This is Exhausting

I’ve neen reading a lot about Narcisstic Personality Disorder. Honestly reading about it and realizing that MyDude is a classic case. I mean, the idealization, the devaluation, the triangulation, the fucking discard1. Waking up to the fact that he did this to me on purpose. I knew he got some kind of sadistic pleasure out of it… It’s hard to look at myself as a freaking supply.

I have never been more special to him than a late night taco. If I wasn’t available he went to another taco bell. To him we are all the same. There is nothing different about us except what we can offer him. When I started saying no he managed to devise a perfectly traumatic discard2.

I hate how clinical this is in my mind. The words and definitions are so harsh. But they’re real. I was an object to him. A useful tool until I wasn’t. He fits so neatly into the definition of the narcissist who uses pity to worm his way in. He targets women who have excessive amounts of empathy. Then he sucks their soul.

image

The above image is from the book “Becoming the Narcissist’s Nightmare” by Shahida Arabi.

That has been the hardest thing for me to deal with. We were only together for 5 months but he managed to open all my old wounds and create some pretty nasty new ones.

This isn’t about him. It’s about me. And how I reacted, what I expected and the sad realization that I meant nothing at all to him at every point. That’s a lot to digest.

I’ll be looking at my own reactions and vulnerabilities for a while. He was an abuser, but was I better? He’d say not. But my reactions were to abuse I didn’t even realize was happening.

image

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. That seriously traumatized me. I’m not going to lie. []
  2. Discarded like the nothing I was to him. []

Your Pain is My Salve

#AmWriting

“You’re right, sir. I am complicit in my own torment. You were my addiction and I allowed you to crush me and to change me. You most definitely did me a favor when you discarded me so unceremoniously.

But I do not care for you, sir. That is not why I entertain you and stroke your over-sized ego. I was a good person when we met. But that person is gone now. I do not care for you. Instead I loathe you. I despise your existence. I hate everything about you. And I have been aching for revenge.

I couldn’t participate in your downfall, my good man. That would ruin my own facade. My own act as a good person. I don’t want to outwardly appear to wish you ill. How would I look if I did that? What kind of person would I be if I wallowed in the shit with you? I broke free of you and moved on. Let the gods handle you. You are their monster.

Except you weren’t content with that. And came back to remind me of the pain you created. You reminded me how much I never mattered to you at all. It made me question myself more. What happened here? You were happy and living a good life after you left me in tatters. What was the point except to poke and prod and hurt?

I do not care about you, sir, except to see you suffer. I cursed the gods for the unfairness of it all. How dare you do this to me and walk away without a scratch? How unfair is the universe that you get away with the torment you cause everyone in your life? That wasn’t good enough for me. And still I could not facilitate the punishment you so richly deserved.

You are right, sir. I do bear half the blame. I saw through you but I persisted. That is my own pathology and one that is very painful for me. In the capacity that I can love (I cannot!) I loved you. And you hated me for that. You hated me so much that you formulated the perfect torture for me and carried it out. Yet you never realized that I am your complement,  sir. I hate you just as much as I hate myself.

We have come full circle. You are at the exact place you were when our lives collided. I was not meant to love you, sir. I was meant to learn from the suffering I endured at your hands. And I have finally. And so our journey together ends where it began – me moving on from another life and you flat on your face.

I see you suffering now and I am satisfied. This is a torment you’ve brought on yourself. My hands are clean. I did not cause this. In fact, I pathologically tried to save you – my reward for which was the punishment you so enjoyed. This has nothing to do with me or my feelings or anything else that you may lay at my feet. You are solely responsible for your own demise.

But I’m happy that I was able to see how far you’ve fallen. When you tell me about your current struggles you are hoping that I’ll feel bad for you and want to rescue you. You want me to drown you in adoration and words of love and promises that if you need anything I’M HERE. You still have not seen the very truth of me through all of your machinations. You can’t imagine why I’m suddenly so fucking cruel.

