Signs? What signs? Part II


– I finally completed something big! Which is one of the most difficult things for me to do. I finally got an associates degree in General Studies! I had to make him come to my graduation and support me. I had to make him take photos of me crossing the stage because he had no interest in doing so. (It was such an inconvenience to him.) And as we were walking out of the auditorium I quickly grabbed and asked a passerbyer to snap a family photo of me (in my cap and gown) with our 5 it old son and OH MY GAWD, did my husband have a shit fit about this! I never put two and two together back then, but now I know why.

I hate him. He’s ruined every happy moment I’ve ever tried to make.

– Just like on every year of my son’s birthday, I’ve never got to be in a photo with him because my husband either never initiated in taking one of us or he refused to take one when I’d ask.

– whenever my husband would hurt my feelings, knowing damn well I deserved an apology, I would go to him and demand one. But little did I know that this was a futile attempt because his response would forever and always be that he’d apologize when he felt like he had something to apologize for. Can you believe that shit!?

He even told me that he refused to kiss my ass. I’m like, “Wha? You owe me an apology dude, I’m not asking you to kiss the ground I walk on.”
Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, right?

-then there was that one time in 2003 when I made the mistake of thinking he cared by letting him be the first person I called to the scene of a car crash I was involved in where someone hit me on the side sending me spinning and crashing into the side rail during rush hour on the interstate going 80 mph.
My car was totaled. I was shaking and I was scared. I thought he’d for once would show some concern or emotions and maybe give me a loving hug (what was I thinking by even expecting to get that!?) but I got…. nothing. He walked up to the crash scene and just stood there uninterested.

to be continued…

Signs? What signs? Part I


Having been treated this way since 1998, I had no idea that my husband’s personality was amongst one of the worst personality disorders and would also be as damaging to my own mental well being, as well.

How was I supposed to have recognized such behavior traits over the years and then 16 yr later piece them them all together like, “OHH, so this is why he did this… ” or “Now wonder he reacted like that…” or when ever I did this, he’d turn around and do that.

Here are my recollections (in no particular order):

– him taking our new born baby right out of my mothers arms right after my delivery, hurting her feelings so much she packed up her stuff and left when she’s promised she’d stay and help for two weeks

– taking my right as a mother to plan family picture days all because he either didn’t want to have them or he didn’t like to smile. Now the only family photo we have of us together was when our son was 6 months old. My husband had had enough. “Uh ok, but what about the rest of us, the family!?”

– So the two other times I’d take my son alone for a mother and son picture, he’d treat me so cruelly. It was if he was envious.

– whenever I’d buy my son (he was a toddler) brain boosting toys or electronic mind development games i.e., Leap Pad, my husband would immediately go out and buy something to trump me or he knew would be more appealing (and it was) to our son like a video game or something.

– my husband always seemed to have the last word no matter what. Even when I knew his decision was the worse decision he was making for the family

– this is NO LIE but ever since cell phones blew up in 1997 that was how we (or I actually) “communicated” because he’d never talk to me. All we’d do is text. If he hurt me. I’d text him and tell him and he’d ignore me. If he was being financially irresponsible, I’d text him and of course he’d ignore me.

– I remember when I first got pregnant. I was three months when he brought this strange dog home without my consent. This dog was crazy and ran rampid around the apartment all of the time. One day when I was 4 months pregnant my husband walks in from a walk with this dog and I was sitting on the sofa. The dog starts dashing around the apartment, through the kitchen, into the bedroom, back into the living room and up onto the couch when I was laying. He pounced on my four month old fetus!! I yelled at the dog and my husband yelled at me for yelling at the dog!!!

– when we were dating he owned a 7 foot Burmese Python Snake that kept getting out of it’s cage.
[I don’t like snakes, reptiles, bugs, tiny mice or anything of the sort in the first place]
When I got pregnant I told him that the snake would have to go. He told me NO. So three months went by and the snake kept escaping. It got so bad that when I’d walk into his apartment, this thing would be snuggled behind the refrigerator!! So one day when my husband was a work, I made the choice for my baby. I called Animal Control. You don’t have to guess how I was treated after that.

– It was already weird how his reaction and facial expression would be to his feeding this snake, mice. So psycho!

– TIP: If you ever meet a dude who lives with two cats, a Burmese python snake, has no friends, has never had a girlfriend and is quiet as fuck. Run like hell!! Because that’s one in a cluster of bad signs!

To be continued…

Survival of the unfit


The lyric “Killing me softly withOUT his words” by Roberta Flack

The lyric “And so it goes” by Billy Joel

I get frustrated by mistreatment so I write a text, email or letter. He plays the victim, my pain is ignored and I get the silent treatment. Nothing gets resolved, I get ignored and nothing changes. The mistreatment continues, and life goes on… Therefore he thinks I’ve accepted it. This is called mental Abuse

This a game that I don’t want to play anymore and I’m filing for a divorce.

It really seems like every where that I’ve went and every cry out that I’ve made, no one can help me.

Even going to that Women’s Abuse Center a few months ago, who like every other center for abuse, made me a false promise.

I was told by my case worker there that I would qualify for free legal aid and that all I needed to do was full out the paperwork, have an interview with an attorney and my divorce would be in motion. Even though I told him (my case worker) straight forwardly, that I would have to see it to believe it because of all of my other let downs.Well… I ended up being right afterall.

That was two months ago and I haven’t heard a peep from the legal-aid guy since.

I don’t know, maybe I came to our meeting too prepared. I had paperwork. Detailed Information he would need. I even told him I would need an attorney that dealt specifically High Conflict Divorces (HDC). I’d read up before I arrived, that cases like mine which dealt with mental abuse cases would be hard to prove unless I got an attorney that was knowledgeable about Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).

Finding the Right Attorney

I’ve tried to call and all I’ve been able to do was leave an unreturned messages on an automated voicemail. Go figure…

Hmm… Maybe being mentally abused by a crazy ass narcissist doesn’t qualify me or (and I really have a feeling this played a part in his decision) I told him that I was Bi-polar.

I hate to sound ungrateful for any of the therapy that they offered me there, but I’ve had more than enough psychotherapy over the past 15 years that I could probably give them a few tips. Hahaha! But seriously, the women they are helping may have never seen a therapist or counselor before but trust me, I’ve seen at least 6 in over 15 years for a length of 6 months to a year each. All because of one man who should be the there instead of me!


