Tag Archives: History

A Blast from the Past

I was searching through some CDs last night looking for pictures for a new project and came across some shots from a family vacation to New York.

Every year when I was growing up Mom watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. It was her dream to see it in person one day and in 2004 that’s what we did – Mom, Dan, Sis, Harley and I* flew to New York for Thanksgiving week to see the parade and everything else we could fit into a week. It was wonderful! Okay, I didn’t really care for the parade because of the crowds, but I was there for other reasons. I wanted to ride a horse in Central Park. Crazy, right?

This is Gillespie, one of the school horses from the (sadly gone) Claremont Riding Academy located two blocks from Central Park in Manhattan:

NYC 139The stable itself was amazing to someone who was used to horses being housed at ground level. A woman yelled down into a door for Gillespie and in a minute there was a thundering of hooves on wood and here came a lovely dappled palomino up the steep ramp, saddle and bridle on. He paused in the doorway, looked around, saw me and walked right up. This horse knew his stuff and was ready to get out of there.

Not being a total idiot, I mounted up to ride a bit in the arena and was disappointed to find Mr. G (as I called him in my mind) was rather nappy and not at all happy to be trotting circles around the other riders and the support columns spaced regularly around the very small arena.

As soon as we stepped outside, however, he perked right up and heaved a big sigh as if he’d been waiting for days to see the sunshine, and maybe he had. The picture above makes him look sleepy, but what you don’t see is the ambulance with sirens on and flashing lights that had just passed. Mr. G stood firm, not even flinching when it came roaring up and around the corner. I was terrified that he would do something stupid, but he was not at all fazed by the Big City.

NYC 141In order to get to the bridle paths in Central Park, we had to walk with the traffic (one way) two blocks and then turn two more corners (more one way traffic) and cross a very busy street into the park proper. It was quite an experience – no one batted an eye to see a horse calmly walking along, cars zipping by on one side, bikes and pedestrians on the other.

NYC 145Once we reached the park there was just enough time to circle the lake before the rental time ran out. It was a beautiful November day, partially cloudy with no wind. In fact, the weather the entire week was wonderful for November – chilly but not cold and dry most of the time, almost like Winter was holding off so we could enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime trip.

We returned to the stable and Mr. G went right back down the ramp after I gave him a couple of carrots for being such a good boy. I thought it must be a hard life for him, not being able to graze outside, but he seemed happy enough and didn’t hesitate to head back to his stall.

It was an experience I’ll never forget and I hope someday to ride in Hyde Park in London, although it’s been a few years since I last sat a horse. This post makes me miss my equine friends and think about taking lessons at one of the nearby stables…

* The narc (of course) refused to attend because his privacy could not be maintained and so he stayed home. I was instructed to call him every evening at 7:00 his time (11:00 PM in NY) to report in. We were running all day and he expected me to call him after everyone else went to bed. I resented it and lost a lot of sleep just to please him – after all, I had “abandoned” him to go gallivanting off with my family instead of staying home to take care of him. Whatever.


Posted by on January 28, 2014 in Family, Happy, History, Horses


Tags: ,

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.


Tags: , , , , , ,

The Narc Crap

Despite the lack of posts about M, there has been a bit of communication (or what passes for it in his mind) over the past couple of weeks.

First came the e-mail that he just can’t afford to keep the cable internet if I’m not coming back to use it – it’s just too expensive. Nevermind that I paid the bill for the last 3.5 years, nevermind that he had it and paid for it himself for two years before that. He now claims that he only ever got it hooked up for me – he has no use for the internet but knew that it would make me happy. Whatever.

He wants to make another week-long trip Up North to paint his boat and asked if I would watch the house and the cat. I said yes because I have Awana’s van this week and could go over there and pick up my loom if he wasn’t around. He then changed the date (I was right in the middle of being sick at this point) and I wrote back that I would not be available as I would be house-sitting for someone else. I wasn’t nice about it, either.

