Irritations @ Work

Really had enough of the men at work lying when I ask a question they don’t know the answer to. It’s irritating and makes me want to slap them. Just say you don’t know, okay?

Today was just the latest example. I need to do a very specific thing that I’m pretty sure can be done but I’ve not done it and want to know the best way to accomplish my goal without causing anyone to blow a gasket when they have to make changes behind me.* I ask the self-proclaimed “CAD expert” in the office and he gave me an answer that was so full of bullshit I can still smell it.

Did he think I wouldn’t notice that his answer was crap? Does he think I’ve learned nothing in the last 25 years working in this industry? Does he think I’m a moron and will try to make it work “his” way? Fuck no. I’ll be on the Autodesk CAD boards online if anyone needs me and I won’t bother asking questions I suspect they can’t answer in future.

* Which brings me to my next complaint – stay the fuck out of my drawings! If you want changes, just ask instead of going in there, fucking things up and then apologizing later. It really pisses me off to have to re-do someone else’s work when I could have done it perfectly myself in a fraction of the time. AND when things are changed and I go back in some time later I don’t know what’s been done and since y’all can’t seem to agree on anything the layout is totally different and I have to waste my time asking even more questions and making myself look stoopid, and I hate that more than just about anything. Less than puking, but more than picking up dog shit. Gahhhh

 

Facebook Part Two

I had half resolved to de-friend Dave. When I went to my FB account, he was gone. It appears that I am blocked. Interesting! I wonder if his wife saw his message to me? I wonder if she’s angry that he tells other women they’re in an “open relationship?”

I guess I should be upset that he beat me to the un-friend/block move, but I’m more relieved than anything else. I kinda want to know what happened, though 🙂

The whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Uh…no pun intended…

 

Narc in the New Year

Well, that didn’t take long. This was in my inbox this morning:

I don’t know if you are getting my messages. Hope so. I still hold out that we might be able to at least talk again someday. Despite all the heartbreak of the last year, I still miss your loving kisses and sharp wit. I love you.

I’m getting counseling which has helped identify destructive character traits – the hard part to swallow is how simple it is to change from a critical, destructive path to a compassionate one. If only…………

I’m practicing meditation, which I have always been skeptical of. Once again, if only……. But the main tenet of meditation is to not get hung up on the past, nor worry about the future. As you might imagine, I have a harder time with that part. It’s very effective for sharpening your mind and relaxing your body.

I have you to thank for getting me here, though I wish with all my heart it could have been different. I think of you everyday, You are everything I ever wanted in a mate and I have only myself to blame.

I wish you the best. No doubt you will prosper, you are a survivor, one of the things I love about you the most. I think about my attitude, the hurtful things I’ve said and done and I am humiliated. So very sorry to have hurt you.

A note from you would be very nice.

Your lover forever,

michelangelo 

Oh, pah-leeze! I don’t even know what to say about this steaming pile of shit. He’s a new man now, eh? He’s meditating and getting counseling? He now understands how easy it is to go from Mr. Hyde back to Dr. Jekyll? He thinks of me every day? How sweet. He knows that I’m a survivor and will go on? Fuck yes, I’m a survivor! And I have already moved on to a much happier, more prosperous and fulfilling life than he can even imagine.

It just makes me tired. I don’t even feel outrage that Gmail can’t reliably block his bullshit.

I’m in the process of updating everyone with my new address and cancelling all of my old accounts. I put up a single post on the old blog saying that my readers don’t know the whole story and inviting them to drop me a note. I left the post up for 24 hours and then deleted the whole blog. I knew it would come up on his live feed because he refused to take my blog links down even after I asked him to. I got two responses. Guess that proves without a doubt that his story about why I left is good enough to ensure his friends stay loyal. Whatever.

All of my old blogs are now gone and my website will be down soon, too – still need to copy some stuff off it for future use. There are many login IDs to be changed and mailing lists to update, but I expect it will all be done within a week, including closing the irritating Gmail account. New Year, New Me 🙂

 

Just like we’re friends or something

Had a new e-mail from the narc when I checked after my second nap Sunday evening:

[his pet name for me,]

Jim has two cats that moved from his neighbor’s to his house. One is a big male and the other is a tiny female. His wife is allergic to cats, so they both live in the garage.

