Life, dammit!

Still catching up... thanks for bearing with me.  Hoping to get back on track this coming week....

Pushing ahead....

Still going through shoulder recover, and will be for some time.  I've made another video so I can continue to keep up here.  Thanks for visiting...

:)

Post-Surgery Blues, and the Inevitable Pain of Indifference.

This is difficult.  Post-surgery for frozen shoulder and minor rotator cuff tear and I'm feeling like hell.    It will take a long time to recover and regain full use of my left arm, and dammit but it hurts to type.  I almost decided to do an audio blog but not enough privacy the last couple of days to do that.  So I'll make this just a quick check-in.

I'm not sleeping, mostly getting up several times a night to move my arm, elbow... to alleviate what pain I can.  This is often a tearful process.  I don't know when the big crash will come, but it will.  A human being simply can't withstand not sleeping like this.  On Wednesday, then on Saturday... things will change and hopefully for the better.

Sleeping on my side after this kind of surgery isn't the best idea, and it creates a world of pain, swelling to an unhealthy level in my arm.  This became the catalyst for ordering one of those Tempur Pedic beds.  NOT the cheapest thing in the world, but a very necessary one at this point as the healing process is going to take a long time.  So be it.  It's adjustable so I can support the back of my legs and have the back of the bed upright to manage sleeping without being on my side.  Saturday, a Laz-boy chair will arrive, and mostly for the same purpose.  As it stands now my options are to sit straight/upright or lay in a flat bed.  Both options mean pain and swelling.  But hey, those recliners are awesome and it's not like it won't be fully enjoyed way beyond the shoulder healing.

I suppose at this point I'm just rambling, but everything I am is consumed with the pain and trying to work past it without taking the powerful pain killers I was given.  The side effects sucks, and that means I'm making damn sure to take them sparingly.  But either way, my point is basically that I'll be dealing with this for a while and probably not making a lot of sense when I post.

There most likely won't be daily entries for a while, but I will try my best.

Post-surgery with all it's unbelievable pain has opened up a part of me that I really would rather leave closed, shut away, and ignored.  That echo chamber of the past and present merging in unsettling ways rumbles below the surface, always, making itself known at the darkest of hours and experiences.  I find myself unsettled---not just my circumstances or thoughts.  In the wee hours, especially when awakened by the almost ceaseless pain, true anxiety sets in and grips me.  Most of the time I can overcome it and get past it's frightening messages.  But then there are times when it takes hold and I find myself incredibly vulnerable and needing a strong, positive presence to jerk me back into a brighter reality.  Things is... I have no such strong, positive presence.  Yeah.
What to do with that.

As you guys know, indifference has been my companion.  T's indifference rears it's true self amidst the pain that really feels as if it's going to rip me apart.  You see, the first part of knowing how to squash pain naturally is to avoid stress at all costs, because stress destroy's the body's own ability to send much-needed pain killers to it's needed location.  Over time, especially in the presence of AI disease and fibromyalgia.... the breakdown of this mechanism is swift and brutal, leaving me without any natural defenses.  This sucks.

I've been brought to tears by the sheer intensity and duration of this pain, and the fibro is in a massive flare-up now, adding wide-spread, diffuse pain to that of the post-surgical.  While it's nothing to brag about, I will admit that I've been brought to my knees by the force of it all, crying so hard I felt as if my head would explode.  Late at night, when it's at its worst T will simply get up, stand there... and say nothing, do nothing, offer nothing.  I've had to tell him it's best he stay away rather than bring that indifference to the already miserable situation.

It is times like this that I long for "home," whatever and wherever that is.  No one to reach out to, to plead to, or talk to.  Not a parent, sibling, or best friend.  No one.  It's only when either by exhaustion or prescription intervention does the pain lessen a little, just enough for my mind to bring forth an image of a healthy, happy, joyful, fulfilled and pain-free me.  When I fall asleep... it sometimes carries me into dreaming, those thoughts.

My arm is in a lot of pain at the moment, so I'm going to sign off.  I hope that each day with willpower and physical therapy.. and even the weaker moments when I allow myself the prescription help to relieve the pain... maybe I'll get stronger, better.  I have 3 days of PT this coming week... and I pray it's the start to real recovery.

I need this pain to stop.  I really do.

Hopefully I can post tomorrow.

PS... I was amazed at how many page views Where Fireflies Dream received.... gave me a smile.

Anger? Surprise? Inspiration at its worst? WTH?

REPOST from my other blog(s):

Sometimes I get a spark of something that inspires me.  Such inspiration doesn't always present itself in the best way, though, but I usually try to go with it when it happens.  Such gems shouldn't be taken for granted but taken advantage of.  It really is that rare.

In the midst of fighting for every drop of energy that can be found wherever it is I can find it, a tiny burst will make its way into the day and nudge me.  Okay, I can certainly deal with that.  Wish there were MORE of it, but I'll take what I can get and go with it nonetheless.

The fuel for this little 'fire' isn't from a good source, definitely not a positive force, and most definitely not from a pleasant source.  Be that as it may, there it is... kind of like when your dog has an accident and you're left looking at it wondering to yourself what you did to deserve such a... 'gift'? lol  Okay, okay... enough with lame attempts at comedy.  Even so, the conversation with a friend of mine earlier today was what ignited this whatever-it-is and sent me on a journey to try and put my thoughts in order.  I found the results of that rather.. lacking.

All this blabbering, to be honest, is just my working through it all.  Not the conversation, because that was interesting and creatively invigorating.  But the chaos I'm dealing within the thought process at the moment is simply trying to pull together the shards of data that's left from past experience.  Anyone who understands this knows where I'm coming from.  G knows.  She gets it.  And, from what I read on her blog(s)... she's been able to run with it without tripping like a clown every step of the way that I've been.  Eh.  I'm still confident that this purging will eliminate the chaff and reveal the good stuff.  I'll be back to discuss that when it happens.

When I'm without words, music....

When I'm without words, music...

"I Forgot"

I hear that phrase a lot these days.  What does it mean, exactly, I'm not sure; but I know how it feels.  Having to rely on someone for ANY reason requires trust, and I mean absolute trust.  Having to rely on someone who's betrayed that trust on a daily basis is a hell I wouldn't wish on a single soul.

I absolutely MUST get better, well, healthy.

It's not like I haven't been here before.  Being sick isn't fun for anyone, and being sick in the presence of someone who lacks compassion, or who FAKES compassion, is stressful, uncomfortable, and more than just a little sad.  I have to say I'm surprised at how many people lack even the minimal amount of compassion required to be 'human.'  Is this really the norm now?  I have to make myself believe it's not the norm, because it it is then human beings are in serious, serious trouble.

There seems to be a limited coffer in which compassion comes in only specific quantities--at least in some people.  And when dipping into the reserve almost appears as a painful event for narcissists.  There are rules as well that must be followed lest you end up on the wrong side of favor with those types.  Timing, whether or not it's convenient (for one to be sick), how long the illness will take to resolve, and if none of the criteria is met then the faux compassion is quickly discarded and the true feelings of resentment and irritation is revealed. Yes, it's been there all along, but that person, that narcissist has grown weary of caring for you.

It's heartbreaking to feel that kind of compassionless ire radiating from someone you love, someone you THOUGHT or THINKS loves you.  It's the worst kind of betrayal, because we all long for unconditional love; something a narcissist is incapable of.  They can play the part, but the script changes dramatically when it comes to the test of time, and it does so every single time.  As for the threshold of said narcissist's limit for compassion, care, love, and selflessness depends on the individual and how much the narcissist is "paid" for their pseudo-love and false devotion.

For me, right now in my current situation, it's a matter of indifference and lack of action that's the real problem.  Half-assing his way through just about everything (except his own personal needs) is a way of life for him.  This was also the case with a past relationship of mine in which half-assing was more like an art form, a 'skill' in which the narcissist patted himself on the back for having such prowess.  Congratulating himself for a lack of feeling, caring, compassion, empathy... while blaming me for his lack of caring.

As things currently stand it's a matter of way too many "I forgot" statements that are more like fingernails dragging down a chalkboard than anything remotely comforting.  Yes, we all forget, some of us forget a lot of things.  But when it comes to the really important matters forgetting isn't well-accepted.