Then this note:

My [his nickname for me],

Looks like the the internet people haven’t cut me off yet, though this was suppose to be the day. Anyway, can’t afford it anymore so I hope they aren’t charging me for their procrastination…

Was hoping for a meeting or a visit sometime this week, before your weekend grind starts, what do you say? Hope you’re feeling much better. I was a bit ill myself yesterday, but it passed, mostly.

I spent the day washing the green stuff off [the boat in the water]. The water has been and still is turned off at the docks, so it’s been a long time since a wash. Did it with a bucket on a rope and a scrub brush. Kind of slow, but I didn’t get nearly as wet as I usually do with the hose in the wind. Sat below afterward and thought of the times you and I have spent there and became very sad and nostalgic.

Everywhere I look and everything I do reminds me of you. When you were last here, you said “it’s all about you, isn’t it?” and it occurs to me that since I’m so unhappy, it must seem pretty selfish to you. You should understand that much of that unhappiness has been about how selfish indeed, I have been. And how I drove you away when that was actually the last thing I ever wanted. I suppose that by saying I wish for your happiness, I am saying, if it means not being with me, that’s what I want too. Yes, I do believe that, though it pains me very much to admit it.

I hope that you come to believe that if I was ever good for you and good to you, I can be again. You have always been the center of my life – I have done a very poor job of conveying that to you. Even if I was never to see you again, it would still be true. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. When I told you I would love and cherish you all my life, I meant every word.

I stopped by the computer store today and they sell a signal booster that will reach 1/2 mile! Seems a bit exaggerated to me. You mount the unit high, near the ceiling. They only have the one model and they were out of it, so I’ll have to check back later.

all my love,


Huh. WTF is that supposed to mean? He still hasn’t admitted that he’s been a dick and tortured me just for the fun of it. He still asserts that I am at least half responsible for how our relationship exploded. Every time we speak.

The time we spent on that boat was pure hell for me almost every time. He has such a superior attitude when on a boat that he’s impossible to talk to. I get short of breath and can’t wait to get off the boat when I’m with him, but he has fond feelings of the time we spent there? That’s creepy!

He has always put me at the center of his life? Why didn’t I pick up on that some time during the 10 years we were together? Why did I always feel like an interloper and destroyer of his Great Dream? Oh, yeah, because he TOLD ME I WAS! He says that I was the most important thing in his life, but he told me every day that I was the reason he wasn’t living his Big Dream, and now he wants to change his story? I don’t think so.

We had one phone conversation last week. He called and left a message asking for my help with the wireless antenna. Since I have the same model (he doesn’t know that) I called thinking I could get him set up in a few minutes and that would be that. Now, before you get all hot and bothered, it’s in my best interest that he be able to communicate via e-mail – I don’t want to talk to him on the phone if I can help it.

He was being deliberately dense, so I finally told him to take his computer and the antenna over to the Computer Dudes and have them sort him out. He asked about me watching the house and I repeated the dates I would be available. He wasn’t happy with that and asked if he could “think about it for a day.” Fine. And just as I thought I would be able to escape with no sex talk, he hit me with the wish that he could “make love” to me again soon. Yeah, right. I said nothing at that and got off the line. Ewwww! Getting his dick wet is obviously the most important thing in his life.

Haven’t heard from him since, so I guess he doesn’t need me to feed the cat or rabbits this week.

Got a phone call from one of his friends last night – it was a mistake and poor Chuck tried to get off the line, but I was feeling bitchy so I asked how he was doing, blah, blah, blah. He was obviously uncomfortable, and I have to admit I was tickled by that. He had only written a list of our numbers and didn’t know which was which, typical for him.

What bullshit will the Narc dream up next? I am not worrying about it. My dog is on Mood Enhancers – I have much bigger fish to fry ūüôā


Tags: , , ,

He Supports Me

M left a couple of hours ago, en route to a marina several hours north of here for¬† his yearly sailing trip. The last two weeks have been hell as he prepared for the journey, with daily nasty comments and throwing out bait in the hope that I’ll give him a chance to start an “argument” so he can vent a bit. Did not happen, and for that I am pretty proud.

