Silence Scalpel Sharp

Some of the thoughts that kept me up last night are the hardest for me to wrap my head around:

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How is it possible to become invisible to a person who once loved you beyond reason?

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Finally understanding that someone would rather hurt you than be polite and that a person who you thought knew you inside and out is able to switch himself off emotionally to the pain and suffering he is causing

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That some people use shunning as a form of expression, telling themselves and others that they are the victim. They use silence to control the other person while denying they are the problem. They use passive aggressive punishment because of their own perceived demands by the other person

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Being ignored causes a pain that the body perceives as physical – fact

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I’d rather be hurt quick and clean with a truth than suffer the phantom limb of lost self-esteem and questions for a lifetime

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The only thing ignoring a person conveys is that you are too immature / frightened / calloused to behave decently. How cold can one be to know that your victim is suffering but feel justified to do nothing about it and go on simply ignoring it?

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The ‘Silent Treatment’ is a mind game and it is abusive

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I find it hard to let go if I’ve been led to believe one thing, even if I’m being shown another. I will give someone the benefit of the doubt to my own detriment. I will continue to reach out, to treat them with some version of the former friendship or regard because that is what caring people do. The one trait that I value highly in myself is my empathy and I won’t allow another’s cruelty or rude behaviour stop me from being who I am. If my intentions are perceived as weakness or neediness I can only remind myself that it takes courage and strength to reach out despite my misgivings. Why? Because I know that perceptions can only be changed when people communicate

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We’ve probably all done it or been subject to it. ‘The Silent Treatment’ is a schoolyard tactic and most of us know how quickly the shunned will fall in line. Why though, do adults choose to do this? I’m mystified that in this age that lauds communication, where people are constantly raging about lack of honesty in relationships and whingeing about decency in general; some people still fall back on acting like a bully to make a point or  to get what they want.

~ kei
29 February 2016
(I’m fine, just stringing together some old and recurring thoughts. K~xx)

Stop Thinking With Your Little Head

As always: I am writing from MY experience and it is with men. I am perfectly aware that there are female predators out there. There is zero requirement to point out the obvious to me.
Though I don’t have to defend, I will expand to say: I have many wonderful men in my life including my beautiful son, my Dad, brother, even my former husband.
Predators are NOT the norm or the majority.

Okay Ladies. There’s this thing. It’s better than Hermès on sale or finding Manolo’s at the thrift shop.

It’s called “The Sisterhood”.

Can we all please just get with the program, stop being catty, high school morons for a moment? Seriously, I never much liked my gender but that’s increased a million-fold since I started on WordPress.

There are bad men out there. They look like men, walk like men, may even speak in full sentences, write beautiful poetry or paint pretty pictures but they are not men.
They are predators.

If you’re just on here “For Play”, stop reading now – I don’t care about you. If any of you actually believe that you can have a meaningful relationship or that you know one fucking thing about someone on the internet – you are wrong and you are putting yourself and perhaps those you love at risk,

I’ve had well-meaning people comment off the cuff that you can get a sense of a person from what they share in venues like this. That statement is complete and utter garbage. I am an amazingly warm, loving,intuitive human (I’ll give you references if you need ’em) and I have been royally fooled once and had another person try to pull the same game again.

Here’s my proposal:

I have more experience than I want in this. I have resources. If this message reaches you and you have even the tiniest bit of doubt about the man you are communicating with, please – please – message me for those resources.

I swear, I don’t want anyone else’ man. I don’t stalk. I don’t chase boys. I am not a crazy bitch. I do not bite. Period. Hell! In the 3D world, I’m regarded as rather “a catch”!
But… that’s the primary way that these animals find their way in – divide and conquer.
What I am is someone who was victimized wholly and completely and in this little pressure cooker, I get to watch history repeat itself.

