Wood Chips From Video Clips And Psychological Glue or 

Elderly Narcs. 
Apparently they get worse as they get older. 

For empaths who are subject to their abuse this is a true torture. Because you know the reason they get worse is because their afraid. Afraid of how they’ve lived their life. Too late to change. Knowing it’s been wasted and spent hurting other people. They are faced with quite an ugly predicament at the end. They can’t repent. 

Asking for forgiveness is healing for the one who is asking. Jesus doesn’t want you to repent because his ego is weak and he needs worshiped. Jesus wants you to repent for you. 

They’ve built a false persona for many many years. It’s unfathomable for them to change. Tho I suspect they know what they’ve done and what they continue to do. And I suspect they even know the dire effects on the victims. 
They are thrill seekers. For them trying to pull more and more dangerous capers on their victims, is the adrenaline rush of risk. If they can be easily found out the better in terms of dopamine release. You have to remember your aggravation is their gin and tonic. Your devastation is like a limitless crack rock. They can’t resist it. I understand. 

It’s just that I can’t be led by my empathy in these matters anymore. 
Over Christmas my dad wrote a text, when they were up to their shenanigans. It just said “Joe , your mom is 74 years old ”

This was like getting hit in the gut by mike Tyson. He was guilting me for creating my first set of boundaries, made out of wood chips from video clips and psychological glue. 
So dad

“Ok she’s 74. So I guess I should give my life and the chance to have one away because someone who is relentlessly abusing me is 74? ”
Yet still that programming is hard wired, not just by the grooming process of “coming up narc”, but in this case society too. 

Honor thy mother and father. 
I’m doing that here. And really for the first time. They can’t see that now , or maybe they can. I’ve got no idea about their reaction to things I’m writing. Perhaps they’re just loving it and laughing at me and enjoying my focus on them. Perhaps it’s devastating. I really have no idea. 

I don’t think like they do and that much is clear. I think they would even agree with me there. They might even validate that statement and say “well maybe you’re not as insane as we thought.”

But do they really think I’m insane?

I know to them I’ve just made this whole thing up. At least that’s been what they’ve been running with. Seems unlikely tho that I can write a near doctoral degree level thesis on NPD abuse and how to recover from it because why? 

Because I was bored and just needed something to do?

Even tho I obviously had more than my fair share of obsessive passions before all this, which are, let’s face it, more fun than this investigation. You guys still running with that? How’s that working out? Curious. 

Too bad I can’t read anything y’all send me as it’s chock full of break down able poison every time. Tell you what, im gonna dig thru all that after a couple years when it won’t trigger me anymore and I’ll do a serious study of your email manipulations. Could be a best seller, but I’m digressing again. 

They’re probably still denying the whole thing to themselves. 


I mean not the past abuse. They’d verify that. 

The drugs and what not. They’ve owned all that. 

The part they can’t verify is that in a way it’s gotten worse. 
The last time I came home. For my thanksgiving show in Tangiers I was at the beginning stages of waking up.

I had read ‘Psychopath Free’ that’s a must read. Exactly what I went thru with just the psychopath, never mind the rest of all this. 


And was deep in my research about NPD. 

My dad was an obvious narc. He had been overt about that my whole life. I didn’t know what it was. I just figured he was a horrible person. At least when I was a kid. 

I softened my opinion of him as I grew. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Over and over and over again. And be let down and disappointed every time. But then get sucked back into the sweet mean cycle every time. 

Part of this is easy to understand when up against the weight of the family unit and what that means in society. To go no contact is radical in our world. It’s becoming less so but it still is. 

So it becomes natural and even easy to just let the waves of abuse and relief from them wash over. Be more distant. Sweep it under the rug of “well I only really see them a couple times a year and usually it’s ok. And usually it was. For many years in fact my father and I never really had a huge blowing out. It would go more like this. 

Day 1 of the visit. 

All smiles and happiness, good vibes. Or if not good vibes just not bad ones. 

Day 2 usually something would flip and there he would be sulking and sucking all the energy out of the room. It would brutally passive aggressive. And for no discernible reason. 

And get more aggressive. 

But day 3 I was usually leaving and could just ignore the weirdness. Grey Rock I guess, before I knew what grey Rock was. 

And then I’d be out. 
The weird part ( for me anyway)

Is invariably no matter how uncomfortable it became. With two or three days. He’d be friendly as hell on the phone again. Or else I’d hear “your dad says hi” from my mom which was code for “everything’s ok now”

I didn’t understand it. But they were just my parents. I thought me and my mom loved each other in a true and deep way. 

I thought my dad loved me too (the best he could) and I loved him like that. For sure. Before I started waking up. I went to Ohio to pick my moms ride up that she was giving me. I was in the clutches of the psychopath then. But me and the psychopath were on and off. And this was off time. I had started very casually dating ( we never had sex just made out) a very successful actress. 
I went to Ohio to pick the car up but also I had in my mind to really try and bridge the gap with my old man. 