Let me answer that. Your suffering is delicious to me. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. It’s what I’ve been hoping for. I am glad of it, my dear. It’s a salve to all the wounds you have inflicted upon me. Your suffering is your own doing, of course, but I relish every damned minute of it. That makes me a horrible person. I’ll work on that later. I am your mirror image, sir, (do you even know what that means?) so your pain is nothing to me. Except the revenge I’ve been craving.

But now I can move past – and above – you.”

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Above Me?

#AmWriting

You’re “above” me?

Motherfucker, you’re so far beneath me you see the bottom of my feet when you look up. I reached down into the gutter and pulled you from the shit in which you were wallowing. I gave you the means to pretend to be a man for a while. I made you look good to people who would never have looked your way otherwise. And like the TAPEWORM you are, you took and took and took until I was depleted. Then your snake ass moved on to the next victim. She’s done with you now? Imagine that. I sympathize with her.

And where are you now? Back where *I* found you. Right back where you belong. Because you don’t have what it takes to be on my level. You don’t have what it takes to maintain the facade you make without *someone like me* to hold you in place. We make your man act look legit. Otherwise you never succeed. You’re not capable.

I am ashamed that I let someone as *small* as you steal my heart. I’m ashamed of what I did to try to make you happy. I’m ashamed of *almost* all of it. Except how I helped a pitiful person at rock bottom. I’m not ashamed that my character couldn’t look away. Was I stupid? Yup. But I tried to do something good at the time. I’m ashamed I believed that you were worth that – that I believed you were a good person.

I’m ashamed that still care enough to get pissed at you. There is no point to you in my life. I’m ashamed that I expended so much emotional capital in you. Those puppy dog eyes and crocodile tears are really good weapons. But your eyes are mirrors instead of windows. I was looking at my own damned self.

You’re above me? You were lucky I looked down and saw you at all. I improved your life immeasurably. I was a fucking gift to you. Where is my thanks? Where is HER thanks? She did even more for you than I did. She made you look like you were a good family man. That was a valuable crutch. Did you think you’re better than her too?

Crawl back out of that shit on your own, dude. Do it without sucking the life from another female. Do it like a man. Then you might be on my level.

The funny part? I’m just some lowly schlub. How far down are you to be below *me*?

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

His Fate In My Hands, etc

A funny thing happened yesterday. First, I found out that MyDude was talking about what he did to me at a party. Apparently it was hilarious. The person1 who mentioned this, though, said he “did you so dirty. He’s dirty as fuck.” So it’s obvious to me that person wasn’t impressed by what he heard. But who knows what he said to MyDude truthfully. He could’ve been egging him on. People are stupid and petty and love this sort of gossip. It’s juicy to see other people suffer. So, when I got home I was fuming about what I’d heard. I was also fighting with TheMan, which is nothing new, and I was ragey. I was just in a really bad mood.

I get my mail and what do I see? Well, well, well. A letter for MyDude. I look at the sender. Oh my2. It’s very serious. I know it’s serious without even opening it. I just stared at it for like 5 minutes. I had all these thoughts were screaming at me like little demons. Here was something so perfect, so absolutely cosmic. It was so delicious. I had his fate literally in my hands. If I threw this away or did a “Return to Sender” or called the number I knew was inside then his world would blow up. Very badly, as our orange buffoon president would say. I actually laughed pretty hard. How fucking perfect was this? I didn’t have to wait for Karma to balance anything out. The gods delivered his fate into my hands. The person he took such advantage of, the person he so unceremoniously discarded, the person whose life he infected like a parasite. This person who he hurt so tremendously was now holding something that would cause more harm to him than just some financial difficulties or heartache. I could destroy his life. I could make him suffer for a long time.

So, I sat with it. I thought about it. I considered my options. Then I asked for advice from a small group of folks who knew what he’d done. No one bothered to advise me because they knew what I was going to do anyway. They knew I wouldn’t choose to ignore it or return it or call the number on the inside. They knew that I couldn’t destroy someone’s life like that. Not just because it was Andy, but because I could never do that to anyone. No matter how bad they fucked me over. I’m not that kind of person.

