Me & My Demon alternatively I Am My Demon

I’ve had occasion to discuss my demon before. I call her an evil bitch, but that’s not really the case at all. She’s evil to everyone else. To me she’s a flaming sword.

The other day I asked someone “do you think in words or images?” It was an interesting conversation. One that I really want to explore. I asked her what would happen if I asked her to describe something how would she think about the something? She said she thinks in words. I think of different concepts in images. I can describe it to you in words, but it’s formed a shape in my mind – even concepts that don’t have a visual cue get one in my mind.
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I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Things I have Learned From Idiot Men

I create a lot of problems for myself. I will be the first one to admit it. I will look down at my foot and shoot that fucker right off. I am too impulsive.

I did another stupid thing last weekend. I maybe will talk about this stupid thing when I can figure how out to tell the story1, but that’s not today. I want to talk about something I learned from my experiences with my craptastic exes. You know, the ones I allowed myself to become emotionally invested in. The ones that mattered.
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I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. I’ve written it and deleted it about 10 times. []

Never Assume I Don’t Know What I’m Doing

I have survived nearly 45 years on this ball of rock. I have managed to live through some insanity. Always chugging. Always learning. Always fucking up. I have birthed three children – one of which died. One of those children is married and has given me three grandchildren. I have been in therapy for far too long, read way too many books and nearly lost my life to violence way too many times. I have learned so much about myself and have come to dislike a lot of it. I’m changing some of it, but also embracing some of it. I have learned that my only weapon of self-defense against myself and others are my words. And with those words I will absolutely kick shins when the recipient deserves it. I wasn’t raised to turn all my cheeks while someone treats me like garbage. I will absolutely get down in the mud when the pigs have disrespected me enough.

My favorite thing is when someone decides I’m too young. “You should listen to your elders. They know better.” Motherfucker, I know better. If there is anything that you can guaran-fucking-tee is that I am well aware of what could become of some of the shit I write. That is why I do it. It’s purposeful. It’s selfish. And it’s something that I’m compelled to do with certain people. It’s how I soothe myself. The shins I kick deserve to be kicked. The glee I get from karmic justice is earned. I tried for 5 whole minutes to be the bigger person. Then my legs were kicked out from under me – a declaration of war, if you will. That’s when I watch and dance in the blood of the wounded. Yes, I do.

I love being infantilized. It’s my absolute favorite thing. Especially by a man. “Look, young whippersnapper, if you just listen to someone who doesn’t you then you’ll know that you’re just too not experienced enough to understand how life works.” Yes, please tell me all about. I’m all ears. Explain to me, as condescendingly as possible, what a woman of my age and experience is supposed to learn from you. How to end a fucktarded relationship? How to feel about people who stalk me getting their just rewards? How to be silently smug, instead of letting that motherfucker know that I know he done fucked up? Then choke. Because I’m not asking for permission. I’m not even doing it for the wider audience.

I’m doing it so he knows that I know. I am sending a message because these motherfuckers will eventually see it. I’m talking to them and they know it. I’m not asking for advice in this instance. I’m exclaiming to the world “THIS IS WHAT I’M DOING. AND I’M NOT SORRY.”

I will never be that kind of mature person. I tried that shit. It didn’t work out for me. I felt like I had no control over my own situation. I felt like I was letting people stomp me into oblivion. You see, I’m not the kind of person who won’t punch a Nazi because “that just looks bad”. I’m the kind of person who other people come to in an effort to expose the assholery of other people. Not just on this here blog, but on social media and in real life. I will do the dirty work, because it needs done.

In this instance, I’m being completely petty. Sure am. Again, I’m not sorry. If this mofo and his girls1 stay away from my online outlets – instead of going around blocks to stalk me – then they won’t even know I was laughing so hard. One of my first rules of online play is “Never go looking to get your feelings hurt”. They have a choice to block and delete. If they choose to come looking? Fuck them. They get what they came for.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. That includes the Bobblehead, by the way. []

Ghosts are Bothering Me

Lil’lady and I are by ourselves now. No more roommates. No live-in boyfriends. No one to hide my stuff from. Today my plan is to move things I’ve been storing in my room to another room, bring a cabinet downstairs, and generally get used to living just the two of us. This is the first time in her life that is has been just the two of us. So, what’d she do yesterday? Locked us out. Oh, gotta love it. Anyway, it’s going to take a bit more adjusting to get used to this, but… We’ll be moving again soon. I’m not staying in this house when I don’t need those extra rooms. I want to move away from Ohio, to be honest, but that’s probably not going to pop off anytime soon. I will move from this gods-awful town, though. Rest assured about that. I don’t need to be reminded of everything I’ve lost while I’ve been here. Not anymore. There’s no point to it.