If you hear any of these, they are red flags:

I’m in a loveless relationship
I’m in an open relationship
None of them understand me
You’re the first one to understand me
I’ve never connected so deeply with another
I would marry you if I were single
It’s a business trip
I don’t know why she left me

There is a Sisterhood – it should transcend petty jealousy and contrived competition – we cannot sit around and trash men and their shitty behaviour when we turn around and do the exact same thing. Open your eyes! If a dude is going through women faster than loo tissue – who has the problem? Do any of you honestly believe that there is an endless stream of crazy stalker bitches just waiting to tear apart a man and that you are the only good, decent, understanding woman out there? Get serious. If that were the case, the human race would have imploded long ago. So many women are disgusted by men who “think with their little head”. What do you think you’re doing when you go after some dude without a care or a by your leave to the wife, girlfriend or partner? AS IF!! You just believe what some dude tells you and don’t even ASK her? Nice Human Race. Real integrity there.

Please, ask good questions and for the love of whatever… don’t fall for those same tired lines again. These guys get us because we ignore our own intuition and we piss on the Sisterhood the second a dick walks in the room. Is this what you want to teach your daughters?

I thought not.

I have resources, I have good ears for listening. I have solid facts and information.
You are welcome to use that “Message Me” tab way up at the top there.
Of course you don’t want to know the truth – that buggers up the fantasy doesn’t it?
I’m here to tell you, the fallout is a fucking shit ton worse.

Talk to each other!

~ kei
7 December 2014

I cannot thank deeply enough, the brave women who chose to hit “send”. You’ve validated all my suspicions and my responses. We’re all wiser and safer for that.
The resources I mentioned are all encompassing and if you are a man who has experienced or is in a relationship with someone who lies, cheats, is internet-obsessed, takes no responsibility, is always the victim; you may be involved with a Narcissist (or a shitty human being) these resources welcome and are helpful for men too.

She was a Monster

As I mentioned in my comment, I was riveted to the screen as I read this.
The single best gift you can give a friend who is sharing a similar story with you, is your belief. The fact is, Narcissist Abuse and how it is manifested by these predators will challenge your belief. It did mine, and my story is Charles’ with some variation. Even now, I am subjected to anything from benign disbelief and incredulity to flat-out blame and accusation.
Please read this exceptionally informative piece. Narcissist sociopaths present fairly equally in both genders but the stories of male victims are much fewer than female. It’s important to set aside our notions about victims of abuse in all instances and to encourage our sons and daughters to speak, tell and not be cowed by people who are simply not well-informed enough to believe. My sincere appreciation to Madeline for allowing me to reblog.

Madeline Scribes

There are some things only a handful of people know simply because I have not shared them. To me, they became sacred after my friend was tragically taken from us a few years ago. But today I think his truth needs to be told and in a way that he would want it to be told. I don’t think he would mind one bit.

Some people choose you and some are just a part of your life by default, but when a hive involving many, many folks from all walks of life comes to you equipped with people ready to attack you, that’s when life can get very disturbing. That’s what happened to me and the roller coaster ride I was about to take, along with the strange, unusual twists and turns I would experience trying to understand exactly how any of this happened, would take years for me to unravel. But…

View original post 5,927 more words

Hunted, Hurt, Haunted

Hunted
Just prey
In his sights
Lured with his words
Loved only as a pawn
His long distance trophy
An unwilling captive
Soul maimed
Caught

Hurt
My heart
Ripped to shreds
The gift reverently given
In hands filthy with his
Keystrokes to his whores
Lies of magnitude
The Devil
Envies

Haunted
Despised revenant
Creeping and crawling
Disturbing my midnight dreams
Smiling his protestations of love
Staining newborn clean thoughts
With his memory
This lingering
Ghost

~ kei
7 October 2014

So, Here’s The Funny

When one of my best friends, Roz says that, we all lean in a little closer. It’s usually the cue for a hysterically funny end to a long and involved story that she’s been telling.

My long and involved story is of course, my life and times with The Poetic Predator. A “man” – and I use that term grudgingly and with no intended insult to functional, adult males of the human species – that targeted me with the express purpose of stealing from me every human emotion that he could to shore up his puny, dysfunctional, Narcissist ego.

There are so many anecdotes from the almost two-year long “relationship” that make for a good story. In the early days, one of the best is how he would often tell me about his dream for us. How he wanted to leave the “backward” town he lived in and move here to continue with his writing and to share that with me. We were going to open a bookstore / coffee shop / knitting store .