Recently the little female was caught killing a bird in their bird feeder (what do they expect?), so it has been decreed she must go to a shelter. She is the sweetest little thing, so I told him I’d take her rather than send her to the pound.

If you think you might want this kitty, you should contact Jim. I will take her otherwise, though the princess Pookie will not like it one bit. She is coal black and smaller than Pookie.

[Jim’s e-mail address]

love you,

m

Really? I went NC on June 20. He has not heard my voice or received an e-mail reply to anything in over three months and now he’s sending me this? Like I’m just going to forgive and forget?

Oh, sure, I can contact Jim about the poor kitty and leave the narc out of it completely, but WTF is he thinking by even sending me this?

Wait. I know exactly what he’s thinking:

• Appeal to her soft heart with a sob story about a cat and she’ll open the lines of communication
• Insert something about poor little Pookie and how unhappy she will be
• Make sure the message is “from” someone she’s likely to respond to
• Put in something about the nature of cats and how they’re unfairly demonized
• Don’t forget to sign it with “love” to let her know all is not lost

What a bunch of crap! I do tend to respond under these conditions, but not to him, and not to someone who might report back to him about me or inadvertently give away information I want to remain private.

Loser! Nice try, but it ain’t gonna happen!

On an unrelated note: took Lil’ Dude in for his procedure. Left Sabu in the car while I took kitty into the vet’s office in his carrier. Got him checked in, signed up and went back out to the car. Sabu was very concerned that I returned without her little buddy. She’s been giving me the stink-eye all day. Except during lunch, when she was begging for bacon! off my panini. Will report back when Lil’ Dude is home and the meds wear off 🙂

 

One Year Ago Part I

A year ago this week I was in a very different place. The Narc was busy with his online affair with the “old lover (that [he] still care[s] for)” and I had just received news that The Old Boss was making changes to the company’s retirement account and I needed to move what turned out to be $12K into a new account where it would be super easy to withdraw any time I wanted to finally Get Out. The Narc was suddenly all smiles and full of ideas about what I should do with my money.

I was still recovering from his latest round of Gaslighting, pissed about bills that I was suddenly expected to pay, trying to keep my mouth shut about his made-up dispute with the neighbors and getting more and more frustrated and angry as I found the language to name his abuses. I was distancing myself in preparation of fleeing for my sanity.

On the weekend, there was a Fiber Event that I wanted to attend. Because I was angry, I did not formally invite the Narc to come along and that led to a six-hour lecture that started out being about how I am an uncaring bitch for not inviting him along and ended with how I am an uncaring bitch for not letting him carry on an internet affair with his old lover. I attended the Event, ranted to poor Awana about what a dick he is and nearly killed myself driving 5 hours to and from on no food. The next day was more of the same.

This year is about as different as it can be and still be my life. The Event is next weekend and I am looking forward to attending, but my feelings are mixed. I hope the Narc hasn’t ruined it for me.

This year the only time constraint I have is Crazy Helper Dog. Absolutely No Dogs are Allowed Anywhere on the Property, so Sabu will have to stay home with Lil’ Dude. Oh, I won’t be gone longer than her bladder can hold out, but she will be sure to let me know that I’ve been gone forever!ohmygod!forever!!!

I plan to take a bunch of pictures and maybe even buy a thing or two. Details next weekend.

Also, I booked an appointment for Lil’ Dude to have his balls cut off and needles stuck into him. Gotta keep him healthy! I’m hoping his Procedure will slow him down for a couple of days so I can get a full night’s sleep.

 

The lies we buy

Chumplady has posted today inviting all us Chumps to share in the comments the stupidest lie we bought from our abusers. I posted one story from my days with ex#2 in the comments and it brought up another humiliating experience. In the interest of getting this off my chest, I will relate it here.