Lil Miss told me “You have a choice. The gods gave you a choice and I think it’s a test.”((Arguing about our spirituality is a waste of time, by the way. We believe what we believe.)) A test. What kind of person did he create? Was I so bitter and angry that I could do that to him? I know a lot of women who would happily dial that number and spill the beans. I know plenty of people who would just return to sender and watch his world burn. Plenty of people who would throw it in the garbage and not tell a soul. I am probably really stupid because I was just lamenting that it was unfair how smoothly he got away and he was able to joke about what he did to me and my life. He was laughing at me and now I could exact sweet, sweet revenge. Here was my chance right? But it’s a test. It’s a fork in the road. Which way to go down?

I chose to email him, of course.

“I’m holding your karma in my hand right now. Isn’t that funny?

I was deciding what to do here. I could call and talk to them and give them [her] address or return to sender stating you no longer live here or just let it sit here and do nothing. That’s what you deserve. But the gods gave me a choice – let him be fucked or be me.

I decided to be me. It’s a letter from [].”

And I attached a picture.

I don’t wish him well at all. I don’t hope that they find happiness and that their lives are forever fruitful. I am not that good of a person. I hope they break up and she finds a new man and he is absolutely miserable because of it. I hope he loses his fucking hoopty car. I hope his dick falls off.

But I don’t have it in me to facilitate any of that. It’s totally unfair that the universe is helping him so much but I’m sitting here struggling with all of this change alone… It’s just unfair. It’s unfair that TheMan is walking away and about to get happily re-married while I’m sitting here… I hate all of it and wish horrible things upon both of their eyeballs. I want to be one of those women that doesn’t give a shit what happens to the motherfuckers who hurt her. But I’m not. I’m not like that and it pisses me off.

I had a choice and what if it was a test? What if I failed and I was supposed to kick him straight in the balls? I ask myself that while feeling like I did the right thing. I feel like I did what I supposed to do in that situation – regardless of my desire to just be completely evil and terrible. There are some lines I can’t cross. It drives me bonkers. Moral compass and all that shit.

So, I told him this letter came. I sent from my old email as well as the one he has – just in case he actually and finally blocked me this time. And I asked his coworker to please tell him he’d better check his email. Then I went online and filled out a change of address form for him. He doesn’t need to get any more anything at my house. I know why he didn’t change the address to her house, but I don’t give a fuck. He lives with her now. She can clean up his shit. I’ve done what I needed to do to get the message to him. Now I’m washing my hands. And throwing away this letter. He knows who it’s from. He can call them. Fuck it.

Update:
He emailed me back:
“Look just open it and tell me what it says”

No “thanks for the heads up”, no “please”, no “I know it’s a bother, but can you…” Nope. Just a demand. Because I’m me and he’s him and that’s how our dynamic is supposed to work, right? After everything that has transpired I’m supposed to just do what he demands.

I apologize. I’ve been through so much of your bullshit that I’m now blind and cannot read. Sorry.

I still have not responded with the information he wants. He can say the magic words like any 3 year-old learning to navigate society.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. An interested 3rd party who doesn’t even like me. []
  2. I won’t tell who it’s from. []

I’m Trained to Serve?

When MyDude and I were still living together I would do his laundry with mine. It made sense, so why not? At one point he got really pissed at me for doing it. He said “I know you were probably trained to do that but I can do my own laundry.” It seems like a silly thing to remember, but I found myself thinking about it when I was with a friend the other day.

I have worked with the public since I was able to get my first job. I was trained to be observant and to do my job silently before someone needed something. The glass is empty? Bring the refill without being asked. Someone dropped something? Pick it up for them without being asked. Impress people by seeing what they need before they realize they need it. I’m good at that because I’ve been doing it my entire life.

And, yes, it creeps into my personal life. You have dirty clothes right there and I’m doing laundry? In they go. You need a place to sit? Have my seat. You’re hungry? Eat before me, even if you don’t leave enough for me. I’m good with that. I don’t even think about doing it, really. Well, I haven’t before recently. Not even when Andrew said it that one time. I’m trained, yes. But not by TheMan. TheMan just benefited from something I was already conditioned to do.