That turned out to be a very bad idea. 

We had our first major blow out in a long time as a result. 
My new friend sent me a picture of herself getting a small tattoo. It was cool and fun and no big deal at all. 

I showed my dad the photo explaining to him how much I liked this girl. 

He looked at it dismissively and said

“You see that just goes to show no matter how much money you have it just won’t make you happy”
A pointed statement. Both entirely invalidating the person who I was into and insulting anyone with tattoos as being obviously unhappy because they have tattoos. (Guess who else has tattoos. And lots of them. Yup me ) 

I was like

“What are you talking about? Why are you judging her like that? ”

My dad damned everybody like that. Nobody passed the mustard so to speak. No one. 

I said ” I mean who makes it thru your test? If this person doesn’t. Young successful beautiful, good family. 

I said “who are we?”

“Who are you to judge?” 
He raged. His face went red and he got up 

“Don’t call me dude. ”

I had said “cmon dude”

That was like me trying to connect. That’s how I talk to my friends. I was trying. 

He raged and left. And I sat there stunned. 

Maybe the car afforded him a big attack like that. But I said to my mom “you guys keep that fucking car. I’m leaving ”

But she was the good cop and there to talk me down and back into the vortex. I was leaving the next day and it was brutal. 

I had just gotten rid of the van and my money was tight at that point. The car was really useful and I had touring life to think about. I went against my instinct and took it. Driving home. Broken. On speed. Nuts. Lost. 

The thing with the actress never materialized. She got back with the father of her kids and I understood that completely and wished her all the best authentically and without any bad feeling. 

We saw each other on the street several months later and had big smiles and good feeling still. Things were working out nice for her and I was happy to see that. 

For me tho. 

I was a mess then anyway. Drunk and on drugs. 

And soon was back with the psychopath. 

When I came back for thanksgiving tho I was different. Waking up. No more speed. I don’t even think I was drinking then. My sobriety date now is after that but there was a longish (for me) period of somewhat controlled drinking when I first woke up. Of course there would be moments when it got out of control. So I had to sober up. I relapsed a few times in that period. But the relapse would not be like relapses of old where I fell deep in again. These would be like two steps forward one step back relapses. I was recovering and not just from booze this time but from the actual source of the actual problem. So it would be like three weeks of really working hard on myself. Into a three day bender, usually also hooking up with somebody. Not entirely negative actually. They were like pressure relievers that would set me back but not all the way back and immediately I would correct my behavior until it was just plane that that could no longer be a way of life for me. 

I was broke as well. I mean totally broke. 

I couldn’t really tour. Fired my old manager. Got a new one. A much better one. Who wanted to make a plan instead of just sticking me on the road to make rent and feed his pockets as my career dwindled from lack of any real focus.
I started selling gear to survive. I knew I needed time to heal and rebuild and for the first time I didn’t drive myself like a lunatic into the ground but listened and paid attention to those instincts. Good thing I did. 
So when I came home for thanksgiving I was more rejuvenated than I had been in quite awhile. As I said. Essentially sober. I was sober then. I remember now. 

And that point my mom was displaying obvious narc behavior. Breaking confidence. Gaslighting. The whole deal but I still wouldn’t let myself be sure of that. I was still holding out hope. 
I wrote and posted a poem 

Which was inspired by the alarm that went off finally in my head. 

When I realized there was certain things I still wasn’t really free to do. The poem was about behaving.

Here it is. 

If you know when

You’re not behaving , Then you know 

When not to behave. 

Just who’s been doing the enslaving

Or was it you that’s been enslaved?

When there’s something you should say

But just see a lonely grave

Who put the fear inside you?

Or built for you a cage?
If you know when

You’re not behaving, 

Then you know when not to behave. 

Be a burning flower

Or a beard no one can shave. 

make sure you keep your razor

For the captors have their blade,

You can hide it in your mind, n 

cut, if and when they come to save. 
Have you gone insane?

Or are you going your own way?

The limits of your pain

At first say 

“put these thoughts away. ”

But when you feel the dirt

 being heaped upon your grave,

May you rise up from the dead 

to never be another’s slave. 
If you know when you’re not behaving

Then you know when not to behave. 

Say it as a mantra till your shadows lose their prey. 

To gather up beside you,

To scare the fools who play you. Freedom is so menacing, they can’t give that shit away. 

I wrote it quick right when I landed. And was afraid to post it 

As to me they were already paying attention to the fact that I was now paying attention. 
And I had a kind of revelation in that moment 

Sorta like my higher self said

“Are you fucking kidding me dude? You’re afraid still of them? You’re kept in line still? It dared me to post it and so I posted. 

I got off the plain and I was terrified. 

I remember waiting for an inordinate amount of time to walk to baggage claim where I would see them. 

There’s a thing with narcs which there’s many videos on called 

“The glare”

The glare is a peak thru the mask. The glare is another way of seeing what they really feel about you. 
When I got off the plane 

My dad appeared to be in a rage already. 