I guess some might say that me believing him is one of the funniest bits but then, a lot of people still believe he’s a writer and a great guy. They were never exposed to his rage and endless stream of abusive emails, texts and telephone calls. They never saw the fake profiles that he used on Tumblr, WordPress and Facebook – including those he created to pretend to be his own children –  to shore up his stories to me. They never saw / choose not to see, his blatant stealing of other writer’s work.

I did believe for a long time. I initially ignored the niggles of doubt and I ignored the concerns of my best friend and even when I finally began to ask questions; there was always an excuse that he made palatable, if not believable. If that didn’t work, he’d begin an endless stream of abuse, create a fake surgery, or some other drama to draw attention away from the question at hand.

Back to the coffee shop.

At the time, I had no reason to doubt most of what he said. There’d been the first introduction into my world of female stalkers on the internet and I’d been enlisted (Gaslighted) to help him with that. One in particular (we’ll call her “The Other Woman” or TOW because this is the role he cast her in), kept showing up but after several episodes of her stalking, defaming and slandering – his words – he’d initiated a lawsuit against her and two others. He’d had me block her from my social media and from his Facebook poetry page, he’d blocked her from his Facebook profile – the one I knew about. His “daughter”, and “the teachers”: “Natasha” and “Sharon” were all sufficiently chastised for keeping his Facebook Page alive behind his back. We had one of those four to six days of calm in between dramas that eventually showed up as a pattern and were in a brief “Honeymoon” stage again.

And so… the coffee shop.

I used to draw a lot and paint a little. I wanted to give The Poetic Predator (PP for the rest of this story) something to encourage him, a tangible of his dream to hang onto and mark a new beginning for us. He’d been so put upon with recent events and don’t lets forget, his horrible late wife who was unfaithful when he was overseas fighting for his country, moved another man into his home to do so. She was spoiled, wouldn’t work, spent to point of bankruptcy and didn’t want their second child and wouldn’t feed said child when he made his appearance. None of this is true incidentally, except for the part about me. There is no record of PP having ever served with the army and apparently, his spouse was still alive and kicking at this point, though where remains a mystery to this day.

As a gift to buoy his spirits I designed, sketched then commissioned, a painting for him. I pulled in the elements that he and I had often talked about, his pets, his clothing style, even his dog tags (you can get those on Ebay, by the by). I added a catchy little name for our some day coffee shop / book store venture and then sent the works off to a friend and wonderful artist for the painting bit. It’s not an accident that it’s painted in the same style as the banner for my other blog. That work is a caricature of me that Cynthia painted for me several years ago. She brought this new piece to life so well, even to the shop front. I’d sent pictures of downtown Muncie to her so she could capture that flavour.

Poetic Painting v one

I KNOW, right?!

When it was done, I was happy and excited, Cynthia too, as she’d heard the reasons for the commission and she posted it to him. The day it arrived, he was so thrilled. He called me on the collar (err, phone) that he’d given me as I was coming home from work. He wanted to open it with me – so cute – ahem, barf. He was so touched, he was crying (he could turn on tears at the drop of pants). “you,,,make me cry..Karin this means more than anything..I love you baby..Karin I’m so moved by this” (sic)
He went on with how no one had ever done anything like this for him and “Baby, it’s beautiful, our dream”. He sent a photo of himself with the painting, apologizing for the tears. He was so overcome with emotion. The painting went on his living room wall and can be seen in many of the photos that he sent to me (and god knows who else subsequently). I was so happy that he was happy. I’d poured so much effort into this gift, one that I believed to be so thoughtful and meaningful. Little did I know that the only thing that ever moved him are his bowels.

