Articles from August 2014

Recovery from Abuse: A Fun, Peaceful Evening Spent with Real Friends

My husband finally rejoined a roleplaying group we’ve known for years.  Unfortunately, he fell out with one of them about 10 years ago, so she and her husband stopped coming around.

They made up about 6 years ago, but trying to rejoin the group has gone in fits and starts, especially since they live an hour away and would often game in the middle of the week.

But now it seems to have finally worked again.

Which means I can finally see them as well, at least once in a while.  And remember how easy it was to be in their presence.  I have missed them sorely because of the good times we all used to have, spending holidays together and practically every Friday evening, and going to SCA events together.

Sure they’re not perfect, and I did get miffed at them at times when they did not understand what I struggle with, because I did not understand, myself, why it’s so hard for me.  If I didn’t understand, how could I explain?

Now I know it’s a combination of introversion and NVLD and/or Asperger’s which causes these difficulties.

But they never rejected me for this or caused drama.  They accepted that it’s just who I am.  They were happy to see me again, did not pressure me into speaking.

One of them, Catherine, an old college friend, explained to a new (to me) person, that I’m quiet, so she would yell “HI NYSSA” at the top of her lungs every time she saw me.  (She still does it.)  LOL

Not only that, while Catherine sometimes has issues with the same person with whom Hubby had the falling-out, this person has never been mean to me.  And Catherine is friendly with her, so I feel no divided loyalty.  It’s peaceful, serene.

They know about how Richard and Tracy treated me, and about the e-mail I sent Richard which sent Tracy into a narcissistic rage, because Hubby told them back in 2010.

I also told Catherine myself about the bullying and abuse, and how Richard and Tracy continue to stalk me online.  Our friends said if I sent the e-mail to one of them, they would’ve teased me mercilessly and then let it go, because that’s what friends do.

There is no narcissism.  No personality or mental disorders that I’m aware of.  No abuse or bullying.

It’s good to be back.

It’s especially good because of a medical issue which is beginning to alarm me.  I have an appointment with the doctor.  It could be nothing, or it could be something.  I have already had two outpatient surgeries to keep cells from developing into cancer, so the risk is always there.  I don’t need leftover abuse issues causing more stress.

It’s especially good because I see alarming behavior from my husband as well.

It seems like he’s pushing away so many people, old friends, new friends, my friends, his friends, even his favorite cousin, through arguments on Facebook.

Like he has a chip on his shoulder.  Insisting on being right while saying they don’t respect his point of view.

Familiarity and safety in old friends is much needed now, not just for me but for him.  To get him to stop seeing everyone as another Richard/Tracy.  Maybe it will help restore him to equilibrium–so I can stop walking on eggshells.

In other words, current stresses are plenty without the old ones continuing to fill my heart.



The Teddy-O Incident; Birth of These Memoirs–College Memoirs: Life At Roanoke–January 1995, Part 3

On the night of the 17th, I wrote in my diary:

God, help me
God, be with me
The whirlpool of depression and despair
Has sucked me down.

I know with my head
That You’ll bring me out–
That You’re all-powerful,
Almighty God
Able to do miracles,
Anything You please–

But my heart just
Doesn’t believe it–
Heart, don’t be so stubborn!
Help me out here!

God, pull me out!
Pull me out!
Reach down with Your mighty hand
And pull me from
These murky, watery depths
Up to the air of freedom

I need You
More than I’ve ever needed anyone
‘Cause I’m drowning
Under here

I wrote the following early in 1998: Ever since the whole problem with Peter and how it devastated me, I was determined never to go through that again.  Of course, that meant a difference in how I dealt with the Phil-situation.

I tried not to dwell on it as much as I did on the Peter-situation, tried to get my mind on other things.  I dealt with the situation so well that the counselor told me, “You’re dealing with this a lot better than most people do.”

I forced myself early on to face what Phil really was: an abusive, cruel jerk, not the wonderful, loving husband I’d thought he was.