The important matters, while I won't go into details, are serious ones that impact my quality of life and health.  Forgetting isn't even an option to most normal, caring individuals, but in T's case... it's a way of life, something he does, and something he doesn't feel important enough to address.. though he emphatically says so.  I don't buy it, and I don't because you can't put all forgetfulness on a level playing field with every single situation and circumstance.  Forgetting to run a dishwasher, for example, isn't on the same level of importance as forgetting putting the wrong medication in the wrong place when it can risk the person's life.

If there is any compassion inside, any at all, it comes into play without having to invoke it, no matter what.

This is more of a rant than anything.  I'm both disheartened and disappointed at T's behavior.  I have no interest whatsoever in trying to make him understand.  I have far too many other things to focus on, including (but not limited to) new issues that I have to see the doctor for tomorrow morning.  Enough is enough, and I've had enough.  My life has changed drastically, and I'm trying to get it back on track, get healthy, and stress isn't something I need right now.  In fact, on prednisone.. stress is to be avoided at all costs.  Many days this means disappearing into my room/Girl Cave in order to stretch out, listen to music, and shut the entire world away....

..I've had to resort to that withdrawal far too many times these days...

the invisibility of being.

Throughout my life I've been pretty thin-skinned, listening to others tell me what I should/shouldn't be, what and how I should think, do, say, dream... developed into an art form for me that damn near reached "Spidey Power" status.  No, seriously.  I would take and wear whatever anyone projected upon me like a shiny pair of Jimmy Choo's.  And trust me when I say that two-sizes too small absolutely made a difference in how I felt and carried myself through life.

Barefoot is better.  Know what happens when you go barefoot the majority of the time?  The soles of your feet get pretty damn tough.  Having grown up poor I had only one pair of shoes (cheap) at a time and wasn't really allowed to wear them outside if I were just playing in the yard, etc.  They had to last until my mom decided we could afford more.  I think I had the toughest feet of anyone I've ever known because of this.  The only thing that really hurt me was if I stepped on glass (which I did a few times, once landing me in the ER to have the glass removed), and when that California asphalt and concrete got hot enough to fry an egg on.  Even so, over time walking barefoot didn't bother me one single bit.

But what about the INSIDE?  Oh, but that was a whole different story altogether.  I couldn't walk my way through through the pain to being 'thick-skinned' and pretty much felt the weight of anything and everything that was said to me.  Criticism became truth, a 'reality' handed to me that I willingly took.  My childhood experiences weren't filled with encouragement or praise nor even helpful criticism.  Indifference and criticism, and many times complete withdrawal of love and affection were the tools used to shape the person I would become.

I was to become the child who survived.

In adulthood, that small child I once was is alive, and though not well, that part of me is AWARE.  There is still a disconnection of who 'that little girl' was and who I am now, and I still see photos of when I was little and feel such pity for 'that little girl.'  Yes, I know it's me, of course.  But the disconnection is still there just the same.  I want SO much to apologize to her and say "I'm sorry I didn't protect you!"

I've accepted this disconnection as a part of who I am, but I don't like it one single bit.  C'est la vie.

I remain thin-skinned, but my reaction to criticism, disrespect, and so forth is very different now.  I've allowed history to repeat itself in relationships I've had, and the reality of this has unprecedented tenure, so it would seem.  It will be with me the rest of my life.  Okay.  I'll just have to work around that when possible, right?

So here I am all grown up and stuff.  I can make decisions, change my mind, and walk away from anyone or anything that threatens my happiness; such are the benefits of being an adult.  Right?  Well, not exactly.  At least not for me.  That subconscious, that inner child, the child I actually WAS at one time so long ago, well.. she has a mind of her own and remembers the pain, the isolation, the indifference, the coldness, the invisibility of being... well, me.

Such memories carry over for the long-haul and map the course of life in often undesirable ways.  But it doesn't always have to be like that.  I can do more to help myself in that respect.  And I do.

On bad days, of which I have far too many these days, that inner child is the one who suffers most.  Sure, I feel the physical pain, and I feel the isolation of my situation and all it invokes (depression, anxiety, etc).  But it's what happens INSIDE that changes my world, my life.  All I can do is anesthetize myself with too much coffee, reading, and way too much television.  My physical body simply refuses to allow much more these days.  That's okay, because eventually the AIH and the 'possible' Myositis, both autoimmune, is driving the bus now, and not even my inner child can rebel against that and affect change.

Sitting here in the quiet, drinking coffee, talking about things I've not talked with a single other human being about...well, but for one therapist for a very short time, I can definitely say I recognize my life as it was, and as it still is; The invisibility of being... me.

I've Had it...

Trust me when I say... it's taken me from approximately 7:20am to 10:37am JUST to calm down enough to write.  Waking to indifference each day is grating on my nerves and sucking the life out of my life.  I'm not in the greatest of moods at the moment, and I'm not about to pretend I am.  It's been one HELL of a morning... let's just start there, shall we?

Okay, so all of my life I've believed that the old saying "Anything worth doing is worth doing RIGHT" is a damn good foundation for anyone's life.  Half-Assing ANYTHING reveals a lot about a person.  And by 'half-assing" I mean not putting everything you have into what you're doing.  Not to say your "everything" may not be on the same level every day, but putting in 100% of what you can is all anyone can really ask.  And why not?  Why would anyone do anything less than 100%?  When you take shortcuts you leave someone else to make up the difference in distance you weren't willing to go.

NOTE:  As always, unless I'm writing something aimed at someone in particular... the word "You" is used loosely and not meant to point fingers at anyone here.

My health is bad--I've spoken of this a lot in my blogs.  Dealing with one confirmed AI disease (AIH) and going through the paces of confirming a second means.. I'm NOT in remission.  I won't BE in remission for a very long time (I'm told).  The blood work COULD very well improve, the numbers will improve and possibly quickly, but 'remission' is more than numbers.  I won't go into all of that, but suffice it to say every single day is a battle to get through.  So here I am living with someone who, by nature, does ONLY what he can get away with and not a scintilla more.  What does this mean?  It means I have to take up the slack.  I not only have to do what I need and have to do, but I have to take up the slack from what he only does PART-WAY.

Half-Assers are a HUGE pet peeve of mine!

Look, I realize there will be days, times, and situations where you may have to take a short cut or do what you can in that moment.  But I also know that there are things that HAVE to be done correctly, thoroughly.  I mean, you can only short-cut your way through things until you end up with a completely and totally chaotic mess that SOMEONE ELSE will ultimately have to deal with.  Why the hell would you do this to someone, especially someone you claim to "love"?

This morning, like so many mornings (every morning!) I found myself forcing my way through cleaning up after T.  And I mean, cleaning up as in it takes me some 45-hour JUST to pick up the slack of his half-assed whatever.  Have I spoken to him about this?  Of course I have, and 2 years ago, when it really began, I was very calm, loving, and discussed the matter with him in hopes he would see what he was doing.  I mean, he's a grown up, and I'm not his mom.  He can pick up after himself, because he's no Ward Cleaver and doesn't treat me like Joan.  The family of the 1950's and 1960's are GONE.  Marriage and relationships aren't centered around women being in servitude.

Now, women who are treated with respect, treated kindly, appreciated.. will do almost anything for their guys.  It's how we're wired.  We're wired to be caretakers, caregivers, at least most of us.  However, when taken advantage of we often will begin to back off from all those things we once did easily, eagerly, and happily.  When taken for granted... we don't see any reason to continue giving when there's only taking from the other side.

And please, don't confuse this 'give and take' with material things or money, etc.  Because those things don't bring happiness, not ever.  What I'm talking about here is doing one's part in the relationship without placing the blinders on and thinking it's really just all about the other person doing all the work.

I've been in a relationship where everything was dumped solely on my shoulders.  People who know me, who pay attention, find out quickly that I can't be bought.  You can't buy your way out of unhappiness.  You just can't.  Being poor and happy is FAR FAR superior than being well-off and miserable.  Money can't get rid of unhappiness.. I really can't stress that enough.

Doing your part, that's what it's about.  Not placing necessary pressure or expectations on the other person is what it's about.  Respecting the other person's time is what it's about.  And soooooo much more, or course.  But when it comes to half-assing your way through chores because you know the other person will take up the slack for you... that's a sure-fire way to turn that person off, long-term.  And good damn luck getting them to be turned on again.

Being taken advantage of is not good foreplay.
Being taken for granted is not good foreplay.
Doing and not doing things that make the other person's life more difficult.. is not good foreplay.
Being overtly, blatantly lazy isn't sexy.
Indifference isn't sexy.
Ignoring someone isn't sexy.
Not respecting the other person's space, time, and needs isn't sexy, nor is it good foreplay.
Being mean, hateful, abusive.. isn't sexy, and it makes for LOUSY foreplay.

You treat me like shit, I'm going to shut down.
You abuse me, mentally, verbally, or physically.. and I'm going to shut down and NOT be into you.
Take me for granted and I'll stop doing things for you.

It's taken me years to get to this point, and I've been a welcome mat for a couple of people and won't ever allow myself to do that again.  I don't need anyone THAT much.  If I'm treated badly, eventually I won't feel anything at all for you, and you're going to find out that you really just can't un-ring that bell.

You can't buy me or my love.  I'm not for sale.  If you do something you claim is out of kindness or whatever, and you use it against me later.. you've given your true motive away!  Once I SEE you, what and who you REALLY are, I won't be able to see that 'other' person ever again.  Once you blow it, you blow it.

T is lucky in that there's still about 2% hope here.  This morning was just about the final straw, but I fought and worked my way past it, and I'm telling you it was DIFFICULT!  He knew, too.  He knew the moment I pointed out to him what he'd done.  He tried to backpedal, tried to reassure himself that he'd not blown it VIA me.  But what was done was done, and the disingenuous nature of what he did wasn't lost on me at all, and it broke something inside and change, again, the way I see him and feel about him.  Being disingenuous is exactly like lying, and I'm DONE being okay with men who lie to me, either by omission or right-out.  DONE.

That 2% of me that is still open to his finding a solution and fixing the whole disingenuous thing is stretched very thin.  He's running out of time.

Honesty and respect are MORE important than love.  My last relationship taught me that, opened my eyes to the fact that without those first two things.. LOVE CAN'T EXIST!  Love CANNOT exist in the absence of honesty and respect.

Besides struggling through a VERY PAINFUL morning trying to finish half-assed attempts at whatever, I also had to deal with the tuning me out thing, the thing where he pretends to vaguely respond because he knows he didn't hear a thing I just said.  No matter... I don't repeat myself anymore.  I do let him know, however, that I get that he didn't hear me and that all the begging in the world to repeat myself isn't going to make me do so.  After a year or more of this not listening/tuning me out thing.. I've grown intolerant to it.  I've told him that, fine, if he's that disinterested in what I have to say then I'll simply 'tell someone who gives a shit.'  He doesn't like it, but it's no longer about what HE likes and doesn't like anymore.  I've taken the first step in getting MY life back, replacing the disrespect he shows towards me with my own SELF-RESPECT; something I really should've done a long, long time ago.  Better late than never, I say.

So this morning was NOT a good morning.  But I'm going to spend the remainder of my day taking care of myself, focusing on what I can do to help myself heal, and incorporating those things that will protect me from further harm from anyone, especially from the person I'm living with.  Yes, I still have to work through the damage from the past relationship, but that's already underway and will help with my current situation.

Well, that's where I am today.  It will get better, and I will keep persevering... as long as I can.

Family--Beating My Head Against the Wall

To say I come from a dysfunctional family is putting it mildly.  Further back than my own memory reaches my siblings have hated me.  No, really, I'm not making this up or being dramatic.  I don't talk about this much because it brings a lot of sadness and discomfort, anger and resentment rushing to the surface.  It's a long story, really, and one with gaps and holes and far-reaching voids where many memories have vanished.  It would be oh so much easier had I been adopted, because I know virtually nothing about my family tree, for all the asking I've done over the years, and my parents are both deceased with my having absolutely NO idea where I came from, who my ancestors are, or what my connection is to any of them, if at all.

I was a "Mistake," according to my mother.  Now, my relationship and experience with my mom is a story in and of itself, and honestly... I could write a novel here about that.  But I'm not going to.  Let's just say my mom was disconnected by the time I was born, old enough to be my grandmother, and about as unplugged as a parent could get.  It was easier to micromanage and control everything to a damaging degree, rather than create experiences that may have given me a chance and coming out on the other side with less 'issues.'  Yes, of course I have issues, and in a way it was my mom's only legacy.

How is it that I could know little of nothing, if anything, about anyone in my family tree?  Well, that's easy--when you don't answer questions, share nothing, and ensure that not a single photo, letter, information, etc. gets passed down to you... well, you can't ask a dead person questions.  Point blank, not pretty, but absolute truth just the same.

Everything from health/medical information was shared primarily with ONE of the 6 children, and I wasn't the one who got the information.  My eldest sister was my mother's confidant, her go-to gal, and there was an almost too-close relationship between my mom and my oldest sister (old enough to be my mom).  I spent my entire life on the outside, looking in, and it was that way until my mom passed away (over 20 years ago now).

One sister and I shared a dad, and my other siblings share a father form my mom's 1st and only marriage.  Yep, my other sister and I were illegitimate.  I could really care less about that, to tell you the truth.  My dad was out of the picture when I was 18 months old, and my mother really never spoke of him or his family except for some really scary things, very dark and scary things.  Now, it shouldn't surprise anyone that if you scare a kid like that, they're most likely not ever going to ask too many questions.  This was the case with me.

The siblings who had a different dad hate me.  Just the truth.  I was even told that one reason they despised me was that, because we were very poor, they often didn't get as much milk (the example used by one brother and sister) because when it came down to the wire... "The baby" (me) needed it more than they did.  I can't speak for what happened when I was a baby.  I can't apologize for something that I didn't do on purpose.  Yet that resentment carried right into adulthood for my 3 brothers and one sister.  BTW, I don't really think of them as brothers and sisters because they've not treated me as such throughout my life.  What memories I have of life with them.. isn't good.

I was born very late, with my mom being in her early 40's when she had me.  All my siblings (but for one) was grown and gone and with kids of their own, so I pretty much grew up like an only child from about age 10.. when one of my sisters married and moved out (she was 16).  We lived in a 3 bedroom house that was eventually condemned, and my mother (a hoarder) used all 3 bedrooms as her hoarding rooms.  My sister, the one I share a dad with, had her own room, lots of 'stuff,' decorated walls, record player, records, clothes, and a bike.  I didn't have enough toys to even have a toy box, so even in this respect I would find myself living an entirely different life than my sister... and everyone else, actually.

My mom was absent, indifferent, cold most of the time...and even cruel.  Skipping over more details than will fit here, I will say that my childhood was very, very odd, and the damage done has proven to be long-lasting.  Still, I spent my life longing for a family, a REAL family.  Now, coming from a family with 3 brothers and 2 sisters you would think that a strange thing for me to say.  Aunts, uncles, cousins... really had nothing to do with me, but for one cousin who, I guess, simply took pity on me.  I felt the hostility from them all growing up and didn't understand any of it at all.  I felt it, saw it, heard it, and experienced that hostility until we moved away from California.  We moved to Colorado because my oldest brother wanted my mom to move there so she could babysit while he and my SIL could work.  I was in 8th grade when we moved, and my life didn't get better at all.

Longing for a real family... even to this day....

I would eventually move away from the state of Colorado.  My kids and I, to make a long story short as possible, ended up here in the south along the Gulf Coast, where we settled into that strange place (strange to us because we weren't from there) and would end up calling the south "Home."  It's the only place that ever felt like home to me.  I'm still in the south, but a little further north by a few short hours.  But back to "Family"....

When my mom passed, naturally my eldest sister got everything.  Very important items my mom was holding for me until I could send for them were divided amongst my brothers and sisters and nephews... or just tossed out as garbage.  They did this QUICKLY after my mother died, the day they found out, using the excuse that they were sure that since she was on disability, got a veteran's widow pension, and on Medicare, etc... that the 'government' was going to come in and take her stuff.  Yes, LUDICROUS, but that's the excuse they used.  And when I arrived for her funeral I wasn't even allowed to so much as have a photo of hers.  My eldest sister 'allowed' me to take ONE photo to have it photocopied.  My mom had boxes and boxes of photos, btw.

Few actually had anything to say to me at the funeral, or after.  It was the same shit, different day.. only worse.  A few years later I'd tried once again to make some kind of connection with them, but it ended in a total disaster.  I finally came to my senses and realized that I was the only one putting in any effort and that it just simply wasn't worth it.  I basically told my oldest brother and his bitchy wife to piss off.  And yes, it felt great and was LONG overdue.

In the present....

I know pretty much nothing of my family history, my family tree.  My last living grandparent died when I was 2 weeks old, and everyone else was so much older than me that no one really had anything to do with me.  My mom wasn't really forthcoming with names, histories, etc., though she did incorporate some names and such in a few fun stories she would tell from time to time.  But as a little child I really had no idea if she were making the stuff up/telling fairytales, or if the information was actually true.  And after my mom's death... the information about grandparents and such were simply not given to me, even if I asked.  Photos, etc.... all given to my sister, who claimed some neighbor stole them, were lost.  My brothers, etc. chose badly when they decided to give my sister everything.  One person said they thought my sister pawned or sold the framed antique photos of grandparents etc for money.  Sadly, it sounds exactly like something she would do.

The cruelty extends into adulthood....

When one of my brothers passed away a few years ago I was told about this AFTER the funeral had taken place, and... I was told on Facebook by a distant cousin.  She apparently looked for me on Facebook with ONE purpose in mind, and that was to send me a message that read.. "B**** passed away last week.  Thought you'd like to know."  I asked "How/why?" which lead to her replaying in the same short, blunt fashion. She then disappeared and didn't say a word ever again.  I'd written back a couple of times.. with no response.  I'd written my nephew as well, and have been ignored.  And this nephew I grew up with and was very close to most of our lives.  He's only 2 1/2 years younger than I am.

Cruelty was their favorite weapon, and continues to be so.


The family tree...

As someone who feels completely disconnected from 'family' or blood ties, history... it only stands to reason that I would, eventually, WANT to know something about my own family history.  SOMETHING.  ANYTHING.  So when I decided to look into www.ancestry.com I felt like I was taking a step in the right direction.  Maybe this site could help me put the broken pieces together in such a way that I would at least see my connection within the bloodline.

What I've done...

I created an account at www.ancestry.com over a year ago, but since I wasn't really willing to invest any money into getting a full account, I've only spent the smallest bit of time there.  But that changed for me about a week ago when I saw a commercial online for Ancestry and a DNA test they offered that shows where your bloodline is from, at least in percentages.  A lot of folks have jumped on board for this.  Now, one cool thing about the DNA test and having a real account (which I don't yet) is that you can set your family tree to allow links between matches for DNA, region, etc.  It's a lot more complicated than that, and they have a video that explains it all, but it's a really neat tool and a good place to start.  But what about for someone like me?....

DNA results may be the only thing I really get out of this, and that's okay.  It's something, isn't it?  It would be nice to know for sure what ethnicities are involved in my family tree, even if I don't have any family history to see how the pieces fit.  I sent my kit off today and, from what I understand, it will take about a week for the results to get uploaded online.  Knowing it's not going to give me complete picture of my family tree... I'm still okay, and I'm fairly patient where that's concerned.

So what's my freaking point here?

My point is this: If you have information about family history (names, places, etc) please share them with your kids.  Don't leave them in the dark to spend the rest of their lives wondering who they really are (history wise), where they're from, what their history is, etc.  It's really not a good or easy thing to live with when you have no idea about those things.  Don't do that to your kids, seriously.

My desire to know more about my family history/ancestry runs deeper than the hurt from the disconnection from my actual 'family members.'  I rarely use the word 'family' when speaking about them.  They're blood relatives to me, but nothing more.

I have to wonder if I'm beating my head against the wall trying to piece together a family tree I know nothing about.  Names, birth dates, etc. are required to even do searches or make connections.  What little information I have really just stops at my mom, and my dad I have only a name and birth date.  It's really like hitting a brick wall.  But is it worth it, all of this effort?  I don't know.

I really just don't know.  The one thing I DO know is that I'm left with the question: Will I ever fully understand myself in connection to history and ancestry?

*shrugs*

Keep Your Word When You Can

Notice the title: "Keep your word WHEN YOU CAN."  See, I'm not unreasonable.  I understand enough of human nature (like most of us) to know that NO ONE is perfect, and if anyone claims to be perfect... RUN LIKE HELL!  Still, one thing that sticks with me long-term is when people break their word because they had no intention of keeping their word to begin with.  Yeah, a big pet peeve of mine.. and here's why...

A person is only as good as their word; don't you agree?  But the HUMAN side of us also understands that there WILL be times when 'shit just happens,' and we have to recognize the difference between us wanting someone to keep their word.. and being a complete and total CONTROL FREAK.  Now that's another pet peeve of mine--control freaks.  But I'll get to the latter in a bit.  Right now, I need to get something off my chest.

Not unlike many, I have a long history of being subjected to those who frequently break their word.  It isn't always presented as a 'promise,' mind you, but it's still important to follow through when you can.  When you can.  Hey, I know all too well how things can change in the blink of an eye, and it stands to reason that when shit happens, things change.  We have to amend the course of our day and intentions and make room for whatever that unexpected change demands from us.  Right?  I mean, this is life on planet earth, folks, so we sometimes have to take a chill pill if something doesn't quite go our way.  Seriously.

In the past I've been held to an unbelievably rigid set of rules when it comes to relationships.  Needless to say, I've ended up with a couple of complete control freaks who attempted (with some success, unfortunately) to micromanage my life and time; totally fault, because I allowed it to happen.  But given that information, there is also the other side to this coin, and that's the real point.  At some point you have to at least make every effort to keep your word, even when it's inconvenient.

Last night, right before bed, I learned T broke his word to me on something and failed to tell me about it, failed to discuss it with me, and most importantly.. he didn't bring the problem to my attention so we could talk about the decision that HE would ultimately make.  The actual subject matter doesn't matter, trust me, so I'm focusing on the act itself, which is really the most important part.

Bottom line: if you're going to tell me you're going to do something, either DO IT or talk to me about why you can't, won't, etc.  How is that difficult?  It's really not.  In my case, I can completely understand when something doesn't happen the way I expect it to.. if people TALK to me about it!

Last night was a mess, a complete and total mess.  Feeling disrespected has become a part of my life again, and with it nastiness from the past.  I don't like the parallels, though this situation is really more about someone's utter emotional and moral laziness than actual cruelty.  No, the cruelty was the past situation, by far.

My past situation, as you guys know by now if you've read my other blogs, was very dark, very toxic, especially at the end.  I was held accountable for everything that went wrong in the relationship, and I was also held responsible for FIXING everything that was wrong in the relationship.  And according to him, "I" was what was wrong; who I am, who I want to be, how I lived, what I liked/disliked, and virtually EVERYTHING about me... was all wrong (according to him) and needed 'fixing.'  Without repeating how damaging that was to me, I will say that the experience opened my eyes to a few things, including (but not limited to) the unreasonable expectations of selfish people.

The unreasonable expectations of selfish people.

It took me a long time to say those words.  I don't like slapping labels or judgment on anyone, especially someone I love/d.  And I very much did love that person at the time.  I loved him so much I was blind to what was happening, to what and who he really was, and how utterly controlled I was during that time.  The idea that so much could be demanded of me never occurred to me in the beginning.  The idea that I would be shackled to everything I said never occurred to me.  The idea that there was NO ROOM for error, NO ROOM for life, NO ROOM for 'shit to happen' also never occurred to me.  I was utterly blinded by emotion.  And yet, I did everything in my power to agree to everything, and to push myself beyond what was reasonable in order to accommodate his every wish and command.

Over time, and as my health became worse, the narrative began to change, and my own personal story with it.  Sick, tired, in desperate need of rest, sleep, peace, tranquility.. I continued to do what was asked.  Over time, the toll on my body, mind, self-esteem, all of me really, was severe and debilitating at times.  And eventually... I didn't feel good at all.  My happiness and joy dulled and faded into nearly nothing.

The valuable lessons learned:

Love yourself enough to expect people to keep their word to you WHEN THEY CAN.
Love THEM enough to know they're human and shit happens sometimes.
Love...
Just love...

Last night was, in part, a by-product of recent history.  I'm not allowing myself to be controlled, either by force or by coercion.  And yes, I know the difference ALL too well; this is a good thing, btw.  I can recognize when people are doing their best, when they're trying, and I can also recognize when they're being total lazy assholes.  And guess what, ALL of us have our moments of being total lazy assholes.  Humility says... don't be so damn self-important that you think YOUR needs exceeds that of another.

Involve the other person in the dialogue when things change IF you have any warning that they will change.  Involve that other person in the dialogue when, even AFTER the fact, you can't keep your word for any reason.  But dammit, be freaking PATIENT, because honestly.. the world doesn't evolve just around you (using the word "You" loosely here, folks).

