Proposal of Peter the Poetic Predator

Permit me a rant?
Seeing as I’ve pretty much outed myself and there are several here who know the score… Some witless fool, who should be shown what he thinks of her via his emails to me, is promoting the piece of excrement who ruined my life, on her public forum. Short of slapping her silly (which is frowned upon) I can only say this:

Who in their right mind insists on portraying a liar, a thief and a fraud;
As something wonderful, talented and deserving of laud?

Even with the truth right in front of their eyes
They insist on perpetuating more and more lies

How can you sleep at night, knowing you promote a liar
The evidence is everywhere, found by Professionals for hire

Who would be so callous, cruel and low to flaunt this monster?
Are you clueless or heartless, I really do wonder

~ kei
30 September 2014

Poetic Proposal 1

Poetic Proposal 2

Poetic Proposal 3

Why?? Writing…

The king is dead, the joker said
Atlas shrugged and shook the floor
Poe is shouting off with her head!
The Red Queen says nevermore

Nights in white satin
Kiss my Cheshire grin
This is what happens
When I let you in

The magic in the mushrooms
Makes me laugh until I puke
My tears are blood and mascara
Isn’t that a tragic fluke?

(c) KeiB 25 March 2012

Alice's Mirror

Stood Up

This story was originally a letter that I wrote to my then-boyfriend. It was after yet another failed attempt to come see me and seal the deal on our long-term, long distance relationship. The excuses were simply becoming too outlandish. What I didn’t know then was that he is a Narcissist Predator. There was no intention of coming here, it was just another in a litany of lies. He liked me spread eagled on his computer screen like some bizarre foreign butterfly in his collection. I rewrote this, softening it a little for inclusion in “A Grain Of Truth”, published last year. I think I wanted to spare my feelings, I felt raw, stupid and over exposed with the real version. I didn’t want anyone to think I was some sort of loser. This is the reality and legacy of being targeted by a Narcissist.

Anne Lamott wrote: “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

This is real. It happened to me. Someone tore me and my world apart for their enjoyment and I am still trying to pick up the pieces. This could happen to anyone and it is but one incident in a two-year relationship. I was left emotionally and physically destroyed. My lack of enthusiasm for the “reason” that this callous twat gave for his not showing up, was further cause to be subjected to his rage and abuse.

This story is ugly and the repercussions of the relationship continue with innuendo and slander whispered still. Truth however, defends itself, thankfully; so does evidence. 

This was a day in my life last year, with the painful and embarrassing bits added back in. They are the True True…

 

When I woke, I was baffled in the muzzy, “not on all thrusters’” way that one sometimes is upon waking. I just couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to lift my head. Then I realized it was because I wasn’t in bed with my face on my pillow. I was lying on my living room floor and my cheek was stuck and sticky on the hardwood.

I spent all day at work, trying like a maniac to clear my desk to have no worries for the weekend and daydreaming about the evening. I scurried home to clean and do dishes and to shower, then went to a little style shop close by to get my hair done because I wanted to look my best for our first Real Life face to face. I carefully applied my makeup, praying that I could disguise the strain that is showing around my eyes and mouth from the stress of the last week. There’d already been two failed attempts to get here and then finding out about the “No Fly” ban that you were informed about by the US Border guards. All the hassle, calls to your lawyer… we’d both had several sleepless nights over that.

I put on new lingerie – matching, a luxury I rarely indulge in and a new dress, that I can ill afford. Stupidly, I bought you flowers. I had it in my head that no woman had done that for you and I wanted to be the first. So when you finally decided to allow me to know what was going on – after my several texts and many calls to you through the day – it was 4:30 or so.

The time that you said you’d be landing at Toronto.

When I jumped out of my chair to grab my phone, jumped because I’d been running on adrenaline and excitement all day, what I was expecting was you saying “Here safe and sound baby.” I had been in the middle of searching the taxi schedule to surprise you with my bravery and with my stupid flowers.

Instead, what I got was a text to say you weren’t coming. You never even got on the plane.

Have you had a panic attack? Of course you have. You mentioned it a few times in the last couple days. That feeling of terror and disorientation? The roar of an ocean pushing against your eardrums? Of howling loss the week before when you were held back at the gate? The fear and the wish to die that you told me you felt? Just like that P____, only it wasn’t circumstance or a crazy stranger that caused it for me. No. It was you. You made me feel like this on purpose.

No warning, no discussion. Just “I’m not coming.”