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I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Take My Phone, Please

I did something really stupid. Again. I’m always doing something really stupid but this is probably going to get me a blanket party thrown by both my girls. But… This is what I do when no one’s looking. I look at my life and think to myself “boy, how can I make this just a little bit more complicated (worse)?” Since I’m terrified of the joint I do my best not to break laws, so this wasn’t illegal. It just wasn’t smart at all. Can you guess what I did? Think really hard. I bet you can.

Let me end your torment. I emailed my ex. Yes, I did. Not texted. Not called. I emailed. Because why not. Then I deleted the sent email so I wouldn’t know I did it. I was drunk and my emotional side took over. That bitch.

This is something I sometimes do. I’ll send off an email or text that makes me shy, embarrassed or angry and then delete the evidence. I’m a child that way. I don’t want to re-embarrass myself. My drunk self has no sense at all. She’s insane (as evidenced by the videos I posted last Friday and then promptly deleted Saturday morning). At least the tequila makes me happy and sociable, I guess. No one tried to feed me whisky. I’d have probably called and cussed someone out in that case.

Anyway, I actually sent an apology. Just “I’m sorry I was evil. There’s no qualifications except I’m an evil bitch”. Basically. There was a bit more. I signed it “Regards, Jen”. No lie. Fucking formalities and shit. WHAT WAS GOING THROUGH MY MIND?

As I said I deleted the evidence from my sent folder1, so what am I going on about? GUESS. You’ve guessed, haven’t you?

That mofo emailed back. Not only that, but he was super sweet about it. GODDAMN IT ALL. “You’re a good woman. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” I mean, there was more, but that wasn’t the important part. I’m reading this and my eyeballs about flew out of my head. Damn it, Jennifer. Damn it all. It was all very civil actually. Honestly, I’d have expected him to cuss me out. But nope. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And drunk emailing? Who does that? Me. That’s who. That’s how we communicated at the end. Strictly through email. My emotional bitch was fully aware of what she was doing. And now I’m cursing myself. How can I sabotage myself? Well, this is how.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Must’ve been after going to the store for cigarettes, which I didn’t know I had until Saturday morning. []

Meeting New People is Hard

So, I was hanging with my friend again, but this time we were at another friend’s house. Well, his friend’s house – not mine. I don’t recall ever meeting her. I must have though, because she’s lived here her entire life and used to hang with some of the same people I did. Of course, during and immediately after high school I didn’t seek out new friends. I was a busy girl. Then I met Bobby and we became a social scene all our own. Anyway…

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I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Baby’s mama drama

I have never had to deal with side chicks so much in my life as I have in the last year. First it was TheMan and his Pokémon then MyDude and his baby’s mom and now…. another baby’s mom.

These last 2 refuse to let their children’s fathers see their child unless the father is in a romantic relationship with them. If not in a relationship with them then GOD FORBID he be in a new (definitely better) relationship.

I don’t understand that mindset. My mother did that with us – though not with our father. She was more along the lines of no family members were allowed to see us when she was in a mood. She didn’t speak to my aunt for 2 years because my aunt took us after our mother attempted suicide in front of us. Maybe if we’d have had access to more normal family… But that’s not how that worked out.

We were hurt by my mother’s selfishness. None of us are ok. Granted, I never needed to be around my father, but what about a grandmother? Imagine if a father actually wants to see his child and said child’s mother decided “Nope. If I can’t have you then you can’t see your kid.” Welp, imagine no further.

I’m exhausted from all of this nonsense. I’m exhausted from being the “bigger person”. I’m exhausted from my life being interrupted to deal with women who aren’t happy unless they have all the toys. When can I let the bitch out?

Of course, the babies’ mamas use me against the fathers, so I’m to shut my face if I want him to see his child. I’m to accept continuously bloody shins or I just don’t care. Can’t I see how much damage I’m doing?

There’s rarely a court order in this scenario and there’s not one now. “Go assert your rights “, I say “go to court.” That’s absurd, though. So much easier for me to shut up and pretend I’m not in any way involved. It hurts me,.of course, but ultimately it’s the kids who are hurt. It’s not just a quaint expression. I’m proof.

I had this elsewhere, but thought I could flesh it out more on here. Or at least make sense about it in my head. The only thing that makes sense at the end of this is why I can’t stand this shit.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

It’s Time to Start My New Life.

