Living with a narcissist, cultivating some of the less flattering traits isn't difficult. Think of a gaggle of old women together talking about other old women, the insults fly fast and furious. When the barrier is broken by the narcissist, no one is off limits and back biting can become a family event. Developing empathy for the "poor, misunderstood" narcissist becomes one ineffective coping mechanism and defense. Thankfully, mine beat every last bit of empathy out of me long, long ago, but some of the more pervasive bad habits remain. Not only am I ultra critical of myself, I'm incredibly critical of others expecting, even demanding, Herculean efforts on their parts, none of which I wouldn't destroy my own self to produce, but unrealistic nonetheless. Demanding perfection is part of my family culture. Battle Cry of the Tiger Mother? No, Tiger Mothers pale in comparison to Mormon Mothers.
I've always believed my upbringing created in me an easy target for the narcissist. Take one young girl who believes in an absolute patriarchal rule, add to her endless "Pursuit of Excellence," and weigh her down with childbirth and rearing in quick succession and you have the perfect mark for an evil man. There's simply no time left in each day to consider something might be terribly, mentally wrong with your spouse because you are too hyper focused on what is fundamentally wrong with you. Have you fallen to your knees first thing upon waking in the morning to pray? Have you read your scriptures? Have you prepared your lessons for church and visiting teaching? Have you fed and dressed your children? Have you properly prepared your husband for his full day of work? Have you done your temple work, your genealogy? Have you washed and canned and cooked and sewn and...and...and???
Long, very long and tedious, story short, I woke up one day, decided the church that told me to respect my husband, to pray for and serve the monster that molested me, was decidedly wrong and quit. I quit the church. I quit my marriage. The only thing I didn't quit was my children, the truly blameless victims of this hideousness.
So my gloomy, rainy Tuesday thoughts turn to narcissism as I contemplate my Big Day in court tomorrow with my personal, hellish N. Wish me luck....
Know Your Enemy, Know Yourself
It is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles; if you do not know your enemies but do know yourself, you will win one and lose one; if you do not know your enemies nor yourself, you will be imperiled in every single battle.
- Sun Tzu
The only way to conquer your narcissist ex is to know him. No matter how much time you spent with him, you know this is not an easy task. If it came out of his mouth or was written by his hand, it was a lie. His actions were the only true insight into the real man. Knowing your enemy is the most effective battle strategy.
Few, if any of us, will be privy to any meaningful reason behind our abusers' rationales and motives. Honestly, the reason why doesn't matter too much, does it? Instead, we can rely on others for insight. I don't know the back story, but I do know that Sam Vaknin defines himself a narcissist and interprets for us what is unbelievable and bewildering.
From Sam's Facebook page: "The most dangerous class of abusers is the paranoid-delusional. If your ex is one of these, he is likely to:
Believe you still love him (erotomania).
Interpret everything you do or say -- even to 3rd parties -- as "hidden messages" addressed to him and professing your undying devotion (idea of reference). My ex found my profile on a local social group. He interpreted my public reservations with the private group (he must have joined under a fake profile) for parties, events and social nights out as invitations to him to join me and would show up unannounced in public venues as "coincidence."
Confuse the physical with the emotional (regard sex as "proof" of love and be prone to rape you. We call that "Tuesday."
Blame the failure of the relationship on you or on others -- social workers, your friends, your family, your children. Check, check, and yes, check. Currently, he has fixated on a friend of mine. While the action is disturbing, he has created the story that were it not for my friend, I would be with him right this very minute. That is so disrespectful of me and my wants and intellect.
Seek to "remove" the obstacles to a "happy" and long relationship -- sometimes by resorting to violence (kidnapping or murdering the sources of frustration). Ummm...yeah. Working on preventing kidnapping and murder. They're just not part of my five year plan.
Be very envious of your new found autonomy and try to sabotage it by reasserting his control over you (for instance, B&E your house, leave intrusive messages on your answering machine, follow you around and monitor your home." Or my particular favorite, while you are on vacation over a thousand miles away, call and leave a voice mail screaming at the top of one's lungs profanity at the children and then state breathlessly that although he hasn't harmed the children, God he wants to.
Harm you (and sometimes himself) in a fit of indignation (and to punish you) if he feels that no renewed relationship is possible. I do not have enough fingers or toes to tally the amount of threats of suicide. I don't have enough cells in my entire body to calculate the amount of times there was violence directed at me.
Develop persecutory delusions. Perceive slights and insults where none are intended. Become convinced that he is the center of a conspiracy to deny him (and you) happiness, to humiliate him, punish him, delude him, impoverish him, confine him physically or intellectually, censor him, impose on his time, force him to action (or inaction), frighten him, coerce him, surround and besiege him, change his mind, part with his values, victimize or even murder him and so on. Can't even begin to touch on this one. Of course, everyone is out to get him. He is HIM, the All Mighty. Everyone wants to take him down for being Him, Glorious Him. I cannot imagine living in this manner.
Currently, my ex, my children's father, my abuser exemplifies the above description. No, of course, that doesn't make me happy to point that out. It saddens me as much as it sickens me. I need the reminder because I am so close to happiness, so close to being rid of the life described in the last paragraph, that constant vigil of everyone after us - his work, his parents, my parents, even at times, our children. I forget sometimes how horrid it was. I need to be reminded how dangerous the situation remains until I am totally free. Until then, I have only been granted probation, not a full pardon.
Be safe! Be happy!
