Meanwhile, Back At The Internet Café

I wrote this at the height of the “Gaslighting” phase of my two-year relationship with a Narcissist Predator. It’s really strange to go back and read my poetry and short stories from the period. Such highs! Such lows… So much love and romance but also black despair and suicidal tendencies. Scrolling through my journals, I found this draft and smiled a little. It is a sarcastic satirical and black-humoured piece. I was trying to cope with the assemblage of hoydens he’d gathered by writing about them the way he talked about them – never could figure why they just kept on lurking despite his insistence that “they were stalkers, knew he was engaged, were jealous of me”… Anyywaayy…
What I see now is the inkling of my comprehension of the pattern, how Apaths of varying degrees fit in to my story, lending credence, alibis or window-dressing as he required. Truly amazing, the effort he expended to keep me fooled or manipulate me to do certain things (my favourite was “Baby, would you comment more on my blog? People love to see us as a real couple, not just our books”) The funniest part is that “The Ladies” written about here are indeed real people, unlike some of the ones he created. Bruce Jenner had nothing on my poet! And I can actually smile, if ruefully at that today.

~~~~~

When I look back on how it all went down, I see it as if I was in a horror movie, a very bad, B-grade horror movie.

You know the ones, where you’re in a normal place, doing regular things and you look up to see that everything has gone to black and white. What you thought were people have all morphed into scary doll creatures or zombies and they’ve all turned to stare at you. Meanwhile, bit players drop in and out, talking to the zombie vampire people, buying their coffees, talking and laughing and totally oblivious to the fact that we are now all in a Hammer Film production. You look at this and wonder, like I still do; how can they not see the evil intent? How can they not know that those smiling mouths are full of lies and those pious old gals, gardening grannies and wholesome looking farmers’ daughter types are all bent on messing with lives out of unbridled jealousy and hatred and for their own twisted amusement? You want to yell, “Don’t open the door!” to the protagonist but… it’s you.

All of that came later though. When I first stumbled across it, the cafe was a fun place to be, good eats, good coffee and the owner had a smile and a poem for everyone. It was easy to see that the regulars at the banquette table at the back were indulging in some pretty serious geriatric flirting with the Café owner. He took it good naturedly, and it was nice to see that even those who could barely spell; always received a kind word of encouragement. There were no signs of the undercurrents of crazy when everyone connected to this story first met. Actually, in a Stepford Wives way, the regulars welcomed newcomers in.
That’s how I first became acquainted with them. The Ladies. Or as I later came to think of them: The Post Menopausal & Poseur Poetaster Club, of the Internet Poetry Café.
I like alliteration. Deal with it.

You remember how it was, right? Lots of laughs, inspiration and folks coming and going at all hours, The Ladies gathered at their table; Hist’mina Munchhausen Fibthorne – “Wheezy” to her friends, Maia Witless Artesian, Guerensy Rime Mooerson and Cheri Del’Usional Aprils. All chatting it up with the cafe owner, smiles, moues, coy glances and “What do you think of my stories?” “Can you help me with this sonnet?”

Who ever would have guessed that such ordinary looking grannies, could harbour thoughts worthy of “Arsenic and Old Lace”, not to mention a healthy dose of “Fatal Attraction?” Fitting analogy that. A tale of sinister plots, deceptive old dolls and a plot twist: married and attached gals who would lie, cheat and write their own men out of the script for a chance to get into the handsome Café owner’s pants.

I never would have guessed, naive I suppose. I saw a nice place to stop in to, my battered journals in hand and to share some thoughts with the regulars, The Ladies of the Banquette. Mentors, right? That’s what I was thinking at first.

Monsters, more like.

More like indeed! Like attracts like doesn’t it? As the Café grew in popularity, newcomers joined the original self-appointed harem.  Des DoubledipmyBunn and Anglésa BlueWindyChapeau decided to write themselves in. Fortunately, the Café owner was more a fan of Albert Camus than Archie comics.

Then there was me. Quietly observing, scribbling away as I always had . How could I know that the Café owner would take an interest in my stories? Who ever would have thought that this would so stir the ire of The Ladies and later, their minions? Not me. That’s for damn sure. I walked in there like a lamb to slaughter, they had their poisoned pens aimed and the hot flashes got hotter.