It was just before Memorial Day weekend and ex#2 (herinafter referred to as D because that’s easier to type quickly) came to me with a fantastic (in his mind) proposal for a Holiday Camping Trip – the secretary where he worked had invited “everyone” to come to her family’s house near the Coast to camp in their yard. It was a big Family Tradition and only the best friends and family were invited. We would camp and cook over a fire and do all the Fun Stuff we didn’t get to do in the Big City where we lived. My son was about 10 and loved to go camping. I didn’t like it much any more because D made it miserable for me, but that’s another story.

I had a funny feeling about D’s relationship with “Sondy” as he called her, but I didn’t trust my gut and had no real proof. The whole thing sounded strange and I really didn’t want to go but he insisted that we had to go together as a family and in the end I gave in and off we went.

We were to meet at Sondy’s apartment and follow her to the house. Surprisingly, D knew the way, although he said he had never been there before. My gut was screaming that he was lying, but it was too late to back out now.

We arrived at her apartment and D bolted from the car like his pants were on fire, skipping up the steps and knocking on her door. No hesitation about looking for the number, no doubt about the right door. He had obviously been there before. H and I followed him and went inside.

Sondy had two teenaged children, a boy and a girl, and her apartment had two bedrooms. Imagine my surprise when there was a big bed, all made up with frilly covers in the space where a breakfast table would normally be set up in any normal apartment. D gave the bed a significant look, then gave Sondy a significant look and I could taste the tension in the room like spoiled cheese on my tongue.

I wanted to puke, but made nice and soon we were off, D distracted and following Sondy’s car down the highway. I made a snarky remark about how he seemed to know right where she lived and he made a lame reply about it not being my concern. They were “friends,” after all. Huh.

We arrived at Sondy’s family house and D immediately abandoned me, giving instructions for me to set up the tent, etc. and took a walk down by the creek with Sondy. My son followed along, so they didn’t have any privacy, which clearly annoyed D, but what could he say?

I was introduced to Sondy’s family who all gave me pitying looks that I didn’t understand. D followed her around like a love-sick puppy all afternoon until another man showed up. He was introduced as Sondy’s “friend” and when I asked D later who he was he said, “he’s safe,” which didn’t mean anything at the time, but struck me as very wrong. D was in a foul mood after the Other Man arrived and followed Sondy around with angry eyes, still ignoring me completely.

Oysters were prepared for dinner (which I HATE, a fact that D knew well) and everyone stood around drinking and having a great time, again, totally ignoring me. I felt worse and worse, my stomach in knots, waiting for something to happen. It felt like a bomb was about to go off.

A little later D followed Sondy into the house and when he came back out his face was softer and he once again looked at her with love in his eyes.

The brick finally fell onto my head and I realized that D got me out to Sondy’s house so that she could tell me that they were going to be a couple and that my son and I were out of the picture. This little camping trip was to audition him for her family! She lost her nerve and refused. I put H to bed and joined him soon after, crying myself into a stupor.

D came in and asked if I was alright. “Oh, sure! I’m just FINE!” I replied. He disappeared out of the tent and didn’t come back until I was asleep.

The next morning I demanded that we leave. He argued with me that it would be rude if we just left but I insisted that I did not want to be where I wasn’t wanted. I was not comfortable with those people, especially Sondy and I wanted to go home NOW!

This was the first time I stood up to him and he was confused. The weekend was not going as planned and he was frustrated and irritated. I packed up our stuff as he continued to schmooze and act like nothing was amiss. He made a lame excuse about me having a headache and we went home.

He made some choice comments on the drive back, but I ignored him. I was exhausted but thought I had won some sort of battle. After all, he came home with me, didn’t he? I didn’t have the nerve or the words to confront him at the time, but I finally did just days before I moved out. His response? “I am not having an affair with Sondy! You can’t prove a thing!” Yeah.

What a Chump I was! He continued his affair with her until I moved out and for some time afterwords as well, but I never had any Actual Irrefutable Proof so technically he didn’t have an affair, right? So said the Narc, but that’s another post.

Sigh. I feel better now.

How about you? Did you swallow a shit sandwich to keep the peace that you later realized you shouldn’t have? Do tell!

 

One last chance?

Yesterday just before Quitting Time, the following appeared in my inbox. The subject is “My Love:”

[his pet name for me],

Last week, I took your saddle to Barb’s. She has a long-time friend who has horses and has been looking for a spare saddle for visitors. They will keep your saddle and use it occasionally, but it is still your saddle. If you ever want it back, all you have to do is tell Barb.