If you think that I haven’t heard it all before, then you’re sadly mistaken. If you think that I haven’t had sessions were all I did was sob, you’re wrong. If you think that I haven’t been given ways of dealing with this man, you’re incorrect. If you think that I haven’t been told that simply getting him off my mind and focusing on more positive things, then you’re not the only one.

How can you focus on the positive when you live with the negative?


Well, “my love” you can only be brave for so long. After that it’s not about bravery, it’s not about strength, it’s not even about courage. It’s about survival.



Please… don’t let your monster turn you into a monster like mine did.

Last night I was going through some older photos of myself and others before I married my narcissist husband. I was happy. I was smiling. I was gleaming. I had friends. And once again, but most importantly… I WAS HAPPY.

Now look at me. I hate. I rage. Im angry and I sound like a crazy woman when I post. I never used to be like this. I never used to be someone’s toxic friend.

I hate myself because I’m a monster too.

A Letter to the One Who Murdered Me




Angela (who is also black) made the right call dumping you when she did.

Then I came along like a dumb-ass fly and crawled right into the spiderweb of something I hadn’t realized why she did.

I actually envy her because she most likely found a good man (a gentleman, raised by a good mother) who treated her right and didn’t think that “treating a woman like a queen” was a bad thing by simply doing what the average man is supposed to do. I’m sure she found someone who didn’t find it a BIG DEAL to treat her the way she deserved to be treated by:
– Listening to her
– Valuing her
– Trusting her
– Caring for her
– Respecting her
– Understanding her
– Being grateful for her
– Loving her
– Being thankful that he was the mother of his children

I can almost guarantee he treats her much better than you’ve ever treated me.

She’s lucky because she doesn’t have to feel hurt all of the time.

….like I do.

I’ve stuck around and endured you constantly making me feel:
– lonely
– alone
– disrespected
– bullied
– ignored
– invisible
– like a ghost
– unloved
– neglected
– worthless
– inferior
– like having to talk to me is going to kill you (I can’t even ask a simple question)
– like what I say or do doesn’t matter
– like an outsider
– unappreciated
– worthless
– unworthy
– like what I say or ask of is inconveniencing you
– like my existence is only good for cooking, cleaning and most importantly to have sex with


You’ve broken me down, you’ve crushed my soul and hate you for that. Are you happy?

YOUR actions speak volumes louder than your words.


Your actions speak louder than your words. I’m tired of playing the guessing game.

Which is why you probably feel you don’t “need” to talk to me……like EVER.

Just like you said to me last night when I asked you why you didn’t tell me about something and you responded, “I didn’t know I had to.”

What kind of shit is that!? Who do you think you’re talking to? Who do you think you are!? You don’t talk to our son or our dog like that, ONLY me.

How dare you treat me like shit. Like I was a piece of shit stuck onto the bottom of your shoe!

I sit here and listen to the way to talk to our son (and everyone else) as opposed to me.

Which blatantly shows how disrespectful you really are to me.

I know for a fact that Angela wouldn’t have put up with your shit like I stupidly have.

I wish I’d had the strength to do what she did back then too, but you made it difficult for me to continue to walk away.



You had to manipulate me with you sorrowful crocodile tears as I walking down your pathway to my car. I was always a sucker for crocodile tears.

You made it even more difficult when I got pregnant.Β  If I hadn’t of been DESPERATE for a baby, and after getting to know you for a few more months, I would have dumped you too.



I’m the shallow one who judged by skin rather than qualities. I’m the who assumed that any white man would treat me better than any black man.

Not only WAS I WRONG for believing that but I was wrong for judging my own race.

It was just my unfortunate luck I’d end up choosing a narcissistic egotistical white man. Who thinks he’s privileged and entitled.

Which I have no idea why because you didn’t go to college nor do you work in a white collar profession.

Lets face it. You live in what I’d call a Box World, [R]. You know what a box world is? It’s a person who goes to work in a factory type environment, with no exposure to anything else. They do the same thing there everyday, never talk to anyone else, and come straight home. They don’t socialize. They don’t get out, make friends or learn new things. They never crack open a book and they’re only interest is in watching television. I’d say they’re pretty boring conversationalist for the most part.

Yet they seem to think they know it all.

But YOU enjoy belittling me and making me feel like I don’t know anything.

Even though I am the exact opposite of you. I read, I’m constantly online educating myself, I do my best to socialize and go places (although you make it difficult) with your jealous suspicions. I seldom watch television because I’d rather be collecting art or educating myself on something new. I try to make myself knowledgeable about a little bit of everything from computers to the study of psychology and human behaviors.

And yet you still manage to make me feel dumb.

Before I met you, I had a high school friend who had the biggest crush on me. He adored me, respected me, told me that I was pretty, told me that I was smart, and we’d talked all the time about any and everything.

He was a college educated, smart, respectful, funny and kind. He was ever there for me through my car accident in 1994 but I kept denying him relationship wise JUST because of his skin color. He even confessed moving down south and to the same city I lived in to find me in 1998. We’d went on a few dates, but I still turned him down as far as anything more than that all because he was black.

INSTEAD, I foolishly turned right around and chose a white collar, adult child (age 24) with the immaturity of an 18-year-old boy from a small country town whose southern accent was so think it annoyed me everytime you spoke. And why?… because your skin color was white, and I was too impatient to wait around for a better choice.

So, I guess you can say that’s what I get and that’s what get for not waiting…

And there I was, a mature 28-year-old woman making the worst mistake of my entire life. Not knowing who I was really getting myself involved with.

I had no idea you would carry that immaturity until this very day. Along with other underlying personality problems. Which are far worse than me having major depression, Bi-polar II.


Before I met you, I’d never been treated like this before by ANY man and for ANY reason.

Yet you feel the way you treat me is always because of something that I did to you, which is BOLD FACE LIE! When I ask, you can’t even give me an answer!! EVER!!

You’re the liar, not me. 😠😠

Still you keep insisting that I have it good.


What woman would want to live with a man like you?

You must be delusional!

Do you think your only black friend treats his wife like this? How do you think he would feel about you if he knew that you treated a “sister” like this?

I don’t think he’d want to be your friend anymore, just like your former only black friend who stopped coming around 19 years ago.

Since day one, whenever you decided you wanted to treat me like I was “nothing” to you and you began “assuming” that I was this frigid, sex selfish bitch (TOUCH LESS, is what you enjoyed call me), which wasn’t true at all.

Why would I want to have sex with you, let alone allow you to touch me after you just belittled me, insulted me, made fun of me, talk to me like I was a child, told and not asked me to do something.