With Peter, it took much longer to face that he was not the wonderful, loving boyfriend I thought he was.  It took what, a year or less to get over Peter, but only a few months with Phil.  Aside from one relapse during January (see below), I was over him by Winterim, and ready to meet Cugan and a few other guys.

I made sure I could get on with life sooner.  I cried sometimes, but not as much as I did with Peter, and tried to avoid sadness whenever I could.

Some may say I wasn’t dealing with the pain properly, not allowing myself to grieve, that I kept pushing the pain away.  But I still remember how bad my grief over Peter made me feel, and how my friends got tired of hearing about it.

I remember moving on to a destructive relationship with Shawn instead of looking around for guys to go out and just have fun with.  I could have asked out James, for example; I did have a crush on him.  I did ask him to Pearl’s party junior year, but I could have actively pursued him sophomore year instead.

But I was too drawn to Shawn at the time to pursue James the way I should have.  I look at all that, and think that my manner of dealing with the Phil-situation was the best I could have done at that time.

Or if not the best, then the best I knew how to do.  It’s hard to say.

I decided not to date another actor, because they were used to pretending in front of an audience and could easily pretend in front of me.  If a man was a good actor I wouldn’t know the difference.

Phil was so good an actor that I never could tell he wasn’t always sincere.  He fooled me with his “subconscious,” and in late September he had fooled me into thinking he wanted to be with me.  I didn’t want to go through this again with anyone else.


Pearl and I watched My So-Called Life every Thursday, but the network was now threatening cancellation because of low ratings.  It hadn’t even had a chance to build up a following yet, but they were already cancelling it.

I liked that the actress for Angela (Claire Danes) was the same age as her character, fifteen.  You don’t see that often.

I sent e-mail over Thanksgiving or Christmas Break to the TV Guide‘s “Save Our Show” campaign, and voted for this show.  Pearl’s sister liked it too, and was proud of me for voting.

But the campaign failed, and the show still got canceled.  Network execs keep canceling the good shows before they have a chance to build up a following, and keeping the mediocre shows!

Several years later, Freaks and Geeks got the knife, while Popular got renewed. (Typical: the popular kids beating the geeks.)

My roommies all loved ER, and watched it every Thursday night at 9.  They said it “er,” not “E.R.,” just as Jay Leno did.  I was so-so about it.  It was gross, especially in the opening scene, and that was the same time I usually had my evening snack.

Some of it was interesting, though, like some of the relationships.  Once I graduated, I never watched it again.

The library workers began processing new books for the library, along with books for RC-Japan, a branch of Roanoke.  One of the RC-Japan books was Anne of Ingleside.  (I thought it was the last book in the Anne of Green Gables series, though actually it’s only sixth out of eight.)

I borrowed it to read, since this was okay, and then talked about it with Sharon in one of our many library discussions that year.  She’d also read it, and we both agreed that it was disappointing: too much of Anne’s kids and too little of Anne herself!  It shows you that a series can go on for too long.

This is true, not exaggerated: Everywhere we went in the S– area, with few exceptions, Mike knew somebody, and waved and yelled “Hi!” to them.  Was there anyone he did not know?  Catherine said that everyone in the world was destined to meet him eventually.

I found a review for a new movie called PCU.  PCU was a spoof, written by young people, of college campuses that are too politically correct, have too much activism, and are too unreal.  I was glad I hadn’t gone to a college like that: I wasn’t into all that stuff.

Mike told us, probably in the first part of senior year, about his recent trip to Milwaukee.  He was stopped at a stoplight when a man came up to his window and said,

“Do you want some drugs?  Are you a college student?  Here, you can sell this at your college.”

Mike kept saying no, he doesn’t want any drugs, yes he’s a college student but no he doesn’t want to sell any drugs, no, no, no!  This shook him up.  Finally, the light changed and he could drive on.

Each of us had small bottles of milk, rather than one big bottle in common.  There was always at least one bottle of sour milk in the refrigerator.  Once, one of us finally cleaned them all out, when many of them sat in there just taking up space.


We were told at the beginning of the year that we could get no stains on the carpet at all, or else the whole carpet would be pulled up and replaced, and everyone in the apartment would get charged for it.

