FOR ADULT CHILDREN OF NARCISSISTS (ACONS) AND SURVIVORS OF NARCISSISTIC ABUSE
Sunday 8 January 2012
The Malignant Narcissist's PARANOIA
Predatory malignant narcissists come by their paranoia honestly. They’ve earned it.They are out to cause chaos, and wreak havoc. They are addicted to the power high they get from destroying others.
Oh my god. Please forgive me, as I was reading the part about the rat, I kept thinking, "Oh god no, this can't be real. Please, make this not be real." I had to stop reading. I'll come back and read more at some point...but I was just...this is the stuff of nightmares.
I have nightmares all the time about terrible things happening to my babies - usually they revolve around awful unspeakable things that in my dreams I am sometimes physically incapable of saving them from. That is my worst nightmare...to not be able to save them, to not be able to protect them. I can't hear them crying in pain or suffering and not do anything about it. I could never...never
This is a very powerful post. I'm so, so sorry. My god...I don't know what else to say.
(PS I believe you, I didn't mean to imply that your story was too far fetched to be real. I well understand that disturbing, awful things happen to people, and to children, even though I can't stomach it.)
Jonsi, Thank-you! I hate her too. In fact, I hate her more than I hate rats. The memory of the experience is very vivid. I was sleeping in what was to become my brother's bedroom, so he wasn't born yet and we're only 25 months apart. I was younger than 2 at the time. What's weird is that she had me in her arms and could have run out of the room with me, but she CHOSE to leave me in the room with the rat, AND slam the door behind her so it wouldn't escape and make its way to her. What's worse is that she got off on the terror it caused me. I present to you the malignant narcissist mother... they would eat their young if we tasted good with a nice Chianti and fava beans.
I am also horrified by the--what shall I call her?-- "mother character" in the rat story. Your narrative creates such poignant images in the mind.
About the narcissist's paranoia, you wrote: "They are so filled with ill-will that they believe everyone is the same way." Yes--it must be, at least in part, pure projection. In the book Soul Stalking (I finally read it!), the author describes how, for abusive narcissists, paranoia is a function of injecting others with the malice the narcissist refuses to acknowledge as his/her own. That malice, which originates in the abuser, is then safely "contained" by others. They are full of poison, but it's the innocent bystanders who show the symptoms of poisoning. It all verges on the mystical, like voodoo, doesn't it?
This is also a good description of "paranoid decompensation" (look at page 1 of the document, the long quotation from a book, which is cited as pages 407-408):
Lisette - To have such a clear memory of something that happened when you were under two...my god, most people don't have memories from such a young age unless they are EXTREMELY traumatic.
I don't think there is anything worse for me than the thought of a child suffering...doesn't matter if it's emotional or physical pain, it's still suffering. My god...I keep replaying your narrative in my mind and after a few seconds, I just have to shut it down. I just CAN'T go there.
Your NM is the definition of evil... (I know, you are well aware of that!)
It takes little effort to do the right thing. So it has to be a buzz for them to fuck us over. It's the only way to explain it. To work harder to put you in a more compromised situation. That's as chicken shit as it gets.
They feed on other's pain and suffering... and the suffering of the most harmless and innocent seems to give them the greatest power rush. Chicken shit is right. Combine lack of empathy with predation and you've got pure evil. Cowards without conscience.
How hard would it have been for your mother to grab you and leave the room when you were crying because of that rat? What an evil, selfish bitch she is! Wouldn't it be awesome if she got sick, and put into a nursing home where SHE got left in a room with a rat? Hopefully it will be alive and really, really hungry. :)
I love where you're going with your sister. Let her own paranoid little mind do most of the work. Plant the seed, give her LOTS of time to stew in her own paranoia, then send a letter to every one of her neighbors. Do you have an A&E worthy picture of her place? Send it with the letter. Hell, send her a copy too! LOL You wouldn't even have to worry about calling the fire dept. or health dept.- her neighbors will take care of that for you!
"Growing-up under her roof my privacy was constantly violated, my bedroom was ransacked, and diaries were read. When I had friends over, I was spied-on through windows, doorways, and the intercom system. Telephone conversations were monitored, and on and on and on." Minus the intercom, I had the EXACT same experience growing up; I had NO privacy at all. Worse yet, the evil bitch would use what was written in my diary in some passive-aggressive way later, saying just enough to poke at me, but not enough that I could be certain that she really read my diary. If I confronted her, she denied it - This was the beginning of me questioning my own sanity.
Cruella Deville was quite paranoid back in those days, but has become much more paranoid with age. She always thinks someone is out to "get" her, like she's so damn important that people just spent their spare time sitting around plotting on her ass. *insert eyeroll*
I found out last year that she had been entering my house. A key went missing, my security code was compromised (long story). For the past 2 years, I had been walking in my house feeling as if something was "off" in some way. Makes sense now - the bitch was in here going through my stuff, moving things around, and stealing what she thought she could get away with.
Back in my diary-reading days, I had better things to do than to talk about her, so she had nothing to worry about. Trust me, she has PLENTY to worry about now. My days of putting up with her b.s. are long over.
I have a story my sister swears is true. She said she called my mother around the time of 9/11 and somewhere along there being an anthrax in the mail scare, and she said my mother told her she was bleaching her mail as she opened it. You have to insider the source. My mother not my sister. That's exactly like something my mother would say. I asked my sister if maybe the bleach might white out all the ink and make things unreadable. Which is something she said she had thought of. But whatever the case, she said my mother told her that. PffffffT. Yes terrorists have targeted my mother for extermination. They are still waiting for just the right opportunity to swoop down on her and finish her off. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHHA What a crock of shit.
Damn, why did I never think of that whole "stalking in reverse" thing? sigh. I guess my brain just wasn't f'd enough or the "right way."
When my father finally left and divorced MNmomma's ass after 22/23 yrs. of marriage she became even crazier yet. I suggested she move to a city quite a distance away (after I called my uncle and begged him to please come and help me with "Her Craziness, the Dis-honorable Bitch"-he didn't, but anyway) so she'd be closer to her brother. Honey, someone must set off the cap on the C-4: INSTANT EXPLOSION. When she was able to speak somewhat coherently, she blasted me again with, "NO ONE'S GONNA RUN ME OUT OF THIS TOWN! NO ONE!"
ahhhh, OK.....she lived in a metro area.....had no friends.....no family, hobbies, interests, social activities, nada....
If I could go back to just that *one* event, I'd have my 18/19 yr. old self say, "Look, you're just not that important. No one will notice you're gone and if they did I'm sure you wouldn't be missed.
Paranoid? Oh yeah. So I'll just check off "All the above" on this post, Lisette.
I also love the "Plant and water" concept for "Hoarders." If she has a pet, don't forget the local animal rescue folks. No living thing is safe in an MN's vicinity.
When I was staying at my mothers house after her stroke I sat a huge stack of laundry on a receipt for something. It wasn't important. So I come in one afternoon and my mother handed it to me and said she saw it "on the floor" and thought it might be important. She had to have been rummaging around in my stuff to find it. I also kept a large calender on the wall of her spare bedroom and used it to keep track of her doctors appointments and Rx refill times. One day I walk in and she has her look. The one my sister calls her so very pleased with herself look. She announced that the calender was missing. I didn't take it down. And trust me, it didn't fall off the wall. So I said OK I guess it's gone. She got this indignant look and said,"well aren't you going to go look for it?" By now I had figured out she is crazy as a shit house rat. So I said, "no, if you say it's gone it must be gone". "Well I can't bend over to look under the bed I need you to go see about it". So I did just to shut her up. Sure enough, like I knew before I even looked. No calender. She took it off and threw it away for some reason. Just bored and wants to see someone step and fetch.
Q1605, OMG I am sitting here giggling my ass off now! My MN mother was also very paranoid during that anthrax in the mail scare. She didn't come up with the brilliant idea of bleaching the mail, but she was very hesitant to open it, and talked about it a whole lot...If I knew then what I know now, I would have told her that not only is she being targeted by the Anthrax people, but Al Qaeda had her on their hit list too - they were just bidding their time to take her out! LMAO Hmmmm...wonder if they'd be willing to take a nomination or two.
The calendar thing was just weird. I guess it makes sense if your mother is like mine - chronically bored, always looking for excitement of some sort. Nothing dramatic going on? No problem, she'd pull something out of her ass. Seems to me that they desperately need new hobbies. :)
q1605, Anon from the blog post, Anthrax?? Are you kidding me? Damn. Do they have powerful enemies! Al Queda?!! I think a greeting card with a mini baggie of unsented talcum powder sent from a foreign country is in order (if you get my drift).
Anon, your MN mother thought people wanted to run her out of town when she barely existed on the fringes of society?! Hilarious!
These MNs seriously need to get some hobbies... oh wait a sec... PARANOIA is their hobbie: CYBER and IRL stalking, spying, breaking and entering, stealing, lying, toying, gossiping, slandering, manipulating, gaslighting and always looking over their back wondering who's on to them.
What a wonderful life these malignant narcs lead. What are they good for? Absolutely nothing.
Too bad they didn't have Predator Drones in those days....I'd gladly have supplied Lati and Longe/Goggle Earth and a Street map....or "Rendition" for MNs....now, THAT'S a thought...hmmm....
I doubt if my mother bleached her mail. It was one of her lies to get attention that she didn't think through before she told it. I guess if you diluted it enough it wouldn't bleach your mail white, but it would still be a mess.
You all are a riot!!! LOL When I'm fine-tuning plans for my evil mother, I will certainly come here for feedback!
Baking soda or talcum powder sounds good for me. I don't think I'd put it in a baggie though; I'd dredge a greeting card in it so when she pulled it out of the envelope, she'd have a dusting of white powder all over her hands and everything else...Think frying chicken or baking a cake without an apron here. Bet she'd be diving in a tub of bleach after that! LMAO
Baking soda is definitely the "powder" of choice. It's got a nice, fine consistency and no scent. I doubt the crazies would dab a little on their finger for a taste. Also dredging makes sense. Forget the baggie. Let the dusting fall where it may, and then hose the narcs down with bleach. Heck, if it works on paper it will work on their snake skins. Then suggest they be put in "isolation" as to not "contaminate" others and lead them to the closest narc quarantine centre. Little would they know that one-by-one they are being removed from society and isolated with their own kind. How's that for a conspiracy theory you damn paranoid narcs?!