And that’s what happened. Panic. The ground opened up and it was like I was on a runaway elevator, the faster it fell the hotter I got. Staring and staring at those words, while my eyes were trying to push out of their sockets as the symptoms started, as the heat built up from my feet to my head, and the intense pressure. I was dizzy and disoriented, I dropped my phone and fell, trying to hold back what would have been vomit if I’d eaten anything all day. Thank god I didn’t, I had been too excited and busy. When I fell, the tears were starting and my heart had started to race and skip, wanting to jump track like a runaway train, I could feel the pressure in my head get worse. My nose started to bleed, all over my new dress. I panicked as the drops fell faster, and then started to stream. I ran the back of my hand over my nose, in a vain attempt to stem the flow, got blood all over the bouquet. At the same time, I could feel a warm trickle down my thigh and blind fear joined the disorientation and disbelief. In the last two months, as you know, every time we’d have fight – or more correctly, when you’d rage at me for no reason; I would start to bleed as if I was having my period. My OBS/GYN was worried and a round of blood test and biopsies had been started to determine the cause. I wasn’t actually very aware of all of that because I was tying to wrap my head around grief that was like broken glass in my guts that you were pounding with a baseball bat, gasping for air because I couldn’t even cry, my body was so pulled into itself that the tears couldn’t get out… and then I fainted.

I came to on the floor, in a mess of blood, snot, tears and crushed flowers.

Roses. I’d chosen a bouquet of three each of red, white, pink and yellow; passion, purity, perfect happiness and friendship. A kaleidoscope of meaning and intent… They looked how I imagine a bird of paradise in flight might look, when I threw them off the balcony…

 

The original ending: And that was my Friday night P____. The night that I was supposed to be meeting you for the first time, the beginning of my new life. So pardon me if I’m not exactly jumping for joy at your great success but don’t ever dare try to say that I haven’t supported your career or that I held you back.

 

~ KbT

Excerpt from “A Grain Of Truth” ~ Book Two by Karin Bole Tupper

~~~~~

For information and help should you suspect that yourself or someone you care about is being targeted / victimized by a Narcissist, please visit and read Kim Saeed’s blog “Let Me Reach” and also the books and Facebook page of Sam Vaknin.

Untitled

Running dry… the rain that continues to fall
I find my thoughts ever yearning for something, someone
Struggling to make beautiful words out of ugly thoughts
Labouriously trying to rewire the connections wrought
So deeply conditioned
Suspicions buried deep in my head
Destroy peace of mind
Make a trap of my bed
I can’t seem to stop looking for betrayal
The smallest things claw at my guts
Am I just one of the parade
A momentary diversion
Waking alone with horrible dreams
A lover with two knives one in each hand
Reaching to hug me with those knives held aloft
Ready to plunge in my back even as his mouth seeks mine
Running dry… no poetry
Alone with these thoughts
The horrific losses
Rain is falling endlessly
Alone I grieve
The loss of me

~ kei
26 April 2014

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National Poetry Writing Month

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I Do The Time For His Crime

Hello. My name is Karin and I am a survivor of Narcissist Abuse.

It is three and one half months since I implemented full “No Contact”.

I’ve alluded to it, danced around it, written poetry that skims the surface  of it. Today, I had to face more of the fallout that seems never ending at times. Today, I want to shout it. Is it my fault that this monster took over my life? Yes. If being empathetic, seeing the good in people and wanting to help someone makes it my fault. Rather like, missing the last bus home from a late college class and having to walk a dark path alone would make it a person’s fault for being mugged or worse.

My home was listed for sale late yesterday.

The home that I worked most of my adult life for. The one that would have been paid off by the end of this year. The home that still contains items that are mine, including some of my dearest memories. The sofa and loveseat in my favourite colours of lilac and sage. Our Christmas decorations, collected over the years. My carefully chosen crèche, with my son’s werewolf action toy because we are that kind of crazy family.

Would this sale not be happening if I’d been able to dodge the Narc’s bullet?

Retrospect says yes. Like many couples, we had trials and tribulations that frayed our bond badly. A very troubled child and the pressure cooker emotions that go with that. It is fair to say that I was ripe for the plucking by a man who was skilled in deception. It is more than fair to say that had that man not manipulated and lied to the almost unfathomable extent he did, I would not be in the middle of dissolving what has been my world for more than half my life. Am I a foolish girl who had a pretty picture dangled in front of her and just ran to the next shiny? Not even a little bit. Only the most arrogant and condescending of fools would entertain a thought like that. No. My life was carefully and methodically broken down and rebuilt by someone who borders on psychopath. Weasling in under false pretenses, mining for information and then carefully deconstructing the most intimate aspects of me. Right from the foods I like, my choices in friends to dictating how I should approach personal adornment and even my choices in hair removal. The lies are endless, almost surreal in their nature, substantiated with a few random facts scattered about, enough to maintain the charade until the bitter end. The mask came off, the women revealed, the manipulation of them, the hiding, the blocking, the stalking, the slander. Oh hell yes, the slander. I walked away from the insanity and consequently, must be punished by having my good name, both personal and professional, sullied by this monster.

Why am I writing this?

To get my mind off things, I decided to unpack a box of books. A year later, in the apartment that I thought I’d be sharing with the Monster, I thought I’d do that. The box contained many books I’ve cherished since I was a child but it also had the books that I so carefully selected as a young mother for my two beautiful children. The two most important people in the world to me, who no longer have the home base they grew up in. I’ve been weeping like a child myself for the last hour and I want this poison out.

If this white-hot rage could be laser targeted; that filthy, lying piece of shit would be dead.

That his life goes on, that he continues to play his games and is not only supported but lauded is the most horrific miscarriage of Justice that I can imagine. That people online know and do nothing is unconscionable. To date, women flock to him and only one has had the courage to contact me. It’s so much easier to believe the outlandish lies and complete fabrications of a male than to send a two-line inquiry to the target of his slander.

What was my crime?

I was at a low point in my life. Separated and vulnerable. I was offered what I believed was a chance for love and happiness that had long eluded me. Not a faerytale, a nice life that would include my kids, my family. They know this person. I fell in love with the Grand Illusion. Nothing about this man is what he seems. Nothing. All Photoshop, fake profiles, stolen words and stolen dreams. I would have needed joint custody granted for the ring he proposed to put on my finger.

What is my point?

My life has been utterly decimated by a Narcissist Abuser. I did not know that the term Narcissist meant more than just an egotistical or self-absorbed person or that Narcs are pathological liars. I am a smart and well-educated woman. I don’t believe in faerytales that don’t include unicorns and I grew up with the Internet. I did not invite this Predator into my life, the monster found , groomed and manipulated my life the better to take advantage. Narcs are dangerous and all the more so because of the supply the get from Empaths and the support by default they get from Apaths. I own my part in this. I have a good heart that didn’t see evil. So tell me, where is his accountability in this? Why is he allowed to continue destroying lives?

The next target has already been acquired.

~ kei

