Saturday, August 20, 2011

What happened.

The first time I questioned her sanity was when I saw her engaged in a conversation with the mirror. I have done this, but I would be embarrassed if someone walked in the room. Not her. She just giggled and flexed her smile and never left her world of being flattered by some guy that wasn't there. One time she was doing this in her rear view mirror
on the freeway and asked me to smell her breath so she would know if she was going to fog the guy she was meeting.
She would sit at her dressing table and put on make up and giggle like a school girl. It was unnerving.
She would leave for the day and come home before my father and coach me the story that we were to tell him.
We lived with my grandmother while her charges were pending. My father found a new job and begged the family dry for her attorney. They granted bail and I started a new school. I worked hardest at becoming wall paper.
It was close to normal but the under current was not predictable. Her mother was too polite. Every one was but them. They carried on like nothing had happened. One was trying to wring the neck of the other, or they were having sex so loud no one could sleep. She never slowed down. Her appetite for affairs and trysts were not human. His denial never ran dry. We were gearing up to fight for her life. And she was fucking any guy she could get alone.



As time went by and I gleaned the tidbits I could. I finally put together the whole story.
My father worked for Sears and Roebuck remodeling retail stores. Each remodel took from six months to a year and we lived in that town for the duration. My fathers boss was some hustler down at the track and always carried a roll of cash with him. After my father went to Denver to gear up for a new project, my mother took her day shift boyfriend down to Dallas. She was also sleeping with my fathers boss and they were to meet down in Dallas.
In Dallas she called the boss and he was to fuck her at a motel in Dallas. She had the kid come at them in the parking lot with a gun acting like a random robber. He was to rob the boss, take his roll and leave with no one but them the wiser. They didn't count on the boss slapping the kid around. Which is what he did. The kid ran and she claimed hysteria and drove home and picked the kid up along the way. After they made it to the house she called the boss back and told him she had composed herself and to come over and finish what they had started. The boss came over. The kid met him in the driveway with a gun and tire iron and started beating the boss. Boss is overwhelmed and takes off running. Kid empties his pistol in the bosses back  killing him. Bloody sheets. Body in car. And a drive to Denver while the police flew up and waited. Cops had this one solved before we crossed state lines.




I let myself believe that being with my father in Denver was the end of it.

She has a short leash with him and here he was. No matter what else she can not get too far without him yanking her back. There were friend's from Dallas at Castle Rock. They were drinking something called grasshoppers and I was not allowed. I slept in the basement on the top bunk of a bed. Sometime after I fell asleep the people living there woke me and had me get dressed. My father came in and we were off to Dallas. The police had come for my mother and something about mistaking her for someone else. I really didn't connect this with that. At least for now. By the time we got to Dallas I knew more than I wanted to know. Stitching together his mumbling rants. I knew this was about the other. There is trouble that can't be out ran, and we were in it. We made it to Dallas and parked by the jail.



Sunday night and KLIF radio was broadcasting a story every twenty minutes about my mother being flown back to answer for the murder of some man with that guy from Kansas City. They were being held without bail because it was expected the state would seek the death penalty. I didn't understand much. I didn't need a program to tell me that having her being on the news wasn't a good thing. "Whole lotta love" was on the charts then. The trippy part in the middle still makes me squirm.

Kansas City was no place for an eight year old.

Crazy people surround themselves with the same. She is no exception. Anybody that wanted to come over and do what ever they liked was welcome. Just be gone before the husband comes in from work. They would talk about sticking a gun in someones face that wasn't giving them due respect. Pets were fed liquor and thrown in cold showers to sober up. It was endless fascination for them to watch a guinea pig stagger and end up with pneumonia and die.
 Kids were never to interfere with adults amusing themselves. This was still in the kids should be seen and not heard days.
 Leaving Kansas City after my fathers work was done was an eleventh hour pardon from execution. I breathed a sigh of relief entering the freeway to leave town.
The reason we pulled off the highway about as soon as we got on was standing in front of the coffee shop waiting on us.
Shit!
Inches from a clean get away.
Her day shift guy got in and we got back on the road. Dad was in Denver waiting, but we were not headed there. We were going to Dallas. Our home town. No explanations. The house was closed while we were on the road. And we were headed to Dallas. In Dallas there were whispered phone conversations. They came in. They went out. I was filled with dread. Nothing good was coming from any of this. I could see this and I was eight.


Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Welcome to the club

I am the adult child of a sociopath parent. Until now I have been satisfied in my search for kindred spirits by lurking on blog's of others and chiming in there when I wanted to be heard. There are many blog's from Acon's that are very well done and I felt no need to reinvent the wheel. What I have not found on many sites is the sense of outrage that we as humans should be feeling when our lives or the lives of loved ones are irrevocable damaged by these people. The blog creators exude this sense of injustice from every pore. But posters from the lessor personality disordered dilute the magnitude of the sickness some of us have endured and it isn't right. I don't know if people are sand bagging their experience, or that a mother wanting to lord over a daughters wedding to pick out china patterns is life shattering.
 Without diminishing what others have experienced, I would like to create a safe haven for those of us that have had to deal with someone that is truly a sociopath. Some of us have been forced to live with a sickness and evil so pure that it is impossible for others...even the children of the personality disordered to conceive. My attempts to broaden the spectrum of this evil light on other sites, is met with skepticism and indifference. I am sure that the members there have taken on the traits of the disordered and want to make each and every interaction a contest. I would make this a safe place for others to come and share their worst with no fear of having their experience diminished, discounted, or disbelieved. My mother really out did her self on the personality disordered front. She shot past narcissistic personality disorder and is right up in contention as queen of the sociopath's.
She was involved in a murder in the sixties and drove my father to suicide in the seventies.
 She says she has never done a single solitary thing in her life that is reprehensible or illegal. I disclaim not in the name of a pissing contest. But to let you know that judgment is something you will not find from me. Not from me and not here. If any one out there have walled themselves off for fear of being ostracized ..you will find no judgment here. You are in a safe place to speak.