Also, dig the idea about the google map from various angles in space and on earth. I had to google my building once, and saw my car parked-out front. I think the license plate was blurred-out, but that type of thing would freak the paranoid narc. Especially, if they're not computer savvy. If you're real lucky you might get a google map photo of them walking to their home. Talk about paranoia setting in!! Failing that, just hide in the bushes and take a shot... a photo I mean... or, do I?
If someone sent me white powder in an envelope I would subject it to extensive testing through a rolled up dollar bill in my full figured schnout. Old habits are die hard. I would have regressed into old ways before I could catch myself.
Hey, at least you'd know what to do with it besides having it vetted by local law enforcement/Radiology Department at the local hospital.....that's how my "packages" were vetted. And "Merry Christmas"/Birthday/Any-day to YOU, MNmomma. And your "PIs" as well.
Now, back to the baking soda and Google Earth..... You all know the song: "I always feel like Some one is watching MEEEEEEE....." (if for no other reason, I'm just so damn "important"....when the reality is, no, you're not but hell, we'll allow you your 15 seconds of "fame"....or at least I would-GLADLY!)
Yeah, loose the baggie. Use the baking soda. It doesn't have the "scent" of talcum powder which has a definite "clean" smell. And there's not a scent in this world that can cover the stink of a MN.
My mother lives in NYC and returned from one of her trips overseas on 9-12-01. When I frantically called her and told her about the WTC attacks she got real testy with me and asked why I was making such a big deal over an attack that happened in Manhattan when she lives in Queens. Seriously. I sarcastically said, "I know I shouldn't care about anyone else but you, right?" She wasn't worried about the anthrax scare because she is that superior in intelligence and stature that no one would dare try to harm her. In fact, when people have openly made fun of her and sarcastically asked for her autograph or put on a Gomer Pyle ignoramus accent, she ate it up. One time a couple at a next table in a restaurant were so annoyed with her loud and obnoxious "look-at-me" show that the guy actually said, "Madam, I'm on my honeymoon but I'll ditch this gorgeous 25 year-old blonde I've been married to for 28 hours to be with the most interesting, richest, smartest and loudest woman in the country. My, my, why hasn't someone snatched you up yet." I heard him finish that sentence with the words "in a straight jacket you dumb bitch." I was so mortified I almost slipped under the table as I was sure she'd make a horrible scene and get us kicked out (again) by screaming at the couple or something. Instead, she beamed with pride and said, "I am old enough to be your mother but I appreciate the compliment." He just shook his head in disgust. Once after I tried to usher her away from these types of sarcastic people who were nevertheless understandably disgusted, she actually accused me of being jealous of all the attention she was receiving. Everyone who knows me would tell you I HATE getting attention and always prefer to work in the background, etc. probably because I'm terrified of being like her in any way. Anyway, mine saves her paranoia for the people that actually try to love her like me, my husband and my 3 kids. A man can do anything he wants to her and she'll grovel at his feet but God help the women in her life if we so much as look at her the wrong way.
I've been no contact for a year and am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel although it's really hard to get that horrible bitch out of my mind. I think I'm ashamed it took me over 50 years to wake up to the fact that she'll never become a real mother.
So sorry about the rat situation. Lisette, you're a smart cookie that you immediately saw her for the evil bitch she was. It took me over 50 years of similar betrayals, life changing thefts, violence, etc. I too hate rats but would sooner let a rat into my home than her.
B, I read your response with my head shaking, "Yup...check...check" right down the MNmomma list. I DESPISED going out in public with mine; more cringe-worthy moments than I can even remember. I actually did the whole "toilet-paper-stuck-to-my-heel" thing returning to the table in a lovely restaurant from the Ladies Room. You know how there's a low murmer in the background of these places? I couldn't understand why it just....stopped and people were looking at me, giggling behind their hands over mouths etc. until another friend at the table caught my attention and frantically gestured at me to look down. Too late...I've now traipsed most of the way back to the table in the middle of the dining room with I swear the world's longest role of toilet paper firmly attached and leaving an unmistakable trail of shame in my wake... What else could I do? I kind of half bowed, curtsied to the other diners as I reached down with my beet-red face, ears-oh hell, the blush started somewhere around my feet, worked it's way up like a first degree sunburn. The diners then laughed WITH me, gave me a bit of an ovation and I resumed my place (under the table, metaphorically.) The point is, I learned "damage control" thanks to the public displays of grandiosity/attention seeking at the knees of MNmomma. Please don't feel like a slow learner-we ALL had hope that somehow, some way we could help these people or somehow, they'd actually love us just for being who we were.The problem for me was my MNmomma DID see 'reality' (it's all about MEEEEE!)-and REVELLED in it! When you're a compassionate, decent human being with morals (not of the MN-snake variety), values (which include treating others with dignity and respect) and ethics (again, not present in any other form but snake-variety) it's really challenging to wrap your mind around their world. I've nibbled at the edges periodically in my younger years prior to terminating the relationship and it scared the crap out of me. Whoa! Not only are these MNs nasty, their nasty is of the fixed and unyielding variety. To say they're truly social morons doesn't begin to capture the phenomena. Their lack of care and concern for us is on THEM and who they really ARE. Took me a good, long time to finally accept there was No "there" THERE I could possibly assist in any way. Gettin' out of their road is the only sane, realistic response-and of course, they can't HAVE THAT! Loose another source of supply a la your Adult Kid? WAR is declared.
We can call Lisette's mother "Rat Woman" but that'd be an insult to rats.
Oh. I can so relate to cringe-worthy moments out in public with these Ns. Their grandiosity/attention seeking and immaturity makes them total social morons. Anon, that TP story is priceless, and your recovery was gold. High five!
If my N father was there he would have pointed at you, gone "Haha!" and said, "Toilet paper!" He's like that character Nelson (the bully) from the Simpson who points, goes "Haha!" then states the obvious. One time we were at a family type restaurant and the waiter dropped this big box of crayons. They spilled everywhere, and the waiter was noticeably frustrated at having to pick them all up. N father points, goes "Haha!" and says, "Crayons!" The waiter went red-faced. Not so much out of embarrassement but rage. He looked like he wanted to punch-out N father. N father continued to laugh, thinking it was the funniest thing. I sunk into my chair. Another time, we were walking up this hill and this bag guy/bottle collector was navigating his way down the hill and lost control of his shopping cart. His cans, and bottles started spilling out and rolling down the hill. N father stops, points, goes "Haha!" and says, "Bottles!" The shopping cart guy got really mad and shouted, "Thanks for stating the obvious!!" Then N father says, "Hmmm. What's his problem? This seems to happen to me a lot. People getting mad for no reason." Ugh. King Oblivious' idea of humour is other people's misfortune. Ns think stuff like people slipping on banana peel is funny. Lack O' Empathy!!
B, no contact may have come early for me but the struggles with "hope" didn't end immediately. The hope that MN mother didn't mean it, that she did love me, that she was just in an unahappy marriage blah, blah, blah. Learning about NPD as well as learning about her unrelenting covert abuse cinched the deal for me, and made me realize that I made the right decision. These MNs NEVER change. And when I started learning about NPD the narcs were always in my head... even narcs I had forgotten about started cropping-up like mushrooms. It's like I had to process every N relationshit in light of what I now knew. I'm still doing it. But the good thing is, I no longer ask "why?" Now I know why. These freaks have disordered personalities. There's nothing I can do about it, except protect myself from future harm.
Yeah. Let's not insult rats. I'd gladly have a rat crawling around in my home over a MN any day.
My sister told me a story of shopping with my mother in 1966. That made my sister 15 and my mother in her mid thirties. Said my mother was wearing go go boots and a big floppy hat and looked like she just stepped off the set of Laugh-In. My sister was mortified. When my mother figured out my sister was trying not to be seen with her, she made her come and stand next to her during the rest of the outing.
Oh gawd, go go boots! I have a traumatic memory of go go boots. It was in the 70s, and for some reason the mothers were invited to class. I didn't think MN mother would ever go... she always just skulked around at home looking miserable and never had any interest in my life. But low and behold, not only does she go to this mother day thingy, she gets all dolled-up for it. Of course, it was all about her. She wore flaming red go go boots, red plaid skirt, red cape, red beret, red lips, red nails, huge hoop earings. It was so over the top. I was so embarrassed of her... and if her goal was to be noticed, she was... like a flashing neon sign. This kid came up to me at lunch and made fun of her. "Your mother looked so funny is her red go go boots..."
Since we are on this topic. My mother also was wearing a blonde wig. She is brunette. So she has the black eyebrows and black eyelashes and it just didn't fit. My father was insecure when she got too dolled up and would have flipped out seeing her decked out like that. So of course she had to change out of it and hide everything as soon as she got in.
Huh. You'd think someone would notice the "Drapes" didn't match the "Carpet." But I guess it didn't matter anyway-or maybe she lost the wig "In The Heat Of The Moment."
Go-Go boots? In the '70's? Damn, those things were out of style BY 1970. (Unless you were a majorette and it was part of the uniform.) Hey, I bet she believes she was the FIRST to get into the whole "Vintage Look" when the reality is these old bags "invented" Grunge and still believe they have it ALL goin' on. Instead of raiding their daughter's closets, they're now raiding the granddaughter's closets.
I'm not saying you have to dress like a frump. But c'mon, if you're old enough to have worn mini-skirts and hip-hugger bell bottoms you're waaaay past the "expiration date" for "low rise flares." Or fish-nets. No amount of Botox, Restaline or Plastic Surgery is gonna help. (Just ask Joan Rivers.)
Besides, the frizzy, short, grey-tinged/grey roots no-style helmet head gives it all away in any event. Sigh. Where's that long blonde wig when ya need it?! (Probably can't remember whose back seat or motel room it got left in and noone has offered to replace it...."lipstick on a pig" and all that...)
Anonymous, You are sharp! You know, after I wrote the comment I thought she was a decade behind the times fashion wise because this was in the mid 70s. That's one of the reasons she looked so weird. MN mother is so damn cheap, I think she bought all her duds on sale at bargain prices when they were no longer fashionable. THAT, or she was re-living the 60s. These Ns seem to be stuck in a time warp, and think they're 10 to 15 years younger than they are.