One of these bait casting episodes consisted of him saying (quite out of context) “I support you, ya know…” I knew he meant financially, and I knew that any answer from me would result in a well-rehearsed lecture about all of the things that he has “done for me” over the years. In the interest of clearing the air (in my mind, at least) this is what really went down.

When M and I met I had quite a pile of debt*, about $5,000 worth. I did not tell him about this debt because it was my burden to bear and by the time it came up I knew he would have a lot of negative things to say about my sense of Financial Responsibility, and I was not looking forward to that.

After I left Ex#2 I started paying down my debt as fast as I could. I already posted about the car that M bought for me. I made monthly payments on that car until it was paid off. I hadn’t wanted to buy it in the first place, but he insisted. He loaned me money for bills when ends didn’t quite meet, which I paid back as soon as I was able, when he would let me. He likes having something to hang over my head, especially if it involves money.

So. I told him that my dream was to have a farm where I could raise a few sheep and keep my horse. He wanted to get out of the Big City and thought he could help me with that dream. We looked at places in the country and settled on a 5-acre mini-farm which turned into a disaster worthy of its own post. He put all the money down, paid for improvements and made my life a living hell for the next couple of years. To say it didn’t work out would be a tragic understatement.

While we lived there he paid off my debts. He spent about a month lecturing me on why he was doing it (it was an investment in his future – if I was debt-free he could count on me bringing in money to help support him so he could “retire”) and we worked out a payment plan for me to pay him back. Of course, the plan was to keep me behind for the rest of my life, but I didn’t see it that way then. I saw it as a generous move on his part to help me get back on my feet and start again without the cloud of debt hanging over my head. At that point it was just over $2,000 and he didn’t seem to have any trouble writing the checks.

When the situation became unbearable, we put the house up for sale. As we were packing up to move, he told me, “this is it! You have to find a place for you and H to live and you¬† have to do it quick!” The way he said it made it very clear that he and I were over and I needed to get myself and my son out of his life.

I found a tiny, run-down duplex in the town where I worked and prepared to move. Once again, my decision (based on what he told me**) was selfish, as I had made no provision for him or his stuff. I chose a place that I could easily afford, in a neighborhood that wasn’t bad, close to work and school, and I was pretty happy with my choice, but of course it was all wrong.

The duplex did not live up to M’s expectations, so he began lobbying for us to buy a house to live in until H was out of school. It would be an investment, he said, a better place in a better neighborhood that we could sell for a profit after H flew the nest.

He put the money down, I paid the mortgage and property taxes and he told me we would be square. “If nothing else, you get cheap rent for a couple of years.” Three more years of him not being satisfied with the house, the neighborhood, the neighbors, my housekeeping and yard maintenance, etc, etc, etc.***

And then the economy crashed. We sold the house for what we paid for it and so began (in his mind at least) M’s decline into “poverty.”

Our current arrangement is that I pay him $600 per month to cover utilities and property taxes. I also shop for and buy all the groceries. I do 98% of the cooking, all of the gardening and much of the yard maintenance.

I work 6 (sometimes 7) days a week to bring in money and then he complains that I work too much and am too tired to do all the things I did before I started working all the time. He complained only last night that he has to spend more than 2 hours each day on housework when he has more important things to do. I guess laundry and vacuuming take a lot longer when he does them. What a load!

He said, before I found a job, that I would be surprised at how he would “have my back” and take care of things around the house if I was away working. He said that I had never had the kind of support he would give me, blah, blah, blah.

Sure doesn’t look very supportive where I sit. I get comments about everything I do or don’t do, same as always. The only difference is that I’m too tired to care.

Healthy relationships don’t look like this.

* Ex#1 demanded things, ordered things by mail that I would have to pay for on payment plans and ran up my bills to the very last penny of my salary.