That was to keep the apartments in good condition for years to come, but one little stain would not ruin the beauty of a whole apartment.  Out in the real world, apartment complexes allow normal wear and tear, and don’t pull up the whole carpet just for one stain.

Needless to say, we were paranoid about stains that year.  We’d rush to clean up the tiniest spills with the bottle of Resolve Carpet Cleaner provided by the school.

One day, Pearl and I were alone in the apartment, me on the couch and her in the kitchen making lunch.  Pearl tried to be independent as much as possible, so if she needed help, she’d ask for it.

I learned from her that the disabled don’t like to be seen as helpless, and are quite capable of figuring out how to do things.

Later on, I met a man with no eyes or hands, but he led me from his apartment to the parking garage.  He appreciated that I did not assume he was helpless, but waited to be asked for help: It was a relief from what people often did.

There is a key movement in the disability community for the right to self-determination, which means that we have the power to freely choose how and when we act or are acted upon, without having the will of nondisabled people forced upon us.

Or, in the simplest possible terms: disabled DOES NOT mean helpless. I cannot stress this enough.

Being a good person is a great thing, but please don’t do it at the expense of allowing me to determine my own needs. It’s time for able-bodied people to differentiate between politeness and infringing upon my independence. –Emily Ladau, Thanks for the help, I guess, but I’m not helpless!

So Pearl, on her own, stuck Teddy-O’s (a kind of Spaghetti-O’s) in the microwave (I think the microwave belonged to one of us), and heated them up.

They were in a covered Tupperware bowl.  She took them out again, got a good hold on the bowl and her crutches, and began to carry them out of the kitchen.  She probably meant to take them to the table.  Everything seemed normal, uneventful.  And normally, nothing would happen.

Next thing I knew, she tripped and/or dropped the bowl, and the Teddy-O’s flew, spilling all over the kitchen floor and the carpet next to it.

We both laughed and joked about it, but of course, we had to clean it up, for fear we’d get charged for new carpeting.  Pearl couldn’t do it herself, so I grabbed the Resolve and some paper towels and did it myself.  I don’t remember if any stains were left behind, but we were not charged.


One evening, probably during Winterim, my friends and I went to the opening night of Wayne’s World II.  The lines to the movie were so long they stretched outside the doors.  I was used to a very short line, if any.  Across the street, a digital bank clock showed how cold it was: below zero, I believe.

We loved the movie.  We laughed at the kung-fu moves (which reminded me of Peter’s ninjitsu); the weird, naked Indian; the parody of the 70s/80s Calgon commercials; the naked Indian crying about the litter on the landscape, just like in the old 70s/80s anti-litter commercials.

The group of middle-school kids right behind us didn’t get the commercial parodies at all.  They scoffed at how much we laughed.  They also kept talking–not whispering, talking–through the whole movie.  Argh!


That semester, I worked on two writing projects in addition to my schoolwork: a novel based on Roanoke, and a novel about my seventh-grade dream about ancient Egypt.

I wrote many pages for the Roanoke novel before wondering just how long the thing would take.  Those pages have become my memoir’s introduction to Roanoke, the chapters “Meet the Suite” through “Tales of the Campus.”

In 1996, when I resumed the writing of these memoirs, and wasn’t sure whether to make them into a novel or an autobiography (though I knew I had to at least write down the true story before making it into a novel), I incorporated these chapters.

Besides the interesting bits of my own life, I wanted to put my friends in the book because they were so much fun themselves.  The whole group of us had been through many things together.

Pearl said one day that “Someone should write a book about us,” so I said I was already doing that.  She and my other roommies got excited and told me what names I should give them.  Yes, “Pearl” was one of those names.

By Friday, January 13, I had written about thirty pages of my Roanoke book, and made a note to include Penisman Christopher’s poems in the novel.  Unfortunately, I later realized I couldn’t, since I had no idea how to contact him for permission.