Oh shit. I just remembered another thing that kid said to me. He said, "Your mother looked "old-fashioned" with her go go boots blah, blah, blah..." I was always embarrassed by the way she dressed because it was always dated. I'm going with the cheap theory. You would think a N would be vain enough to buy themselves the latest threads, but she was way too cheap to shop for new clothes. I remember I had to wear a white frilly blouse on sports day because she wouldn't shell-out for a white T shirt. I looked ridiculous. Money wasn't an issue. It was about MN mother's extreme stinginess. Ugh. I won't get started on how cheap her and MN sister are.
Coincidence or not, my MN mother was cheap as hell too! I used to think that it was because she didn't have the money, but even when she did, she still wouldn't buy new clothes. She would walk around with ratty bras and underwear with holes! The funny thing is that she would always make sure to point this out, like she was some kind of martyr or something.
Her cheapness didn't end there - I mostly wore clothes that were given to her by other people, so they were usually ill-fitting and not stylish at all. Going to school was a total nightmare not only because I was weird (pretty much a 30 year old social worker in the body of a 12 year old), but because I had to wear the same clothes over and over again. I was teased mercilessly, which may not be a huge deal in itself, but coupled with the fact that my home life was horrible, it was about as bad as it gets - no reprieve from being tortured no matter which way I turned.
My mother was also too cheap to take me to a hairdresser, so she'd cut, or should I say hack at my hair herself with dull scissors - I'd always end up with uneven hair. I don't know about the rest of you, but it was my job to comb my hair starting at the age of 6 or 7. Fine, except for the fact that it was kind of on the thick side and down to my waist. When I developed matts on the underside, there would be hell to pay - she'd yank those knots out and lecture me for not combing my hair.
I can tell you what she did have money for - food! Even though there was hardly food in the house, and I'd routinely get in trouble for eating too much, she made damn well certain that she had enough tucked away for herself, and just to make sure that she'd get full, she'd eat while she was cooking. When everyone would sit down for dinner, she'd remain in the kitchen, so I'd ask why she was not eating. Her answer: There's only enough for you; I'm going without. Overall she was a greedy, selfish bitch, who put forth a lot of effort in appearing to be a wonderful, self-sacrificing person. She's disgusting in every sense of the word!
blog post Anon, Yep. I can relate. Sometimes I think these MN momsters wanted us to look weird, so we would be miserable in our school environment too. It's just another way they deprived us and sucked the joy out of our life. MN mother used the "we can't afford it" excuse all the time. Which was total bull considering we lived on ocean front property. I was in a figure skating carnival and supposed to be in two group numbers, but I was only allowed in one because apparently "we couldn't afford" the second costume. What a joke. It was only 20$ but MN mother was hell-bent on destroying any enjoyment I could have. She wanted me to be an outcast. I was the only kid among at least 20, who could only be in one number. Kids felt sorry for me because word got around that I was poor. I was also taken out of figure skating when I was starting to excel because "we couldn't afford it", AND it made MN sister feel bad that I was good at it. No lie. That's what I was told. But, the entire family travelled to Seattle to watch HER in a competition. I remember I had to go tell my coach who really wanted to work with me that I could no longer skate because we couldn't afford it. I remember her looking at me with compassion, and then looking-over at MN mother in disgust. She knew I was being abused, and that we COULD afford it.
MN mother hacked my sister and mines long curly hair off. We had boy cuts just like my brother all through elementary school. Yes. I got teased. When all the other kids were wearing jeans, I was forced to wear these hideous polyester stretch pants. A boy haircut, and stretchy pants. Yeah. I looked like a dork. She did whatever she could to make me look and feel ugly. I must have looked like a poor kid too because if and when a new friend came over after school they would be shocked by where I lived.
My mother always looked like a slob, and only ate left overs. This was all part of the poor me, I'm so hard done by martyr act. She would munch and crunch while she cooked (fair enough) but when it came time to sit down to a freshly prepared meal she would eat a big mound of left overs... the kind of stuff you would feed the dog. She couldn't stand to see a morsal of food go to waste. She was a human garburator and she ate like a pig. She ate with that really wet, smacking noise. She gnawed on bones like an animal, and sucked every last piece of meat off. Sometimes she would get food all over her face. To this day, the sound of loud smacking eaters, who breath heavy and groan while they eat makes me sick. MN mother wasn't over weight, she was just a boor and a slob... behind closed door. But when she went out to a social event... boy, the transformation was something else. Seemed she could actually paint over that perma scowl. Talk about mask switching.
Greedy, selfish, miserly, depriving bitches who wanted to "appear" to be wonderful, self-sacrificing mothers is exactly right. Disgusting, deluded frauds!
It almost sounds like we're talking about the same person!
My mother also used to suck every sliver of meat off of the bone, chew on gristle, gnaw on bones, even sucking the marrow out...hey - maybe she used this talent to get all of her men! LMAO She also would get grease along with little bits of food on her face.
Till date, I can't stand the sight or sound of anyone doing anything like this. People smacking their lips, chewing loudly, slurping soup, or just eating like pigs overall makes me sick. It's triggering enough that I actually lose my appetite for most of the day.
You just reminded me of a few other things - Several other incidents where she couldn't "afford" outfits for me to participate in activities. I was involved with a dancing choir in high school, and needed an outfit which cost about $30. I practiced all year long only to be excluded from performing because I didn't have the outfit. I signed up for a dance team, but couldn't perform for the same reason. I missed every single field trip (except for one - someone else gave me the money) that my school had to offer because she wouldn't pay the $10 or $20 that it took for me to go...At this time, we would have been considered lower middle class. She could have afforded it if she wanted to.
Hi There, I might have posted in the wrong section earlier
I Empathise Entirely with You All
I Found Your Site whilst I was Doing-The-Rounds, around the Righteous Handful of Sites Exposing Moral-Imbeciles, like those You've highlighted as being "pitted" against You (romantically)
Although, so far I've sadly been met by several hypocritical keyboard-hardmen & Infantile-Girls territorially suffering from delusions of grandeur (You couldn't make it up )
I’d like to share My Own Experience with You, where I was targeted by a Female serial-killer … LUCKY ME
She kills through relentless & ruthless attempts at ambient-abuse, abuse by proxy, emotional-black-mail, death-threats etc & as I was to Discover, (AFTER Exposing Her & Her Cronies,) by perverting the course of Justice … She does so for sadistic PLEASURE (You couldn't make it up )
I’d Followed The Teachings of Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa & Gandhi & I ASSURE You I Tried Everything, from a Safe Distance, to get through to Her … However, She’s a 44 Year old with the Emotional age of a 3 Year old & the alloplastic-defences to go with it …
She derives sadistic, (ie Infantile) Narcissistic pleasure from Unspeakable-cruelty & imagines Herself to be clever by Lying-Pathologically & can fool the Legal-system …
She’s addicted to Her-Own Neuro-Chemistry & Adrenaline rushes & is Psychotic … ie Her lies allow Her to program Her bitter Mind for the kill (ie rush) … Her Brain doesn’t Eat Sugar across the Entire Front of Her Brain, due to a dysfunctional uncinate fasciculus, so She doesn’t Actually Exist in Reality
She’s Lead Me to Believe that 6 Men have committed suicide because of Her causing Them PTSD & for Those Who won’t Her Sister has then shot several of Them … LUCKY ME (They’re a gruesome twosome & on-line Their aliases are interchangeable, so They double-team You …)
At a Formative Age, the elder of the 2 smashed the Younger 1's Forehead off the floor repeatedly until She Said She Genuinely Thought She was going to die … ie The Final ingredient to Make a psychotic serial killer … (She has the Exact same Physical Construct of Brain as the mass-murderers She admires …)
I Saw-Through Her & Stood-Up to Her & Genuinely Cared about Her, as I Uber-Empathically harrowingly Saw in Her what She Would have been had She not been born with what She called a broken brain & had She not suffered on-top of That … However, She Informed Me that Her EVERY Action was A Deliberately-Selfish & ENORMOUSLY premeditated Choice
She had Me arrested & I’ve to appear in Court for the TERRIBLE CRIME of Typing The TRUTH on MY Facebook Page (ie Slander & breach of Confidence) which She’d Doctored from a Post I’d placed on My old Facebook profile from 4 Months Earlier, having TYPED nothing about Her in 3 Months by that juncture …
I’d actually phoned the Police 1 Month before She had, as She’d been in My House when I was out working for a Local Charity (I’d no Idea She’d made a copy of My Key) … However, She lied fearlessly & pathologically to The Police & being Female played the Ted Bundy pity-card with the Gullible Male officers … (She REALLY Did a number on Them …)
Whereas, A Month Earlier when I’d had-enough & Called the Police & was HONEST :- Being Male, I was Told, by a Female police officer & I Quote, We’ll wait until She kills Someone ‘Then’ We’ll arrest Her … :-
Here’s the off-shore expose’ which I BRAVELY Predicted could get Me arrested, 2 Days before I found Myself locked in a prison cell in Glasgow, in the Middle of the Night, whilst the Malignant Sociopath (& co) cackled in the distance, delighting in having perverted the justice system to continue trying to cause Me PTSD in the vain hope I’ll be the 7th Man to commit suicide because of Them …
I've exposed Them in the vault of guilt on My website www.christlike.be
Erol. I was searching for words to respond to your post. I was going to elaborate about the cluster fuck that is my mother, and how she sounds like the woman that is the thorn in your side. How my mother is this. How she is that. But I found your youtube channel first. Hearing your interpretation of Miss Havisham stopped me cold. You've already met her. LOLOLOL
I read today that paranoia is moreso evident in the low functioning MN, the more paranoid they are the lower functioning they are.
THe MN I know has always been paranoid, significantly so. For the last 3-4 years there is a jump. If they are low on N supply or under stress this can happen. The MN is getting her N supply from the one family, yet she is continuing to get more and more paranoid.
I am almost wondering if this is a sign that she really is ill with something. She goes to the doctor all the time for attention from the doctor all the time when she is not sick, but for this she refuses to go.
Could increased paranoia be a sign that a MN is ill with something, that something is more wrong then usual? Does real illness cause stress and then stress cause more paranoia?
I wish the MN would pass away, I am being honest about that. Thoughts that she is close is comforting and I feel bad that I feel that way. Is it wrong to wish the MN in your life would just hurry up and pass away already?
Is it paranoia or distrust? Or, common sense not to blindly put your trust in someone without them having earned it?
People who have been raised in healthy families are far more scrupulous than the abused in terms of spotting the creeps in the crowd. They were raised among the normals, so they know when someone's behavior is "off."
The narcs train us not to trust our feelings and our own good judgement and we end up getting burned. I've been burned too many times to count. I wouldn't say I'm paranoid of people and their possible bad intentions, but I am totally on guard, watching for red flags, heeding warning signals and gathering data. The reality is, I've NEVER been wrong when someone gets my back up. Usually I observe, wait and see. Our intuition and gut instincts are always spot on and we should always trust what WE instinctively feel and/or know.
My senses to protect myself, as well as my personal boundaries were annihilated by my narc FOO. So my experience of the "world" is not a supportive one, but one filled with predators that honed in on my vulnerabilities and went in for the kill.
It's not paranoid to be watchful and cautious. Again, the narcs trained us to discount our own feelings and perceptions and accept abusive/malicious/exploitative behavior as normal. It takes time to undo narc programming. Lots of time.
Be as paranoid or as untrusting as you need to be. Trust should be earned. This is something that a narc of any stripe doesn't want you to know.
As an aside. Yes, my intuition was always spot on, BUT, I was programmed by the narcs to ignore it. In fact, narcs and their gaslighting antics are designed to make us feel that our own good judgement is paranoia.
Here's a cruel irony. N parents are divorced and haven't spoke since my teens. However, their response to me in my 20s telling them about some horrible experiences with people was the exact same: "Hmph! Why do these things always happen to YOU?"
My thoughts exactly! Why evil callous MN Mom, and why callously indifferent N dad, do these horrific experiences with "people" always happen to me?!
Thanks to narc training boot camp I mastered the art of bending over for it.
Thanks MN "parents" for shoving me out into the world a fucking target.
Typical narcs. They train you to accept their abuse (don't think, don't feel, don't speak!!! Put-up and SHUT-UP!! Or else!!) THEN they blame you for accepting the same kind of abuse out in the world.
My father-in-law is what I believe to be a paranoid narcissist. He made my life hell shortly after my child was born. Thankfully, after about a year of suffering and some reading I figured him out. As a result I was able to reverse tables on him (he hasn't quit causing minor problems but I believe he is scared at how much I know).
I did two things:
1. Made him believe I was recording him (which ended the verbal cheap shots when I least expected it).
2. Made him believe I was videotaping him (when I suspected he was snooping through my house).
For the most part he now avoids my house like the plague. Now I just have to make him believe that my child is "wired" to make sure he doesn't try and turn my child against me. I don't trust him around my child (especially when alone) and want to take care of the problem before my child begins to understand his lies. Now if I could only convince my wife that he is mentally ill...
If you're gonna riff on one of my readers, you should at least try and make it funny. You have no sense of humour and all the superfluous : --- " " shit gives you away.
The rat story is horrible and unbelievable - that is if I wasn't the daughter of a MN mother.
My NM put me in harms way, and just stood back and watched. There are too many occurence to relate here. But, the one that stands out in my mind and changed my entire perception of her, to the right one, happened when I was 12 years old.
NM mother played the one sibling against the other sibling bit. I was not the GC, but she played "affection" with me if the GC didn't behave. This infuriated him. I usually got punched out by him, and he went back to his throne on the right-hand of MN mother. He got away with constantly assaulting me because she really wanted that to be the outcome. He broke my nose. I wasn't taken to the doctor because, as I know now, the doctor's first question would have been " How did it happen?" The GC was protected from exposure, and still is, at all costs to me.
One day, MN mother began the game again. This time, GC took a knife out of the kitchen, pushed me against a door, and held it to my throat, threatening to kill me. He was a least 100 pounds more than me and was pressing every ounce of it on me. I couldn't get away. Spittal was running down the corners of his mouth. I was frozen, waiting for him to plunge the knife into my throat. Then, I was aware MN mother was in the room. Instead of running for the knife, she just stood there with that smirk on her face. I knew, or thought, I was finished. Finally, she did something. She began screaming at him " Don't do that! They'll take you away from me! Don't do it! She's not worth it!" He didn't lower the knife until she said again, "She's not worth it!" MN mothers smirk came across HIS face and he walked away.
When my PTSD father came home, not a word was said except " Your daughter is a liar. You can't believe anything she says. I'm sending her to her room without dinner. I told her you'd take care of her when you came home." My father asked her what I did and there was no answer except that "are you challenging me?" look. I tired to tell him what GC did to me, but being a good flying monkey, my father got a belt and beat the hell out of me. Of course, MN mother and GC looked on with that smirk on their faces.
From that point, to this day, I have been deemed a "pathological liar" to anyone that would listen. I was kicked down stairs, had more bones broken, multiple shoulder dislocations, beatened, and shunned - all based on MN mother and GC total fabrications, narcissitic evilness and fear of exposure. The stories they told people was: "I was always hurting myself. There must be something very wrong with me, and "she's nothing but trouble; stay away from her for your own good". With the smear campaign firmly in place,and believed- after all, this was a "sainted mother" and her perfect son- I became the outcast like no other. I really wished GC did kill me. Father went along with it because, as he told me decades later, "I knew what they were doing to you for a long, long, time. But, I couldn't do anything about it. I had to watch out for myself." Nice. Thanks "Dad".
So, my father knew. But, he allowed me, his little girl, take abuse that he himself couldn't handle by joining in.
I went No Contact after 2 abusive marriages and realized it was MN mother who molded me into a victim - anyone's victim. I'm now 60 years old and reading everything I can on Malignant Narcissism. I don't know if I can truly heal after 6 decades of this. Probably not. But, I want to thank you, Lisette, for opening the door on the dark dungeon, no, House of Horrors, I, and so many others, lived in.
Please keep writng and exposing. Somewhere, there's a young girl out there who will read these blogs, realize it's not her, expose her abusers, and not allow them to ruin her life.
Hey Anon? Your description of the expression on GC's face? I saw that on Psychob's face: It was as if she wasn't even "present," almost as if she was in some sorta "Rage Trance" and I was convinced she was gonna kill me. I started sleeping at night with my BR door locked (it was just a flimsy door handle lock) with a chair back wedged under the door handle. I also started sleeping with a kitchen butcher knife in bed with my hand around the handle. I was probably ~18 then but more certain than ever she was absolutely capable of killing me in one of her rages. It was as if she'd look at me in the middle of these rages and not even know who the hell I even was...spooky stuff. Your remark about healing? I guess it all depends on what you mean by healing. I'm pretty much at the point where I've finally accepted yup, there *will* be vestiges both physical and mental/emotional that will remain with me until my death. You "father's" excuse is absolutely inhuman, despicable, a total abdication of the most fundament role of a parent: You PROTECT your kids at all costs, including your own life if necessary. Much as you've expressed, I also am so pleased there's all this technology so none of the "youngers" ever have to feel like they're hangin' out there alone when dealing with MN Parents/Family members. How much I wish this was available to me years ago.... TW
Anonymous, what you describe is so vividly familiar. The story about me was "she's always so clumsy, she never looks where she's going". This oft-repeated lie explained away the continual bruising and other wounds people saw, and was a basic everyday tool of the MNs propaganda.
If my father wasn't at home for meals (which he often wasn't) eating with the MN had and her GC son were awful. I had to sit between them at the small table where GCS had an array of his favourite foods, bought exclusively for him - the excuse denying me special foods was always my 'allergies' and "bad liver" - I did have some allergies (principally to them!) though not as portrayed. Here is an example of dinner at that wretched table: GCS watching me being told: "Eat your dinner, stop staring at it, what do you think it is? Shit??" I take a forkful and attempt to lift it to my mouth. GSC then contrives to sharply bump my elbow, so food spills over the table cloth. MN Hag berates me, "Now look at the mess you've made, can't you EVER watch what you're doing??" (Hostile eyes glaring meanly). This episode seems trivial in isolation, but relentless stuff. Meals were miserable occasions. After escape, it was years before I could face eating any of the foods we ate then. On another occasion, MN sat watching, doing nothing to help me after GCS had thrown a dish of hot rice pudding in my face (steaming hot, fresh from the oven. She sat there as if nothing had happened while I tried frantically to get the burning pudding off my skin. GCS was smirk-laughing. After minutes, MN hissed "For God's sake, go and clean your face up, he didn't do it on purpose". He ALWAYS did it on purpose, with her tacit encouragement and approval, and he was richly rewarded by her FOR doing it. My relationship with food was very disturbed for a long time after escaping from them. It's good now though. Anonymous, I don't believe anyone is ever too old to recover, because recovery is not about age, it is primarily about awareness and our relationship to reality, however grim and cruel that reality was.
Awareness and allowing true compassion for the Self who suffered these travesties of "parenting", to counter the terrible programming we got then of being told to "stop feeling sorry for yourself" whenever they deliberately caused us any form of pain. Compassion for that self is not self pity but recognition, and recognition is necessary to name these betrayals accurately. We had to distort reality in order to survive then; we have to restore reality in order to revive now. And the reality part of the day to day abuse is not the hard part, really. The hard part is acknowledging the magnitude and injustice of their evil and its calculated war on our innocence in a world which either did not see, did not want to see, could not see, or did not care - or, in some cases, seemed to care yet did nothing to protect us.
Your father was very like mine. He didn't know all of it, he directly witnessed very little of it, but he knew enough to know that we lived in a house of lies, pretence and daily cruelties. And except for one occasion - still too outrageous for me to speak of, because I fear being disbelieved - he did nothing, but look the other way, his motto: "see no evil, hear no evil - and get the hell out of the house to my sports where ignorance is bliss".
Yes, somewhere out there is a young girl who may one day read these blogs as a door that opens to freedom. That young girl is also us, still present in our soul and much older bodies, because healing people live in the past and present simultaneously - I think perhaps this is why so many of them become astonishingly good writers and novelists.
Awesomeville, Population: 1
ReplyDeleteOh my god. Please forgive me, as I was reading the part about the rat, I kept thinking, "Oh god no, this can't be real. Please, make this not be real." I had to stop reading. I'll come back and read more at some point...but I was just...this is the stuff of nightmares.
ReplyDeleteI have nightmares all the time about terrible things happening to my babies - usually they revolve around awful unspeakable things that in my dreams I am sometimes physically incapable of saving them from. That is my worst nightmare...to not be able to save them, to not be able to protect them. I can't hear them crying in pain or suffering and not do anything about it. I could never...never
This is a very powerful post. I'm so, so sorry.
My god...I don't know what else to say.
(PS I believe you, I didn't mean to imply that your story was too far fetched to be real. I well understand that disturbing, awful things happen to people, and to children, even though I can't stomach it.)