I do have some self respect, you know.

A man should not treat a woman like “nothing” and still expect to get layed.

It’s hurtful, disrespectful and demeaning. I refuse to be used in that way.

I’m not some piece of white red neck trash with out any self respect for herself. If you wanted that type of woman you should have married a girl from your home town and not a black woman.

Especially when you think you’re too good to apologize for being insensitive.

This is how I knew I really didn’t mean that much to you. You didn’t love me AND YOU STILL DON’T. God knows I tried to love you. I really tried….

You just see me as someone to fuck. I have feelings you know. I want love connected to those feelings.

And you’re just furious because I’m refusing to be used anymore.

You act as if it’s going to kill you to treat me with the respect that should come naturally, had you been raised right. Damn! It’s not hard to be nice!


So if you think I’m running around here cheating on you, you’re wrong and you obviously don’t know me that well. Or…never even cared to

And I don’t want some dude rolling all over me if he doesn’t love me.


Besides you did your damage. I’m mentally fucked up for life. I don’t know if I can ever trust another man.


Karma is a bitch and what goes around comes around. Just you wait.


the_incredible_sulk_by_phodyr.jpgMaybe if you saw things from my perspective for once in your life, you’d understand why I do the things that I do. But that’s impossible for you to even do, because you head is so far stuck up own your ass.

– refusing to be a doormat anymore
– speaking my mind
– Not being Mrs. Cleaver with a home cooked meal on the table when you get home from work (when your ass is already sitting right there)
– not letting you tell me what to do
– for telling you that how your speaking to me is disrespectful and then you accuse me of starting an argument
Also, what kind of man treats his wife as if she’s a liability that he doesn’t really want to be responsible for???*:-/ confused

You seem to have no problems with me doing what I could to make you happy while you did nothing to make me happy.

You’ve always treated me like all these years you’ve been doing me a favor by “supporting” me.

What kind of person in their right mind treats his own wife like that!?

You confessed it, when you said “You were tired of carrying my butt.” Do you know how hurtful that was?

Well, let me confess something too, I’m tired of staying in this marriage just so you don’t have to be miserable alone.

I’m tired of feeling sorry for you too.

I’m tired of the fact that every time that I’ve decided to leave you, I would think about you before myself. Yet, you loved to call me selfish every chance you got.

I’d think about the stress you’d possibly be left in if the plant shut down or went on strike, or if you weren’t able to cope or pay the bills yourself.

I didn’t have much money but what I did have, I helped out. And it still wasn’t good enough for you. You even told me my contributions wasn’t making as much of a difference as yours was, but it sure did help didn’t it? I paid the utilities, the cable and the trash at the old house didn’t I? It was something. Which is better than nothing. I helped and it STILL didn’t matter to you.

So if you think you’re the only one in this marriage carrying or supporting someone, you have it all backwards.

As of today, if there is a heavy burden on you financially it’s because of your own choices and decisions, NOT MINE. Shit, you don’t even talk or communicate with me. What makes you think I am going to help you pay for your REPETITIVE financial mistakes. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? You’re still doing the same shit you did 5 years ago. It’s like you NEVER learn. Yet, you don’t want to listen to me either.

– I’m not the one playing the mental games every single day, every single week, every single month and every single year we’ve been together.

– I’m not the one who makes you feel alone and lonely (Because you choose to be and it doesn’t seem to bother you) But that’s selfish thinking.

Maybe you enjoy being unsociable, non communicative and avoiding the real issues of life, but I don’t. I need companionship, communication, attention and laughter.

It’s not fair that you’ve taken that away from me for 16 years.

But misery loves company, right?

– I’m not the one who walks in a room and acts like I don’t even see you (as if you’re invisible)

– I’m not the one who’s passive aggressive and spiteful, when simply being the bigger person can put an end to the most trivial disagreements.

– I’m not the one who mentally prevents you from going and doing anything and going anywhere.

– I’m not the one ignoring your efforts to encourage Nathan to be respectful, teach morals and values, go to college and eventually get married and treat his wife with love and respect (because most boys WILL treat their wives the way they see their father treat their mother).
– I’m not the one refusing to sit down and discuss issues so we can be a team and work them out together.

– I’m not the one who sits back and ignores the fact that his son is bullying his mother in the next room and never get’s up off his ass to defend her.

Even my own son has the common courtesy and respect to acknowledge his mother with a head nod or a hey mom when he sees me, but you won’t even look my way!

I know, because I’m looking dead at you.


I say hi or hello on occasion and you barely act like you want to say anything back. You’re a fucking asshole.


– I’m not the one whose response to each and every thing that you say is “yeh, whatever” which is the most disrespectful and immature way of resolving and handling things. This is how I know for a fact that things will NEVER change with you. It’s useless ever trying anymore.

You don’t think that I haven’t begged your dad, your aunt, your cousin, and especially your sister to talk to you and make you understand how much you’re hurting me and for you to at least try to change??

But, OH NOOO, nobody wants to get involved.

I even told your best pal a year before I left how unhappy I was and that one day I was going to leave.

I TOLD PEOPLE WHOM I THOUGHT WOULD TALK SOME SENSE INTO YOU but it seems like everyone in your whole family, all they want to do is “turn a blind eye.” Which means to know about something morally wrong, but choose to do nothing about it.

It’s like, (for instance) if I came to their house with two black eyes, they’d pretend not to notice it.


Because if someone in the family asks me how I’m doing, I ain’t gone lie. I’m not fine. “I’m miserable because [R] made me that way.”

Or if they all heard [J] whooping [A] ass in the next bedroom, everyone would pretend not to hear it.

And you expect me to go to your hometown and act like everything is ok and honky dory? Well, it’s not and I’m tired of pretending!

You can lie to your dad all you want, but I’m not. I’m not a liar. You are. You didn’t even tell your dad about [N] getting kicked out of school for spitting on a cop or about his misdemeanor he has now.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t told him. What, are you ashamed?

At least my bother was man enough to give [N] a lecture, which proves that he cared. Did you? No.


I came back here for [N] and yes, I came back here thinking we’d get all get this worked out. I wouldn’t be homeless, you wouldn’t be practically be homeless; and it’d be a win-win solution for the both of us because I don’t know if you and your attorney knew this, but I was asked by my attorney if I wanted to ask for spousal support and I TURNED IT DOWN.