I didn’t know I missed him. I didn’t know I cared about him. Not until he wasn’t there anymore. Not until I was the only one he could count on. Not until I saw him blush when I smiled at him. Not until my heart skipped several beats when I saw him again.

My life is different now. I am in a whole new phase. My house is sold and I’ve already moved. I’ve grieved for what I lost. I cried, screamed, raged, and, finally, accepted.  I’ve said goodbye and good riddance. I made a promise to myself that it would just me and Lil’lady until I could go without being triggered by certain things. I’m not ready yet. I’m still too angry to let anyone else into my life. The kind of person I’ve become scares me. I’m not good for anyone yet.

He reminded of who I can be. Who I used to be before I gave my self away to men who hated it. I don’t ever want to feel when I realized I am literally nothing to the other – when I saw the reality of it. I was devastated in a way I can’t explain. I need to get used to being on my own right now. 

But that smile tripped me up. I’ve already hurt him terribly. I used him. And he knew what I was doing. Still it didn’t matter to him. Not anymore. I’ve redeemed myself to him and he became special to me.

I don’t trust myself anymore. I’m rebuilding my life, but I don’t even know what’s wrong with my brain. How can I go about rebuilding my self now that it’s been obliterated? Until I can fix that…

He beamed when he saw me. He missed me. I missed him and didn’t even realize it.  Here’s to a new chapter of my life.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Not My Problem

His sister contacted me a couple of days ago. No one has heard from him in over a month, she tells me. It didn’t make sense. I just threw a grenade on the remnants of our relationship two weeks ago. I’d refused his demands about that really important letter and he disappeared from my life.

And apparently everyone else’s life.

I told her I had no idea and the last I heard he’d found a new victim chick in Akron. I wondered how she got my contact information, but I didn’t ask. The situation was already awkward, She asked for this chick’s name. I don’t know. This is almost all third-hand. We don’t speak anymore. I explained that my brother-in-law1 saw him two weeks ago when he picked up his tools from the job site. I began to worry about him. To panic. His sister had gotten the police involved and was contacting (probably) hundreds of people looking for him. He really is missing. I wanted to find out if he was ok.  I was polite to her and offered my help. She thanked me and that was that. My people all had the same thing to say about it: Not your problem.

They’re right. He has some serious issues2 and he very well could be holed up somewhere with a new supply. He may be ghosting – trying to run from all the ways he’s fucked up his life recently. He may be in a flop house with a needle in his arm. Any of that can possibly be true. He is a very sick man and it would very much be in character for him to just disappear like this. He’s mad at his baby’s mom so he’s punishing her. I have little doubt that’s she’s panicking more than I. She has been in his orbit too long. She is still very happy to be his main supply. And disappearing to cause her pain would be something he absolutely would do. I am lucky that I got away from him so soon and there are no children to tie us together. I’m a lot luckier than she is.

I’ve been reading about Narcissistic Personality Disorder. The actual disorder not people who have just never learned humility. There are two kinds of malignant narcissists – overt and covert. When people hear about NPD they assume overt. That’s not the case here. With the help of my therapist, I learned that MyDude is (most probably) a covert narcissist. As I read about it I was re-traumatized. I was shocked. He fit the bill to a tee – grooming, devaluation, triangulating, the traumatic discard, the hoovering. But he wasn’t all bold and brash. He is quiet and always inside of his own head. And he preyed on my need to matter to someone. He saw me vulnerable and, sadly, I put myself right in his path. He played me like a finely tuned instrument. I was an object he sucked dry – and discarded when he could get nothing else from me. There is no difference between me and every other woman in his harem. We were simply supply for his disorder. That was devastating to learn. He was nothing more a drug to me, too. In the end I was simply addicted to the swirl of chemicals in my head. That “connection” that he played and perverted. My counselor explained that I was behaving like a cocaine addict. That was painful to hear, but true.

Everything that I thought was a “sign” of some sort was actually intentionally engineered by him to trigger my desire to matter to someone. I couldn’t stand to see him suffer. But why? It was most certainly pathological. And he made sure it was. He made sure to muddle my fucking brain and warp it to his benefit. And it worked until my cognitive dissonance3 was so painful I could no longer ignore it. I often refer to my logical and emotional selves (as if I sit outside of them) fighting. That made me crazy. I fought against myself and a monster was created. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I said and did miserable things to achieve that goal. I saw it, but the compulsion to hurt him overwhelmed me. He was in my head and it drove me around the bend. I still have not recovered. I’m addicted to the chemical mix that he causes in my brain – that’s why I was so sensitive to his touch. Why I needed  just to be physically close to him. I know that now. At the time I had no idea that was even possible. How the fuck is that even possible?!

