I used this blog to manipulate
Not so much that, but more as a means
To try and force acknowledgement and a real apology from my mother.
I used it to try and change my situation.
Before this blog
I was isolated. Almost completely.
The main event in my world, at least in terms of what most needed to be dealt with (Being ostracized, abused and then orphaned by and from my family)
The thing that was at the center really.
I had to keep locked away in my stomach. I had to keep it locked away in my mind. I had to keep it, in my reoccurring nightmare.
Which was not reoccurring in the details of activity but was reoccurring in the emotion in produced in me.
Was total isolation, without the possibility of connection with anyone here.
I’d wake up and realize, no one here really knows me, sees me or loves me. Strangers do, fans do. But that’s a different kind of love. The main structure of my life was almost entirely loveless but for the love I got from God (which turned out to be plenty)
The nightmare had weight, because the nightmare wasn’t a dream. The nightmare was reality, and it was the reality I was living.
I couldn’t handle how heavy and dark it all was. ( I still can’t)
So the nightmare would let me feel what I was actually going thru.
I was powerless to do anything about any of it. But for one thing.
And the other weird thing about NPD abuse, which is an infamous feature, is that it’s difficult, if not impossible, to get support from those in your immediate environment.
Consider for a second
How detailed and how many words and how intricate those words and details are in this blog for me to even begin to adequately explain a portion of my side of things.
This disorder is nearly impossible to explain to anyone, in any kind of typical way of communicating.
In normal life, try imagine, explaining this shit to anyone. Even a decent friend has limits. And also, speaking on this subject makes you seem much “crazier” than you do when you can take the time to pick your words.
Since I started this blog my mother “hoovered” ( another word I hate because it’s not a name, it’s a nickname and we need more serious names attached to the behaviors in this condition. It’s too dire to leave the language as it is. I think Hoovering should be called Surrounding, stalking. I don’t know. Not those, let me think about it and get back to you in a future digression. In case you couldn’t tell I communicate thru digressions but anyway…..)
She reached out via email.
I had stopped watching videos on YouTube about npd. (Sometimes you need a break and you want your life to be about other things than “recovering” but when you stop focusing on it, you can easily get soft. )
I posted a few things on the blog and resented being in the position of having to do that. I wanted to end it. Just make the blog disappear, but the thing is, I can’t make this situation disappear. I wanted them to make it disappear when they were doing it to me. I begged them to make it disappear. But,
They made it appear harder.
I guess that’s what I’m doing with the blog. Making it appear harder, But it’s really not revenge.
It’s a means to make that nightmare go away.
And as far as that’s concerned. It’s worked to a degree.
I’ve felt the support and again I can’t adequately explain how grateful I am for it. It’s saved my life.
I think it helps explain to the people who are in my life
And to some of the bridges I burned (because of extreme and incomprehensible emotions I was dealing with, which led to extreme and incomprehensible behavior, which I was both incapable of communicating and really understanding. As well as programmed to keep secret.
Imagine a dump truck.
A massive one
Drives up to your yard and empties a giant pile of trash and waste all over your yard.
And then just drives off.
But not before telling you, all the way down to your core, that if you tell anyone this trash ISNT yours, your world will end.
Also, if you try to clean it up. Your world will also end.
You go back inside and you think of things for awhile
And you realize you can’t really do anything about it.
You hide out for a few days, but finally decide you need to live your life. So you go outside and walk by the huge pile of rotting garbage in your yard.
You wave to the neighbors who would usually wave and smile back. But now just look away and keep their head down.
This is what the abuse is like.
It doesn’t stay local. It leaks bleeds out all over everything.
The yard in that analogy is meant to represent your head and your heart. Your psyche and your spirit and your emotions and every other thing that makes you human.
You do everything you can to pretend you’re not full of somebody else’s garbage.
You come up with tricks.
You reason ” well… I can’t clean up the garbage and I can’t tell anyone it’s not really mine, but they never said I couldn’t rearrange it.
You live with this garbage so long, you start knowing everything about it. You arrange the empty milk cartoons into a fort by your favorite tree.