So if you think you’re doing me a favor by letting me “crash here” you’re not, because I turned down spousal support (alimony) because I actually felt sorry for you. AGAIN.

BECAUSE WHAT EVER I DO TO YOU, effects my son. I didn’t want that. I love my child. So It wasn’t about you at all. It never has been.

However, you would pull the rug up out from under me with no hesitation at all. You were trying to ask for child support from me; and I barely could afford to pay rent and feed myself in Austin. Plus restricted visiting rights.

Now, here we are three years later. Was it worth coming back? HELL NO. It wasn’t worth it coming back at all because you’ve made my life a living hell.


– You’ve AGAIN managed to take away my voice
– You’ve taken my son and managed to fuck up everything that I’ve tried to do right by him.
– I wanted him to go to college, but you act like you could care less. What kind father doesn’t want more for their child than they had? What kind of father doesn’t even speak to their son about going to college, having dreams aspiring for more? You sure don’t! Yet, I’m the bad guy!
– You’ve allowed him to disrespect me, bully me. You’re not doing your job in the disciplinary department so somebody’s gotta do it, but every time I try to you act like I’m disciplining you. Yet, I’m the bad guy!
– You’ve allowed our son to control everything. Likes he’s king of the castle. HE’S ONLY FUCKING SIXTEEN!! 16!! SIXTEEN!! And you treat him as if he has more respect, power, seniority, superiority and authority than I do!!!

What kind of example are you setting????

– You’ve taken my strength, now you’ve got my own son disrespecting me just like you enjoy doing so.

You destroyed me, you crushed me, you broke me down and worst of all YOU DESTROYED MY SON with your parental irresponsibility. And I hate you.

Dude, when I divorce you, I’m NOT feeling sorry for your ass AT ALL. I’m NOT leaving empty handed.




SO GO AHEAD AND SAY “YEH WHATEVER” like you always do and trash this email because you know what? I keep everything. I take notes every time you treat me like shit. I have an online journal for safe keeping. (I’m not stupid enough to keep it them in my possession.) I keep every text, email, letter, note, etc.

I told FREE Legal Aid to keep my name in the system. So all I have to do is call them when I’m ready.
Especially because I didn’t want it to have to come to this.

I’M SO DONE WITH YOUR MISTREATMENT, I’M SO FUCKING READY to get my alimony and up out of here. I’ve never been treated like this before in my freaking life and i never deserved this!!!!

You’re a fucking narcissistic sociopath!

A, you DON’T “need-to-know” based marriage


The term β€œneed-to-know basis” refers to any information that is given to particular persons. You only tell them the facts or information they need to know.

However, in a loving marriage information like this is always considered need-to-know based, wouldn’t ya think? You’re supposed to tell each other everything, even if it’s miniscule and just for common courtesy sake. Knowing what’s going on or “being in the loop” can be beneficial for a communicative and equally respectful marriage and communication is ESSENTIAL.

Along with all of the other mentally torturous things I’ve endured in the terrible marriage I’ve had to live with a man who thinks that I (his wife) don’t need to know anything. I can’t even ask without him getting on the defensive. I am not consulted with, any decisions regarding our son, my opinion doesn’t matter, I am not told ahead of time about things, I am not told when he leaves the house his whereabouts, for how long or with whom (he’ll just walk out without saying where he’s going or even saying “I’ll be back later.”), I’m not even told if and when he’s taking a day off from work. I just wake up and he’s there. I am not told when he’s decided to or has been dismissed to go home early from work. I’m not text in advance as to when he’ll be leaving his home town, which is an hour and a half away. I’m not even allowed to ask when he’ll be home just for curious sake. Because, of course he “thinks“, I want to know, so I can hurry up and get the man I’m cheating on whim with, out by then. I will ask him, “when will you be back?” And he’ll immediately turn to me with that suspicious look and ask “Why?” So I never know when he’ll return. He’ll just surprisingly show up. He’ll walk in, not acknowledge me, (of course), and begin scanning the room for anything out of place.

I am literally left to assume everything. Mostly correct assumptions, I might add. So my brain is constantly wondering, piecing together, using clues, and trying to determine who, what, where and why. Now, I don’t dare ask any questions AT ALL. Because I’ll be accused of inciting an argument.

As a matter of fact, everything I know or am told, is told to me by our son. Now isn’t that some shit!? “Daddy’s got the day off tomorrow.” he’ll tell me. And Ill say loudly, “Well, that’s good to know.” Then I’ll begin singing the chorus of a song from the band, Del Amitri, called The Last to Know. Hahaha!


Sometimes it’s not difficult to conjecture the reason for his change of plans or his whereabouts, because over the years he’s become very predictable. PREDICTABLE OR NOT, IT’S DISRESPECTFUL. I’ve done my best using every tactic that I could think of to communicate with this emotionally immature and passive aggressive man-child. He’s even tried using the “didn’t ask, didn’t tell rule” but that’s bullshit because I shouldn’t have to ask, I’m your wife. Besides, I wasn’t blessed with the ability read minds!!


Where did all the gas go to? Where’d these extra miles come from?


As a wife of a narcissistic and controlling husband; I still have a hard time recognizing when I’m being controlled by him. Yesterday when I was talking about my own thought repressions and about how a person can either intentionally or unconsciously put thoughts aside, I woke up today and experienced a rebound again.

But deep down I believe these rebounds are meant for me to experience because it forces me to open my eyes and recognize mistreatment by anyone…

This morning the rebound came with the realization that my husband was once again trying to control the distance that I drove in the car. I know this because we’ve been through this over and over again.

We’ve been through this “scolding” as one could put it, before. The fact that we share a vehicle, we only have one full tank of gas to get him to and from work and to get my son to and from school. Now, I’ve been already scolded millions of times before for using the car for anything other those warranted important or necessary. But, just let me add real quickly that he will drive to and from his home town (which is an hour and a half away) almost every single weekend just to visit his folks. And in my mind, if he we’re so concerned about gas and saving money, he would cut that trip down to maybe once a month, especially when that visit isn’t warranted important or necessary either. And I have told him this before and he looked at me like I was f****** crazy and responded as if, how dare I tell him not to go visit his folks. πŸ˜• Yet I’m the one who must remain sitting at home (I guess, to conserve the gas he planned on using that weekend to drive to his hometown). Naaah, I know why. It’s because he enjoys being an asshole and reminding me of who’s in control. Yeh, that’s it.