My counselor is trying to get me to stop being so conciliatory. Now, I seem like the biggest bitch in my section of BFE. Maybe that’s true. But I will bend over backwards and sideways to do for the people I care about. And this has caused an avalanche of problems for me. I find myself being taken advantage of all the time. Especially by close family members. They know I can’t say no. So, I’m working on that. I’m being very conscious of boundaries. Saying no. It really pisses people off. My people are angry with me, not speaking to me and… Because I say no now and I’m firm. And people in my life don’t know how to handle that.

They wanted me to be me again. But they didn’t want my servitude to change. I’m a pushover. I want everyone to be happy. I want to see people smile. I want them to know they can depend on me. They want me available to them whenever they need something. Now I’m not always available. Now I’m a bitch. Now I’m selfish. Now I’m worthless.

It’s frustrating. This is a huge turning point in my life and most of my problems now are because I’ve done too much for people when I needed help my damned self. Now I’m saying no. And I feel guilty for doing it. Though it does kind of feel better that I don’t have that extra weight on my shoulders. Sure, none of them will help me move, but that’s ok. I’ll figure it out.

I did some research to see what my psychosis is. I’ve decided that I don’t have one or if I do then it’s a manageable one. I want to please people. I want them to be happy with me, to make them laugh, to give them good memories. I don’t want to see anyone suffer and would rather take that burden on myself than see someone else go through it. I don’t want to see someone cry or be afraid or frustrated. Let me carry that burden for you. I’m used to it, right? Give it to me. And they do. Then I get pissed. Because I’m an asshole. Is that a psychosis?

I have an issue with boundaries and now that I’m setting them it’s causing even more problems. MyDude thought I was properly “trained” by TheMan. I was to a certain degree1. He was amazed that I would do anything for him and it pissed him off. He thought I was doing it so that he would be in my debt. That’s not true at all. I just wanted to make him happy – I want to make everyone in my life happy if I can. That’s a bad thing the way I do it. Everyone in my life is pissed at me and I’m over here shrugging. Oh well, my people, this is the me everyone missed. Welcome back, JJ.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. TheMan was surprisingly controlling and I was a willing victim. []

Countdown to a New Life

My life is about ti change drastically. Again. This is what I’ve feared the most since TheMan and I split up.

I’ll be moving to a bigger town. Lil’lady has already picked out the neighborhood. She’s excited. She’s never lived anywhere else and this is an adventure. I’m not exactly sharing in her joy. I’ve been down this road before.

Once was when I left Bob and moved to a city I didn’t know. I lives there for 6 1/2 years. I made friends and had a life. Until it all went to shit and I came home.

Then I started over here and that’s when I met TheMan. I began all over with no friends, no job, and no focus. That worked out for 15 years.

Now, I’m back at it and I’m not looking forward to it at all. But I was thinking about the last two times I started over. Each time was just 30 miles one way or the other along a major highway. No big deal, right? Each time I lost friends just because I was too fat away. And while I was with TheMan I had zero social life outside of the family. Still, I thought I had friends.

I took stock of the people who would never bother with me when I’m 30 miles away. I made a list of who would stay in my life. If there is anyone I should come back to see. One person made the cut. For a whole minute.

The night before last I got bored and went out to see her. Hanging proud as could be on her flag pole was a giant confederate flag. No American flags or POW flags1 can be seen on their property. And this was new. I was livid, of course. There is one person in her life that has made her disgust at all things confederate known – me. She’s known me for 30 years. She was there when my black daughter was born. She understood. But she’s her husband’s wife now and doesn’t need me as a friend.

She said they’re fans of Dukes of Hazzard. I said she’s full of shit and should know me better than to try that with me. I told her I won’t be back because how can I when I’d be too ashamed to bring my grandchildren there? I have nothing else to say to her. This is a serious breach.