She was impressed with the saddle.

I think of you every minute of every day and hope you are doing well.

Miss you very, very much.

No lower-case signature this time.

So, let’s run this through the Narc Decoder and see what he’s really saying, shall we? A little entertainment on a slow Wednesday.

He was Up North launching his boat somewhere near Olympia, WA. I heard about it from a blurb on another blog – I didn’t go looking for the info 🙂 Seems he can manage just fine on his own – I wonder if he finally got a job?

Barb is the wife of one of the Narc’s oldest friends. The saddle was rusty and mildewed because the Narc would not allow me to keep it inside the house because all horse tack “has poop on it, no matter how well you say you clean it.” He said the same thing about the wool and bunny fluff, too. He resented anything “horsey” and bitched at me until I sold my horse. That saddle and a couple of bridles are all I had left after having horses for 20+ years.

Anyway. I’m sure Barb was “impressed” with my rusty, mildewed, Cordura Western saddle. When she tacks up her $10,000 Dressage horse with English (made in England because she only has the Best) gear, worth more than my CAR, yeah, I’m sure she thinks of my old saddle and is “impressed.” What a load! Sure, it’s probably good enough for “visitors,” but it ain’t anything special and anyone who looked at it would laugh at his absurd statement. And I’m supposed to drive up there to get it if I ever want it back? WTF?!? Whatever. If it gets used, that’s fine with me.

The more important message here is that he’s telling me he’s giving away my stuff and if I don’t come back soon it will all be gone. I told him when I left that he is free to use, give away or sell whatever I left behind. I meant it. Really. This is just another thinly veiled attempt to get me to communicate with him.

I think of you every minute of every day and hope you are doing well.

Miss you very, very much.

Yeah, right! I wonder what he thinks about? How good it felt when he made me cry? How much he enjoyed beating my dog? The joy of getting new stuff and not having to pay for it? How about two cooked meals a day? Opening the fridge and finding it stocked with all of his favorite foods? Does his miss having his laundry done, the house cleaned and the lawn mowed without him lifting a finger? Sex on demand?

Yeah. The truth is that he is doing whatever the fuck he wants to do, likely painting me as the villain in some Tale of Woe that he spreads among his “friends” and prospective victims and I really don’t care. There’s a picture of him sitting in a boat with a woman, head down to avoid the photographers, at the annual Boat Show, so maybe he’s found someone else to mistreat? I can only hope!

I do wonder if anyone asked about me and what he said if they did. I thought some of the people liked me well enough, but I could be wrong about that, too. Some of them are Nice People and it kinda sucks that I had to give up everything to get away from him, but there ya go – the victim loses again and again just to stay sane and healthy.

 

He’s still at it…

The Narc is still trying to woo me via email. I changed my phone number and expect to be getting increasingly distressed notes in the near future until I can shut down the old email address. I assure you that I’m not dwelling on this crap, just posting it here for amusement and educational purposes 🙂

Today’s subject line is “Communication:”

Ok, I understand you want nothing more to do with me. To sad for words.

The garden is beautiful, your hard work has paid off. As you suggested, the front row is filled in with wild flowers (the green house remains fallow). There are two perennial plants that look like Queen Anne’s Lace – they are different but similar.  You explained what they were once.

Your blueberries are big and blue. The comfrey is huge. The mint is the bee’s favorite. Sitting on the porch and watching them is an afternoon delight. Pookie likes that part best.

Killer has moved in – at least two nights, I have seen him in the dark front room, though he runs away like lightning. He’s in the yard a lot since the dogs are gone. Pookie is delighted and scared at the same time.

Are you sure you don’t want your saddle? It seems so much a part of you.

Much love, my lovely woman.

your man, until I die,

[his first name, all lower case]

Sigh. Really? Let’s take it one thing at a time.

Ok, I understand you want nothing more to do with me. To [sic] sad for words.