I actually started making notes for such a book during junior year, and began to write it senior year.  Of course, very little of it was fictionalized; I decided to write everything as it happened and then fictionalize it later.  Its current form is all truth, no fiction.

I later decided to write my memoirs but not make them into fiction, because that, in a weird way, could set me up for libel–while if I wrote an autobiography I couldn’t be sued for libel because it would all be true.

Eventually I abandoned the idea of publication, since I was afraid my family would disapprove of certain things.  Instead, I started using the memoirs as inspiration for novels, which I’ve read that most authors do.

Then in 2001, after friends requested to see the memoirs, I put them into e-mails, removing whatever seemed too boring or personal for other readers.  Those e-mails have now been adapted into this current form.


Around mid-January, the senior class hosted a Hunk and Honey contest, which elected the best couple.  You voted with pennies in a big, plastic jar set by the name and picture of your favorite couple.

Penny drives like this popped up now and then to raise money for something (and to get rid of spare pennies).  We had another one that year, in which the classes (junior, senior, etc.) competed to see who could put in the most pennies.

To my shock and dismay, someone nominated Phil and Persephone.  One day in the week of the 16th, probably Tuesday or later between 11:30 and 12:30, I walked past James and my co-worker Megan as they sat at the Hunk & Honey contest voting table.  It was on the south side of Bossard and near the bathrooms.

James said to me, “I nominated Phil and Persephone because they deserve each other.”  He hated both of them.  He said, “Persephone is the most negative person I’ve ever met.”  Then he put a bunch of pennies in the big, plastic jar.

Megan agreed with him, and said she voted for them, too.  They probably thought it would cheer me up and show they supported me, but it depressed me.

(By the way, I’ve reconnected with Persephone on Facebook.  In a recent status update about those days, she said she eventually realized why she had so much trouble making real friends at Roanoke–and made changes in herself.)

I worked at the senior table with Sharon from 4:30 to 6:00 on Monday, June 16.  I looked at Phil and Persephone’s container.  It was filling up with pennies!

I probably thought, “Please tell me people are voting for them because they deserve each other, not because they make a great couple!–which they don’t.”  I kept thinking, “It should say Phil and Nyssa, not Phil and Persephone!” Ugh, stupid residual pain.

Then Persephone came along and saw how full it was.  She said, “Oh, wow, look at that.”  She chuckled.  “I think I know who nominated us.  I’m going to have to get after him for that.”

This depressed me even more.  I thought I was finally getting over Phil, especially after my wonderful Christmas Break–but this threw me into a relapse.

I told Helene all this as she drove me back to my apartment in her minivan on a cold day.  There in the apartment parking lot, as usual, sat Phil’s minivan, close by my bedroom window.

I hated coming out of my apartment in the morning and finding it still there.  Just like John Cusack’s character in the movie High Fidelity, all sorts of horrible images popped into my head of Phil having sex with Persephone all night long.  I hoped he stayed in Dirk’s room, not hers.

(She later told me they never had sex, though he essentially lived with her and her roommate because his home life had grown intolerable.)

Anyway, I pointed out Phil’s Dodge Caravan to Helene.  She charged at it with her minivan.  She’d speed toward it, then slow down, turn around, and speed toward it again.  We giggled.

I don’t remember who won Hunk and Honey, but I do know it wasn’t Phil and Persephone.  I don’t think I even knew the couple.

Cast of Characters (Work in Progress)

Table of Contents

Freshman Year

September 1991:

October 1991:

November 1991:

December 1991: Ride the Greyhound
January 1992: Dealing with a Breakup with Probable NVLD
February 1992:

March 1992: Shawn: Just Friends or Dating?