Ex#2 kept a very strict (secret) eye on my checkbook and account statements. Whenever I had a few bucks in the bank, he would come up with an expense that was “my responsibility” or something that we simply “had to have” in order to keep my checking account as close to zero as possible. Yes, he admitted this at the end of our relationship.

** Turns out he had made his own provisions, buying a house 70 miles away which he rented out while he lived on his boat. That’s a post for another day.

*** As I write this, I’m wondering why the fuck I’m still with this asshole.


Tags: , , ,

Husband #1

When M first started asking me about former lovers, he said it was so he would know “what not to do,” and would bring us closer. I had my doubts from the beginning as I’ve learned that men do not want to know who came before. I gave in to his demands, reluctantly, and nothing good has come of my compliance.

One of the chapters of my narrative concerns my first husband, Mark. I have no fear of sharing his name or his mother’s name as neither of them would ever dream of touching a computer so I have no fear of them reading this. The whole chapter can be found here.

The short version is this – Mark was a Bad Boy. I was desperate to free myself from the clutches of my father and Mark was the perfect lever to use. He was tall, blond with blue eyes, muscular with not an ounce of fat on him (I would later learn that was because he was shooting crank every day) and he had a really Bad Attitude. In short, he was perfect for a naive teenager looking for a way out of her boring little life. I fell hard and stayed down for five years. We had a son together who I ended up raising alone. Surprisingly, H has grown into a good man who is a joy to be around. There were some rough years – a story for another day.

Anyway. Here’s the chapter on my first husband. Please leave a comment if you can (or can’t) relate.

Leave a comment

Posted by on May 20, 2012 in History, Intimacy, Secrets


Tags: , ,

Fooling Myself

Not sure if all this introspection is a good thing. I don’t usually read over my old journals because I’ve always viewed them as tidy boxes to put my pain into and shut tightly and forget.

Here’s an entry dated December 18, 2006 –

New book, almost a new year. I really want this book to reflect some happy times. My journals all seem to be about sadness and pain. This first entry will seem to be more of the same, but I’ll try to start every entry with something positive about my relationship.

M is the most loving person I’ve ever met.*

I know he loves me in ways that no one ever has, or ever will.** I wish I could make him see that I love him the same way, but there’s this wall inside me that won’t let the words out. Sometimes the words do come out, but it’s never at the right time and so their meaning is negated. If I could just get it right it would mean the world to M.***

We’re having sexual issues. Have been for some time, actually. His desire is much more than mine and it’s making him crazy. He doesn’t understand that my needs have changed – his have not. He mourns the loss of hot passion in all of his relationships. He feels it’s the beginning of the end – that I need a new dick. He can’t understand that what I need is his love, demonstrated, focused on something other than my body. He needs to understand that my sex drive is based on how good I feel about myself, not him.**** I love him and don’t want anyone else – not even in a wild dream.

I can’t find the words to make him believe me. He’s convinced that I lie to him constantly, but whenever I tell him something totally truthfully, he turns it into an insult against himself. He has such low self-esteem¬†that I have no hope of convincing him how much he means to me, and at the same time, he digs at me constantly, insulting me and badgering me about things that just don’t matter. If I’m honest, he gets mad. If I refuse¬†to answer, he gets mad. I don’t think I should have to slant the truth to spare his feelings, but that’s what I end up doing, just so I won’t have to spend the next week apologizing and feeling terrible about giving him what he says he wants. It’s a no-win situation for me; one I’m afraid I made myself and now there’s no going back.*****

I really want for us to overcome this rough patch. I don’t believe that people who love each other have to torture each other to have a good relationship. I don’t believe that people who love each¬†other have to struggle so hard to keep it together.

Where’s the support and love?

* That was bullshit when I wrote it and I knew it. I was trying to wish it into existence. Never happened.

** More bullshit. I was still trying to turn my relationship into the Ideal Romance, what he claimed he had always wanted from a woman and never got.