Covert Narcissists dangle their vulnerability in front of you as bait, just waiting for your good nurturing mothering/fathering instincts to kick in and rescue the poor little lost child they are presenting to you.
As soon as you reach out a helping hand, their jaws snap shut on you.

We fall for the projected idealised image of the person the covert narcissist wishes they could be but knows in their hearts they are not. This is the person they NEED to convince others they are in order to foster narcissistic supply.

Clients would tell me the person was “not my usual type” or “I didnt even find them attractive at first”.
Yes, because they are NOT your type. But they are smart enough to know what you are looking for at the level of your core values and mold themselves to appear to represent that whilst provoking as much sympathy in you for them as they can.

But beneath the mask of a shy, vulnerable and “good person” something far more sinister lurks.

And this what makes covert narcissism so damaging and dangerous: the nature of the disorder is such that you are brainwashed into thinking you are dealing with a human being with a morality, perhaps even a “pillar of the community”.

This is frequently a part of the covert narcissists fantasy: the misunderstood but kind, caring genius/ guru that the foolish world cruelly victimises.

If the target is tricked into believing the FALSE narrative that this person is a vulnerable victim they are left suspecting  that the manipulations, insults, transgressions and abuses they experienced CAN’T be real …right?

Forced into a split reality, one in which the person is as vulnerable and victimised as they wish you to believe and the other in which you see shadowy, fleeting signs of something else entirely :

– a social chameleon who would wear a completely different identity depending on who they were talking to
– a sneaky, underhanded way of operating in the world that ONLY those closest to them ever get a glimpse of
– a person whose actions RARELY match their words!

This leads to crushing feelings of frustrating isolation as you feel like you are the only one on the planet who can see this gaping disparity in the person and it’s impossible to explain to anyone not experiencing the abuse directly. [source]

 

My ego was hit hard as my cognitive dissonance choked me. I did not understand this while it was happening. I did not see him for what he really is. I did not see. I truly thought we had a connection. I honestly thought he loved me (because he said so, right?). I thought he was just afraid of his feelings and that he also loved her. I kept asking “Why is this happening between him and me? How is he doing this to me?” I know now. Part of me is still holding onto the delusion, but I’m better prepared to fight against that thinking. I know what happened now. I was addicted to those fucking chemicals. I still am a little bit. I’m ashamed of how he worked me. But I need to tell this particular story. My stormy relationship with him really killed any sort of confidence I had when I met him. He stole that from me4.

When his sister contacted me I panicked. I was immediately worried that he was dead. Then, after I explained to her that I didn’t know anything, I got control of myself. I am angry at him for doing this to his sister. And I have no doubt this isn’t the first time. I’m angry that I care and want to help. I’m angry that his nonsensical behavior bothers me at all. He’s not worth it. He’s not my problem. He is broken. Forever. I feel bad for his sister and every other person in his life that loves him.

I’ve lost quite a bit of my spirituality during this entire mess. Everything I’ve held onto since my son died has basically rotted away during this process. Some folks (who share my beliefs) have suggested that this was a lesson for me. Never trust anyone? Never let anyone get close? What the fuck kind of lesson was this? Give me a break. He is broken, empty and basically a demon. That’s no fucking lesson. So, that belief has been expelled. The only reason we came together was sheer dumb luck. Bad for both us. I really can’t blame or credit anything spiritual. It just happened. He just happened. 

Fixing myself after this (because I do see how fucked up I am) has been a challenge. Just taking time to heal has been a challenge. The people in my life don’t understand. So many people jump from relationship to relationship or they have been in the same relationship for decades. They can’t see what I’m doing is ultimately a good thing and will make me better. I’m annoying and too introspective. Whatever. But do I want to risk another relationship like that one? I don’t think I want to take that risk. Seeing what I am capable of has really shocked me. I need that to never happen again. I need to learn to kill those compulsions. I need to learn skills to keep part of me (the devil part) from ever coming out again. I will never be free from that horrible part of me, but I can learn to control it. This isn’t about him and me anymore. This is now about my learning, understanding, and healing.

I hope they find him safe and alive. I do. But I’m not going to help them. This is not my problem.

 

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Who got him this great job that, by the way. []
  2. I know I do too. []
  3. and my own pathological illness. []
  4. This relationship wasn’t normal. The breakup wasn’t normal. I am trying to heal instead of jumping into another relationship that may hurt me. I am analyzing myself so that this never happens to me again. []