April 1992: Pledging, Prayer Group–and Peter’s Smear Campaign

May 1992:

Sophomore Year 

Summer 1992:

September 1992:

October 1992–Shawn’s Exasperating Ambivalence:

November 1992:

December 1992:

January 1993:

February 1993:

March 1993:

April 1993:

May 1993:

Summer 1993: Music, Storm and Prophetic Dreams

September 1993:

October 1993:

November 1993:

December 1993:

January 1994:

February 1994:

March 1994:

April 1994:

Senior Year 

June 1994–Bits of Abuse Here and There:

July & August 1994:

January 1995:

February 1995:

March 1995:

April 1995:

May 1995:


Response to mansplaining denials of sexual harassment

Someone on my Facebook shared this webpage, Next Time Someone Says Women Aren’t Victims Of Harassment, Show Them This.  As I posted on Facebook when re-sharing it,

I was actually viciously sexually harassed online in front of my “friend” Richard, yet he still claimed it was not sexual harassment, that it wasn’t “real” because it was online, and that I needed to get over it.  His wife Tracy even went online while this happened, and started joking around with my harassers, and even invited them to her house!

Then he continued to be friends with the people who did it, tried to convince me these people were okay, and thought I was “ridiculous” for not wanting to hear him talk about these people around me.  He said he has other friends who can handle this kind of “joking.”

We’re not friends anymore, and this was one of many things contributing to that….Since he witnessed it, I wanted him to publicly stand up for me against these people, tell them to stop, and then make them apologize.  Not just sit there.

To these things I wrote on Facebook, my friends responded:

“cyber bullying isn’t real bullying either then I suppose?  And cyber sex with minors isn’t real pedophilia is it??  The one who needs to get over it is the person who wants to diminish what your truth is.  If you feel like you were victimized then you were.”  (my old friend Mike)

“what the h*?  Also, that his wife participated is equally disturbing but all too common.”  (old college classmate Persephone)

I replied,

“Oh yeah, he also told me he had other friends who would go in that particular chat room with him, and could handle that kind of ‘joking.’  Making me sound like I’m just too sensitive.  Yet for some time afterward, I felt dirty because of the things they said.”

Persephone wrote,

“ew, that SUCKS – and so much wth?  The ‘you’re being too sensitive’ is such a go-to from narcissists, usually when they’re enjoying your pain.  🙁  ”

For the full story, see here and here.

It is so good to finally tell my friends this happened, after years of silence.  It is so GOOD to get validation from my friends, instead of treating me like I’m just too sensitive.

I mean, come on, these guys were making lewd and disgusting comments about my genitals, and I’m too sensitive?  As the above linked webpage notes,

So what can you do…?…Believe us! Don’t deny or minimize our experiences!…

Recognize what harassment looks like, and speak up when this happens. Whenever it’s safe for you, be the guy who shuts these a**holes down.

Turn ‘not all men’ into a force for good: Let harassers know that not all men share their toxic views, that most men aren’t like them. This is just as important when the people they harass aren’t around!

The webpage assumes that most men are NOT like this, just don’t realize what’s happening because it doesn’t happen when the husbands/boyfriends are there.  But it tells how men can step up and help curb the problem, by speaking up against the harasser.

The webpage explains how sexual harassment of women shows a sense of male ownership, as if women are objects and their attractiveness–or lack thereof–is up to the harasser.

Just as my harassers said things like, “I like my girlfriends hairless.”

Um….Considering I said absolutely nothing to you and am married and have no desire to be your girlfriend, who asked you what you think of women shaving their genitalia??!!  If you like this, that’s your business, but it has absolutely nothing to do with me or whether or not I am “desirable.”  Or worthwhile as a person.

As is written in this article,

When he finally gave me his answer, I was disappointed. He said he trolled/bullied people because it was an outlet for him to relieve stress. He said he didn’t view the people as real, or what he was doing as anything other than a joke, and if it hurt feelings, “those people have bigger problems and it’s not my fault.”

We all know that we’re living in an age where it’s easy to post something online and have a lot of well-meaning people assume that it’s real. I know this could very well be an elaborate hoax. But for the sake of argument, let’s assume this is real.

Here’s the thing—this Reddit post might be fake, but I guarantee you that there are tons and tons of trolls doing exactly what she described her husband doing, who probably have wives, girlfriends and children who have no idea they’re sitting online in the middle of the night stalking people on social media and telling them to commit suicide.

She’s pregnant and she just discovered her husband aka the father-to-be of her child is telling women online to kill themselves.