Back to the point of this blog post. After the gas light had finally came on in our car yesterday, we swung by the station to fill it up after I went to pick him up from work. While we were headed to a station he asked me a question that to me was math based and “I don’t know math” very well so I didn’t understand what the hell he was getting at. All I know is he was leading to the fact that the gas miles on the car presently didn’t equal or balance out how to how much gas was initially put in the last time he filled up. He said, “I don’t know how an extra 100 miles got on here.” That’s his way of beginning an interrogation. I asked him what he meant. Then he asked me if I’d driven anywhere. I told him that I rarely go any place. Then he made this fucking, “uh huh…” response which tells me that he doesn’t believe me. (I call this inplanting) So I asked him if he thought I was lying. He said,” I don’t know, all I know is you have the car all day. The thing is he’s accused me of this so many times. Like I enjoy driving about town just for the hell of it. His being suspicious of me, checking the odometer and when he fills the tank up, he monitors how much was used and how many miles it was set at when he filled up.

Anyway, when he begins “seeking”. A cleaver way of confusing me or trying to catch me in a lie instead of just asking directly and believing me.

I get nervous. I don’t know why. He’s an intimidatingly tall bullying type of man. I’ve always felt intimidated by people like this. Like a small child about to get beat for something she didn’t do (which happened all of the time when I was growing up living with my grandmother). So when he gets like this, I shrink into a child again. Which he knows gives him power.

So now I’m sitting there in the passenger seat searching my memory bank for where it was that I may have tacked on these extra 100 miles. Then I realize, it was my two trips to my women’s abuse counceling sessions, which both way trips total about 60 miles. 60×60 =120 miles.

So, regardless if I’d replaced the gas (which I did). He still bitched and was suspicious about where the mileage came from. And I can’t lie because lying gets too confusing to keep up with.

So even though I tried to push the memory of this cruel controlling mistreatment out of my mind for the rest of the evening, I woke up re-pissed off again and feeling tired of his shit, tired of walking on eggshells and knowing I deserve better.

Don’t think about it is bad advice

Suppressing thoughts may actually be counter-productive.

Thought Suppression is referred to as the conscious and deliberate efforts to curtail one’s thoughts and memories.[26] Suppression is goal-directed and it includes conscious strategies to forget, such as intentional context shifts. For example, if someone is thinking of unpleasant thoughts, ideas that are inappropriate at the moment, or images that may instigate unwanted behaviors, they may try to think of anything else but the unwanted thought in order to push the thought out of consciousness.

In order to suppress a thought, one must (a) plan to suppress the thought and (b) carry out that plan by suppressing all other manifestations of the thought, including the original plan.[23] Thought suppression seems to entail a state of knowing and not knowing all at once. It can be assumed that thought suppression is a difficult and even time consuming task. Even when thoughts are suppressed, they can return to consciousness with minimal prompting. This is why suppression has also been associated with obsessive-compulsive disorder.[26]

What is Thought Suppression?

And this is something that I do everyday of my life. First, I suppress a bad thought or something upsetting to me. Then unfortunately no matter what do, it resurfaces again causing a Thought Suppression Rebound.

Suppression rebound effects characterize the unanticipated problems that arise when individuals strive to suppress particular thoughts, attitudes, beliefs, or emotions. In particular, these suppressed cognitions and feelings over resurface, even more intensely than before (Wegner, 1994).
I’ve often wondered if my brain did this to give me time to think things through clearer. To give me a chance to process what had or was happening to me.

For example, the learned behavior of accepting wrong mistreatment because at that moment you hadn’t realized (yet) that you had been wrongfully mistreated or disrespected. Sort of like a delayed reaction one could say.

There have been millions of times when my husband would talk down to me or belittle me and I guess I just sat there numb and stoically never thought that I could have been talked to with more respect, in a nicer tone or even felt like what I said or did even mattered.

But overnight as I slept, my brain would reprocess (repressed thought) how he treated me and I’d wake up PISSED AS HELL! I mean furious. In which then I would try to tell him how he made me feel the day before, but he would just shut me down and tell me how I made him do what he did or say what he said. But you know what? There’s NO EXCUSE FOR ABUSE. NONE. A couple should sit down and talk about each others feelings. Understand the why’s and how’s and then try to fix it.

I shouldn’t have to wake up every single day with hate already implanted in my mind because over night I’ve had time to realize that what was said or did two days ago was belittling, degrading, whether I deserved it, whether I should have been thanked, why had he accused me of this, why didn’t he tell me that?

It’s easy for you to tell someone, “Just don’t think about it.” But in my opinion, you wouldn’t human if you didn’t…

Consider yourself fortunate


But keep on mind, if you choose to stay (and you have young children) it’s not only effecting you, but it’s going to NO DOUBT effect them as well.
Children don’t even have to be in the same room to be aware that daddy isn’t treating mommy very kindly. Children soak up everything. Even non communication between two parents. I don’t know how it happens but it happens. One of those children (if you’re lucky) will be able to come out a decent person. But it takes two. It takes a stable loving home if not two very mature adults to do it right. Or those kids will be fucked up in some way. Sorry to have to put it to you that way, but it’s the truth. Take numbers 2, 5, 6, 8 for example. Children notice all of those and one of them is going to adapt that behavior. Especially a boy. Boys love and look up to their daddies. Boys wanna be like their daddies, no matter what. So he’s going to emulate him. Once that happens there’s no way of retrieving his mind-set unless you remove him from the home earlier. It’s just like physical abuse. If he sees daddy hit mama all the time, he will grow up to do the same.

People warned me and it wasn’t like I didn’t listen. I just had no other choice but to stay. Now look at my son.
Here’s an interesting but funny analogy (from the movie Princess Bride) of my sword battle with my narc husband to protect my son from his negative attributes, which unfortunately I was defeated at

And although he’s not, no matter what I’ve felt like he was stronger, clever and skillful at his attempts to win my son over.

Don’t tell me that I’m not and don’t treat me like I am


What inspired this post today was a comment that a woman made to me yesterday which was that she didn’t believe that I was bipolar. She said, “Blah blah blah… , I don’t believe you’re bipolar.” And I don’t know why, but it sorta pissed me off.

I have Bipolar. My mother has it. My brother has major depression and alcohol problems and my mother’s sister, (my aunt) has it as well, but my aunt’s is much severe. My mother is mentally unstable, but refuses to be medicated or treated for it. My aunt has been in and out of homeless shelters, but I can’t speak too much on her experiences because I haven’t seen her in over 35 years. I’ve only spoken to her four times which she has used “GoPhone Cellular Phones to call me from (unusually four different numbers) for which I can only assume why, but I don’t know the facts.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar II. No, I’m not manic. Yes, I’m major depressive with occasional highs and lows.
Here’s one woman’s personal blog about the differences. Remember they’re her personal perspectives, but very interesting ones as well.
Bipolar Burble

People look at me and they don’t see bipolar. Well duh, it’s invisible. I’m being sarcastic and the reason why is because not every illness visible. Being major depressive or (even Bipolar manic) people shouldn’t expect us to act crazy socially or to wear black all the time, be mopey or even assume we’re stupid or uneducated because of it. As a matter of fact, the smartest woman I’ve ever met was Bipolar I. Majority of the time she was manic. But, “Oh was her mind brilliant.” The unfortunate thing about her and many like us is thing is that she couldn’t hold a job. Much like me. Some people with Bipolar are unable to hold jobs and be stable in a profession. It’s really, really hard to explain why. So I’m not going to, because I don’t have to. It just is what it is.

But don’t think that I’m exactly thrilled about sitting on my ass either. Because I’M NOT. Being this way breaks my heart. Being this way makes me feel like a failure. Especially because it comes coupled with a lot of other disabilities. One in particular is my severe ADHD. This is the learning disability in my opinion that is worst combination that conflicts, as far as holding a job is concerned.

Have you ever began an exciting new job and on the first day of training; moments, even minutes after you’ve been shown how to do something, you’ve forgotten it already??? Can imagine the frustration of the person training you? Have you ever felt the humiliation of once you’ve finally gotten passed the training and actually put to the test, your mind goes absolutely blank every time! Or the time constraints being put on you as well as having to being able to keep things organized as well. Have you ever ran around like a chicken with it head cut off because your brain just shuts down with all of the pressure? Have you ever ran to the bathroom crying because of this? Have you ever felt stupid compared to the person sitting next to you who is 20 years younger, and they’ve caught on to the task in 5 seconds and you’re still writing notes which you will never remember anyway? Then be called into a private room and fired because of being too slow to catch on? You know how dumb I feel in those environments? Have you ever had a passion for something that you knew was “it”. This was the dream job. You got this! You’d be here forever. Then that dream’s “flame motivation” burns out quicker than you can write out all of the notes to help you remember how to do it?

It’s not like I haven’t tried. I have had A-LOT of jobs. Careers where I’ve even went to college specializing in. Speaking of college, I’ve been to one university with the intention of attaining a Apparel Production Degree, then I thought naaah, I’ll try Sociology, Women’s Studies, Psychology, etc, etc. Then I left there to go to a community college with the plan of getting a Fashion Merchandising Associates degree instead and I got all the way up to my last semester and dropped out. Then I moved to another state, jumped right into another community college compelled to finish what I’d started. Then I thought, Naaah, and decided maybe my passion was in graphic design. Then it was computer science. Then it was back to psychology (which I’d forgotten I tried that already) Then I told myself to fuck’in settle down for once and finish something. So I got a General Studies AAS. Then I thought I can’t do anything with this shit, so went went back and tried the Computer Science thing again. Then I moved to The City of Emancipation and thought, this is it. My passion is Computer Securities. So I enrolled. I was in classes with dudes. Most times I was the only female. I am proud to say that I did fairly well. I got all A’s that semester.
Then I had to come back to this fucking dump. Of course I jumped back in school again, still interested in Computer Securities, Networking etc. I took two classes, did well. Then all hell broke loose with my husband, son and stress and I just couldn’t focus! I just couldn’t. But overall I’ve accumulated over 200 credit hours. since 1991.

So motherfuckers, I’m not stupid! I don’t have to act Bipolar and I don’t have to act like I have ADHD to prove it.

I’m just… LOST. (oh, and STUCK.)

Read about ADD, Bipolar, Depression and more

I’m Toxic


Define Toxic:
Toxic people hurt others with their worlds, often unintentionally but sometimes on purpose. They may feel bad about themselves, so they make other people around them feel bad, too; misery loves (or deserves) company, they seem to feel. Toxic relationships are often characterized by hurtful remarks, constant sarcasm, belittling behaviors, or passive-aggressive interactions. The hallmark of being in a toxic relationship is feeling bad after being around the other person, though not always knowing quite why. If you feel a sense of dread when you see a friend’s number appear on your phone, or feel uneasy when required to meet with a certain co-worker or supervisor, because you always feel fearful, angry, or frustrated after you talk, that’s a toxic person for you. I took this opinionated definition from the internet, but it totally fits.

I’VE COME TO REALIZE THAT I AM VERY TOXIC, and looking back on all of my past friendships since I’ve been married, I don’t blame any of them for abandoning me.

I can’t even stand myself. I can’t stand the fact that I have nothing better to talk about than how rotten my miserable life is.

And the thing about it is, I can’t stand to hear about yours especially if it’s better than mine. How can I be happy for you? How can I put on a false and fake front, while envying you with every bit of my being at the same time? Hey, I’m just be honest here. A lot of people wouldn’t be and I’d like to think that you’d appreciate my honesty. I’m probably sticking my foot in my mouth too… but that’s typical of me.

I remember back in 2011 right before I left my husband and move to The City of Emancipation, I shut down my Facebook account. I did that because reading about other people’s lives literally made me depressed. I nearly had a psychotic breakdown with the daily constant blatherings about how happy an old school friend was with her wonderful husband, and the posts about how “My husband is my bestest friend!” just made me want to vomit. Jealousy raged within me and its not a healthy emotion especially when they didn’t do anything to me. I did this to myself. Those old friends didn’t want to listen to me whine and cry either and I didn’t blame them.

I found it ironic that I came across this comic this morning as I was prepping to write this blog entry today
What a coincidence, right?

I just want to be free from complaint. At least about my husband and my son. Maybe one day my only major complaint for a day will be that the barista at the local Starbucks forgot to give me that extra shot of espresso that I asked for. Hahaha!

Until then just do yourself a favor and stay away. Please.
(this includes you too, Bestie)

My Bully (ies)


I have always been one of those “stay out of my personal space,” type of individuals. I don’t like it when a person I don’t really know walks up to me and attempts to hug me, I don’t like it if I’m in a public place and a person tries to read over my shoulder when I’m texting or reading (unless I allow it) and I especially am uncomfortable when any person sits or stands inches away just to talk to me. I try to be polite and make it clear that it unnecessary.

