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 🙂

 

One Year Ago Part Three

Last December was a very bad month for me. The narc was amping up his abuses because I finally had a handle on his tactics, a look behind his mask, and he was not happy at all.

November ended with a fight about moving some plywood, of all things. He got mad that I didn’t jump up from my desk where I was doing paying work to help him before he needed to ask. The argument went round and round until I just didn’t care any more and shut down, refusing to respond to him at all. He pretended to “make an effort to change” which I knew was just another tactic to bring me back in line.

Because of my wonderful readers and lots of internet research, by December I knew I was dealing with a person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder and that there was no cure, no hope, and no reason to say with the asshole. I started to turn his conversational beatings around on him, refusing to play his games. I admit I found it thrilling, like poking the tiger in the cage at the zoo. Now that I was no longer emotionally invested in the relationship, I didn’t care if I made him mad and said what I really felt with no regard to what he might think. It was Sofia Uncensored. He hated it. I reveled in his hate. His anger and switching tactics only fueled my own anger and determination to get the hell out.

When he could no longer move me to tears or talk me into submission he changed his approach: suddenly he was helpless, unable to keep his finances in order, broke, sick, depressed, unable to remember a host of little things from one day to the next. He became a toddler again and he expected me to pick up his slack and take care of all his needs.

I had money in my bank account and a plan for the next time he left town, but he seemed determined to not leave me alone. I tried my best to keep from rocking the boat while standing up for myself – not an easy task. I didn’t want him to kick me out before I was ready to go, but I had a backup plan just in case.

And then Christmas was upon us, and he did his usual gift thing. I bought him clothes, careful to choose exactly what he said he wanted. He took back some clothes that he had given to me and whined constantly about how he felt like he’d been taken advantage of all these years by “everyone,” including me and that was why he wasn’t where he wanted to be in his life and why he could not be happy and treat me well. He was laying the guilt on thick at every opportunity.

I was angry. So very angry. I was very impatiently waiting for him to go out of town again so I could put my escape plan into motion. I was keeping many secrets from him and I felt justified in doing so because of his lies and manipulations. I no longer loved him. I did hate him with a red hot fiery passion and I knew that hatred was the primary force keeping my head above water, paddling slowly forward, looking for an opening to get away.

In less than a month I would be free. That last month was the hardest to endure, but I made it and have been narc free for almost a year!

Thank you all for traveling along with me on this journey.

 

One Year Ago Part 2

Tomorrow is the narc’s birthday. The Big 6-0. I wrote last year how he feels about birthdays and what his gift to me was. We had just returned from yet another of his Boating Trips and I was furious over what happened on the drive home. He had upped his criticism of me to a degree that I’m sure was noticed by outsiders because I was starting to speak my mind, disregarding his poor, injured ego. The day before his b-day he was lamenting how his “decent into poverty” was all my fault.

On his Big Day I did not acknowledge his birthday. I got him no gift, did not wish him happy day or in any way let him know that I knew the date. He went to his boat and got drunk with friends and then drove home. My stomach was already in knots with worry about how he was going to punish me for “forgetting” his day, so I wasn’t fast enough to call the police to have him arrested for drunk driving. I still regret that…

It was the first time I voiced the thought that I should move out and quit holding him back so he could sell his house and go live his dream on his boat. It was the first time I told him that I thought he liked the idea of me, but not the actual person that I am and that he never had really liked me. It was liberating and terrifying at the same time.

At that point I had no clear idea of how I was going to get away from him, but I knew it was going to have to happen soon or I would snap. I had received word that I would soon have access to a retirement account that I had all but forgotten and visions of freedom were dancing in my head.

Fast forward to this year and my biggest “problem” is how to keep my water hose from freezing up – foam insulation, heat tape or a combination of the two? Fill the fresh water tank and use the inside pump for shower/toilet/sink, unhook the hose until more water is needed and avoid the problem altogether?

I started to make a list of what I would like to give him on his Big Day this year, but have deleted it because it makes me sound just a little bit crazy to be wishing so many horrible skin ailments on one person 🙂

Let me just say that my life has improved 1000% since I left the narc. I thought I was having a run of bad luck in the last years with him, but it turns out that he was my bad luck charm and leaving him was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself!

Have a truly awful day, dickhead!

 

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.

 

The Narc and Garbage

Usual disclaimer here: I am not a trained therapist, I speak only of the Narc I lived with for 11.5 years, any resemblance to an abusive person in your life is really, really sad, etc. etc. etc.

The Narc has very definite views on waste and garbage, which on the surface are very Green and respectable. My views are similar, so you would think we would be on the same page about this one thing, right? Nope, but you knew that if you’ve been reading here for awhile.