*** Now I know better – I will never get it right because there is no “right.” He will always find fault and has designed his little game to ensure that I am always on the defensive, never sure what the “correct” answer is, forever apprehensive – a classic verbal abuser.

**** His mantra is, “when you don’t love yourself, love the one you love,” which is ridiculous, IMHO. Maybe that works for men, but it doesn’t work for women. If you ask me, there would be fewer unhappy women in sexless relationships if the men simply took their heads out of their asses and quit expecting the women to put out at the drop of a man’s hat – maybe a little foreplay would be nice, maybe a little ego-boosting? Goddess knows we women are trained from birth to cater to men’s egos – where does our support come from? Oh, yeah, it doesn’t. We’re supposed to stroke the man’s ego with one hand and his dick with the other and be ready when he wants to fuck (and love it!), no matter what else¬†might be going on.

***** How sad is this whole entry? Classic verbal abuser and victim. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to get a grip on what the real problem is – I might have saved myself eight years of unhappiness. Coulda, woulda, shoulda.


Posted by on May 19, 2012 in Gaslighting, History, Intimacy, Verbal Abuse


Tags: , , , ,

The Camping Incident

Last Summer M and I went to an event at a lake several hours drive from home. It was a gathering of his friends and their hobby, which is small wooden boats. We took the dogs and a tent and I expected to have an enjoyable weekend.

The first afternoon, M went down to the lake to take pictures and visit with his friends. I stayed behind to finish setting up camp and have a rum and coke. While sitting at the picnic table one of the guys came up to chat. I offered him a drink and we chatted there side by side at the table in full view of god and everyone. We talked mostly of music and his sons of whom he is very proud. We laughed and joked for maybe 20 minutes, sipping our drinks and waiting for the next event to happen. At no time was the conversation remotely improper, not straying to politics, religion, sex or money. At no time did he make a pass at me. At no time did I make a pass at him. It seemed to me that we had an enjoyable, innocent chat.

M came back to the camp and we were off to do something else. I didn’t give it a thought. The weekend seemed to go fine and we traveled home, unpacked, etc. and got ready for another long trip the following weekend.

This second trip was not at all fine. M was very quiet and surly, talking to his friends, not so much to me, but I wrote it off as him being tired after a long drive. We arrived at our campsite and set up the tent and put water on for tea and then all hell broke loose. The campground was almost empty, so there were no witnesses to my humiliation.

What followed was a three-hour¬†monologue¬†about my slutty behavior the weekend before, sitting at the picnic table with D. M informed me that D is a notorious rake and seduces (or tries to seduce) any woman who attends these boating events. I was told that he has a horrible reputation among the group and no one trusts him with their wives. I was told that the others were talking about me and what an easy mark I must be to be talking to D for so very long and it was a stain upon M’s reputation to hear such talk about me.

He gave me his view of the situation as he saw it when he walked back from the lake – D and I very cosy, sitting against each other on the picnic bench, sharing secrets and laughing. It looked “like you were going to start rolling in the dirt fucking any second.” Well, huh.

I didn’t see it that way at all and I said so. I pointed out that at no time did we touch in any way, shape, or form, nor was our conversation “secret” or “conspiratorial.” I refused to let him make me ashamed for a conversation in broad daylight in front of 30 or so witnesses.

He kept badgering me. He said that I should have apologized for “stepping over the line” right away and promise to be more careful next time and he wouldn’t be so angry with me. I should admit that what I did was wrong. I should be ashamed of my slutty behavior. And on and on for three hours.

I cried all night and got very little sleep. He did not apologize for his behavior (he never does) and he has brought up that incident in subsequent “discussions” to point out that I can’t be trusted with men in any setting.

For the record, I have had three sexual partners in the last 25 years, all of them within a committed relationship. At no time did I stray. I am not a flirt by nature, but through M’s eyes I am Jezebel herself. Healthy relationships don’t look like this.


Posted by on May 6, 2012 in History, Red Flags, Verbal Abuse


Tags: , , ,

%d bloggers like this: