to know because I care about you. (No, you just want to get your narcissistic supply)
ME: Well, if I am having problems with my sleep then I will talk it over with my counsellor.
HER: You've been doing that for years and they haven't helped you yet. You need to talk to your MOTHER so she can help you. (Yeah, right. I can't be helped, it's not working, you're incurable, talk to me who caused it.)
ME: Well, sometimes these things take a while to be fixed. I just have to be patient.
HER: Well, why doesn't God help you then. You said he has answered so many of your prayers, then why won't he take this away?  (Let's attack her beliefs.)
ME: How do you know he hasn't? Sometimes the answer is Yes, sometimes the answer is No, like he said to Paul when he asked for the thorn to be removed. Jesus said "My grace is sufficent for you"; and then sometimes the answer is not yet. I don't pretend to know the mind of God, but I know he hears my prayers and answers them.
HER: Not very well, obviously. (more baiting, and pointing out how ineffective my God is. Mother can do better.)
ME: Perhaps he is teaching me patience.
HER: (Time to change the subject). So are you going to come home and stay with me when your sister comes, since your husband will be gone? It would be so nice to have you come home.

AAARGH!! I so detest the word home when she uses. So completely delusional! I never had a home, not ever. It was a place of abuse. It was a place of horror. It was a place that drove 50% of her children to attempt suicide.  One more may have but he is dead so I can't ask and I was kept away from the family when I left. The other is a drug addict, and the other is tormented with memories and has become very reclusive and withdrawn from the world. I had no home.

ME: I don't plan on it. I will come and visit you with sis.
HER: But wouldn't it be nice to be with your mother? Won't it be nice to come home so we can hug and kiss one another? I can make you something nice to eat. What would you like to eat?
ME: Nothing mom, I coming with sis and going home.
HER: But you will be alone all week, can't you spend a few days with me?
ME: Mom, my husband goes away and I get to do all the things I want to do. Plus, I get to have some really important me time. I love to be by myself so I can write and create things.
HER: But a whole week...that's a along time...(Now i was going to have to get really firm, but hubby came to the rescue and reminded me of our sick cats.)
ME: I want my ME time, it's really important to me, besides if hubby is gone, no one is here to give the kitties their medicine.

She caved!  Well, she let me go as I said we were expecting a call, otherwise the attack would have gone on and on until I was exhausted again. Be on your guard at all times and never let your defenses down. Make your boundaries really clear and never back down. Never promise anything you can't give and never go back on your promise. Don't ever back down. Stay strong, you'll need to be.

The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. Psalm 28:7

I am making it, a moment at a time, a minute at a time, a day at a time. I am getting stronger and healthier.

Exhausted

This week has been both exhausting and illuminating. Exhausting because I got on that hamster wheel with MNM and allowed to her to wear me down to the point of exhaustion. Even though I am so aware of the tricks she can and does use I get caught. She knows what to say, when to say it, and how to say it to cause you to become unbalanced and react. Then acts confused, or condescending that you are feeling that way. You cannot win, no matter what you do. The strange part is that is not even a matter of winning. It is a matter of being human. It's a matter of rights and boundaries and each and every one gets violated over and over. If she can't get through this way, she'll go under, on top, through the back, erode it, blow it up, whatever she needs. Cagy and cunning and so totally evil and destructive.

I should have hung up on her. I should have stopped it but I got entangled. I cried like I hadn't cried since I was a child. Great loud primal sobs that came from deep within my soul. The cries of a child that knew that no help would come. That no one would rescue her and that no one would believe her. I cried because she was saying terrible things about me, about my father, about my work, my hobbies, my integrity, and my motives.

I have been trying to show my MNM that I understand her pain and how life had hurt her. I explained that I have forgiven her. I told her that I loved her. She has been estranged for more than 20 years and was left without even a photo of her 6 children. That broke my heart. I got a photo frame, and an android tablet and copied over 2000 photos to give her. I gave her a book of her grandchildren that I personally made. I have her a photo of my husband and I to put on her bookshelf. I brought her cookbooks she wanted, my wedding dress, my wedding photos. I got an internet stick so I could show her her grandchildren on Facebook and even arrange for her to talk face to face with two granddaughters. I have gone overboard in trying to make her feel forgiven and loved and to make her feel important.

Imagine my shock when she said, "I feel that I will never be number one in your life. That I will never measure up and will always be second. That I will never be good enough for you and that you will never love me as much as your father."

Well, the truth is that she is lucky that I even talk to her and that God has healed my heart enough to  have even given her chance! Yet this is a perfect example of one of those double bind statements. If I say yes, I will face the wrath of a narcissistic injury which is a rage like you can not imagine unless you have seen one. Horrifying to the extreme and dangerous. So, not wanting to face the rage, and not wanting to lie and placate her to make her feel better; I got angry.

"How dare you? Have I not done everything you asked for? Where have I let you down? Tell me, what else is it that you want me to do for you that I haven't already done? Don't I call you every day? Haven't I forgiven you? What else do you want? When will it be enough?" I was so angry I was almost screaming.

Meanwhile MNM says quite calmly, "Oh, I don't know, I just feel that way and I can't put it into words, but you know what I'm talking about."

Hmmm...nope. I don't know what you are talking about, but I do know about the narcissist. They are bottomless pits that suck the life out everyone to try to fill themselves up.

I got so stressed out that I developed cold sores. I used to get them alot as a child and now I know why.

I did not talk to MNM the next day and the following day she called me in tears, "I don't ever want to get off track when we talk again. I don't want to get all upset because it is not good for me. I want you to be here with me and I don't want to die alone. I don't want you to go away and leave me. I love you."