I hate your mother.
Hugs. Big big hugs.
Jonsi
Jonsi,
ReplyDeleteThank-you! I hate her too. In fact, I hate her more than I hate rats. The memory of the experience is very vivid. I was sleeping in what was to become my brother's bedroom, so he wasn't born yet and we're only 25 months apart. I was younger than 2 at the time. What's weird is that she had me in her arms and could have run out of the room with me, but she CHOSE to leave me in the room with the rat, AND slam the door behind her so it wouldn't escape and make its way to her. What's worse is that she got off on the terror it caused me. I present to you the malignant narcissist mother... they would eat their young if we tasted good with a nice Chianti and fava beans.
I am also horrified by the--what shall I call her?-- "mother character" in the rat story. Your narrative creates such poignant images in the mind.
ReplyDeleteAbout the narcissist's paranoia, you wrote: "They are so filled with ill-will that they believe everyone is the same way." Yes--it must be, at least in part, pure projection. In the book Soul Stalking (I finally read it!), the author describes how, for abusive narcissists, paranoia is a function of injecting others with the malice the narcissist refuses to acknowledge as his/her own. That malice, which originates in the abuser, is then safely "contained" by others. They are full of poison, but it's the innocent bystanders who show the symptoms of poisoning. It all verges on the mystical, like voodoo, doesn't it?
This is also a good description of "paranoid decompensation" (look at page 1 of the document, the long quotation from a book, which is cited as pages 407-408):
http://drcachildress.org/asp/admin/getFile.asp?RID=42&TID=6&FN=pdf
Morag
Lisette - To have such a clear memory of something that happened when you were under two...my god, most people don't have memories from such a young age unless they are EXTREMELY traumatic.
ReplyDeleteI don't think there is anything worse for me than the thought of a child suffering...doesn't matter if it's emotional or physical pain, it's still suffering. My god...I keep replaying your narrative in my mind and after a few seconds, I just have to shut it down. I just CAN'T go there.
Your NM is the definition of evil... (I know, you are well aware of that!)
It takes little effort to do the right thing. So it has to be a buzz for them to fuck us over. It's the only way to explain it.
ReplyDeleteTo work harder to put you in a more compromised situation.
That's as chicken shit as it gets.
They feed on other's pain and suffering... and the suffering of the most harmless and innocent seems to give them the greatest power rush. Chicken shit is right. Combine lack of empathy with predation and you've got pure evil. Cowards without conscience.
ReplyDeleteHow hard would it have been for your mother to grab you and leave the room when you were crying because of that rat? What an evil, selfish bitch she is! Wouldn't it be awesome if she got sick, and put into a nursing home where SHE got left in a room with a rat? Hopefully it will be alive and really, really hungry. :)
ReplyDeleteI love where you're going with your sister. Let her own paranoid little mind do most of the work. Plant the seed, give her LOTS of time to stew in her own paranoia, then send a letter to every one of her neighbors. Do you have an A&E worthy picture of her place? Send it with the letter. Hell, send her a copy too! LOL You wouldn't even have to worry about calling the fire dept. or health dept.- her neighbors will take care of that for you!
"Growing-up under her roof my privacy was constantly violated, my bedroom was ransacked, and diaries were read. When I had friends over, I was spied-on through windows, doorways, and the intercom system. Telephone conversations were monitored, and on and on and on."
Minus the intercom, I had the EXACT same experience growing up; I had NO privacy at all. Worse yet, the evil bitch would use what was written in my diary in some passive-aggressive way later, saying just enough to poke at me, but not enough that I could be certain that she really read my diary. If I confronted her, she denied it - This was the beginning of me questioning my own sanity.
Cruella Deville was quite paranoid back in those days, but has become much more paranoid with age. She always thinks someone is out to "get" her, like she's so damn important that people just spent their spare time sitting around plotting on her ass. *insert eyeroll*
I found out last year that she had been entering my house. A key went missing, my security code was compromised (long story). For the past 2 years, I had been walking in my house feeling as if something was "off" in some way. Makes sense now - the bitch was in here going through my stuff, moving things around, and stealing what she thought she could get away with.
Back in my diary-reading days, I had better things to do than to talk about her, so she had nothing to worry about. Trust me, she has PLENTY to worry about now. My days of putting up with her b.s. are long over.
Anon from the blog post
I have a story my sister swears is true. She said she called my mother around the time of 9/11 and somewhere along there being an anthrax in the mail scare, and she said my mother told her she was bleaching her mail as she opened it. You have to insider the source. My mother not my sister. That's exactly like something my mother would say.
ReplyDeleteI asked my sister if maybe the bleach might white out all the ink and make things unreadable. Which is something she said she had thought of. But whatever the case, she said my mother told her that.
PffffffT. Yes terrorists have targeted my mother for extermination. They are still waiting for just the right opportunity to swoop down on her and finish her off.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHHHA
What a crock of shit.
Damn, why did I never think of that whole "stalking in reverse" thing? sigh. I guess my brain just wasn't f'd enough or the "right way."
ReplyDeleteWhen my father finally left and divorced MNmomma's ass after 22/23 yrs. of marriage she became even crazier yet. I suggested she move to a city quite a distance away (after I called my uncle and begged him to please come and help me with "Her Craziness, the Dis-honorable Bitch"-he didn't, but anyway) so she'd be closer to her brother. Honey, someone must set off the cap on the C-4: INSTANT EXPLOSION. When she was able to speak somewhat coherently, she blasted me again with, "NO ONE'S GONNA RUN ME OUT OF THIS TOWN! NO ONE!"
ahhhh, OK.....she lived in a metro area.....had no friends.....no family, hobbies, interests, social activities, nada....
If I could go back to just that *one* event, I'd have my 18/19 yr. old self say, "Look, you're just not that important. No one will notice you're gone and if they did I'm sure you wouldn't be missed.
Paranoid? Oh yeah. So I'll just check off "All the above" on this post, Lisette.
I also love the "Plant and water" concept for "Hoarders." If she has a pet, don't forget the local animal rescue folks. No living thing is safe in an MN's vicinity.
When I was staying at my mothers house after her stroke I sat a huge stack of laundry on a receipt for something. It wasn't important.
ReplyDeleteSo I come in one afternoon and my mother handed it to me and said she saw it "on the floor" and thought it might be important.
She had to have been rummaging around in my stuff to find it.
I also kept a large calender on the wall of her spare bedroom and used it to keep track of her doctors appointments and Rx refill times. One day I walk in and she has her look. The one my sister calls her so very pleased with herself look.
She announced that the calender was missing. I didn't take it down. And trust me, it didn't fall off the wall. So I said OK I guess it's gone.
She got this indignant look and said,"well aren't you going to go look for it?"
By now I had figured out she is crazy as a shit house rat. So I said, "no, if you say it's gone it must be gone".
"Well I can't bend over to look under the bed I need you to go see about it".
So I did just to shut her up.
Sure enough, like I knew before I even looked.
No calender.
She took it off and threw it away for some reason.
Just bored and wants to see someone step and fetch.
Q1605, OMG I am sitting here giggling my ass off now! My MN mother was also very paranoid during that anthrax in the mail scare. She didn't come up with the brilliant idea of bleaching the mail, but she was very hesitant to open it, and talked about it a whole lot...If I knew then what I know now, I would have told her that not only is she being targeted by the Anthrax people, but Al Qaeda had her on their hit list too - they were just bidding their time to take her out! LMAO Hmmmm...wonder if they'd be willing to take a nomination or two.
ReplyDeleteThe calendar thing was just weird. I guess it makes sense if your mother is like mine - chronically bored, always looking for excitement of some sort. Nothing dramatic going on? No problem, she'd pull something out of her ass. Seems to me that they desperately need new hobbies. :)
Anon from the blog post
If Al Qaeda takes'em out I am sure they will bring them back. But I will have moved and left no forwarding address.
ReplyDeleteq1605, Anon from the blog post,
ReplyDeleteAnthrax?? Are you kidding me? Damn. Do they have powerful enemies! Al Queda?!! I think a greeting card with a mini baggie of unsented talcum powder sent from a foreign country is in order (if you get my drift).
Anon, your MN mother thought people wanted to run her out of town when she barely existed on the fringes of society?! Hilarious!
These MNs seriously need to get some hobbies... oh wait a sec... PARANOIA is their hobbie: CYBER and IRL stalking, spying, breaking and entering, stealing, lying, toying, gossiping, slandering, manipulating, gaslighting and always looking over their back wondering who's on to them.
What a wonderful life these malignant narcs lead. What are they good for? Absolutely nothing.
Too bad they didn't have Predator Drones in those days....I'd gladly have supplied Lati and Longe/Goggle Earth and a Street map....or "Rendition" for MNs....now, THAT'S a thought...hmmm....
ReplyDeleteBut baking soda would be a whole lot cheaper.
I doubt if my mother bleached her mail. It was one of her lies to get attention that she didn't think through before she told it. I guess if you diluted it enough it wouldn't bleach your mail white, but it would still be a mess.
ReplyDeleteYou all are a riot!!! LOL When I'm fine-tuning plans for my evil mother, I will certainly come here for feedback!
ReplyDeleteBaking soda or talcum powder sounds good for me. I don't think I'd put it in a baggie though; I'd dredge a greeting card in it so when she pulled it out of the envelope, she'd have a dusting of white powder all over her hands and everything else...Think frying chicken or baking a cake without an apron here. Bet she'd be diving in a tub of bleach after that! LMAO
blog post Anon
Baking soda is definitely the "powder" of choice. It's got a nice, fine consistency and no scent. I doubt the crazies would dab a little on their finger for a taste. Also dredging makes sense. Forget the baggie. Let the dusting fall where it may, and then hose the narcs down with bleach. Heck, if it works on paper it will work on their snake skins. Then suggest they be put in "isolation" as to not "contaminate" others and lead them to the closest narc quarantine centre. Little would they know that one-by-one they are being removed from society and isolated with their own kind. How's that for a conspiracy theory you damn paranoid narcs?!
ReplyDeleteAlso, dig the idea about the google map from various angles in space and on earth. I had to google my building once, and saw my car parked-out front. I think the license plate was blurred-out, but that type of thing would freak the paranoid narc. Especially, if they're not computer savvy. If you're real lucky you might get a google map photo of them walking to their home. Talk about paranoia setting in!! Failing that, just hide in the bushes and take a shot... a photo I mean... or, do I?