“You’ve made it clear you won’t respond, but I will keep trying because I haz a sad and need some diversion from my pathetic little life and you’ve always been good for that. Maybe I can make you cry in sympathy…”

The garden is beautiful, your hard work has paid off. As you suggested, the front row is filled in with wild flowers (the green house remains fallow). There are two perennial plants that look like Queen Anne’s Lace – they are different but similar.  You explained what they were once.

“Ignoring all those hours I harangued you about working in the garden, directed your every move, demanded to choose every plant and where to put it and then chastised you for doing it all wrong, I want you to remember all the hours you put in making the garden plot the envy of the neighborhood and regret that you no longer have that kind of space to plant in now. The greenhouse that I built, bitched about and harassed you about paying me back for (including my “sweat equity”) is now empty because you are no longer taking responsibility for it – here’s a little guilt for you. I forgot, yet again, to pull all the carrots and now they are in bloom, again, making me crazy because they are Worthless Weeds and you are not here to clean up this mess. I have to do everything myself and it sucks.”

Your blueberries are big and blue. The comfrey is huge. The mint is the bee’s favorite. Sitting on the porch and watching them is an afternoon delight. Pookie likes that part best.

“The garden you worked so hard on is in full flower and don’t you regret leaving yet? You’re missing out on both weeks of Summer here – even Pookie the cat is enjoying the warmth and dry weather. Aren’t you sorry yet?”

He hated the comfrey and refused to let me brew comfrey tea for fertilizer. He didn’t want me using rabbit poo, either. It’s oregano, not mint. Doesn’t look or smell remotely like mint. And he claims to be a Master Gardener!

Killer has moved in – at least two nights, I have seen him in the dark front room, though he runs away like lightning. He’s in the yard a lot since the dogs are gone. Pookie is delighted and scared at the same time.

“The neighbor’s cat has finally moved into the house at night now that the dog is no longer here and I’m getting pretty pissed being woken up in the middle of the night, thinking there’s an intruder. Pookie is not amused and it’s all your fault for torturing that poor cat yet again. If he pisses in the house I’ll really be mad!”

Are you sure you don’t want your saddle? It seems so much a part of you.

“Even though I made you give up horses and keep your saddle outside in the shed where it got moldy and rusted, I want you to come pick it up so I can beg you to come back. I can make you forget who you were when you met me, just like I did before, and I’ll start by reminding you that you were once a cowgirl. You always liked that about yourself…”

Much love, my lovely woman.your man, until I die,[his first name, all lower case]

This is just complete bullshit. He couldn’t show his love when I was there in front of him begging for it, but now his notes overflow with this shit. He could go on and on for HOURS about how inferior I was, how it would take eight of me to keep him entertained, how ignorant and ugly I was, my hair, clothes, everything just so wrong. Does he think I’ve forgotten the reason I left? Is he high? Is it wrong to think, “yeah, I’ll outlive you, asshole!” ?

Oh, look! A spinning wheel –

It was a fantastic weekend, really! Yeah, I know the formatting is all screwed up, but it’s getting late and I have spinning to do…

 

Decoding Exercise

I “missed” a call from the Narc either last night or early this morning. The little phone icon was going ’round and ’round on the phone display, the words “Narc X” shining up to let me know just who had called. You might recall that I set “his” ringtone to None. I did not listen to the message, just cleared the icon off the phone so I wouldn’t have to see a reminder. After a little flash of anger, I just felt Meh. Whatever.

I opened my email when I got to the office and found this little gem waiting. The subject reads “Stuff” –

To the love of my life,

Have you moved away from the coast? Just a feeling…

I still have quite a few of your things and I’m wondering what to do with them. The house is emptying and will be ready to put up on the market soon.

I miss you so very much. I’ve never loved anyone as much a[s] you, absolutely no one. I would do anything to see you again. I swear to you, the beast has left and only your loving man remains.

with all my heart,

m.

Let’s break this one down and decode it, shall we?

To the love of my life,

“To the chump who let me feed off of her emotionally, financially and physically for so many years,”

Have you moved away from the coast? Just a feeling…

“Hey! I’ve been stalking your known hang-outs and can’t seem to find you. No one knows where you are or if they do they aren’t telling me. I can’t control you if I don’t know where you are. I’ll toss in something about “feelings” because I know you like that kind of shit and it’s worked before. Tell me where you are so I can Hoover you back in…”

I still have quite a few of your things and I’m wondering what to do with them. The house is emptying and will be ready to put up on the market soon.