I can hear the bated breath! 😉

A short time later, I used the picture of PP with the painting in a post to mark the publication of his first non-digital book. It went up on my Facebook page with a poem and a slightly mushy blurb about dreams coming true, tra-la, tra-la, to my co-Admin, PP. (Why yes! Yes he did have access to post at will there once upon a time.) What a shit storm that caused! The post was reported – ostensibly by one of the crazy female stalkers and there were so many at this point, I could have thrown said book and hit two of them! Kidding. Only a little – reported not once but twice and precipitously removed by the FB drones. I could not understand how anyone could take an exception to the post and put it up one last time with reference to my rights to it and took a screenshot of the last (I’m tenacious!) one in the event that it was reported again. I note the date: the 2nd report was on my wedding anniversary. Narc liked to jack special events like Grandmother’s birthdays, holidays, pretty much anything that’d take the spotlight off of him (even though I’d been separated over a year at this point, he liked to rub it in when he was raging).


Fuckhead Reported Painting 2014-03-23 at 12.59.47 PM

Fast forward to January of 2014. TOW contacted me. Bless her for her bravery. For as it turns out, she’d been sold a similar bill-of-goods about me and my actions. She and I established a truce that eventually became a friendship. Both of us have found peace and some solace in being able to fill in the blanks of the worlds that the Narc created for us. One of those was about “The Painting”. Here’s what was happening on the other side of the wall.

Within days of having received my gift, he contact TOW and told her that he’d commissioned this lovely painting of himself to represent the dream that THEY had of someday living and working together!!! Imagine her shock and hurt to see the same photo appear on MY Facebook page along with my deeply personal, though professional message of encouragement!!

We two girls damn near fell out!

She conveyed to me how she had often been hurt by some of the more personal things that myself AND my co-Admin had shared there and this time, she had torn a large strip off his arse, wondering what chicanery I was up to now and why did he allow me to post these terrible lies?! He responded predictably with blowing smoke up her arse and blaming me, as TOW had threatened to leave him. It was at this time that the post was mysteriously reported and yanked by Facebook.

TOW and I put the missing bits together and concur that Narc most likely reported the post HIMSELF to shore up his flimsy story to her. This must have killed him, considering the huge volume of comments and compliments that were placed there. Conversely, when I was understandably very upset about the reports (and the loss of my poem, which didn’t exist anywhere else) he attributed the report to one of the crazy women who was stalking him and jealous of me. Neat trick right? Poetic Predator was a whiz at orchestrating “twofers”. Make one look crazy and placate / enlist the other..

Where the hell is the funny? Right?!

My painting. My copyrights. My wonderfully talented friend redoing the image to reflect the current state of affairs. Narc-hole and I wrote three books together. Wait for it – not one, not two but three! – I like that phrasing. One of many other things that I’ve discovered along the way is evidence of his lack of concern regarding posting work as his own that other people have written. Thankfully, I had control over the online versions and removed them from publication. As mentioned in a previous post, I’ve edited those to remove the Arse-issist’s work and am now happy to let you know that:

KB Book Cover

“Remains Of The Prey” by Karin Bole Tupper is available for purchase at Smashwords, Amazon and other fine ebook retailers. The hardcopy edition will follow shortly.

One of my favourite quotes is “The best revenge is living well”.
Personally, I never wanted revenge, I leave that to Karma.
Justice though would be epic.

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

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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.

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

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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.

Gaslighter ~ Acrostic IV

NaPoWriMo Blog Button

 

 

 

Gaslighter

Greasepaint of a different hue
All about him and not about you
Slip into character ready or not
Living all the twists in his devious plot
Into his self-aggrandizing script you’ll be written
Gasping as his rewrites leave your head spinning
Has he made you the star of this little show
There are more special effects than you could know
Extras on his casting couch abound
Replacing you in an instant for his next go round

~ kei
5 April 2014

Paula Alquist Anton: If I were not mad, I could have helped you. Whatever you had done, I could have pitied and protected you. But because I am mad, I hate you. Because I am mad, I have betrayed you. And because I'm mad, I'm rejoicing in my heart, without a shred of pity, without a shred of regret, watching you go with glory in my heart!

The term “Gaslighting” stems from the use of them as a weapon in this old MGM classic film noir.

Definition of Acrostic form sourced from: Shadow Poetry:

“Acrostic Poetry is where the first letter of each line spells a word, usually using the same words as in the title.”

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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 son’s and 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.

*Duly noted that there are male and female Narcissists. I am writing about my experience, not in generalities.*

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NaPoWriMo

National Poetry Writing Month

See more at the link above.