If someone sent me white powder in an envelope I would subject it to extensive testing through a rolled up dollar bill in my full figured schnout.
ReplyDeleteOld habits are die hard.
I would have regressed into old ways before I could catch myself.
Hey, at least you'd know what to do with it besides having it vetted by local law enforcement/Radiology Department at the local hospital.....that's how my "packages" were vetted. And "Merry Christmas"/Birthday/Any-day to YOU, MNmomma. And your "PIs" as well.
ReplyDeleteNow, back to the baking soda and Google Earth..... You all know the song:
"I always feel like
Some one is watching MEEEEEEE....."
(if for no other reason, I'm just so damn "important"....when the reality is, no, you're not but hell, we'll allow you your 15 seconds of "fame"....or at least I would-GLADLY!)
Yeah, loose the baggie. Use the baking soda. It doesn't have the "scent" of talcum powder which has a definite "clean" smell. And there's not a scent in this world that can cover the stink of a MN.
My mother lives in NYC and returned from one of her trips overseas on 9-12-01. When I frantically called her and told her about the WTC attacks she got real testy with me and asked why I was making such a big deal over an attack that happened in Manhattan when she lives in Queens. Seriously. I sarcastically said, "I know I shouldn't care about anyone else but you, right?" She wasn't worried about the anthrax scare because she is that superior in intelligence and stature that no one would dare try to harm her. In fact, when people have openly made fun of her and sarcastically asked for her autograph or put on a Gomer Pyle ignoramus accent, she ate it up. One time a couple at a next table in a restaurant were so annoyed with her loud and obnoxious "look-at-me" show that the guy actually said, "Madam, I'm on my honeymoon but I'll ditch this gorgeous 25 year-old blonde I've been married to for 28 hours to be with the most interesting, richest, smartest and loudest woman in the country. My, my, why hasn't someone snatched you up yet." I heard him finish that sentence with the words "in a straight jacket you dumb bitch." I was so mortified I almost slipped under the table as I was sure she'd make a horrible scene and get us kicked out (again) by screaming at the couple or something. Instead, she beamed with pride and said, "I am old enough to be your mother but I appreciate the compliment." He just shook his head in disgust. Once after I tried to usher her away from these types of sarcastic people who were nevertheless understandably disgusted, she actually accused me of being jealous of all the attention she was receiving. Everyone who knows me would tell you I HATE getting attention and always prefer to work in the background, etc. probably because I'm terrified of being like her in any way. Anyway, mine saves her paranoia for the people that actually try to love her like me, my husband and my 3 kids. A man can do anything he wants to her and she'll grovel at his feet but God help the women in her life if we so much as look at her the wrong way.
ReplyDeleteI've been no contact for a year and am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel although it's really hard to get that horrible bitch out of my mind. I think I'm ashamed it took me over 50 years to wake up to the fact that she'll never become a real mother.
So sorry about the rat situation. Lisette, you're a smart cookie that you immediately saw her for the evil bitch she was. It took me over 50 years of similar betrayals, life changing thefts, violence, etc. I too hate rats but would sooner let a rat into my home than her.
B
B, I read your response with my head shaking, "Yup...check...check" right down the MNmomma list. I DESPISED going out in public with mine; more cringe-worthy moments than I can even remember. I actually did the whole "toilet-paper-stuck-to-my-heel" thing returning to the table in a lovely restaurant from the Ladies Room. You know how there's a low murmer in the background of these places? I couldn't understand why it just....stopped and people were looking at me, giggling behind their hands over mouths etc. until another friend at the table caught my attention and frantically gestured at me to look down. Too late...I've now traipsed most of the way back to the table in the middle of the dining room with I swear the world's longest role of toilet paper firmly attached and leaving an unmistakable trail of shame in my wake...
ReplyDeleteWhat else could I do? I kind of half bowed, curtsied to the other diners as I reached down with my beet-red face, ears-oh hell, the blush started somewhere around my feet, worked it's way up like a first degree sunburn. The diners then laughed WITH me, gave me a bit of an ovation and I resumed my place (under the table, metaphorically.) The point is, I learned "damage control" thanks to the public displays of grandiosity/attention seeking at the knees of MNmomma.
Please don't feel like a slow learner-we ALL had hope that somehow, some way we could help these people or somehow, they'd actually love us just for being who we were.The problem for me was my MNmomma DID see 'reality' (it's all about MEEEEE!)-and REVELLED in it! When you're a compassionate, decent human being with morals (not of the MN-snake variety), values (which include treating others with dignity and respect) and ethics (again, not present in any other form but snake-variety) it's really challenging to wrap your mind around their world. I've nibbled at the edges periodically in my younger years prior to terminating the relationship and it scared the crap out of me. Whoa! Not only are these MNs nasty, their nasty is of the fixed and unyielding variety. To say they're truly social morons doesn't begin to capture the phenomena. Their lack of care and concern for us is on THEM and who they really ARE. Took me a good, long time to finally accept there was No "there" THERE I could possibly assist in any way. Gettin' out of their road is the only sane, realistic response-and of course, they can't HAVE THAT! Loose another source of supply a la your Adult Kid? WAR is declared.
We can call Lisette's mother "Rat Woman" but that'd be an insult to rats.
Oh. I can so relate to cringe-worthy moments out in public with these Ns. Their grandiosity/attention seeking and immaturity makes them total social morons. Anon, that TP story is priceless, and your recovery was gold. High five!
ReplyDeleteIf my N father was there he would have pointed at you, gone "Haha!" and said, "Toilet paper!" He's like that character Nelson (the bully) from the Simpson who points, goes "Haha!" then states the obvious. One time we were at a family type restaurant and the waiter dropped this big box of crayons. They spilled everywhere, and the waiter was noticeably frustrated at having to pick them all up. N father points, goes "Haha!" and says, "Crayons!" The waiter went red-faced. Not so much out of embarrassement but rage. He looked like he wanted to punch-out N father. N father continued to laugh, thinking it was the funniest thing. I sunk into my chair. Another time, we were walking up this hill and this bag guy/bottle collector was navigating his way down the hill and lost control of his shopping cart. His cans, and bottles started spilling out and rolling down the hill. N father stops, points, goes "Haha!" and says, "Bottles!" The shopping cart guy got really mad and shouted, "Thanks for stating the obvious!!" Then N father says, "Hmmm. What's his problem? This seems to happen to me a lot. People getting mad for no reason." Ugh. King Oblivious' idea of humour is other people's misfortune. Ns think stuff like people slipping on banana peel is funny. Lack O' Empathy!!
B, no contact may have come early for me but the struggles with "hope" didn't end immediately. The hope that MN mother didn't mean it, that she did love me, that she was just in an unahappy marriage blah, blah, blah. Learning about NPD as well as learning about her unrelenting covert abuse cinched the deal for me, and made me realize that I made the right decision. These MNs NEVER change. And when I started learning about NPD the narcs were always in my head... even narcs I had forgotten about started cropping-up like mushrooms. It's like I had to process every N relationshit in light of what I now knew. I'm still doing it. But the good thing is, I no longer ask "why?" Now I know why. These freaks have disordered personalities. There's nothing I can do about it, except protect myself from future harm.
Yeah. Let's not insult rats. I'd gladly have a rat crawling around in my home over a MN any day.
My sister told me a story of shopping with my mother in 1966. That made my sister 15 and my mother in her mid thirties. Said my mother was wearing go go boots and a big floppy hat and looked like she just stepped off the set of Laugh-In. My sister was mortified. When my mother figured out my sister was trying not to be seen with her, she made her come and stand next to her during the rest of the outing.
ReplyDeleteOh gawd, go go boots! I have a traumatic memory of go go boots. It was in the 70s, and for some reason the mothers were invited to class. I didn't think MN mother would ever go... she always just skulked around at home looking miserable and never had any interest in my life. But low and behold, not only does she go to this mother day thingy, she gets all dolled-up for it. Of course, it was all about her. She wore flaming red go go boots, red plaid skirt, red cape, red beret, red lips, red nails, huge hoop earings. It was so over the top. I was so embarrassed of her... and if her goal was to be noticed, she was... like a flashing neon sign. This kid came up to me at lunch and made fun of her. "Your mother looked so funny is her red go go boots..."
DeleteSince we are on this topic. My mother also was wearing a blonde wig. She is brunette. So she has the black eyebrows and black eyelashes and it just didn't fit. My father was insecure when she got too dolled up and would have flipped out seeing her decked out like that. So of course she had to change out of it and hide everything as soon as she got in.
ReplyDeleteHuh. You'd think someone would notice the "Drapes" didn't match the "Carpet." But I guess it didn't matter anyway-or maybe she lost the wig "In The Heat Of The Moment."
ReplyDeleteGo-Go boots? In the '70's? Damn, those things were out of style BY 1970. (Unless you were a majorette and it was part of the uniform.) Hey, I bet she believes she was the FIRST to get into the whole "Vintage Look" when the reality is these old bags "invented" Grunge and still believe they have it ALL goin' on. Instead of raiding their daughter's closets, they're now raiding the granddaughter's closets.
I'm not saying you have to dress like a frump. But c'mon, if you're old enough to have worn mini-skirts and hip-hugger bell bottoms you're waaaay past the "expiration date" for "low rise flares." Or fish-nets. No amount of Botox, Restaline or Plastic Surgery is gonna help. (Just ask Joan Rivers.)
Besides, the frizzy, short, grey-tinged/grey roots no-style helmet head gives it all away in any event. Sigh. Where's that long blonde wig when ya need it?! (Probably can't remember whose back seat or motel room it got left in and noone has offered to replace it...."lipstick on a pig" and all that...)
Anonymous,
DeleteYou are sharp! You know, after I wrote the comment I thought she was a decade behind the times fashion wise because this was in the mid 70s. That's one of the reasons she looked so weird. MN mother is so damn cheap, I think she bought all her duds on sale at bargain prices when they were no longer fashionable. THAT, or she was re-living the 60s. These Ns seem to be stuck in a time warp, and think they're 10 to 15 years younger than they are.
Oh shit. I just remembered another thing that kid said to me. He said, "Your mother looked "old-fashioned" with her go go boots blah, blah, blah..." I was always embarrassed by the way she dressed because it was always dated. I'm going with the cheap theory. You would think a N would be vain enough to buy themselves the latest threads, but she was way too cheap to shop for new clothes. I remember I had to wear a white frilly blouse on sports day because she wouldn't shell-out for a white T shirt. I looked ridiculous. Money wasn't an issue. It was about MN mother's extreme stinginess. Ugh. I won't get started on how cheap her and MN sister are.
DeleteCoincidence or not, my MN mother was cheap as hell too! I used to think that it was because she didn't have the money, but even when she did, she still wouldn't buy new clothes. She would walk around with ratty bras and underwear with holes! The funny thing is that she would always make sure to point this out, like she was some kind of martyr or something.
ReplyDeleteHer cheapness didn't end there - I mostly wore clothes that were given to her by other people, so they were usually ill-fitting and not stylish at all. Going to school was a total nightmare not only because I was weird (pretty much a 30 year old social worker in the body of a 12 year old), but because I had to wear the same clothes over and over again. I was teased mercilessly, which may not be a huge deal in itself, but coupled with the fact that my home life was horrible, it was about as bad as it gets - no reprieve from being tortured no matter which way I turned.
My mother was also too cheap to take me to a hairdresser, so she'd cut, or should I say hack at my hair herself with dull scissors - I'd always end up with uneven hair. I don't know about the rest of you, but it was my job to comb my hair starting at the age of 6 or 7. Fine, except for the fact that it was kind of on the thick side and down to my waist. When I developed matts on the underside, there would be hell to pay - she'd yank those knots out and lecture me for not combing my hair.
I can tell you what she did have money for - food! Even though there was hardly food in the house, and I'd routinely get in trouble for eating too much, she made damn well certain that she had enough tucked away for herself, and just to make sure that she'd get full, she'd eat while she was cooking. When everyone would sit down for dinner, she'd remain in the kitchen, so I'd ask why she was not eating. Her answer: There's only enough for you; I'm going without. Overall she was a greedy, selfish bitch, who put forth a lot of effort in appearing to be a wonderful, self-sacrificing person. She's disgusting in every sense of the word!
blog post Anon
blog post Anon,
ReplyDeleteYep. I can relate. Sometimes I think these MN momsters wanted us to look weird, so we would be miserable in our school environment too. It's just another way they deprived us and sucked the joy out of our life. MN mother used the "we can't afford it" excuse all the time. Which was total bull considering we lived on ocean front property. I was in a figure skating carnival and supposed to be in two group numbers, but I was only allowed in one because apparently "we couldn't afford" the second costume. What a joke. It was only 20$ but MN mother was hell-bent on destroying any enjoyment I could have. She wanted me to be an outcast. I was the only kid among at least 20, who could only be in one number. Kids felt sorry for me because word got around that I was poor. I was also taken out of figure skating when I was starting to excel because "we couldn't afford it", AND it made MN sister feel bad that I was good at it. No lie. That's what I was told. But, the entire family travelled to Seattle to watch HER in a competition. I remember I had to go tell my coach who really wanted to work with me that I could no longer skate because we couldn't afford it. I remember her looking at me with compassion, and then looking-over at MN mother in disgust. She knew I was being abused, and that we COULD afford it.
MN mother hacked my sister and mines long curly hair off. We had boy cuts just like my brother all through elementary school. Yes. I got teased. When all the other kids were wearing jeans, I was forced to wear these hideous polyester stretch pants. A boy haircut, and stretchy pants. Yeah. I looked like a dork. She did whatever she could to make me look and feel ugly. I must have looked like a poor kid too because if and when a new friend came over after school they would be shocked by where I lived.
My mother always looked like a slob, and only ate left overs. This was all part of the poor me, I'm so hard done by martyr act. She would munch and crunch while she cooked (fair enough) but when it came time to sit down to a freshly prepared meal she would eat a big mound of left overs... the kind of stuff you would feed the dog. She couldn't stand to see a morsal of food go to waste. She was a human garburator and she ate like a pig. She ate with that really wet, smacking noise. She gnawed on bones like an animal, and sucked every last piece of meat off. Sometimes she would get food all over her face. To this day, the sound of loud smacking eaters, who breath heavy and groan while they eat makes me sick. MN mother wasn't over weight, she was just a boor and a slob... behind closed door. But when she went out to a social event... boy, the transformation was something else. Seemed she could actually paint over that perma scowl. Talk about mask switching.
Greedy, selfish, miserly, depriving bitches who wanted to "appear" to be wonderful, self-sacrificing mothers is exactly right. Disgusting, deluded frauds!
It feels good to get this stuff out.
It almost sounds like we're talking about the same person!
ReplyDeleteMy mother also used to suck every sliver of meat off of the bone, chew on gristle, gnaw on bones, even sucking the marrow out...hey - maybe she used this talent to get all of her men! LMAO She also would get grease along with little bits of food on her face.
Till date, I can't stand the sight or sound of anyone doing anything like this. People smacking their lips, chewing loudly, slurping soup, or just eating like pigs overall makes me sick. It's triggering enough that I actually lose my appetite for most of the day.
You just reminded me of a few other things - Several other incidents where she couldn't "afford" outfits for me to participate in activities. I was involved with a dancing choir in high school, and needed an outfit which cost about $30. I practiced all year long only to be excluded from performing because I didn't have the outfit. I signed up for a dance team, but couldn't perform for the same reason. I missed every single field trip (except for one - someone else gave me the money) that my school had to offer because she wouldn't pay the $10 or $20 that it took for me to go...At this time, we would have been considered lower middle class. She could have afforded it if she wanted to.
Sure does feel good to get this stuff out!
BIG Hello From Scotland
ReplyDeleteHi There, I might have posted in the wrong section earlier
I Empathise Entirely with You All
I Found Your Site whilst I was Doing-The-Rounds, around the Righteous Handful of Sites Exposing Moral-Imbeciles, like those You've highlighted as being "pitted" against You (romantically)
Although, so far I've sadly been met by several hypocritical keyboard-hardmen & Infantile-Girls territorially suffering from delusions of grandeur (You couldn't make it up )
I’d like to share My Own Experience with You, where I was targeted by a Female serial-killer … LUCKY ME
She kills through relentless & ruthless attempts at ambient-abuse, abuse by proxy, emotional-black-mail, death-threats etc & as I was to Discover, (AFTER Exposing Her & Her Cronies,) by perverting the course of Justice … She does so for sadistic PLEASURE (You couldn't make it up )
I’d Followed The Teachings of Martin Luther King, Mother Teresa & Gandhi & I ASSURE You I Tried Everything, from a Safe Distance, to get through to Her … However, She’s a 44 Year old with the Emotional age of a 3 Year old & the alloplastic-defences to go with it …
She derives sadistic, (ie Infantile) Narcissistic pleasure from Unspeakable-cruelty & imagines Herself to be clever by Lying-Pathologically & can fool the Legal-system …
She’s addicted to Her-Own Neuro-Chemistry & Adrenaline rushes & is Psychotic … ie Her lies allow Her to program Her bitter Mind for the kill (ie rush) … Her Brain doesn’t Eat Sugar across the Entire Front of Her Brain, due to a dysfunctional uncinate fasciculus, so She doesn’t Actually Exist in Reality
She’s Lead Me to Believe that 6 Men have committed suicide because of Her causing Them PTSD & for Those Who won’t Her Sister has then shot several of Them … LUCKY ME (They’re a gruesome twosome & on-line Their aliases are interchangeable, so They double-team You …)
At a Formative Age, the elder of the 2 smashed the Younger 1's Forehead off the floor repeatedly until She Said She Genuinely Thought She was going to die … ie The Final ingredient to Make a psychotic serial killer … (She has the Exact same Physical Construct of Brain as the mass-murderers She admires …)
I Saw-Through Her & Stood-Up to Her & Genuinely Cared about Her, as I Uber-Empathically harrowingly Saw in Her what She Would have been had She not been born with what She called a broken brain & had She not suffered on-top of That … However, She Informed Me that Her EVERY Action was A Deliberately-Selfish & ENORMOUSLY premeditated Choice
She had Me arrested & I’ve to appear in Court for the TERRIBLE CRIME of Typing The TRUTH on MY Facebook Page (ie Slander & breach of Confidence) which She’d Doctored from a Post I’d placed on My old Facebook profile from 4 Months Earlier, having TYPED nothing about Her in 3 Months by that juncture …
I’d actually phoned the Police 1 Month before She had, as She’d been in My House when I was out working for a Local Charity (I’d no Idea She’d made a copy of My Key) … However, She lied fearlessly & pathologically to The Police & being Female played the Ted Bundy pity-card with the Gullible Male officers … (She REALLY Did a number on Them …)
Whereas, A Month Earlier when I’d had-enough & Called the Police & was HONEST :- Being Male, I was Told, by a Female police officer & I Quote, We’ll wait until She kills Someone ‘Then’ We’ll arrest Her … :-
Here’s the off-shore expose’ which I BRAVELY Predicted could get Me arrested, 2 Days before I found Myself locked in a prison cell in Glasgow, in the Middle of the Night, whilst the Malignant Sociopath (& co) cackled in the distance, delighting in having perverted the justice system to continue trying to cause Me PTSD in the vain hope I’ll be the 7th Man to commit suicide because of Them …
I've exposed Them in the vault of guilt on My website www.christlike.be
You're All Life Savers
Kind Regards,
Erol
Erol. I was searching for words to respond to your post. I was going to elaborate about the cluster fuck that is my mother, and how she sounds like the woman that is the thorn in your side.
ReplyDeleteHow my mother is this.
How she is that.
But I found your youtube channel first.
Hearing your interpretation of Miss Havisham stopped me cold.
You've already met her.
LOLOLOL
I read today that paranoia is moreso evident in the low functioning MN, the more paranoid they are the lower functioning they are.
ReplyDeleteTHe MN I know has always been paranoid, significantly so. For the last 3-4 years there is a jump. If they are low on N supply or under stress this can happen. The MN is getting her N supply from the one family, yet she is continuing to get more and more paranoid.
I am almost wondering if this is a sign that she really is ill with something. She goes to the doctor all the time for attention from the doctor all the time when she is not sick, but for this she refuses to go.
Could increased paranoia be a sign that a MN is ill with something, that something is more wrong then usual? Does real illness cause stress and then stress cause more paranoia?
I wish the MN would pass away, I am being honest about that. Thoughts that she is close is comforting and I feel bad that I feel that way. Is it wrong to wish the MN in your life would just hurry up and pass away already?