I recognized last night the extent to where the dialogue didn't include me, leaving me to once again feel disrespected to a large large degree.  I wasn't included when things changed, was told nothing at all.  In fact, the worst of it was that I know had "I" not brought the subject up... it wouldn't have been brought up at all.  And let's be clear, there was a timeline on this situation.

No, I'm not prepared to be unreasonable about this or any other thing, and I will still continue to make respect one of the most important factors in ANY relationship I have with ANYONE and everyone.  And it really has to go both ways.

I got it out of my system and spoke my mind.  T understands full well what happened and how NOT keeping his word or involving me in the dialogue when things change makes ALL the difference between treating me with respect or not.

It's a tiresome topic, really, and I'm not saying the actual topic of respect is tiresome.  Rather I am saying that I shouldn't have to always be asking for respect and pointing out the lack of it.  I also know that, like the past situation, if I keep quiet and say and do nothing for myself, then I'm doomed to allow the damage to continue, to lose my self-esteem and self-respect in the process.  And you know what?  I'm just not willing to go there again.

Keep your word when you can.

Comparisons Only Do Harm

Don't compare yourself to others.  No matter how hard it is to refrain from that, most of us do that very thing and wonder later why we feel so damn bad.  We're all unique, lovable, deserving of respect, beautiful.  Now, even I don't believe this most of the time, but it doesn't mean I don't remind myself of this when I start to feel 'less-than.'  And if you've emerged from a past stricken and scarred by a someone who took great joy in comparing you to others, then you have a little more work ahead of you.

Finding out I have an autoimmune disease, in this case one that wants very much to destroy my liver (Autoimmune Hepatitis), has changed everything for me.  How I live, what I do, who I'm around, where I go, all of those everyday things people take for granted has to be approached with a great deal of thought and discretion now.  My life is different, but it's still MY life, which means I get to choose how to live it from one moment to the next.

My past contains enough sharp edges that, more often than not, continue to cut.  Not having dealt with to completion the necessary steps to find my way out of that past darkness does have its drawbacks, so all I can do is navigate as best I can in hopes the wounds won't be reopened, or even that new ones won't be created.  We can't run from our past, and I can't think of a single reason anyone would want to.  As bad as it may be, we still need to remember, always remember what we went through so we can recognize the danger signs and steer clear of repeating the same mistakes over and over again.  For me, I have made the mistakes repeatedly, but only because I didn't get the proper help to recognize WHY it was happening, and to also recognize any current situation that is dangerous to me, my spirit, my peace of mind, my life in general.

A more recent past experience still wreaks havoc on who and what I am, and it sometimes, oftentimes, defies all inner reason and threatens to steal away my joy whenever it comes.  I'm not in full control over this yet, though I'm trying very much to get a handle on things.  Working towards healing is like that, you know.  It doesn't happen overnight or in a few minutes, and anyone telling you that's the way healing works.. is lying.

The echoes of the past still whisper to me if I'm not very careful to replace that voice with another.  Someone I dearly loved and trusted betrayed my trust in more ways than I can tell you.  The comparisons alone were damaging all by themselves, and to this very day I hear those words again and again, because while I was with that person I heard those very words... again and again.  It's going to take a minute to heal from that.

"It's not mean if it's true!"  If I had a dollar for every time I heard this.

Even IF something is true it can still be mean to say it, comment on it, or judge whatever it is.  And you also have to know if it's actually TRUE or not, have the ability to recognize the difference between your OPINION and actual fact.  Case in point, telling someone they're stupid, a moron, etc., making fun of them either for their age, weight, height, choice of clothing, and so on... is mean.  Is is less mean to tell an elderly person they're "old" or "wrinkled" or even "incontinent" okay?  Is it nice to say it though it may be true?  Is it 'nice' to tell a mentally retarded person that they're mentally retarded?  Is it okay to tell someone who has a physical disability that impairs their ability to walk like everyone else.. that they walk funny?  No.  NONE of that is okay.  Nor is it okay to make judgments of that person when you're really speaking just opinion.  Keep it to yourself, because IT IS MEAN.

Enter the comparisons...

This tactic of a narcissist, btw, is a common one.  When you don't meet their overblown and unreasonable criteria you're completely fair game for un-called for scrutiny, criticism, judgment, and character assassination.  At first it's subtle, insidious in nature.  Later, as the narcissist becomes comfortable and feels you're hooked in, the once-veiled comparisons bundled with insults become bolder, louder, and more extreme.  Eventually, the comparisons will be point-blank as the narcissist gets more comfortable with the idea that he is somehow right.

You'll be compared to their ex's, family members, friends, or people they want you to know is interested in them.  This is across the board, btw.

I could go into great bloody detail with this, but not today.  I spent the better part of a couple of years trying NOT to be me at the insistence of that person, the one who criticized, ridiculed, then resorted to blatant attacks on who and what I am as a person.  It was a long, drawn-out event that had me scrambling to be, in effect, someone else entirely.  And the result?... disastrous.  Absolutely disastrous.  In time I barely recognized the woman in the mirror, and as time passed and the onslaught continued... I began to miss the person I was, because she remained beneath the surface, suffocating, crying out for help with no one to hear.

I'm still saving that part of me, still trying to heal the wounds.  And I still remember the length I allowed myself to go to in order to please that other, otherwise, un-pleasable person.  I allowed him to talk me into dissolving all I was.  BIG BIG mistake.

The physical effects began to happen immediately.  I no longer looked like the happy person I was prior to that relationship (for lack of a better word).  I could see in the mirror, and in photos, how much sadness there was in my eyes after about six months or so, but I didn't put it together until much, much later.  By the time I was shown what it was I was dealing with, so much of me was broken, shattered, and confused.  To this day I still seek to repair the damage, and I struggle with it every day, day in and day out.  And I still wonder why the hell it happened to me.

I have to talk about this.  It's the only way to deal with it.  In my everyday life I don't talk to anyone about this now.  In fact, I don't talk about it with anyone anymore, which is one reason it pours on the pages across my blogs, some days more than others.

Where do I find healing?  I know it's not in the form of denial.  I know it's not in the form of sugar-coating the experience.  I know it's not like I can wish it away like it never happened.  It DID happen, and it actually continues to happen still, because the way it happened, the damage it did, and the way it ended was insidious for the most part and cruel as hell.

Letting go:

What nice words, huh?  "Letting go" sounds like something easy, a walk in the park, a piece of cake, something anyone can do.  Right?  Wrong!  Actually letting go takes closure, time, patience, and a complete understanding of what happened and my role in the situation and in the healing itself.

Where it all falls apart for me is the mirror.  When I look I see that other me, the sad one, the bewildered one, the one who was taught to NOT TRUST her own instincts, her own vital truth.  That's what I see.  I don't know at the moment how to change this, and the damaging effects are still continuing.  I know I'm going to have to return to therapy, and I'm not apologizing for that, nor am I going to feel bad or 'less than' for that.  The situation wrecked me, and I'm at least smart enough, strong enough to admit that I need help dealing with the damage I incurred.

Many days I have nothing to say on this matter, and some days it's a flood of thought, emotion, and so on.  Like today.  I know what's triggering this, and I'm just going to roll with it for now.  In ways I'm still hurt that so much was ignored and missed and scoffed at, so much that's come to light over the past couple of years.

That's another topic for another entry...  Yeah, I'm definitely on a roll today... purging the demons.

PART I: Never Mind. Seriously. Just Never Mind.

Where the hell are my headphones?  I need to retreat to a safe place!

Same shit, different day, new perspective on an old and growling beast.  I don't run from the things I have to address, but I also don't face them until I have my crap together either.  So when I find myself continuing to observe T's indifference, the disconnection despite his denial, I begin visualizing a much better life far from 'here.'  I wouldn't be the first woman to have the need from being freed from such damaging bonds.  Crap, but I feel like a caged animal at times.

He doesn't listen, which means I have to repeat 99% of anything and everything I say.  And what he hears, or says he hears, he remembers very little of, even of the most critical and important of things. No, he doesn't have a 'memory' problem--he has a SELECTIVE MEMORY problem.  Like many men, he's afflicted, and he will find himself on the outside FAST.  Well, to be honest, he's pretty much there already and is too damn self-centered and egocentric to notice. smh.  I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost.

So what happens when Mr. Man tunes out?  Well, the beginning part of the process is pretty self-evident, isn't it?  When a woman doesn't feel 'heard' she tends to speak "louder," though that doesn't mean volume-wise.  Ask to be heard.  Demand to be heard.  And then... eventually... doesn't care if 'he' hears or not because, by then, most likely someone else has come along who really is listening.  And before you 'go there' and think we're talking an affair, let me say THIS:  It is a human need to want to be heard, for someone to show they give a shit, and just because you find someone who listens, gives a shit... doesn't mean you're sleeping with them.

When you've wasted time on someone who doesn't bother to listen, hear, or acknowledge.. OR remember anything you say, it's only natural to stop talking to that person.  Funny thing about that, too, because it's always when you've given up, stopped talking, stopped sharing, and begin disconnecting that the other party decides they suddenly notice.  Doesn't usually fix the behavior, and it usually brings on board even more problems because that person suddenly feels 'needy' in the absence of what they once had.

On the flip-side of this is when you're dealing with a narcissist, the one who is constantly needy and making demands, unreasonable demands, while accusing you of not 'being there.'  Oh God, but that is an insane situation when it happens.  Lucky for me, T isn't much of a narcissist, and not a malignant one as I can see, but he's so self-centered that he's pretty incapable of being there for another person.  No joke.  Not kidding in the least.  He's clueless.

In my situation, especially at this point in treatment for the AIH, it would be nice to have someone ACTUALLY present.  Not sort of present, going through the motions of being present, but ACTUALLY PRESENT.  "Wish in one hand..." as my mom used to say.

On my own.  Okay.  Well, if you're not going to be there for me, then get out of my way!  Yes, I've told him this, point-blank.  He just decides that he IS there for me, though there's nothing really in his behavior that makes him 'there' for me.  I can't reconcile this at all.  Neither can he.  He can't explain, then says he 'understands,' which are simply mere words to me.  It's not like we live in separate households and have completely separated lives.  He's here, but he's NOT here.

It would be different, understandable if we lived in separate places entirely.  When you don't live with someone you have to allow them room and time to live their own life, to do what they need to do with regards to just everyday living.  That's just respectful.  But when you're in the same household and you're not there... that's an entirely different scenario altogether because you're supposed to be working together for at least some common goals, there to help one another, etc.

Give me some damn space!  Let me BREATHE, for crying out loud!  Indifference can be quite suffocating.  Has anyone ever noticed this?  Because I certainly have.  It's a lot like being trapped.  It really is.  Nothing looms larger in any room than an absent human being.  Yes, you can quote me on that.  It's how I feel, how I see it, and how I experience it.  "It" being living with someone who is completely unplugged and self-centered.  I feel like I'm suffocating...

There are times I need to talk, REALLY need to talk.  I'm still reeling from this recent diagnosis, and I'm confused and bewildered as to what to do, how to deal with the disease itself, the harsh and necessary treatment protocols, the uncertainty of the future, and I've no one to talk to about this.

Autoimmune Hepatitis is a RARE disease, so there's not a ton of people out there talking about it, sharing their stories, and so on.  There's not a ton of information on it, and even less as how to cope with it.  And here's the clincher... T has NO clue what this disease is about, how it can affect me over the course of my life, prognosis indicators... NOTHING at all.  Why?  Because he's not BOTHERED to learn anything about it.  He's absolutely CLUELESS about AIH.

What am I to think of that?.... heading to PART II to expound... and oh trust me, I feel a vent coming on...

Looking for that Anchor

I'm not completely unaware of my surroundings.  Everything around me lacks technicolor, true, but I'm still aware of what's here, and what's not here.  Having the awareness only changes how I approach any given task, every thought, every choice I have to make day to day.  Once I forego the usual self-talk and begin to listen to the silence the scenery changes a little.  But just a little.

Indifference continues to be the backdrop to life with T.  In a strange way, I've come about to a place where I'm more than okay with this.  He isn't going anywhere.  He's happy in his strange bliss.  He panics if I try to talk to him about how things really are, how I feel, what he's doing and how it affects my life in significant ways, and not good ways.  He panics in the sense that he isn't unhappy.  Weird, to me, how one person can be so unhappy while the other is... well, happy.  How does that even work?

Okay.  So I'm not going anywhere.  I do have times where I would give anything to be free of all of this.  And then there are times I'm happy.  Yes, yes.. it's not like I'm miserable 24/7 or anything.  Far from it.  I deal mostly with the AIH symptoms, the medication symptoms and withdrawal symptoms and all that involves.  But that's not what I'm talking about here.

I'm adrift and looking for an anchor to secure me in place.  I don't have my bearings right now.

So with 5% power left on this machine I'm leaving the conversation for another shot at it later, maybe when my thoughts are a little more cohesive.

....more coffee.  Yes, that's what I need right now.  More coffee....

I'll be back later, and hopefully I will make more sense than I have now. smh.

You have about 2 seconds before you get throat-punched

Just kidding.  But really, today is "Not mess with me" day, just in case anyone needs to know.  Prednisone irritability in full-swing, and honestly... the indifference and selfishness is grating on my nerves like metal nails clawing down a chalkboard.  OMG, someone kill me now!

On any other given day, under normal circumstances, I may be able to grit my teeth and work up some tolerance for the indifference and selfishness.  Oh, but not today.  And I'm freaking stuck here in the middle of it ALL... DAMN... DAY... LONG.  God, really, how am I going to handle this entire day without completely losing it?

I miss home.  I miss Mobile, AL.  I miss my life.  I miss ME.  I miss freedom, peace, tranquility, and the ability to breathe in my own surroundings.  O. M. G. but I would give my left leg for that life again... free from disrespect, indifference, and a general foundation of being treated like the maid every single given moment.

I'm on edge today.  Can you tell?

All I want is to breathe easy--figuratively speaking.  I can't relax.  Has anyone ever noticed just how much anxiety comes with being around someone all of the time who is completely unplugged, out of it, really rather... not there?  *sigh*

Please, God.  Give me my life back.  Give me my health back soon so I can get the hell out of here once and for all.  I'm not going to make it in this environment without spending the remainder of my life sick, anxious, depressed, and longing for a REAL life, a full life.

I suppose this is the first time I've vented to this extent.  I don't care at the moment.  ALL the filters have slipped out of place and the raw feelings are flooding through, unencumbered.  Maybe it will help.  Hope so.  REALLY hope so.

*sigh*

Dammit.

Praise Me

It's the sustenance of all narcissists, and without it they will ruin your world.

Giving praise to my narcissist was easy in the beginning because I saw this funny, handsome, romantic guy who said and did all the right things.  I mean, this is how we end up falling in love, isn't it?  We see their personality traits and love what we see and hear, and over time it endears them to us.  I mean, how can it not?  And I'm not talking about what that person says about who WE are, but rather those things that show us who THEY ARE.  HUGE difference.

Anyone who's been with a narcissist knows that they project this image to the outside world, and to US at first, as exceedingly charming, funny, lovely people!  We discover later on, when forced to learn about narcissists, that this is absolutely necessary for their survival, that they NEED that supply of praise and adulation, even worship.  But we also know that when the mask begins to slip we get glimpse of the other thing lurking beneath, the very thing that will end up devouring our lives, our spirits, our health and vitality, our sense of self-worth.

I still have some fond thoughts about my ex, but in keeping them within proper perspective I know those fond feelings are misplaced, misguided, that they're feelings for an IDEAL.  In many ways this discovery left me to withholding real praise for the person I'm with.  I have to actively participate in my own inner-functions, that is to say I have to be extremely mindful that I'm not purposely holding back for fear of things turning out the same as they did with my narcissist.

Oh, I do know better.  But my current relationship isn't without it's issues, some of them serious.  Be that as it may, I'm in perpetual self-preservation mode.  Not surprising what I've gone through.

My finally speaking openly about my experience with a narcissist has helped me tremendously in more ways than I thought possible.  But I've a very long way to go, and I'm not sure I'm willing to let go of those protective inner resources I've obtained along the way.  I'm sure I still need to talk to a therapist to finish dealing with the experience, and in time I will.

You see, in all honesty, I know I won't ever be the same person again.  Not exactly.  I can repair what's broken, but I can't replace what's gone.  And who knows, maybe what I 'think' is 'gone' is actually just tucked away in a safe place inside, waiting for healing.  I can certainly be on board with such a possibility, because it's far better than having to mourn something totally lost.

Praise.  It's not something I received much of in my life, especially growing up, but it was also something I never really needed.  For me, praise wasn't what I needed, but APPROVAL.  I'm completely aware of this, and I'm somewhat okay with that.  And I'm comfortable with GIVING praise to others.  It actually comes easily for me.  But what of the 'demanded praise' required by a narcissist?

Narcissistic Supply; what an absolutely ugly term to use on oneself.  Yet, I had to.  HAVE to.  If I'm not completely honest with myself about this, I'm lost.  So here I am, realizing that for the person I fell head over heals in love with... I was nothing more than that supply to feed his ego, his bottomless need.

When the emotional abuse became too much, praise for him became exceedingly difficult, then eventually... impossible; We all have our breaking points.  When my usefulness had run out, he began to demand praise--to be right, the authority on all I was and should be, or could never be, the walking encyclopedia of absolutely everything, the expert on my life.  Anything other than acceptance and agreement of all his criticisms of me was met with hatefulness, withdrawal of love, stonewalling, more criticism, usually ending in gas lighting to throw me off balance.  This cycle was never-ending after a time, and it hollowed out the vibrant parts of me with all its energy-sapping and relentless battering.

"You're right" had eventually revealed itself as the bitter lie it was.
"You're amazing" became a weapon he ultimately used against me.
"I love you" became yet another weapon to use against me, and he did it often.
"I miss you" was met with an ugly retort that somehow missing him meant I was "Selfish."
"You're so smart" became one of his favorite reasons to belittle me, with constant 'reminders' of how he was so much smarter.

He required praise, but it was usually tucked away in his arsenal to be used against me whenever the mood struck him---and it often did in just about every situation.

I didn't have to defend myself; but I didn't know this then.  And when I discovered my error in having defended myself for too many years to this person, it was almost too late.  So much damage done.  So damn much damage done.

I guess today is just a day when I'm finding I need to deal with this a bit more, to purge, to get it off my chest.

Now, some of you have asked WHO it is I'm talking about, which of my ex's... well, I'm not saying.  It's not about pointing fingers, but about sharing what I've gone and am going through as a result in hopes it helps someone else.

Now, on to eat some lunch....

Your Value as a Human Being Defined by a Narcissist

In some ways I've avoided thinking about this, knowing if I go there I'll be reminded of how blindsided I was by my narcissist's intentions.  His intentions weren't evident to me because I was so completely thrown off-guard by the hot/cold performances that occurred on a daily basis, and in those times when I did actually have a few minutes to myself to breathe and think...I didn't allow myself to think about anything but the weight that was lifted off of me during the times of his angry absences.

This is the maze of confusion a narcissist creates to keep you off-balance, because if you ever gained your footing... you'd run like hell.

I'd spent the majority of my life re-inventing myself after events that pretty much left my life utterly changed for good.  Back then, while still damaged from the events of my childhood, and still WITHIN my childhood, that constant shifting of who I knew I was and who I was allowed to be didn't change who I was inside.  As my instincts as a child, my inclinations to gravitate towards those things I was meant to embrace, were thwarted by an indifferent and emotionally-absent mother.  Most other parents would recognize how significant my passions were.  But not my mother.  There was a perpetual "No" associated with almost everything I reached for.  I knew what I was, who I was meant to be, and it was a vibrant, bright and burning flame that remained within me for many years.  But it did die out eventually in my early teens, thanks to a mother who made the decision long ago that her needs were more important than her child's.

I was the last of six and born very late--an "accident" as she liked to call me.  I laughed until adulthood about being referred to as an 'accident,' like she fell, hit her head and ended up pregnant, something unintentional that would morph into a walking regret later on.  Still, not quite understanding what that word meant in terms of me, I continued to reach for the stars and fill my small, unassuming life with those things that would lift me, despite the doors she continuously closed without hesitation or thought.

She was my first and most influential exposure to narcissism.

I knew I was a dancer as early as age 4.  I gravitated towards dance, ballet at the time, and music like the proverbial moth to a flame.  I hadn't even started kindergarten and I'd built a fairly large collection of classical music albums of which I played daily.  I danced daily, despite the lack of any classical training, and I begged my mother for lessons...every....single....year until I reached junior high school, when I knew I was long-past the window of realizing my dream.  The days of dancing in the alleyway outside of the ballet studio next to my house were over, as was the begging and pleading and dreaming of such.  My dreams didn't die, but they did shift.

She couldn't say no to dance lessons in school.  And yes, back then schools still did teach the arts.  In 5th grade I was able to take music classes, recorder.. because it was the cheapest route.  The music teacher encouraged me to take up another instrument---clarinet.  My mother actually did, to my surprise, buy me a used clarinet at a local pawn shop, and I eagerly went about learning.  Within about 3 months I was asked to join the school district's 'honor band,' which was for those gifted or accelerating behind the average.  My mom was glad for me, but she remained pretty unimpressed and never came to any of the recitals.

As time went on and I couldn't afford to take my clarinet to get the required 'maintenance'... it finally broke, and my mom simply didn't pursue doing anything about it.  I'd gone through so many changes with music that my mom was oblivious to, even though it happened right before her eyes.  She never noticed when I'd bring home an oboe, a flute, a piccolo... she didn't notice that I could actually PLAY them.  I could play just about any wind instrument put in my hands.

My music teacher, recognizing what was happening with me offered to take me to a symphony.  It was the only one I would ever attend.. at least so far.  I was awed, amazed, and NEEDED to be there, to be a PART of it all.  But it wasn't meant to be anything more than one more door that would slam shut forever.

We moved to Colorado right before I was to begin high school, my clarinet was sold, and my dreams were forgotten and never spoken about again by her.  However, at the age of 14 something else came across my path that would stick with me until adulthood---bellydance.  This was another door my mother closed with a resounding "No," and I wasn't to revisit this particular dream until adulthood, when living on the Mississippi gulf coast I made my first trip to New Orleans where I entered a shop called "Kruz: From Morocco to India."  I was drawn to the little shop on the corner by the music pouring out of its doors, and I walked out changed that day.. forever.

This time was different, and I had no one but myself to close the door, and what I chose to do was run straight through it to the other side.  Within 2 years I was told by many that I danced as if I'd done it my entire life, and people began asking me to teach them.  I taught, and I performed, and my life FINALLY felt exactly right.

After a few years, however, I began to feel progressively weak, tired, and unable to even continue going to the gym.. something I'd done since age 20.  While I'd found ways to work out and exercise prior to that age, the gym experience didn't happen until 20.

My last day of dance practice, when I knew it was over for me happened while living in Jacksonville, FL.  My once 3 hour long and effortless dance practices dwindled to about 20 minutes, and I collapsed on the floor in tears knowing that it would be my last.  I felt it with all I was and saw the signs of it coming for about a year.

My gym membership was canceled, as the strong, vibrant body I once possessed was failing me.  Over a couple of weeks I could lift less and less until I couldn't lift at all.  The easy 30 minutes on the Stairmaster halted altogether.  I hired a personal trainer who, after a few weeks, said I really needed to see a doctor.  Without health insurance, that really wasn't possible.

My trips to the gym ended with me leaving exhausted, pale, and with dark circles under my eyes.  I would get home and sleep for 3 hours straight without waking.  Recovery from exercise became impossible.

We moved again, and I began to not recognize myself anymore, moving for the person I was with at the time, as his job required traveling.  I lived my life through his while trying to find my way.  At this point I returned to writing, something I'd done since early childhood and also was very good at.  I created a couple of web sites, discovered graphic art, web design, and created spaces on the web where my artistic needs could at least somewhat be met.

I won't go into the writing at this point, because this entry has already begun looking like War and Peace.  But it was something I'd always HAD to do, be it poetry or short stories, then later.. beginning novels.  This was somewhat taken away from me when my handwritten manuscripts (I didn't have a computer at first) were 'sold off' by a storage facility where our belongings were stored.  The guy I was with at the time failed to make the payments and didn't tell me.  Years of writing, and SO much more, were bought by strangers.  All my writing was gone along with years of memories in photos, art my kids made for me as they were growing up, and... my life changed yet again.

The chronic fatigue I'd found myself in had begun taking the creative edge off my writing, and about 7 years ago I'd written the last sentence in an uncompleted book.  I've yet to get my muse to return.

The artist within refused to give up and rediscovered something I'd reached for in high school---photography.  I was able to take a class, but my mother said "No" to buying me a used camera and, instead, left me to use the disposable ones.  While my classmates shared information about their impressive 35mm cameras, I simply hung back and clung to the camera whose only capability was left in the parameters set by the manufacturer.  But I kept trying, always finding things to shoot.  Getting close to my subject was impossible, and I had no control over settings.  Frustrated, I did not take another semester.