Holy shit. His comments to her are extremely telling about the kind of person who engages in the trolling many of us have come to know in these parts.

He dehumanizes women and the other people he trolls online to the point that he doesn’t even see them as “real.”


Reblog: 5 Sneaky things Narcissists do to take advantage of you

This post by Shahida Arabi sums up how narcs take advantage of you.  I found it in my list of “related posts from across the web” to approve for a post I revised yesterday.

First of all, she differentiates between the popular use of the term–vanity and self-absorption–and the actual disorder.

And I found it all very familiar, using it to describe to my husband just what Richard did.  Though it can also apply to others in my life whom I have identified as narcissists, such as my abusive ex Phil.  For example:

The idealization phase (which often happens most strongly during the early stages of dating or a relationship) consists of putting you on a pedestal, making you the center of his/her world, being in contact with you frequently, and showering you with flattery and praise. You are convinced that the narcissist can’t live without you and that you’ve met your soulmate.

Be wary of: constant texting, shallow flattery and wanting to be around you at all times. This is a technique known as “love-bombing” and it is how most victims get sucked in: they are flattered by the constant attention they get from the narcissist.

You may be fooled into thinking that this means a narcissist is truly interested in you, when in fact, he or she is interested in making you dependent on their constant praise and attention.

The devaluation phase is subsequent to this idealization phase, and this is when you’re left wondering why you were so abruptly thrust off the pedestal.

The narcissist will suddenly start to blow hot and cold, criticizing you, covertly and overtly putting you down, comparing you to others, stonewalling you, emotionally withdrawing from you and giving you the silent treatment when you’ve failed to meet their extreme “standards.”

Since the “hot” aspect of this phase relies on intermittent reinforcement in which the narcissist gives you inconsistent spurts of the idealization phase throughout, you become convinced that perhaps you are at fault and you can “control” the narcissist’s reactions.

You are mislead into thinking that if you just learn not to be so “needy” or “clingy,” the narcissist will reward you with the loving behavior he or she demonstrated in the beginning.

These are words that narcissists often use to demean victims when abuse victims mourn the loss of the idealization phase or react normally to being provoked.

It’s a way to maintain control over your legitimate emotional reactions to their stonewalling, emotional withdrawal and inconsistency.

…The narcissist makes you seem like the needy one as you react to his or her withdrawal and withholding patterns even though the expectations of frequent contact were established early on in the relationship by the narcissist himself.

Richard did this to me.  For two months, as he lived with us, he spent nearly ALL his time with me–talking to me, watching TV with me.

And before he moved to town, he would occasionally spend hours talking to me on the phone.  Just before he moved here, he talked my ear off, calling so often that my ears actually rang.  (All platonic and my hubby was okay with it.)

It gave me the impression that he loved to be with me, because what else would I think?  I thought he was drawn to me, that we were two peas in a pod, that our platonic bond was secure and impenetrable, that we were close, true friends for life.

He made me addicted to his company.  For a shy, quiet person who struggles to make friends and was very lonely, this was a special, golden friendship.

(And before anybody brings that up, I don’t believe in “emotional affairs” or that this is somehow “inappropriate” because we are of opposite sexes.  That’s a bunch of bull dreamed up by insecure people. 

“Emotional affair” is just psychobabble making mountains out of molehills, and being so controlling that your spouse’s very thoughts cannot be his/her own. 

It’s perfectly fine to have close friendships and spend lots of time talking to friends–even when you’re married–even when you’re of two different sexes!  That’s called friendship, and romance is a separate thing that, hopefully, includes friendship. 

And, well, we lived in the same house for months, so spending time together was perfectly natural.  Also, over time I learned that Richard loves to talk and has lots of male and female friends. 

So while I had every reason to believe that he loved to spend time with and talk with me, I had no reason to see this as “inappropriate” somehow. 

We NEVER spoke of being in love or wanting to leave our spouses, nor did we “sext”; it was always platonic. 

Caring about a friend does not make you a cheater.  My marriage was never at risk, nor did we take the emotional place of each others’ spouses or neglect our own households. 