But that’s another story for another day…

~ kei
2013 sometime…

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The 4 Most Common Narc-Sadistic Triangulation Tactics

I haven’t shared an NPD post in a while. I’m at a point where I don’t read any but the most informative and trusted people. I also avoid anyone who was involved as best I can.
I’ve referred to these people as “Apaths”, they are also known as “Flying Monkeys”, as they do the Narc’s dirty work. Bree’s article gives excellent examples of how the Narc brainwashes (triangulates) people into believing their lies and acting on them.
My former fiancé was a master at all four.
If any of the below sound familiar, you are likely dealing with a Narcissist and getting good information is essential. I can be reached through the “message me” tab , if you’d like links.

Free From Toxic

image There is already a lot of information about triangulation, one of the favorite manipulation tools used by narcissists and people who suffer from “cluster B” personality disorders. However, I think it’s important in any kind of relationship, that we learn to identify the early warning signs and red flags, when interacting with people who display narcissistic traits or sociopathy. This way we can better arm ourselves from being exploited and abused and make informed decisions about who we allow in our lives, as well as, set appropriate boundaries to avoid and protect us from being negatively impacted by these toxic interactions.

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Goodbye Stranger

Farewell to Ole Charlie
He will never rise again
Though ’tis rather a miracle
That his run was so long
What with so many in his harem

Goodbye black diamond promises
Rings that came and went like smoke
Though how would we have worked that
Three-way joint custody?
Really? Such a fucking joke

Oh Hai there truth for anyone to see
Only a brick could remain so blind
All so busy trying to be his confidante
Sisterhood? You crazy?
Cool, if you want to be that kind

Hello passwords, I hope that you’ll be found
Keys to the kingdom of his master hoax
Words, photos they don’t bother me
Hell! Call up my family or my friends
The pandering harem is such a joke

You want to wear the crown Honey?
Go fill yer boots, be my guest
Think you’re better than her or me?
You’re a fill-in-the-blank female
No different from all the rest

Blocking and stalking, stolen words
Faked accounts, valour and Albany
“Baby, my Princess, you’re the one. I wrote this for you”
But look! It’s revolving door poetry!
In my name’s place, a different one; or two, or three

I’ve no need to fear the truth
Because, sad dupes, I’ve got the proof
I don’t care what he said ’bout me
I’ve the advantage of evidence you see
And while you’re sitting supercilious and smug
Believing all his faerytales were true
I proofread his alternate ending
And all the things he said about all of YOU

Goodbye to doubts, so long to fears
Sayonara to all my endless tears
For after all is said and done
I know I dodge a bullet
When I left that one

~ kei
6 June 2014

Liar

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.

Why Does a Narcissist Write Poetry?

Why Does a Narcissist Write Poetry?.

Fair question. The answer is addressed at the website of Dr. Sam Vaknin, an expert in the field of Narcissist Personality Disorder.

You can find the full text in his book: Malignant Self Love

 “He writes such beautiful words of love, how can he be a Narcissist?” Narcissists are not capable of love in the same way normal humans are, they are however, expert chameleons. Parrots can mimic human speech. Predators can research what words humans respond to.

~~~~~~~~~~

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

NPD is a very real personality disorder. It isn’t “just” vanity, big ego or benign delusions that can be fixed by a partner or spouse. It is highly destructive and cannot be changed, regardless of anything you do. I was not aware of the difference, in fact, had no idea that NPD existed. Discovering this, putting a name to it, having a frame of reference for the actions and most importantly, knowing that NPD has a predatory aspect, has turned on a light in my life.
This blog has a wealth of information and resources: Let Me Reach on WordPress
Please visit, read and educate yourself, particularly if you are a woman who is wondering every day “Is it me? What am I doing wrong? How can I change to be better for him?” Read and discuss for our daughters’ sake. This information isn’t widely known and it must be shared.
These people are out there. They walk and talk just like us, on the surface and they may present in a very pretty package but they are not what they seem. Learn the signs and markers.