Do you notice there was not one thing about me or upsetting me. No sorry. The I love you is only so she can get what she wants. I used to forgive her when I heard those words and believe them because I wanted to hear them so badly. Not any more. Not ever. She has not called me since, nor have I called her.

I am so glad that I can trust completely in the love that Jesus gives to me. I love these words sung by the David Crowder Band that tell just how much he loves us.

"How He Loves"
(originally by John Mark McMillan)

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realize just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.

And oh, how He loves us, oh,
Oh, how He loves us,
How He loves us all

Gaslighting

Definition from Wikipedia: Gaslighting or gas-lighting is a form of mental abuse in which false information is presented with the intent of making victims doubt their own memory, perception, and sanity. Instances may range simply from the denial by an abuser that previous abusive incidents ever occurred, up to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of disorienting the victim.

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The term "gaslighting" has been used colloquially since the 1970s to describe efforts to manipulate someone's sense of reality. In a 1980 book on child sex abuse, Florence Rush summarized George Cukor's 1944 film version of Gas Light, and writes, "even today the word [gaslighting] is used to describe an attempt to destroy another's perception of reality."
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Psychologist Martha Stout states that sociopaths frequently use gaslighting tactics. Sociopaths consistently transgress social mores, break laws, and exploit others, but typically, are also charming and convincing liars who consistently deny wrongdoing. Thus, some who have been victimized by sociopaths may doubt their perceptions. Jacobson and Gottman report that some physically abusive spouses may gaslight their partners, even flatly denying that they have been violent.
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Another explanation from an excellent site "Daughters of Narcissitic Mothers"

Gaslighting is one of the most insiduous, viscious, nasty and effective forms of emotional and psychological abuse.

It can make the victim feel as if she's going crazy. If your perceptions of reality are constantly denied, and above all, denied by your mother, the person you look up to and who you think knows everything, it is very, very head-wrecking and crazy-making.

Read more:Daughters of Narcissist Mothers

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Just recently I went through some tough days of gaslighting with my malignant narcissist socipathic/psychopathic mother. It was trying and extremely difficult. At times I am as crazy as her as I get caught in her web of drama and end up engaging with her. I have been warned and have learned NOT to engage yet find myself unable to react at times. I will have to learn to be more aware and disengage those buttons or she will use that crack to tear my to pieces.

I listened to her for days telling me about my father and how he treated her so badly. I am fully aware that it takes two in a marriage and my father is not without fault, although his hands were extremely full being married to a woman with this personality disorder. She went on and on and ran him continually into the ground. She wore me down and I broke. Another tactic and I tripped and fell for it.

My father was one of the very few good memories I have in life. He was my hero, my ray of sunshine. He left my mother when I was 10 years old. We knew he was not coming back as he had put his wedding ring in a coffee cup and left it for my mother. He had caught her numerous times with other men. I had caught her with men. She abused him and I a witness to the violence. I lost my composure when she told me that her marriage had been annulled by the church as my father was no kind of husband.

Me: Incredulously ask "How can your marriage be annulled after you have 4 children?". In addition, one of the four is likely not his.

Her: "Because he was gone for 5 years so the church said he was likely sleeping with someone else and had abandoned the family."

Me:  "He left you because he found you sleeping with another man!"

Her: "Oh no, what are you talking about? That never happened. I would never do that. He left because he was alcoholic and sleeping with every woman that came around, including the babysitter."

Me: "I have dad's divorce papers right here and it says that HE divorced you."

Her: "What do you mean you have them. That is impossible because our marriage was annulled because of his infidelity. What do they say, IF you have them?" Yep, she's baiting me and I'm falling for it.

So I read the divorce claims and judgement to her where my father claims infidelity, listing the names and occupations of the men, and how HE was awarded the divorce and my MNM next husband was to pay damages to HIM!

She says, "Well I don't know where you got those because I was never in court." I remind her that the document states she failed to appear in court. So she states that she wasn't served with papers so how could she! I remind her that courts can't proceed without proof that she was served. That she had to sign that she received the summons. So next, she says, "Well, I don't even know who those men are that you read to me. I don't even know them."  I tell her that you can't go to court with made up names. You have to have proof, you have to have evidence. You can't make up names and get a judgment.

"Well, he had to, because none of this makes sense. I got an annulment because your b****** father was s******* around and I never got served, and I never went to court, so it is impossible that he divorced me. I don't know where you got those papers or where they came from. They have to made up!"

See, even with the evidence in front of them, with the lawyers name on the letterhead, the stamp from the court, the date, signed by the judge; it doesn't exist. Someone made it up. You are a liar. Someone tricked her. She didn't do anything wrong, the wrong was done to her. Everybody does things to her.

She was hospitalized after her suicide attempt and making me watch her die. I asked her what the doctor said to her. She said that he said she was stressed and it was like she was fighting a war with the entire world on one side and only her on the other. She was fighting the battle all by herself. I thought it was very apropos. I asked her what she thought of that. She said, "It made me mad. What kind of crap is that? I didn't even understand what he was trying to tell me. I just got madder."

Malignant narcissist people cannot admit their faults because they don't see that they have any. That is why they are so evil. Most people have a conscience. They have feelings, they care. Because these people don't, it is what makes them so evil.

Scott Peck writes in "People of the Lie"
It is necessary that we first draw the distinction between evil and ordinary sin. It is not their sins per se that characterize evil people...The central defect of the evil is not the sin but the refusal to acknowledge it.

My mother cannot acknowledge anything, because nothing exists for her, except herself.

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. James 5:16