The hug was , how do I describe it? Cold on a level you kinda can’t describe. 

Ice isn’t that cold. 

It’s like a death charge cold. It’s crazy cold 

And it was utterly limp. 

And he glared at me as if to say. You’re done for. Or who knows. But that look. It’s seared into my brain still. 
I will say, Narcs do have a certain black magic. They know things. Voodoo things. 

You could relate their behavior to kind of witch craft. 
But that’s digression again. 
Back at the airport 

After the glare. 
As I was by now already schooled in narc

But still a baby in narc school. I was kinda eager to test out this new concept called grey Rock. 

I was jumping in the deep end of the pull/pool 

And that glare was as bad as it got that trip. (In a way) from the old man anyway. 
I mean it was an endless and interesting succession of narc tactics from both of them but surprisingly,at least to me , my mom was the main offender. 
To the point where I started to think , was she really the main devil the whole time? 
But all I had to do was think for about a tenth of a second to my dads treatment of me to remember ” no he’s def a lunatic. It’s just she is too, Jesus ” I thought. 
And then I grey rocked and it was like perversely fun. 

Well not really fun but yeah kinda cause I was discovering the truth as painful as that truth was. A lot was clearing up. That was thanksgiving. That was the beginning of this healing journey. What’s today ? Oh yeah July 4th weekend 

So I’m eight months in recovery from this? 
Not the quickest student. Not the slowest. I’d say I’m about on target from what I’ve garnered from others who go into this healing work in earnest. 

My case was extreme tho. I lost my family. I lost my best friend from childhood 
Those were the big hits. 
It was good I guess to lump it all together. 

Cause the loss of the psychopath, which should have been more painful than it was in terms of heart love loss feeling. But it got washed under these much greater losses and so I was kinda spared all that. 

I wasn’t however spared of her mental and emotional violence which was extreme. Very extreme. It’s why I’ve called her out. She is a real menace to society. I ain’t gonna name a fucked up friend. I ain’t gonna name anyone unless they really try to kill me. There’s other psychos or npds I’ve dated that I ain’t gonna name. Rest easy you bitches. You didn’t try to kill me. I’ll let you get away with a smear and little dumb shit like that. I ain’t gonna be mr. call out guy. I called the psychopath out, because I felt a moral responsibility. Jesus had me do it. Past that my only job is to write about it. Jesus is even letting me off the hook on starting a YouTube channel cause he likes how this blog is going. 

I’m good with god. Camping now. More on that later. Let me get back to the subject. 

We were at dinner 

Me and my folks. I ordered the chicken. (That sounds gross to me now. Mostly a vegetarian these days. )

My mom ordered the fish. I think my dad did too. My chicken had blood in it. It was actually disgusting . And what made it worse was I had already eaten a fair bit before that vein got hit. 

Conversation was slow and stilted and about nothing as per usual. I was certainly observing instead of absorbing and I was paying attention to the actual dynamic , rather than projecting the dynamic I wished for. It was nice enough. I mean no overt aggression. My mom laughed about the blood and so did I. I said “oh no it’s so gross. ” it was kinda funny. 

She said do you want a bite of my fish?

I said “sure”

Me and my mom kinda connected over fish. We both loved salmon. 

I said “sure”

She pushed he plate towards me and said to Frank “he really is a garbage dump isn’t he”

Old me? 
Wouldn’t have heard it. She said it quick with a dash and smile and under her breath. 

But new me?

Heard it like a shock. 

Was taken aback. The work I had done to that point was enough for me notice what I hadn’t before. 

I said
“Did you just call me a garbage dump?”
She responded in a mocking tone, like how a bully taunts a kid

As if she was me in the future telling on her 

She said 

” she called me a garbage dump ”

You know the way kids will lean in and bend every word 

“Sheeee calllled meee Aa garbaaaage duuump. ”
I just looked at her dumbfounded. 
It was blowing my mind to see this woman who I had deluded myself for my whole life that she really really loved me, treat me this way. And that was the first of many examples like that over that trip. 
As I’ve said previously. You take any ☝️ one thing they do and it’s 

On the surface, usually, no real big deal. But when you see the patterns. The deal gets big rather quickly. 
The garbage dump line was her underlining a sentence she had already written that day, with other things, like that. 
They never got me to react. 

I let the garbage dump thing just hang there and then I let it go. And I kept doing that with all her tactics. 
And when I got home
She called me

“That was a great trip” 

“yeah ” I said sheepishly. 

“Your dad says hi” 

“Oh cool tell him I say hi ” 

One Comment on “Wood Chips From Video Clips And Psychological Glue or 

  1. A friend once went out to lunch with my mom and I. Afterwards she said “Your mom is a crackhead”. My witness. No one wants to speak against The Mom. There is more suffering caused by families unnaturally trying to stay together.

    Liked by 1 person

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