So, now I have no friends here. My mom  is gone and my other family doesn’t live here.  I’ll miss my job, but I can probably find a better one up north. I have friends  in 3 different cities that want me to come see them. They’re folks that haven’t let an hour drive deter them from coming to see me. This town I’m in now may as well be a whole different country, because as soon as I’m gone these people will forget about me.

I hate this town. I hate the attitudes of the people here, the local corruption, the fracking. I love my house and yard. Maybe when I leave I won’t want to be alone so often. Imagine not being able to have any kind of lengthy, intelligent conversation. Politics? Boring. Global warming? August is cold this year. Scripted tv? Nah, too confusing. I shouldn’t be nervous. I should be thrilled I’m finally getting out. But I’m scared because I’m old and I don’t know anyone. Starting over at my age? This is going to be a huge challenge.

When I leave I don’t plan on coming back. I don’t plan on telling any of these people where I live either. I’m sure they’ll watch my facebook for evidence of failure. Or to see someone living a different life. They won’t care otherwise.

I’d love to move to another state, but that’s too far. The court won’t allow it. Plus all the kids are in NE Ohio. I’ll be cold this winter and probably miserable. But I’ll live in a county that’s not afraid of marijuana dispensaries. Silver linings,  people.

I’m scared of failing marvelously. That I will end up dying in a shitty apartment at the age of 602. And I’m thrilled I get a fresh start. My world is all topsy-turvy right now. I have a month to prepare and I’m already losing my mind.

In another positive note: I’m finally leaving the romantic troubles at the door. I have no time to worry about men and their delicate sensibilities. As far as every man except TheMan will be concerned I will drip off the face of the earth. MyDude has finally stopped emailing again, so he’ll never even know   when I move. And I’ve not bothered with any other man since my last really bad date. I don’t really even have time to miss MyDude anymore. I think I’m over him.

I’ve been waiting for the end of this summer from hell. And it’s coming soon. Autumn brings a new life – a death knell to the old. Kind of fitting really.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Her husband never served- they’ve also never lived outside of this part of Ohio, a decidedly northern state. []
  2. Like my mom. []

Throw-Away Person

Years ago, my ex boyfriend had a pretty decent group of friends. And those friends, because of their respect for him were very protective of me. That has carried over all these years later. We don’t talk much, because I’m not part of that scene anymore. But when we do it’s fun. And they still will not allow anyone to treat me bad.

Enter my best friend. She and I weren’t speaking a lot when Bob and I were together. She’d gotten married right out of high school and her husband hated me. Anyway, she wasn’t aware of our group of friends. She didn’t understand the dynamic of our social group. So, she’s been having fun texting one of those friends. She’s known him since they were little, but she didn’t know him. The other night I took him out to her house and we smoked a bowl together. Dude was really high and just kept staring at me. I was a bit creeped out. I told my best friend this in private.

Apparently, she decided to have a long convo with this guy and told him I said he was hitting on him. No, I knew better. None of those guys would dare hit on me even 20 years later. It’s a whole different dynamic, like I said. And she just doesn’t understand that level of loyalty. He told me everything she said.

I was livid. Because she talked all about me and MyDude and how stupid I am. She told him all kinds of fun stuff about my intelligence, my life, my thinking. Personal stuff that a best friend should keep to her fucking self. Then I was ranting to my sisters about the betrayal (without specifics). I did that separately. Then I found out I was the subject of conversation from all corners. They each told on the other so I wouldn’t be mad at them. It was fun to hear. Fun in the “what the ever loving fuck is going on here… I don’t need this” kind of way. I didn’t say a word to anyone. I just listened. Then I put all that knowledge away. I’ll be leaving the area soon and when that happens I will disappear. Fuck it.

I know I’ve made some rather poor choices. When MyDude and I were just newly together his life imploded. He needed someone to help him and his people weren’t doing it. Well, when I lived up that way I was in a similar spot. I lived in an apartment in a bad neighborhood – an apartment that everyone knew how to get into. Many times I’d come home to find Lil Miss’s dad sitting on the couch, or a neighbor kid looking for her, or a drunk dude that just needed to sleep one off. I couldn’t afford to move and so I asked my landlord for a more secure door. Instead he broke in and raped me. It was horrible. Because of the area I live in and who my landlord was, no one took me seriously. They’d decided I gave it up. I had to move but I had no money.