It has only been the crap I have found the past several years on the Internet, which calls this somehow “wrong.” 

Various sources before then–TV shows, magazine articles–spoke of being a modern, grown-up, feminist woman who trusts her husband even with other females.

In real life this has never been a concern for my husband or me, or our friends, so finding such insecure crap on the Net was shocking. 

I have also found plenty of writers on the Net who see no problem whatsoever with chatting with your opposite-sex friend for hours! 

And yes, I’ve had people on the Net scold me as if there were something wrong with having a close friend of the opposite gender, and I’ve dealt with Tracy’s obsessive jealousy over this, so this isn’t just paranoia.)

Then when his wife moved in, I got tossed aside and forgotten–and he and his wife both began to treat me like there was something wrong with me for wanting to spend time with my BFF.

He began to poke fun at me, using all sorts of words that hurt and confused me, while she began abusing and bullying me for being shy and quiet.  Meanwhile, I had no clue what happened.

But discovering narcissistic personality disorder explained everything at last.

What did he get for it?  A combination of narcissist supply and our generosity in his poverty.

Some people complain that the term is being used too much, and labels people as monsters.

But for those of us who have been through this, the term is an explanation and salvation.  It saves us from constantly beating ourselves up and wondering what happened.

As I wrote in the comments of this blog post,

I have no sympathy for my recent abuser/bully because the day she ripped me apart without justification, she wrote on Facebook, “I’m having a GREAT day!”

Then when she discovered my blog, she sent me a message saying I’m “not all there” and that she and her husband “had a good laugh.”

Then they went to MY PRIEST to complain about me, and I’m pretty sure I heard her use the word “self-righteous.” If that’s not sociopathy, then what is??!!

As the blogger replied,

Oh yes – those that ‘delight’ in others being in pain and think it’s ‘funny’ and ‘laugh’ about it, are showing very high narcissistic traits. Possibly sociopathic.

They are simply delighting in evil.

She also wrote here about how the attacks of narcissists are essentially the same as childhood bullies on the playground, acting out of an insecure ego, giggling at you, getting others to help gang up on you.  But it is childish, immature behavior.

And in response to my description of Tracy laughing at me for my blog this other blogger wrote,

…Yes, anyone who wants to ‘laugh’ at what is written etc, is highly immature and this is a classic sigh of narcissism.

Narcs have an emotional maturity of around aged 4, as my doctor & I discussed and she said this insight I had was correct.  They are emotionally children, in adult bodies.  Yes. the internet is full of them, sadly.

I first looked into narcissism when Sam Vaknin’s writings linked narcissism with abuse, and yes, I knew firsthand that Tracy was abusive.  So I knew she was a narcissist because she abuses everyone: her children, friends, her husband, me.

But discovering Richard’s narcissism was unexpected–and helped me on the way to freedom from the hurt and pain.  It also explains Phil’s behavior years ago.

So I will use the label if it fits: if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, etc. etc.

I’m not a psychiatrist, neither do I have anything to do with prescribing or requiring treatment, so I’m not making a “diagnosis,” and my opinion will not toss Richard/Tracy into a doctor’s office or affect their employment etc. etc.

I am certainly allowed an opinion on what a diagnosis would be if they ever got one, just as I have opinions on whether I have a flu or a cold, or whether I am an introvert.  Also, the “label” is not about demonizing people.

The “label” is about learning how to recognize abusers before we’re victimized again–and about letting go of the narc as we realize he never really loved us.  These are both good, healthy things that take us out of our “victimhood.”  And then I pass along my lessons to my readers.

Back to the original post:

During the discard phase, the narcissist abandons his or her victim in the most horrific, demeaning way possible to convince the victim that he or she is worthless.

….Although “normal” relationships can end in a similar this manner as well, the difference is that the narcissist often makes it clear he or she intends to hurt you by giving you the silent treatment, spreading rumors about you, cheating on you, insulting you and disrespecting you during the discard phase.

