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.

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Wendigo

When I last saw Evan Dancing Boy, he was standing still…

He stood on the thin strip of grass between the children’s playground and the gravel strewn access road to the highway. He was staring, enraptured by the firefly like burn of the sparkler he held in his hand.
Evan Dancing Boy… He truly did dance everywhere. Or skip, in that blissfully unselfconscious way that little boys are allowed when they are small, and before the world wants children to be bound by definitions and not to be just children.
Such a beautiful child. Big brown eyes like his daddy and his hair past his shoulders but blonde, like his Mama’s, my sister-in-law. I had braided his bangs to keep them off his face in the hot summer sun. He loved his auntie, we danced together often that weekend. He would run up to me, smiling his heartbreaker-in-training smile, grab my hand in his small, still toddler pudgy hand; “Dance with me Kateri”!
On the last evening of pow wow, as dusk was giving way to full dark, we brought out marshmallows and sparklers for the children. We all of us round the fire that night, family and friends, a large group, were sunshine and happiness tired. Content in a successful sharing. The children ran about, tumbling through the open spaces of the campground, in and around the tents, camper vans and the playground.
I lit sparklers along with some of the other aunties and uncles and handed them to our kids. Evan’s eyes went wide when he took his. “Like fireflies Kateri”! He said with excitement and reverence. I watched with affection, as he danced and skipped away, waving the sparkler.
Scant moments later, I turned to look and saw that he stood stalk still, further than he should be and staring into the woods just beyond the campground. His sparkler still sputtered in his hand.
“Evan! Come see your auntie”! I called but he seemed oblivious and a snake stirred in my belly as I watched the sparkler, dying now, fall from his hand and the blackness swallow up his little frame.
I started to walk, then run as the snake squirmed but when I came to the spot where he’d stood; I could see he was gone.
Only the red hot tip of the sparkler in the grass, showed that anyone had stood here in the last few moments…

~ kei

kateri darkwolf