~~~~~

If you made it this far, bless you for reading this highly uncharacteristic post. I am intensely private and protective of my personal life in the normal course of things. The gaping wound was reopened this morning and I had to speak, despite previous threats. If one good thing can come of this, I hope it’s that the links I post for both informational purposes and to provide concrete help are being read and shared. Too little is known about the pathological aspects of Narcissism and too few people look beyond the mask of the abusers to see the nightmares they create.

If you suspect you’re involved with a Narc, please do yourself the favour of reading Kim Saeed’s blog “Let Me Reach and also reading a very well known expert on this subject, Sam Vaknin PhD, at his website and found on Facebook.

Knowledge is power.

Not Fooled

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Fool me once, Shame on you

Fool me twice, Shame on me

At least I’m in good company!

Some sort of fucked up club this is

The cast off, crazy bitches of his

And yet

Not so crazy, can’t you see?

‘Cause we are the many

And he is just he

~ kei

1 April 2014

The Fool

The Fool

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Jealousy Kills ~ Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers prompt for 28 March 2014.

What is Friday Fictioneers? Rochelle presents a challenge to write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end, based upon a picture that she provides on her blog.

Here is today’s picture prompt (below).

Jealousy Kills

Word Count: 100

Genre: Fiction

Friday Fictioneers Prompt for 28 March 2014

Friday Fictioneers Prompt for 28 March 2014

The girl, who wasn’t really a girl anymore, walked rapidly toward the edge of the green woods; searching the gathering dusk for a glimpse of her tall, dark-haired future.

The boy, who wasn’t really a boy anymore, watched her through the veil of green, waiting in happy impatience, car keys and a ring, quietly jingling in his pocket.

The girl, who wasn’t really in her right mind anymore, stepped from behind the boy. Red hair in tangles, blue eyes crazed.

Too late, the green-eyed girl saw the gun blaze and watched in horror as her lover crumpled to the mossy dirt.

~ kei

27 March 2014