Hmm...Im also paranoid of people,but because I grew up with MN's....
ReplyDeleteI was thinking the same thing.
DeleteIs it paranoia or distrust? Or, common sense not to blindly put your trust in someone without them having earned it?
DeletePeople who have been raised in healthy families are far more scrupulous than the abused in terms of spotting the creeps in the crowd. They were raised among the normals, so they know when someone's behavior is "off."
The narcs train us not to trust our feelings and our own good judgement and we end up getting burned. I've been burned too many times to count. I wouldn't say I'm paranoid of people and their possible bad intentions, but I am totally on guard, watching for red flags, heeding warning signals and gathering data. The reality is, I've NEVER been wrong when someone gets my back up. Usually I observe, wait and see. Our intuition and gut instincts are always spot on and we should always trust what WE instinctively feel and/or know.
My senses to protect myself, as well as my personal boundaries were annihilated by my narc FOO. So my experience of the "world" is not a supportive one, but one filled with predators that honed in on my vulnerabilities and went in for the kill.
It's not paranoid to be watchful and cautious. Again, the narcs trained us to discount our own feelings and perceptions and accept abusive/malicious/exploitative behavior as normal. It takes time to undo narc programming. Lots of time.
Be as paranoid or as untrusting as you need to be. Trust should be earned. This is something that a narc of any stripe doesn't want you to know.
As an aside. Yes, my intuition was always spot on, BUT, I was programmed by the narcs to ignore it. In fact, narcs and their gaslighting antics are designed to make us feel that our own good judgement is paranoia.
ReplyDeleteHere's a cruel irony. N parents are divorced and haven't spoke since my teens. However, their response to me in my 20s telling them about some horrible experiences with people was the exact same: "Hmph! Why do these things always happen to YOU?"
My thoughts exactly! Why evil callous MN Mom, and why callously indifferent N dad, do these horrific experiences with "people" always happen to me?!
Thanks to narc training boot camp I mastered the art of bending over for it.
Thanks MN "parents" for shoving me out into the world a fucking target.
Typical narcs. They train you to accept their abuse (don't think, don't feel, don't speak!!! Put-up and SHUT-UP!! Or else!!) THEN they blame you for accepting the same kind of abuse out in the world.
"Thanks to narc training boot camp I mastered the art of bending over for it"
ReplyDelete"Thanks MN "parents" for shoving me out into the world a fucking target"
Yep, EXACTLY....
My father-in-law is what I believe to be a paranoid narcissist. He made my life hell shortly after my child was born. Thankfully, after about a year of suffering and some reading I figured him out. As a result I was able to reverse tables on him (he hasn't quit causing minor problems but I believe he is scared at how much I know).
ReplyDeleteI did two things:
1. Made him believe I was recording him (which ended the verbal cheap shots when I least expected it).
2. Made him believe I was videotaping him (when I suspected he was snooping through my house).
For the most part he now avoids my house like the plague. Now I just have to make him believe that my child is "wired" to make sure he doesn't try and turn my child against me. I don't trust him around my child (especially when alone) and want to take care of the problem before my child begins to understand his lies. Now if I could only convince my wife that he is mentally ill...
Hey Troll,
ReplyDeleteIf you're gonna riff on one of my readers, you should at least try and make it funny. You have no sense of humour and all the superfluous : --- " " shit gives you away.
Yawn.
Lisette,
ReplyDeleteThe rat story is horrible and unbelievable - that is if I wasn't the daughter of a MN mother.
My NM put me in harms way, and just stood back and watched. There are too many occurence to relate here. But, the one that stands out in my mind and changed my entire perception of her, to the right one, happened when I was 12 years old.
NM mother played the one sibling against the other sibling bit. I was not the GC, but she played "affection" with me if the GC didn't behave. This infuriated him. I usually got punched out by him, and he went back to his throne on the right-hand of MN mother. He got away with constantly assaulting me because she really wanted that to be the outcome. He broke my nose. I wasn't taken to the doctor because, as I know now, the doctor's first question would have been " How did it happen?" The GC was protected from exposure, and still is, at all costs to me.
One day, MN mother began the game again. This time, GC took a knife out of the kitchen, pushed me against a door, and held it to my throat, threatening to kill me. He was a least 100 pounds more than me and was pressing every ounce of it on me. I couldn't get away. Spittal was running down the corners of his mouth. I was frozen, waiting for him to plunge the knife into my throat. Then, I was aware MN mother was in the room. Instead of running for the knife, she just stood there with that smirk on her face. I knew, or thought, I was finished. Finally, she did something. She began screaming at him " Don't do that! They'll take you away from me! Don't do it! She's not worth it!" He didn't lower the knife until she said again, "She's not worth it!" MN mothers smirk came across HIS face and he walked away.
When my PTSD father came home, not a word was said except " Your daughter is a liar. You can't believe anything she says. I'm sending her to her room without dinner. I told her you'd take care of her when you came home." My father asked her what I did and there was no answer except that "are you challenging me?" look. I tired to tell him what GC did to me, but being a good flying monkey, my father got a belt and beat the hell out of me. Of course, MN mother and GC looked on with that smirk on their faces.
From that point, to this day, I have been deemed a "pathological liar" to anyone that would listen. I was kicked down stairs, had more bones broken, multiple shoulder dislocations, beatened, and shunned - all based on MN mother and GC total fabrications, narcissitic evilness and fear of exposure. The stories they told people was: "I was always hurting myself. There must be something very wrong with me, and "she's nothing but trouble; stay away from her for your own good". With the smear campaign firmly in place,and believed- after all, this was a "sainted mother" and her perfect son- I became the outcast like no other. I really wished GC did kill me. Father went along with it because, as he told me decades later, "I knew what they were doing to you for a long, long, time. But, I couldn't do anything about it. I had to watch out for myself." Nice. Thanks "Dad".
So, my father knew. But, he allowed me, his little girl, take abuse that he himself couldn't handle by joining in.
I went No Contact after 2 abusive marriages and realized it was MN mother who molded me into a victim - anyone's victim. I'm now 60 years old and reading everything I can on Malignant Narcissism. I don't know if I can truly heal after 6 decades of this. Probably not. But, I want to thank you, Lisette, for opening the door on the dark dungeon, no, House of Horrors, I, and so many others, lived in.
Please keep writng and exposing. Somewhere, there's a young girl out there who will read these blogs, realize it's not her, expose her abusers, and not allow them to ruin her life.
Hey Anon? Your description of the expression on GC's face? I saw that on Psychob's face: It was as if she wasn't even "present," almost as if she was in some sorta "Rage Trance" and I was convinced she was gonna kill me. I started sleeping at night with my BR door locked (it was just a flimsy door handle lock) with a chair back wedged under the door handle. I also started sleeping with a kitchen butcher knife in bed with my hand around the handle. I was probably ~18 then but more certain than ever she was absolutely capable of killing me in one of her rages. It was as if she'd look at me in the middle of these rages and not even know who the hell I even was...spooky stuff.
DeleteYour remark about healing? I guess it all depends on what you mean by healing. I'm pretty much at the point where I've finally accepted yup, there *will* be vestiges both physical and mental/emotional that will remain with me until my death. You "father's" excuse is absolutely inhuman, despicable, a total abdication of the most fundament role of a parent: You PROTECT your kids at all costs, including your own life if necessary.
Much as you've expressed, I also am so pleased there's all this technology so none of the "youngers" ever have to feel like they're hangin' out there alone when dealing with MN Parents/Family members. How much I wish this was available to me years ago....
TW
Anonymous, what you describe is so vividly familiar. The story about me was "she's always so clumsy, she never looks where she's going". This oft-repeated lie explained away the continual bruising and other wounds people saw, and was a basic everyday tool of the MNs propaganda.
ReplyDeleteIf my father wasn't at home for meals (which he often wasn't) eating with the MN had and her GC son were awful. I had to sit between them at the small table where GCS had an array of his favourite foods, bought exclusively for him - the excuse denying me special foods was always my 'allergies' and "bad liver" - I did have some allergies (principally to them!) though not as portrayed. Here is an example of dinner at that wretched table: GCS watching me being told: "Eat your dinner, stop staring at it, what do you think it is? Shit??" I take a forkful and attempt to lift it to my mouth. GSC then contrives to sharply bump my elbow, so food spills over the table cloth. MN Hag berates me, "Now look at the mess you've made, can't you EVER watch what you're doing??" (Hostile eyes glaring meanly). This episode seems trivial in isolation, but relentless stuff. Meals were miserable occasions. After escape, it was years before I could face eating any of the foods we ate then. On another occasion, MN sat watching, doing nothing to help me after GCS had thrown a dish of hot rice pudding in my face (steaming hot, fresh from the oven. She sat there as if nothing had happened while I tried frantically to get the burning pudding off my skin. GCS was smirk-laughing. After minutes, MN hissed "For God's sake, go and clean your face up, he didn't do it on purpose". He ALWAYS did it on purpose, with her tacit encouragement and approval, and he was richly rewarded by her FOR doing it. My relationship with food was very disturbed for a long time after escaping from them. It's good now though. Anonymous, I don't believe anyone is ever too old to recover, because recovery is not about age, it is primarily about awareness and our relationship to reality, however grim and cruel that reality was.
Awareness and allowing true compassion for the Self who suffered these travesties of "parenting", to counter the terrible programming we got then of being told to "stop feeling sorry for yourself" whenever they deliberately caused us any form of pain. Compassion for that self is not self pity but recognition, and recognition is necessary to name these betrayals accurately. We had to distort reality in order to survive then; we have to restore reality in order to revive now. And the reality part of the day to day abuse is not the hard part, really. The hard part is acknowledging the magnitude and injustice of their evil and its calculated war on our innocence in a world which either did not see, did not want to see, could not see, or did not care - or, in some cases, seemed to care yet did nothing to protect us.
Your father was very like mine. He didn't know all of it, he directly witnessed very little of it, but he knew enough to know that we lived in a house of lies, pretence and daily cruelties. And except for one occasion - still too outrageous for me to speak of, because I fear being disbelieved - he did nothing, but look the other way, his motto: "see no evil, hear no evil - and get the hell out of the house to my sports where ignorance is bliss".
Yes, somewhere out there is a young girl who may one day read these blogs as a door that opens to freedom. That young girl is also us, still present in our soul and much older bodies, because healing people live in the past and present simultaneously - I think perhaps this is why so many of them become astonishingly good writers and novelists.