The headless dolls you’ve leaned against the mailbox.
The empty beer cans and piles of newspapers you’ve turned in to a chair.
The neighbors have lightened up a little , as they now see your garbage as a wacky creative project from a “wacky” guy
They still look at you funny.
You still have a ton of garbage in your yard
And you still haven’t gotten rid of it.
Writing this blog
Is the equivalent of ignoring the message
That I can’t clean the garbage up or tell anyone where it came from.
Writing this blog is me slowly, and bag by bag, cleaning up the rotting debris and taking it to the side of the road.
And when that happens, when you start doing that,
Your “neighbors” who are not only meant to symbolize both your actual neighbors but also everyone you encounter in your life ever.
Start to treat you differently. They start looking at you without “that look”
Also a truck comes by and picks up the first few bags you put out there, and the space starts clearing up a little and you start feeling shades of your authentic self reassert itself. Another truck comes. More garbage leaves. The neighbors keep getting friendlier. They even invite you to dinner next Thursday. This shocks you, you haven’t been invited anywhere in quite awhile.
This blog is me in my yard
With a bunch of industrial strength garbage bags. Bagging up other people’s garbage and getting it the fuck off my lawn. In spite of the fact that I was told in many ways and by many sources that to do that would be almost certain death.
Led to believe that to do that would make the neighbors hate you even more. Never mind the abusers.
Strange how cleaning up other people’s garbage is seen by them as a form of betrayal.
I guess it is, but my yard is my yard, no matter who’s dick and vagina brought me into this world.
You even had it so twisted that you
Thought even the neighbors would get mad at you for cleaning up the garbage.
You started thinking after awhile, that the garbage was what was good about you, not what was keeping you in isolation.
So you see
I got sick of all that garbage.
I got sick of that nightmare.
I got sick of the isolation
I still have much cleaning left to do.
So what’s the confession
I responded to my mother.
I broke no Contact in doing that.
I asked again for acknowledgement and an authentic apology. I asked again to remove this insane invalidation.
She wrote me back apologizing for never protecting me in my childhood. But did so without acknowledging the actual apology and validation I needed, for the actual current situation. Kinda like apologizing for everything was the same as apologizing for nothing. Other details in there, subtle and not so subtle forms of invalidation is what I got back. ( my family doesn’t deny the abuse that occurred in my formative years, and in fact all of them acknowledge that I got it the worst. (Was the scapegoat. ) they won’t use the term “scapegoat” however. Because that resonates to closely with what was still very much happening when I went no Contact six months ago.
The abuse can only be acknowledged as this old thing that happened way back when. It can’t ever be acknowledged as the current thing it still very much is.
When I try to force acknowledgement and an apology
I always (and I suppose weakly) threaten her with this will be your last chance.
I’ll say something like
” if you don’t acknowledge what happened and apologize then you will never hear from me again and I will block this last in road. ”
I’m not proud of this. To me. I consider that threat a kind of failure but
I need to know I did everything I could to turn this around.
I need to know I left no stone unturned into try to change the impossibility of this situation.
I haven’t checked that email my main gmail account in days.
I can’t even go there to look if there was a response.
I have too much shit to do right now, to let this drama steal my energy yet again.
I need to rebuild my career. I need to win back fans and win new ones. I need to earn a living in my chosen profession, as should be anyone’s simple right to do.
Clearly they want me to keep my eyes off that prize.
They pick moments when they know the stress is on me to reach back out.
And when they reach back out they make sure invalidate the work I’ve done here. And the work I still need to do.
I think for people who don’t deal with this situation, all this must seem totally bizarre. But for those of us, that do and have, of which there are countless, I’m sure can relate entirely to this impossible quagmire of this situation.
I will say for me personally, and even before I got all those validating comments, this blog has been a major step in me returning me to my authentic self. I’d say it’s been as crucial to my recovery as anything. Probably more.
I would encourage other victims of this abuse to reach out in a public way about your story.
It’s really the only way to deal with this. At least from my point of view.
Namaste. And may your day be a wonderful time of realizing your true dreams and reaching for something more.
I love you.
Joseph Lyburn Arthur