So, basically, we both believe in recycling and re-using whenever possible and throwing as little “away*” as we can. The Narc refuses to pay for garbage service, preferring instead to have three plastic trash cans that he hauls to the dump twice a year in his truck, along with whatever other big stuff needs to be hauled off. He insisted that the load must weigh 400 pounds because there’s a flat fee for up to 400 pounds and he is a tightwad.

On the surface, this all sounds sane and reasonable, right?

When I moved to the Coast into his house four+ years ago, the cans were almost full of his building scrap and whatever else he couldn’t compost or burn. Of course there was packing material that couldn’t be recycled** and assorted odds and ends that moved but should have been tossed and the cans filled all the way up and it was time for a Dump Run.

You would have thought I’d committed some awful crime the way he carried on. First, he insisted that I be the one to load the truck (this would become a theme that ran throughout future Dump Runs and caused many, many arguments) to show that I was responsible. He gave me a long lecture throughout the loading process about how it should be done and how I’d only been there a month and here we were already going to the dump and how it was going to cost him a fortune in dump fees and how irresponsible I was for having so very much to throw away, blah, blah, blah. It was torture.

Once at the transfer station, we weighed and The Rules for Dumping became the topic for the next half hour along with a continuous litany of my sins against the planet with “my” garbage, and on and on.

When we drove up to the window to pay and the trash weighed less than 300 pounds, I got a lecture about “forcing” him to make a trip with so little trash, we were wasting money, blah, blah, blah. I offered to buy another can (he had a freakin’ HUGE flat-bed truck – it could have held a dozen or more garbage cans!) so we would have more weight next time and that earned me a lecture on the Evils of Plastic. All I could do is suck it up and keep my mouth shut until the next Dump Run where it would start all over again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

You may wonder why I remember this event so clearly. I wonder, too. It all came back to me in a rush yesterday as I was cutting veggies and tossing egg shells into the garbage can and I was mad all over again about his Rules about waste of all kinds. I wrote about just one incident in the post called I hate curry.

“Wasting” food was a cardinal sin as far as the Narc was concerned and a constant source of anguish for me. Every vegetable peel, every spoiled whatever earned me a lecture.

He would make a big production of “cleaning out the fridge” in order to lecture me. I had to sit and watch while he took the items out one by one, demanding to know how long it had been in there, forcing me to tell him what it had been intended for, how much it cost, and on and on. I started throwing things out that looked like they were thinking about going bad whenever he was gone for an hour or two, stashing the bags in my car for disposal at work so I didn’t have to listen to him chastise me. Sick, I know, but what could I do?

The whole Garbage issue is still with me today, even though I have access to trash cans that are paid out of my space rent. It’s not all bad – I try to buy as little packaging as possible, recycle as much as I can, and not throw food away (no compost pile here) but every time I make a decision about it, I think of the Narc and his Rules, which makes me angry all over again.

* There is no Away – it all goes into a landfill where it never really breaks down, but rots and poisons the environment for all time. I won’t get started on that rant because I have not exactly been as “green” as I would like to be the last few months.

** Recycling was another hot button for a couple of reasons:

He “once had a friend” who visited a recycling facility some time back in the ’70’s who said if any recycling containers came in that looked like they had garbage in them, everything in those containers was tossed in the garbage (not recycled at all) and consequently the Narc didn’t really believe that anything was truly recycled, and anyway, there has to be a market for the recycling, and did I really know where the “recycled” materials were going?

The recycling had to be delivered to the transfer station because the local garbage company would not pick up recycling if you didn’t pay for garbage service, even if you only filled their can once a month. Same price, no matter how much garbage you actually produced and the Narc was not about to pay for garbage service. Also, he drove right by the transfer station every time he visited his boat. Right.by.the.place. Not even one block out of his way, but directly off the highway he had to drive to run an errand that he routinely ran. Asshole.

 

The Narc and walking the dog

Disclaimer: I am not speaking of all Narcissists, only the one I lived with for 11.5 years. Any resemblance to an abusive person in your life is pure coincidence and I mean no offense. I have no scientific credentials, only my own powers of observation and memory. This is not intended to be a diagnosis, only a conversation piece and a way to let my readers know that they are not alone.

Our subject for today comes from Lee Woofenden:

The thing is, for people whose lives revolve around themselves, there is no objective standard of right and wrong. “Right” is whatever they think is right at the moment, and “wrong” is whatever you think and whatever you want to do. Even if two seconds earlier they would have thought something is fine, like walking the dog now instead of later, as soon as you mention it, it will be instantly wrong–and they will instantly have a million reasons *why* it is wrong. The only “standard” of right and wrong with people who are wrapped up in themselves is: “I’m right. You’re wrong.”

Speaking of dogs and picking a subject:

Walking the dog.

Let’s address the first part of Lee’s comment before getting to the subject at hand. Lee makes a very good observation: Narcissists (and their brethren Psychopaths and Sociopaths) really do believe that they are the center of the Universe. I don’t think they have any concept of other living beings as anything but tools or toys that will be discarded when broken or no longer useful. There is a vital part of them missing. Once you are able to accept that fact, the game changes and that’s where things get interesting.

So. Walking the dog. Dog Discipline. Oh, yes, the Narc had plenty to say about dogs. First, let me remind you that the Narc is disabled. He can’t walk long distances, it’s just impossible. Oh, he can build boats and ride 100 miles on a bicycle, but he is not able to just go out and walk a dog that needs a lot of exercise. Fine. That duty fell to me and it was a relief to be able to head out the door and get some peace with the dogs away from his watchful gaze.

Neither dog was able to be out in the yard unsupervised. Sabu had a cable run behind the house, but Old Dog had to be taken out and closely supervised. Building a fence was out of the question because the Narc “hated the idea of fences.” Tying a dog up on a rope was acceptable, but a fence was not. Whatever.

Because of his disabilities, the Narc can’t hop out of bed and take the dogs out. He can’t get up in the night if a dog (or cat) decides to puke on the floor. He can’t get up if the cat brings in a mouse or squirrel. Those duties fell to me and if I didn’t get up quick enough a lecture would follow the clean-up and I could forget about sleeping the rest of the night. But I digress.

I took the dogs out first thing in the morning before doing anything else. I brought them back in and fed them and then took them out again after taking a shower. The morning dog chores generally didn’t provoke comments unless one of the dogs looked like she had gained half a pound – then the lecture would start about maintaining a healthy weight and how if I can’t feed them the proper measured amount of food he would take over and ration the food out until he was happy with their weight and by the way aren’t I looking a bit heavier these days…and so on.

During the day I took the dogs out several times, but was instructed to stay in the back part of the yard so the neighbors wouldn’t stop to chat and “waste [my] time.”He could not take time out from his projects to do anything for or with the dogs.

The last walk of the night was between 10:00 and 10:30 PM. He insisted that it be late enough that no neighbors were out to incite Sabu to bark, no matter how tired I was. On a couple of occasions he volunteered to walk them; he then complained about how hard it was for him, how the dogs don’t mind and I’ve “let discipline go by the board” and it’s “obvious that [he] needs to step back in and set things straight again.”

If Sabu barked at a dog going by he would beat her. Old Dog never barked, so she was spared that particular torture. If Sabu barked in the house, he beat her. If Sabu growled at him because he was standing over her being threatening, he beat her. He ruled the dogs with an iron fist between bouts of affection. If he was mad at me, he beat my dog. On many occasions he provoked her into Bad Behavior so he could beat her. Thankfully Sabu is a strong, young dog and he never seriously injured her. I hate him for what he did and I expect I always will.

You see, he believed that he had to be Top Dog; leader of the pack; that the dogs wouldn’t respect him if he wasn’t brutal when he “had to be.” It was clear that he was talking about more than the dogs and I got his message loud and clear. When he beat the dog, he always lectured me about how she “made [him] do it.” How if she would just “show some respect” he could love on her like she wanted him to. And on and on. He was daring me to step over the line in his mind that would make it necessary to beat me, too, and we both knew it. Oh, sure, he’ll go to his grave denying that last sentence, but we both know that it’s true.

The dogs were my responsibility if we went anywhere. I packed their food, water, bowls, etc. and made sure they had leashes, collars, stake-out stuff, toys, bones, blankets whatever. I was responsible for them every minute of the trip, walking, feeding, cleaning up after them, keeping them quiet so no one would be “offended at our wild dogs,” everything. I think he liked the notion of the three of us staying “over there” so as not to offend but coming when he called us over to show us off.

No matter what I did in relation to the dogs, he had something to say about it, yes, contradicting himself at every turn. I never did anything as well as he would have done it, but he would never do it himself, preferring to ridicule and berate me for doing it “wrong,” whatever his definition of “wrong” was at the moment.

God he’s a dick!

Suffice to say that Sabu and I are much happier now (Old Dog having crossed the Rainbow Bridge before I moved out) that we have organically found our own routine and redefined what “discipline” means. My rules (if you can call them that) are much looser than the Narc’s ever were, but I think Sabu is a happier and more well behaved dog because I let her think and reason and most of the time she makes the right decision. Punishment is never beating and I try to reward and distract whenever I can. She still has a couple of strange behaviors that we’re struggling to overcome and I have faith that in time she will be a Good Dog all the time instead of just most of the time 🙂

 

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…