“Your crap is still sitting around here where you left it when you abandoned me and now I have to Deal With It, which you know is something I hate to do, so come over here and pick it up before I do something rash. I haven’t been able to find someone else to leech off of, so I’m selling the house I never wanted in the first place in order to get enough money to live on because I am “too disabled” to get a Real Job like all the Little People who have to work for a living.”

I miss you so very much. I’ve never loved anyone as much a[s] you, absolutely no one. I would do anything to see you again. I swear to you, the beast has left and only your loving man remains.

“Waaahhhh! I’m not getting any Ego Kibbles* and I’m starving over here all by myself! I miss all of the things you always took care of for me. I miss your warm body that was mine to command. I miss the money you brought into our lives. I miss yelling at you and treating you like crap and making you feel small enough that I could crush you under my heel. I miss making you cry. I miss lying to you and playing sadistic emotional games. I miss pitting my mind against yours for no reason at all.

“I want to see you again face to face so I can try out my new Hoovering skills. I’ve been working very hard on my mask, repairing the chinks, plastering over the holes where my black soul peeked through and I think you’ll be surprised at how attractive it looks. I’ve got a whole new arsenal of compliments, buzzwords and platitudes that I want to use to get you back.

“I promise to be the loving man you thought you met in the beginning. Until you piss me off and “force” me to correct you with threatening words and gestures. I won’t do that until I’m financially stable again, though.”

with all my heart,

m.

“I don’t have a heart, but women like to read that shit, so here it is. I sign with a lower-case m because it makes me seem humble and women like that, too. A capital m is too pretentious for my purposes here, best to look as if I’ve learned something these last months – makes it more likely you’ll believe this bullshit and call or write so I can work on getting you back.”

Whew! I wonder how long he spent composing that little gem? Whatever.

* Have you seen Chump Lady yet? Do check out that link. Substitute “Narc/Socio/Psycho” where she writes “cheater” and the message is the same. These assholes all read from the same script!

 

Gaslighting and the Narc

I just read a post over at One Mom’s Battle that describes what a Socio/Psycho/Narc does to their victim better than I ever could –

Narcissistic Personality Disorder and Gaslighting

This is it, exactly! This quote from Sam Vaknin is the method (one of five that Sam details) that the Narc used most often on me (bold mine):

Shared Psychosis: The abuser creates a fantasy world, inhabited by the victim and himself, and besieged by imaginary enemies. He allocates to the abused the role of defending this invented and unreal Universe. She must swear to secrecy, stand by her abuser no matter what, lie, fight, pretend, obfuscate and do whatever else it takes to preserve this oasis of inanity. Her membership in the abuser’s “kingdom” is cast as a privilege and a prize. It is not to be taken for granted. She has to work hard to earn her continued affiliation. She is constantly being tested and evaluated. Inevitably, this interminable stress reduces the victim’s resistance and her ability to “see straight”.

I was always being tested and always found wanting.

Why couldn’t I take a shower and wash my hair without counting the seconds or asking him if he wanted a shower or making sure he was not getting ready to go into the bathroom? Because he had something nasty to say about every minute I spent in the shower, every drop of water I used, every imagined “delay” that I “caused” him.

I know, it sounds crazy, and that’s what it’s meant to do: convince you all that I’m crazy if I try to tell how it was. There are a million other “rules” that I had to live by, and describing them makes me sound insane, just as he planned.

Today I got in the shower twice, once early this morning, and again this evening to shave my legs (TMI? A nine minute shower does not allow enough time to both wash hair and shave legs, so now you know 🙂 ) and I didn’t feel one second of guilt or anxiety. Fuck him and his rules. It’s all about ME now, and I don’t have any rules.

Maybe one: get enough sleep on school nights 🙂

Now I really am getting offline. The post about my fabulous weekend will have to wait until tomorrow…

No more blog reading tonight! No more blog reading tonight! No more blog reading tonight!