Unlike “normal” partners, they ensure that you never have closure, and if you decide to leave them, they might decide to stalk you to show that they still have control.

Phil did that, spreading rumors about me, telling people I was abusing him so they would scold me and try to force me to do Phil’s will.  And the insults and disrespect I got from Richard and Tracy, fit as well.

And yes, I’m the one who left Richard/Tracy, but they stalk me online to this day.  Any time I tried to block them, or begged them to leave me alone, they came in more fervently–even though they are nominally “Orthodox Christians” and were going through Lent with me at the time.

There is more good stuff in that blog post that I identified with: the gaslighting (trying to make me think I imagined the abuse or his discarding me), the smear campaign, the narc needing a “harem” so he keeps changing his persona in front of your eyes.  The false self/true self.  That was Richard to a T.

Today, my husband decided to stop being friends with someone who he thinks is a narcissist.  I hesitate to use the label, because most people are not narcs, and I don’t want to go label-crazy, like people often do after finding out about this stuff.

But I had just read him Arabi’s blog post last night, with comments about how it all sounded like Richard and Tracy, and he also sees it as matching his own experience with this other person.

And in the course of discussion over that, I noted how Richard and Tracy claimed I was not “welcoming” of Tracy when the whole family lived in our house, while Hubby was very welcoming.

Hubby and I both noted that no, Hubby was very UNwelcoming: He retreated to the basement every night for hours, playing on the computer, while I was the welcoming one, not “deserting my post” as he put it, spending those same hours upstairs with Richard and Tracy.  All Hubby did, was provide a place to stay and not kick them out.

We both see this as gaslighting.  And I believe the reason for this gaslighting was that I recognized Tracy as an abuser, while Hubby was away and oblivious to most everything she did.  So I got the full-on narcissist treatment, while he got treated kindly (mostly, up until the end).

In any case, I’m not getting a narc treatment from this other person, while Hubby feels he’s the one getting it now.  I’m not close friends with that person, who very clearly has a huge system of local friends and family who fit into that slot already for him.

(This is one reason why I have trouble making close friends in Fond du Lac: People tend to have friends and family already here and long-established.  I don’t feel like anybody needs me.)

But unlike Tracy, Hubby and I do not force each other to be friends with all the same people.  If a friend of mine does not get along with Hubby, Hubby is free to let that one go–while I am free to continue the friendship.  And vice versa.  I even told Hubby he could be friends with Richard and Tracy, but he did not want to because of how they acted.

The way to peace and quiet, is to not force each other to share friends.  Sometimes your husband’s friends will rub you the wrong way, or your friend will mix with him like oil and water.

That does not mean the friend is bad and must be jettisoned.  It just means not everybody gets along with everybody.  I knew this, but unfortunately, Tracy did not, and keeps trying to force friendships with Richard’s friends.  Which means he has lost several friends besides me.

But Hubby and I don’t do things that way.  That is the way to peace.

Though on the other hand, Richard’s narcissism only became clear to me BECAUSE of Tracy’s draconian rule.  I did not even know what a narcissist was, other than someone who loves himself a bit too much.

Reblog: Are the wealthy too rich?

Are the wealthy too rich? by Oliver Thomas

Thomas pulls in examples from three major world religions–Jewish, Christian and Muslim–to demonstrate that the rich can indeed get too rich.  Some quotes:

So maybe economic guru Thomas Piketty is right. His book, Capital in the Twenty-First Century, parses hundreds of years of tax records to arrive at the disturbing conclusion that financial inequality is in a full-out gallop, with the relative wealth of the top 1% in America rapidly approaching that of the top 1% in 18th century France. (Right before they got their heads chopped off.)

….History teaches that when financial inequity reaches a tipping point, someone turns the game board over and demands a re-deal.

Democratic capitalism might have been the world’s greatest engine for widespread economic prosperity, but the greed of a few is threatening the system for everyone.

Those lucky few do well to remember the homespun wisdom of my former law partner. Pigs get fat; hogs get slaughtered.

As the old saying goes, they’ll be first against the wall when the revolution comes….

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