My son in this case has never respected my countless times I have told him this. I have gotten sick many times just from him sneezing and coughing in my face. There have many irritating times when I have woken up or startled awake by his face being so close to mine that our noses touched.

BUT THE MOST IRRITATING OF ALL is his annoying reading and looking over my shoulder. A total invasion of privacy! He would do it from the back seat of the car, reading off my phones passwords and the gloating about the fact that he knew it now or he’d read it out loud so my husband could hear, forcing me to change it again. Or if I were reading something on my phone and he was grounded from his he would look over my shoulder from in back of the car or anywhere making it clear that he knew what I was viewing. Almost as if intentionally, for his father.

Anyway, last night after getting angry because I refused to unlock the movie channels (he’s still grounded for 30 days because he spat on a cop and now has a class C Misdemeaner). Last time I did this, he “playfully” held a sharp butcher knife to my back. So this is another occasion when he’d attempt to (and it worked) incite rage by goading me with smartass, smart mouth comments and irrelevant repetitive questions as to why I didn’t want to unlock the channels. Questions that were so annoying eventually I snapped.

Then I realized that he was BULLYING me. He was intentionally trying to trigger my anger for enjoyment, while he sat back with a smirk on his face.

The confrontational questions were:
“Why don’t you unlock the channels mama?”
“Because you’re grounded and you know it.” I replied.
“But why mama?” he asked
I didn’t bother answering this time. Instead I told him to get out of my face, because he was beginning to make me mad. I had been in my bedroom sitting on the bed journaling.
“But why mama?” he asked again.
I ignored him and began typing again because my journal is on my smartphone and the topic happened to be about his father, as usual.

My son plopped down on the bed right beside me and began reading over my shoulder (like he rudely and irritatingly always does).
Annoyed, I immediately swung the phone away.
“Why are you getting angry mama?” he asked.
WHY ARE YOU HAVING A MOOD SWING??? he asked, but this time he said it as if he already had the bullet in the chamber and he’d known the exact words that would trigger me! These were the exactwords my husband used in the past as an excuse for my getting angry everytime he’d treat me like shit and I tried to stand up for myself. My husband enjoyed making me feel like I wasn’t supposed to get angry at all and for any reason. I guess I was just supposed to take it. To him, me getting angry was a sign of my mental unstability and that my meds weren’t working correctly.
I swear, when my son said these words I thought, ” How dare you!”
I mean, there have been many times prior where I have felt trapped in a corner and unresponsive to some of the things my son has said to me, but this one…
I told him to get out and then I stood up to show him to the door as he was still laying slouched over our bed.
“No, why you you getting so mad and having a mood swing?” he asked again, infuriorating me even more.
Now at this point, yes, I’ll admit I was in fighting mode and he was NO LONGER MY SON, he was a threat.
So I got in his face and I said it again.
“Get… out… of… my… room. “and as calmly as I could.
Of course he said,” no” and I attempted to remove his big ass myself and if that angered him enough to hit me, then I was GOING TO CALL THE POLICE. Because at this point it was a stand off. An absurd, standoff.
“I’m not going to hit you!” he said.
“Then why are you acting like you’re about to?” I replied, as he finally got up and walked out of our bedroom smiling and with the saunter he uses to puff himself up to make himself look bigger than he really is (actually he is big but). The tough guy impression he gives when he walks around school.
“Are you trying to threaten me? Who do you think you are?” Do you just expect me to stand down and let you to piss me off like this!? Allow you to provoke me and not expect me to get angry!?” I demanded.
“I’m your son.” he replied, as if that justified his behavior. And as if at that moment I really cared.
“No you’re not! You’re not my son because MY SON would never talk to me me or treat me the way you treat me. You’re your father’s son!” I exclaimed loudly with no regrets at all.
And he walked into his room ignoring me as always and closed the door. And I walked back into mine.

Please read this artical I found today:

Why do kids bully their parents?



Take a back seat
(idiomatic) To be second to someone or something else; to be less important or have a lower priority. Take a subordinate or obscure position.

Origin: This phrase has a straightforward and literal derivation. It alludes simply to the back seats, of a coach, a theatre etc., being less prominent than the others. It originated in the USA in the mid 19th century. As we might expect, the earliest uses of the phrase merely refer to people sitting at the back.

It’s odd how I tend to repress things ….

Today I’m at home with my teenage son who’s is the most disrespectful child I could have ever have imagined giving birth to, and my husband is working overtime tonight to catch up on some delinquent bills.

I don’t know why or how but I had this flashback of when I used to be bullied into sitting in the back seat of our vehicle by our 11-year-old son . Meanwhile he sat in the front with his father on most car trips.

Everytime I get memories about the shit he did or still does to me, I have this intense feeling of hatred for him. The kind of hatred that could kill me itself. All the terrible memories of being bullied by both my son and my husband comes rushing back and makes me feel unworthy of my own respect to have ever let it all happen. But I didn’t just let it happen. My sons father allowed it and I had no control.

I’m sure you’re probably wondering how it ever got to this point at all and all I can say is, I don’t know. Believe me, I wouldn’t just allow it if I had had a husband and father who wouldn’t have stood for it in the first place.

On the weekends or anywhere we would go whenever it was time to head to the car, my son would rush to the passenger door, beating me to it and when I’d arrive, I’d tell him to get in the back seat. His father, of course, would make our son feel like it was his right to sit in the front, not defending my right as an adult or his mother to be there, instead.

So I’d sit in the back submissively, head lowered and ashamed of being put back there by my own child. I was embarrassed and often wondered if my husband was enjoying this.

While I sat there, I’d observed the little playful hand slaps, side pokes, and the loving and affectionate banter they had between them. It was as if my husband was intentionally throwing his adoration for our son in my face and it wouldn’t be the first time or the last!

Anyway, whenever I did get the opportunity to sit up front or when it was just he and I in the car alone, he would sit stiff as a board, eyes front, no eye contact, no smile and no conversation except to either criticize me for something or startle me to wake me up if I dozed off.

A little ditty ’bout Jack and Diane


When a person seeks validation (like me) they need to feel appreciated for the things that they do. I’ve always been this way and it is a terrible fault of mine. However, I’m pretty sure that I’m not the only one. In my opinion, being validated for doing a good job would encourage me to do an even better job! It creates not only quality work but an overall increase production but that’s if I were speaking in terms of being in the workforce.

