Thought From My Overactive Mind

Many people who know their loved one is a narcissist still seek their approval and don’t hold them accountable for their actions. They will hold the abused more accountable to a avoid being shunned by the abuser. Even though the shunning is inevitable. Enablers value being liked by the narcissist momentarily than acknowledge the damaging disorder. Time after time after time. They appear to have a dry erase board type of memory to the narcissist’s offenses. Wiped clean after each offense.

It’s amazing to see the control they have over friends and family they discard and circle back around to. They get praised for crumbs of affection. Forgiven for mistreatment even without an apology or even an acknowledgment. Clean slate every time.

Not me. I’ve got a memory board marked with sharpie.

Permanent.

Don’t be Careless


Some people give a shit and some people just don’t.  Don’t be careless.  Pay attention to those who don’t acknowledge your pain.  They will only hurt you worse.  

People make mistakes but the ones who admit them, and ask for forgiveness are better than the ones who appear to be perfect but are actually cold and distant.  

Be human.

Be real.

Have a heart.

🦄If Only Mommy

Part 2

He returned almost like a stranger.  Sleeping late every day and after waking taking long baths.  He started locking the bathroom door in their large shared master bathroom, even though he’d never done that before.  She was sure he’d never even closed the door before.  He’d had an occasional soak in the tub in the years they’d been together to relax sore muscles or for them on a romantic evening, but nothing like this.  He took a bath every morning after waking, followed by a shower. He’d come home from work late, after the kids were sleeping, and he would go take a another bath behind locked doors.  She was very suspicious.  She’d listen at the door to see if he was talking on the phone.  She heard him talking a few times but could never hear what he was saying.  She’d say his name and he’d hang up, saying it was one of his friends.  She felt paranoid and exhausted.  He hadn’t help her out with the kids once since he returned.  It was almost like he hadn’t returned at all.  He was a completely different person and everyone felt it.   

She asked him to go to marriage counseling and he reluctantly agreed.  One of their first tasks was to get back to eating dinners together as a family.  She told him dinner would be at 6:00 like normal.  The next night she set the table and had dinner ready by 6:00 but he didn’t arrive until 6:30 and he was in a terrible mood.  He was stomping around, said he needed to change clothes and use the bathroom.  He ended up showering and changing and arrived at the table around 7:00.  She and the kids already sat down and were about to begin eating when he sat down.  He said, “Thanks for waiting for me.” Sarcastically.  She explained that they had waited as long as they could but the kids bedtime was at 7:30 and they were getting tired.  He huffed and puffed and started eating the spaghetti on his plate.  Then he yelled at our son for being wiggly  in his chair.  He then said , Are we always going to eat the same boring meals every week?  Can you cook something different and good.  I’m tired of this shit.   She said she would try anything he suggested but with 2 little ones it was easier,for her, to stick to the 5-6 meals she rotates around every week.  He rolled his eyes and kept eating. Their 2 year old son was standing at this point and decided to play with his fork, tapping it on the side of his plate.  As soon as the tink noise hit his daddy’s ears he stood agressively, jerked the fork from the two year olds grip and hit him hard with the metal fork 3 times across his knuckles.  The little boy screamed in fear and started crying silent cries.  It hurt too much and he couldn’t even make the sound yet.  She  jumped to her feet and scowled at him and said we do NOT hit our children with forks.    Then she picked up their crying child and ran with him upstairs.  The baby was screaming all the way to his room and minutes after.  She just rocked him and told him over and over again that she loved him very very much.  He finally caught his breath and said, Why daddy no love me, Mommy?  Why daddy no love me, with big tears rolling out of his eyes and down his cheeks?  This broke her heart. She never thought she’d be protecting her children from their father and the man she’d loved and married.  She didn’t even recognize him anymore.  How could he do this to their 2 year old little boy.  He was just happily making noises and wiggling. All two year olds do these kind of things. She told him that daddy does love him but he should’ve have done that.  He should never hurt him like that and I’m so sorry he did.  

Something was terribly wrong and if it took all that she had she was going to get to the bottom of it but before she did she needed to get both of the kids bathed and in the bed.  Her little girl asked why her daddy was so mad at her and her little brother and why didn’t he like us anymore.  She told her little girl that daddy had a temper, it was something he needed to work on and it wasn’t ok.  The little girl went to give her little brother a kiss and told him she loved him.  Their daddy never came upstairs to tuck them in.  He never said another word to them that night. 

After bathing, dressing, reading them stories and tucking them in bed with lots of hugs, kisses, and love yous she went downstairs.  He was sitting in the recliner.  Hockey was blaring on the TV and he was flipping through his phone.  She turned off the tv and said, we need to talk.  He just said, what the fuck!  I was watching that you bitch.   Then he started trying to get the remote from her hands.  He grabbed it and turned it back on so she stood squarely in front of him and said, if you EVER do that to either of our children again I will call the police.  That was abusive AND unnecessary.  He said, oh fuck that, I’ll do what I want I’m his father and he was being a little dick. You make him that way.  He’s all mommy, mommy, mommy.  He needs to grow up and stop being a mommy’s boy.  He’s such a little pussy.  She stood there shocked for a second and then said, he is 2 you asshole and you won’t ever touch him like that again.  I’ll call the police, I’m not kidding.  I will not stand here and allow you to abuse our children.   He said, fuck you!  I’m going to go get something good to eat.  I can’t eat fucking basic spaghetti.  It’s a lazy dinner.  I’ll be back when I’m done. 