Fast-forward to now:

A few years ago I finally obtained a REAL camera.  I don't think I ever left the house without it, and I found myself loving the shoots I did at the local cemeteries.  Getting film developed was costly at the rate I was shooting, so I ended up with a used digital camera that eventually gave out as well.  That camera finally gave out and I obtained a cheap digital from Best Buy.  It lasted a couple of years.  I then bought a decent digital from eBay and... well, ended up having to sell that to my BF at the time so I could pay my rent.  Oh trust me, I've left off major life events in this story.  But in the end I was left without a camera.

I'd also discovered OOAK doll repainting, of which I had to give up when moving to Montgomery due to the health issues.  But I have all my supplies, and a brand new camera waiting for me to recover from whatever has been kicking my backside.

So much information, isn't it?  I know.  It is.  And what has all this to do with having your value determined by a narcissist?  That one is actually easy to explain.  You see, when the patterns begin in childhood, when your determination is strong in the beginning and hammered away with over time your sense of self, that balance in your life changes significantly, and many times, though not always, people end up gravitating to those who are most like that which defined us from very early on.  In other words, we gravitate towards those we're most used to.  It's our comfort zone, though it's never actually comfortable.

Over and over again in my life I ended up with people who would ultimately treat me the way my mother did.  Sounds a bit cliche, doesn't it?  Well, maybe it is in some ways, but I think that's mostly due to how many people actually end up in this situation.

PART 2 will address where this ties into narcissists and their need to define your value as a human being.

You're killing everything I feel about you...

Weekends are the worst.  It's when T is home and there's no escape from the relentless indifference, complaining, and overt half-assing anything done.  I suppose it's just easier to talk myself into believing all the excuses I make for him, rather than face the facts head-on and acknowledge what I know with all that I am.  This is one of the greatest discomforts I know in terms of relationships; having to accept when you're holding the entire weight of the relationship on your shoulders.

Fuck that.

I've spent my entire life making excuses for the way some have treated me, and now is no exception.  Haven't I learned enough to know better by now?  Perhaps.  But putting what you know into action isn't always possible when you're in an impossible situation.  My goal of getting my health back is absolutely critical in changing my life, my world, and moving forward out of this absolutely 'stuck' situation I'm in.

I'm grateful for what I have.  I'm grateful I have a place to live.  I'm grateful God has made it so my life isn't a complete train wreck.  As I sit here in the wake of yet another blatant display of compassionless rhetoric from T... I know that things, for me, could be 100% better.  It's getting there that's going to take the most work.

So what's happened?  Well, my son hurt his back and has gone to the ER twice in the past two weeks.  He's been told he'll need surgery, but his insurance won't kick in until January.  He's still able to work, but when the pain is out of control, when it's difficult for him to walk... he misses work.  His boss is great, loves him and the work he does when there.  He's actually a shining star in that respect and has been since day 1 on the job.  But in the meantime, while his wife attends college full-time, while the two kids' needs for school, etc. must be met, paying the cell phone bill plummets to the bottom of the list titled "necessities."  Even I get this.  Still, T has to bitch and complain, while my son and his wife stress.  My son was diagnosed with a bleeding ulcer and high BP almost a year ago, and stress, anxiety is NOT his friend.  To say the least.

We put them on our family plan, because the cost isn't really all that different from when they had their crappy phones on that crappy network they used to have.  But you know what?  Shit happens.  And family is supposed to help family.  My son was there for me SO many times, and now.. it's time for me to be there for him.  He asks for nothing.  He's humble about the situation he's in, and from time to time he's expressed how ashamed he is that things have gotten this way.  I assure him that 'shit happens' and that helping is what family does.  It's always been this way.  He still feels awful, but honestly.. he shouldn't.

When T whines and complains about having to cover their part of the cell phone bill.. it changes how I feel about him.  T's greatest love in his life is money.  It's true.  And while it's all well and good to be practical and do all the right things, financially, it's more important to do the right things by family.  This isn't a long-term situation, so listening to him whine and complain literally kills what I feel for him.  What's left, that is.  Nice job, T.

Have I told him this?  Yes.  Point-blank, up-front, no political correctness, no sugar-coating anything. I'm not cruel or mean about it, but I make absolutely certain that I get my point across.

I've tried to show him how his actions and words, or lack thereof, hurts others.  I've shown him understanding (at first), patience (at first), and have done everything I could to help... always with love and kindness.  I'm now at a place where I no longer am willing to do the work for him.  He's a grown man and has to make up his own mind who and what he wants to be; an asshole, or a good man.  The first takes no effort, while the second takes absolute effort; being attentive to others while also being aware of one's words, deeds, and even motives.

It really all boils down to ONE major thing:  Love is a verb.

So here I sit in the garden of decay, loving T much less each time he chooses indifference, lack of compassion or understanding, every single time he chooses bitching over an act of love.

I'm quickly edging towards feeling absolutely nothing for T.  He knows.  He complains about that, too.  But he refuses to look at himself, what he does and doesn't do, and makes NO effort to be that better person.

I'm so damn tired of this, and I am left completely unimpressed.

I'm turned on by gentlemen, and gentlemanly behaviors.  Leaving one's morality, decency, and humanity completely unchecked is a MASSIVE turnoff for me, no matter WHO you are.

PART 2: Priorities Revealed

Assuming you've read PART 1, I won't rehash the entire experience.  And I've spoken of my disappointment (for lack of a better word) in that T has the worst hierarchy of priorities that I've seen in a few years.  And in light of his absence during yesterday's procedure shows me more than ever where he is, who he is, and what he is.

When I was informed yesterday that the procedure I was having was more serious and carries far more risk than 'just' the biopsy I thought I was having, my radiologist asked me if I had anyone there with me.  The fact that I was alone in the section where I waited to be taken to my procedure didn't deter him from asking, because.. after all... I was the only patient there who didn't have anyone with them.

I told him T had dropped me off and went to work;  and he just looked at me for a moment, sat down, and began telling me (using straight-forward language) how "Tricky" the procedure I was going to have, how serious it was, and about the risks involved.  He said if I wanted to call T and give him an opportunity to come back to the hospital so he could be there as it's being done that they would hold off on performing the procedure until he arrived.  The radiologist left the room, and I called T...

T's reaction?  "Well, they have my contact information so that if anything happens they can call and I will come there."

I sat there for a split-second taking in his response, then was filled with the overwhelming need to hang up the phone, to NOT hear his voice at all.  And while this isn't the first time I've felt this reaction, it was by far the strongest I've felt.  I instantly went into self-preservation mode and wanted him nowhere near me.

The nurses, doctors, and other supportive medical staff were the only ones who made me feel like I wasn't completely alone.  I accepted that for what it was and allowed myself to just focus on what was about to happen and put T far, far out of my mind.  In fact, to be honest, he didn't enter my mind at all until at the end of recovery when I was told I was being released.

What does this mean?  That's not a question I'm asking myself, because I already know the answer.  I've been there, done that in the past with someone not giving a crap about my health, my well-being, and diminishing what I was going through or dealing with.  Has society really become a nation of zombies who have nothing but bricks for hearts?  I'm certainly beginning to think so.

I was supposed to go home and rest, not strain myself, no lifting, not even driving.  But T had other plans, ones that made HIS life ultimately easier.  Because that's what it all boils down to.  The aching in my neck and liver had begun, so I prayed that the medication I was given at the hospital would kick in soon and I at least wouldn't be in pain.

A heart cath is scheduled for the 19th of this month (November), and I was given a lab order to get blood work done prior to that day, as soon as possible.  T decided that since I was "Already out and about" that I should go to the lab to get the blood drawn.  I was painful, loopy, tired, and I wasn't at all up to walking through a parking garage and hospital in order to get blood drawn.  I just wanted to go home and rest.  That's all.  Just go home and rest.  But that wasn't about to happen.  T would have his way, and I would simply have to suck it up and deal with the unpleasantness.

This isn't the first time I've been with someone who lacks compassion, but at least I now know how to deal with it while protecting myself at the same time... thanks to a couple of past relationships.  At least I was smart enough to learn from the experiences, and while those lessons were necessary and taught me much, it doesn't mean I'm not feeling the effects of what's happening.

Deja vu.

I'm still processing everything, having just gone through this yesterday.  I've no real thoughts on the matter other than the obvious that one would expect to have after such.

I'll come to terms with things---perhaps when I feel stronger.