One of my friends from work was buying up cheap houses in that neighborhood (it is a bad neighborhood) and offered to let me stay there for a while. I didn’t have to pay in money, but I had to pay. I did, too. You know why? I was desperate. When I moved none of my people came to help. I stole a dolly and moved my shit myself. That includes a stove. I took that mofo on that dolly 2 blocks away. Sure did. And I was my new landlord’s best toy until he went to prison for dealing. Fun, huh?

At one point I was without heat, no car (I walked to work on days the bus didn’t run) and no money for food. My people took Lil Miss but left me in that house. It was miserable. Cold showers, staying in a single room because of the space heater. Not able to cook on the stove, washing my work clothes by hand. I was all alone and I hit the fucking bottom. I was ready to just end it but I was too much of a coward to go through with it. I stayed drunk a lot.

Then my mother finally came to see me and she was horrified. She took me home. I left behind every single thing I owned – pictures, furniture, appliances, most of my clothes. Everything. Fuck it. I stayed with her for a couple of months. Until the summer, I think. I was miserable there because my mother and I hated each other at that point. She was evil. She called Lil Miss a bitch, told her I was a miserable mother, called me all kinds of worthless. I was glad to be out of there when I finally got a shitty little apartment.

I was working two jobs at the time. One started at 2 or 3 until 10 or 10:30. The other was a midnight job. I worked 6 days a week and rode a bike to work. I finally got a scrubby apartment when I met TheMan. Then things started looking up and, well, you know the rest.

When MyDude was at the bottom and I saw what was happening I couldn’t just say “good luck, man, I hope it works out.” I was able to help so I did. And you know what? I’m proud of that. Because that man was in a really bad place. Yes, he took advantage of my kindness eventually, but not at first. At first he was grateful – and he still may be. I don’t know either way. His baby’s mom convinced him I just did those things to have control of him. That’s not the least bit true. I’d have been much better off if he’d have had his own place and his life hadn’t just gone totally to shit. But it happened and I was there. And I was not going to let another human being suffer like I did when I could fucking do something about it. I am proud that I am that kind of person. I am proud that I pass along the goodwill that I have received (from strangers and from family).

I ignored the shit he was doing after a while. I fell in love with him. Yes, yes. I was stupid in that way. I saw what was happening, but I thought he was a different person and I was hopeful. Not so hopeful that I took back everything I gave to him when I saw that he had no qualms about hurting me. But I still held some. Yes, that was completely fucktarded. But helping him? No. Never. I will never apologize for that or feel shame for it. I have done some shit just to survive and have had people watch and let me drown. I wasn’t going to do the same thing – regardless of what he did later. Regardless of the kind of person he turned out to be. I don’t care.

I have forgiven these people for leaving me rot. Because I was able to get out of that hell and am a much better person now. I’m capable and I’ll do what I need to do. I’m just really angry that my best people – the ones I trusted with my insecurities and my tears – just laughed at what I was going through. As if I deserved it. I didn’t. What TheMan did and what MyDude did were not my fault. I didn’t bring that on. And the betrayal of these particular people is just too much for me.

When I finally get TheMan’s retirement money, I’m paying back some folks and then I’m disappearing from here. I know from experience that if I move more than 10 miles away they’ll stop bothering with me. I might as well move to another planet. That’s going to be ok for me. Honestly, I had no idea they felt this way about me (“Jen is stupid. Jen’s so smart but look what she let MyDude do. Jen is really stupid for divorcing TheMan – now look at her. Jen has wasted her intelligence. Her life is shit. She’s going to end up like her mother. What a waste.”).

What a waste. I am the waste. A waste. The trash being thrown out. I am a throw-away person. I’ll be glad to be gone.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.