He didn’t return that night or the night after.  He sent one text that said, I just needed some space.  I was feeling so trapped and I couldn’t breathe.  I’m sorry, I’ll be back home after work.  I miss my babies.  I love them so much.  I love you too.  I’m so sorry.

Keep Walking

I read a few things recently about PTSD.  A few stories, lots of different situations. More than not most of those mentioning it had a much bigger reason that I would, however I do tend to never give myself credit for anything, whether good or bad. I’m not sure why I do that but I do.  I realized through reading and their descriptions that I live there too.  I live looking over my shoulder, jumping if the doorbell rings, watching people around me all the time, holding my breath, waiting for it.  There’s more to my story.  More before I ever knew my husband.  Much more than I’m willing to share yet, maybe ever,  but it’s there, bubbling to the surface no matter how hard I’ve pushed it down.  It doesn’t let me forget as hard as I try.  It never will.  

When my husband changed and I caught him cheating, his entire personality changed, right then, and never returned.  It took a long time for me to realize that he didn’t change…he just stopped hiding who he was pretending not to be.  He is who he has always been now.  No faking it. He was mean, he was violent, he used my words against me, told everyone things I didn’t say or do, he threaten me and passively threatened me.  Sneak threats like a knife under his pillow in our bed.  I was watching my back all the time.  I physically shook uncontrollably often.  I couldn’t eat, sleeping was out of the question, and I was too afraid to cry.  When I found him cheating the second time and all the evidence I found showing he was living a dangerous life now, I knew I was dead.  I knew if he got his hands on me that night, I would be gone.  I don’t think he would mean to do it but I knew that dark look in his eyes when he got mad and I knew this would make him madder than I had ever seen.  I ran.  I grabbed my babies and I ran.  He tried to find me but I just ignored his threats.  I was scared.  More than scared, I didn’t know what to do.  I knew I needed to stay gone for at least a day, and I did.  I knew if he had time he wasn’t going to have the same amount of anger, he would try to manipulate me later.  The physical threat was gone.  I kicked him out of our house, changed the locks, alerted the people around me.  I was safe.  Sort of.  He rented an apartment, different from the one he’d secretly had, so our kids could visit him.  The night before they would have their first visit with their daddy, his apartment was broken in. Ransacked and my threat level rose.  He owed someone something and they wanted it.  They wanted to scare him and I knew what would be next.  They would come after our children and me.  I was told by my therapist, the kids therapists and my attorney to buy gun, take a self defense class, watch my back, and never take my eyes off our children. All I could ever think was, this cannot be my life.  My normal, suburban family life was gone.  This wasn’t even believable.  I was in a full panic 100% of the time.  No breaks.  No relief. Never. Until enough time passed and nothing happened did I start to breath, but even now, I’m constantly on alert.  The doorbell still makes me jump and want to hide, every time it rings.  I just realized that this isn’t normal.  I’m suspicious of everyone new I get close to because it seems, everyone is still a threat to me.  There’s an underlying fear that things aren’t what they seem, that I’m being foolish to consider it otherwise.  I’m not in control of these feelings and that is the scariest part.  They control me.

I recently let go a little. Let someone get to know me. It was refreshing to remember myself a little.  To grow more into the person I am (if all the rest of this was gone). To smile.  It was fun.  I could breathe and I felt safe being open.  I felt safe being me.  I wasn’t thinking I was just being, but in a second, something snapped and threw it all into a tailspin.  Reality hit and the feeling before panic arrived…where some describe the hair standing up on the back of their necks, I decribe it like this…It felt like someone was pouring cold water down the back of my head and neck. My ears started ringing and then I couldn’t breathe. Panic set in.  I had made a mistake even though in reality, I really hadn’t.  It was really ok.  I just felt fear now where such freedom briefly was.  I guess I should be happy I tasted it momentarily.  Maybe it will be a step for me, to possibly try again one day,  someone safe, someone open, and someone ok that I have some things  to work through. I wish I didn’t, but I do 😔.

I guess recognizing a problem is one step closer to healing.  Hopefully I’ll find a way to leave all the fear behind and live again fully.  One day at a time, step by step. Until then, I’ll protect myself, protect my children and pray for help with the rest.  

I’ll find it.  It’s out there and I will peel this fear and doubt off of me, step over it and keep walking to my happy ending❤️.

When I knew I was married to a monster.


I wrote this a few years ago when my husband began showing me his true colors. The man I thought he was was gone and I was left confused, afraid, and alone. I feel so bad for the me that wrote this. She was lost and so very sad.

How I feel

I am in a small boat in the middle of the ocean.

I have no paddles.

The boat has no motor.

Our babies are in a boat close to me.

I can take care of them but they’re alone on their boat.

Sometimes when the water is calm we all seem very happy.

Our boats are side by side.

When the water is wild and the waves are big we are scared.

They have each other and hold on to each other tightly but they are really still babies and shouldn’t be alone.

I cannot reach them when the water is angry like this.

I am alone in my boat and the water controls it.

My boat is strong yet small.

It keeps me alive but it can’t get me to the shore.

You are the ocean. ~ IOM 
Life with a cluster b is unexplainably difficult.  It is like your words leave your mouth never to be heard. 


I’m so happy that I am now in control.

❤️IOM