It can be applied in other areas as well, for instance being told “Thank you for all that you do for our family. ” Or, being shown in some way that your efforts in caring for and holding the family together while your husband or wife is out “bringing home the bacon.” I appreciate you doing this… I appreciated that you took the time to do that…
But to take advantage of someone just because you think they have the time on their hands, is just rude!

And good luck getting a genuine praise out of narcissist person, at all.

Of the many things about my husband is his lack of respectful common courtesy. It is his audaciousness to volunteer me for shit which he will not allow me to say no to.

Most recently while he was visiting his folks over an hour away he texted me and asked how he could fix a problem with his kin Jack and Diane’s laptop. I’m pretty proficient in computers which is why he thought of me first (of fucking course). Even though I texted him the steps one by one, he still being the dumb lazyass as he is, volunteers me to fucking fix it. So he immediately texts back, “I’m bringing it home.”

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind helping folks. But just as long as they show that they appreciate it or at least say thank you for my time and effort.

So he brings it back home from his home town and veryday he’d peer his head in the bedroom where I mainly reside and he’d ask if I was done yet. Other than that, he wouldn’t even speak to me. And of course I’m going to fix the computer in MY OWN TIME, not his since it was his big idea to volunteer me for it anyway, right?

So long story short on that occasion, the laptop got fixed by ME, but I could overhear him on the phone with Jack and Diane bragging about how we’d fixed it. I was like wtf!?!
There things perturbed me about this.
1. He took credit
2. He never thanked me not only for fixing it for HIM, but for fixing it for THEM. All he did was bark orders the entire time.
3. I honestly don’t believe (if Jack and Diane had or not, told him to tell me thank you, he wasn’t going to relay the message anyway.

How hard is it for them to ask him for my number and just call me themselves?? πŸ˜•

The other same occassion just happened again two weeks ago. Same people, Jack and Diane, but different laptop. This time Diane locks herself out. I have no idea how this could have occurred but oh well.
Anyway, my narc texts me. I text him back how to fix it, he volunteers me and he brings it home anyway, I take my time fixing it. But this time it was a little trickier (and I love challenging computer complications). So I had a blast fixing it, but that’s besides the point. Hahaha!

Anyway, I gets fixed. He peeks his head in and asks if I was done, I said yes. Then I waited….
Not a “Thank You” to be heard! So the next time that he asks, you know what I’m gonna say?
Fuck you!!!

Why Me?


I so appreciate the scarlet letter you’ve placed upon me. One so visible that everyone can see. The visible symbol of all the things Ive done wrong and all the terrible choices I regret making. I am cursed to have these pains follow me around for the rest of my sorry life. Not only will they show in my outward physical appearance but in my inner emotional and mental availability. If I were a good man, I wouldn’t choose me either.


What did I do? I don’t understand why you feel I deserve this? They say all things happen for a reason. So what’s yours and why am I having to suffer for mostly all of my life? As a matter of fact, why does the undeserving have to suffer at all?? Suffer at the hands of another human being. You can’t answer that can you? I didn’t think so.

Maybe I’m being punished for the things which I did as a little girl. “Things I was taught no better not to do.” Things that an adult shouldn’t have left me alone to do with men. Things that men did to me that I had no control over because I was a little girl. Things that I’ve repressed and can’t remember. “I tried to grow myself up right. Grow my own self up because I had no one else who cared to help me.” Not a caring or concerned mom or no dad who even thought twice about me. I was alone.

I thought if I growed myself up good and went to college, doing what no one else in my family had, maybe you’d be proud. Maybe you’d forsee my future bright and clear. But I screwed that up didn’t I? I’m sorry if I was a lose cannon in college and I’m sorry I got myself into some sitations that again still haunt me till this day. Is that why your punishing me?

Have I ever not been grateful? Have I ever not been kind? Are you punishing me because I didn’t go be with that nice boy? That better boy. The one who would have treated me much kinder than I’m being treated now? Is that why you’re mad? Is this my punishment? Having seen a better life and future but I didn’t take it? Well, HELLI’m mad too!

Can’t I just have one good day? Do I have to be bullied by both my son and my husband in one day? Can my husband defend me for once to my son or at least my son defend me to my husband at all?
Couldn’t my whole marriage been some type of equal balance? For example, if my husband’s an asshole then at least I’ve got a goodhearted, respectful mama’s boy who I know is guaranteed go on to college. Or if my son is an asshole, at least I’d have a loving and supportive husband to help me make the right decisions for him. Or, (and this is probably asking for far too much), OR, I be blessed to have both a loving and supportive husband and a loving and respectful college bound son!! Wouldn’t that be just too good to be true!?!

But yeh, it is…


“Say what you need to say”

Watch the video, Say what you NEED to Say, below please:

Say what you need to say
by John Mayer

Take all of your wasted honor
Every little past frustration
Take all of your so-called problems,
Better put ’em in quotations

Say what you need to say [8x]

Walking like a one man army
Fighting with the shadows in your head
Living out the same old moment
Knowing you’d be better off instead,
If you could only . . .

Say what you need to say [8x]

Have no fear for giving in
Have no fear for giving over
You’d better know that in the end
It’s better to say too much
Than never to say what you need to say again

Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open (a wide heart)

Say what you need to say [24x]

This is why it’s so hard for me to byte my tongue whenever my narc does something insensitive or down right cruel to me. It’s like I MUST call him on it either at that very moment or get up the courage to bring it to his attention later.

In the past, no matter when I decided to bring it up, I felt like like his teenage daughter and I wasn’t allowed to “talk back” to my father. He would get angry and play the victim accusing me of causing what he’d said or done.

To point out what a narcissist does wrong is an absolute no no. But I hadn’t known back then that this was one of the many traits of narcissist.

I was scared to approach him and I certainly didn’t think that it was fair that I couldn’t.

My narcissist, (maybe) unlike others feels satisfaction from what he thought or thinks is my inability to speak up. It’s like playing a game to him.
And every time I didn’t speak up, he was gaining points and getting satisfaction from my weakness. I can’t believe he actually thinks he’s smarter than me! He may be street smart but he’s not even close to being book smart, yet he felt he was. I mean, I actually have to dumb myself down for him. The less I spoke, the more superior he felt. And although people say it’s best to choose your battles, it’s incredibly hard to do this with a narcissist (or mine, at least).

So when I finally left him in 2012 and moved to the City of Emancipation, I would play John Mayer’s song Say what you need to say, and just cry and cry and cry and cry and…