RIP Liz
"When people say, 'She's got everything', I've got one answer - I haven't had tomorrow."
Elizabeth Taylor 1932 - 2011
An Open Letter to Mike Huckabee - Bastard of the Day
"Most single moms are very poor, uneducated, can't get a job, and if it weren't for government assistance, their kids would be starving to death and never have healthcare," Mike Huckabee during a radio interview.
Here is the damage controlling clarification: "My comments were about the statistical reality that most single moms are very poor, under-educated, can't get a job, and if it weren't for government assistance, their kids would be starving to death," he wrote. "That's the story that we're not seeing, and it's unfortunate that society often glorifies and glamorizes the idea of having children out of wedlock." (For the record, he was speaking directly about the actress, Natalie Portman).
Now here's the truth.
78% of all single parent women are employed (Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2002-2003).
45% of all single parent women hold down more than one job. (Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2002-2003).
Single parent women experience the highest rate of unemployment, and receive the lowest rate of pay regardless of their education. (Economic Roundtable, 2004).
While the hourly wage for women without children is 90% of a man’s, the comparable figure for women with children is 70%. (Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2002-2003).
And the Winner is.....Fewer than 17% of all single moms receive government assistance even in the minor form of food stamps. (Economic Roundtable, 2002).
Mr. Huckabee,
When I was living with my abusive, employed Army Soldier husband, we earned exactly HALF of what I make today as a single mother. With my husband, we received tax payer funded healthcare in the form of Tricare and many, many tax free military benefits, again, a gift from the taxpayers.
I want you to look me in the eye and repeat your former statements. I want you to tell me that as a single mother my four, Yes, FOUR college degrees don't exist.
I want you tell me I do not make double what my soldier ex makes.
I want you to tell me that I do not have an excellent, secure career and that I do not receive unsolicited job offers at least weekly.
I want you to tell me my children do not have healthcare.
Repeat your urban legends to the face of this well educated (going for degree #5 as we speak), well employed Single Mother of five children. Tell me and my children that we should have stayed with my abusive husband because a broken hip and pelvis is preferable to the calm and peaceful life I have created for us. Tell me I need your government aid. Go right ahead and tell this Mother your deceitful, incidiary untruths. Coward, tell her if you dare.
Today I'm Feeling ___________.
I'm usually so optimistic. Hey, 16 years of violent, physical abuse, I'm either going to be one helluva an optimist or beat so senseless as to not know or care! I'm having a hard time bouncing back this AM. I started a newish job on Monday. Plus side - more money. Minus side - more responsibility, more restraints, less time. My truck broke down on Monday. And on Tuesday. And on Wednesday. I need a new place to live having outgrown our smallish home and my lease is up. I definitely need new wheels. I can't shake this Eeyorish doom and gloom today!!! Guess I need to make a list of all the things going right to remind myself. Number 1. I am not in an abusive relationship any longer. Honestly, this Little Miss Doom & Gloom act needs to GO! As I wrote the sentence above, all the "buts" flew to the foreground, but you owe this and this and this, and you need to do this and this and this....
ACK! Girlfriends, anyone else having a blah, punky kind of week???
PB&J
In the area where one of the last offenses occurred, there are more verdicts than simply "guilty" or "not guilty." There is also "probation before judgement," or PBJ. A defendant can resolve his trial without receiving a conviction. PBJ is usually reserved for first time offenders. The criminial admits he's guilty or kinda guilty and is placed on probation without supervision. Upon successfull completion of probation, the criminal will not have a conviction on record. I'm not entirely certain how the military views a PBJ. We shall see....
But Girlfriends, chalk this up as a win for the Good Guys. Karma, you are beautiful.
Update: A PBJ is about as useful as a sandwich. He has since "shielded" all of his DV charges and passes a background check with flying colors. He has never and probably will never answer for any of the damage he has done. Teflon Douchebag is he.
The Joy of PTSD
The abuse went unchecked for over a decade. In that time of broken bones and torn flesh, I was more concerned with a broken soul. Thanks to the Joy of PTSD, there were many times when I couldn’t feel, literally couldn’t feel any emotions at all. Without that escape, Beast would have broken me. Apathy and humour; never underestimate the power of laughter. One ghastly time, I can’t remember if I’ve written about it here, but who cares? I’ll lay it bare again, open to the daylight. One time, Beast was sitting on me, straddling my abdomen and chest making breathing labored. I was panicking at the thought of losing consciousness, not so much from fear of the lack of oxygen as fear of the sexual assault that would follow should I be rendered helpless. Anyway, picture it: Beast, full weight pinning me to the Pergo floor below, me, gasping for breath. Beast then lifted my head with a thick hand on each side and began to systematically bang it onto the floor. I gave over then. Always at a point in his assaults, my physical body couldn’t take anymore. I liken it to assault victims that say they feel themselves floating away, watching the event from up high. I let myself forget the difficulty breathing and fell into the blinding pain and rhythmic thumping of the back of my head on the floorboards. Not aware, I began counting. Seeing my lips moving, Beast leaned in closer because the sound of my voice begging was an aphrodisiac to him. Instead what Beast heard was, “One potato, two potato, three potato, four....” over and over in time to the head bashing. I laughed at the absurdity of the scenario, a grown man sitting on top of his wife banging her head into the floor. Where my tears had fueled his fire, my laughter doused it completely. That day I learned the antidote to his abuse. I remembered that lesson and returned to it again and again until the day I was strong enough to leave for good.
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