Wednesday, February 8, 2012

One true thing.

 I can tell you one true thing. In all the semantics and hairsplitting of ACON"s and FOO's and GC's and NF's and any other acronym you choose, every one reading these words will one day be dead.
I think everyone is hoping to be somewhere else when it happens.
And I think the same way.
I haven't found it yet. But if there is a loop hole somewhere that will allow me to side step this foolishment, I am going to find it.
Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.
I am not so sure the personalty disordered among us are able to integrate the reality of this with how they live their lives.
My mother is close to 80. Her devotion to emergency room histrionics, and playing up to a multitude of doctors, had worked against her better health.
She is on blood thinners. Blood pressure med's.
She gets so many med's from so many doctors I couldn't keep track of them all. And this is before she threw my paperwork to keep track of it in the trash.
Yet the way she treats her family would make you think she is never going to die. I was the last one on board to help her and she let me have it with both gas-lit barrels.
This is where I will say that her insanity prevails over garden variety meanness.
She cut the last person that would attend to her needs and washed him out to sea. Like bilge-water  up and out the pipes.
People who have gotten the whiff of her having some money from the farm will quid pro quo her on the instant heir program. Small time lottery winners.
She now depends on the kindness of strangers.
A twenty first century Blanche Du Bois.
Hows that working out for you ma?
Your kids don't want the farm money.
Now that it's been tainted by your grubby dick beaters.












21 comments:

Lisa said...

Yeah! I think fear of death and fear in general plays a big part in something about these freaks. They don't act like they're afraid of anything. Some people say they feel fear but I've always got the sense that...it just isn't there. That's one of the things that doesn't make them like 'bratty kids'. They're not like little kids because they don't feel fear. They don't have a limit. They don't have a soul. They don't ACT LIKE people who are afraid.

I read this part in a book, the psychopath test, because I thought it would tell me something about fear. And it did! The experiment was giving shocks to a bunch of prison 'volunteers' (as much as you can call that 'volunteering' when you don't have anything to do but hang around in a cell), some psychopathic, some not. They told em they would shock em after the countdown from ten. The psychopaths? Didn't show any fear. They didn't tense up, they didn't sweat, they didn't anticipate it. And then they did it again. And it was the same thing.

We're an ocean. They're just a rock. They truly are dead inside. I guess that explains why they don't care about anything!

upsi said...

Hard as it may be for your mother to comprehend your limit (i.e. that she was able to drive even you off, climb out on limb, utilize saw) it's just as mind boggling to comprehend her grubby dickbeater ways (once again the bard of sociopathy turns a hellava phrase). What separates us in this incomprehensible divide, across which few seem to pass? Fear of death strikes me as quite plausible. Or conscience. or the ability to recognize multiple subjectivities. I'm sure there are tons I'm forgetting.

but whatever side you fall on, one day you will say "oh shit" right before you step in front of a truck, or seize up in the shower, or they'll pull the plug on you and you'll die with your family singing Irish carols around your bed. is one death better than the other? is a lonely miserable death any less than the one with the carols? I like to think that although we all die, what we have to die AS, the person that we are when we die - we brought that shit on ourselves.

Anonymous said...

I firmly believed the psychobitch 'mother' was gonna outlive me. Truly. She burned her way through her family of procreation, all 'friends', all neighbors, EVERYONE. Unreal. How is it possible to find yourself with out a SINGLE family member of YOUR 'creation' that will have a thing to do with you and not reflect, "Hmmm, what's the common denominator here?" How damn blind, how incredibly lacking in insight, introspection, any degree of realistic reflection on your life-how does one MISS all this? A "compilation" of your entire life, you've lived well over 70 yrs. headin' on the downside to 80 and there's NO comprehension of the horrors you've inflicted on others.....no ownership of one's own LIFE, choices, responsibilities, actions.

THEY DO NOT CHANGE. And the meds-OMG, the meds, the Health Care Professionals, the appointments, the "picking and fetching" etc. on their behalf. Mon Dieu. I don't want to, nor do I intend to or is it likely I'll live to a ripe old age. Stress truly is a killer and I'm living with the manifestations-which is why I don't want to live to a ripe old age. Not like this.

Sorry about the rant, but this post REALLY brings up so much for me......

TW

q1605 said...

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!”
― Hunter S. Thompson

q1605 said...

Yeah TW. I sent her a letter to that effect. How every one has bailed out on her and that maybe she might at least think about there being something wrong with her. That was about two and a half years ago. I will tell you what I got back from her.

Cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket cricket

Charity said...

I've done some genealogy research, and I've noticed that all of my ancestors have one thing in common: they are all dead. All but the Narcissistic Sociopath momster, that is. She's still kicking, in every sense of the word.

Joking aside, I did make an interesting discovery: my Nmother's Nmother descended from a Puritan couple who landed on Plymouth Rock in 1623 on the second ship that arrived bearing settlers after the Mayflower. That ship's arrival was the occasion of the first Thanksgiving.

Puritans... self-righteous religious zealots.... witchhunters... yes, it makes sense.

q1605 said...

I've done some genealogy research, and I've noticed that all of my ancestors have one thing in common: they are all dead. All but the Narcissistic Sociopath momster, that is. She's still kicking, in every sense of the word.

That's the spirit. If you'll notice my blog morphs into more jokes and poking fun. I put it out there, had some kind caring people listen and some of the self I might have been is coming out.
I don't think I'll ever be not broken. But I/we can be less so.

Charity said...

I don't think I'll ever be not broken, either. But I'm also not giving up on trying to heal. I've come a long way from where I was when I was at my most broken. And who knows, a miracle could happen. I could win the lottery, too.

What irks me are the people who've had 1, as in O*N*E, trauma happen to them, they were diagnosed with PTSD as a result, then they went on a healing journey rampage, and now they are totally CURED of their PTSD ~ and EVERYONE with PTSD will also be cured if you biy their book and follow their 10 easy steps.

Yay for them getting better, but in my opinion, one size does not fit all, because all PTSD is not alike.

q1605 said...

Broken is an extreme word. Different in a way you don't really like much of the time.
I didn't recognize that I might be fundamentally different from people until I was well into my 40's.
I didn't see me as a person who sabotaged himself.
But I got to a point and I realized that my whole approach to life is different.
Things that most take as a given are things I have to strive for.
It's like I had to work my ass off to get to their starting point.
I don't know if this makes sense.
Go up to the top of any blog you are on. There is that next blog tab.
Click on it and it random gets you to some one else's blog.
It usually someone who sounds like they are a paid endorsement for the good life.
"This is my blog about my journey with my 2.2 kids and my photography and my wonderful family and how I am loving life."
I can't relate.
And why do they get 24/7 bliss when I can't even rent the movie?

Elli G said...

Q,
this last comment made me tear up. True, I can't relate to all the happy life stuff either. Unfortunately, I am yet to come up with a good answer for when my toddler asks "y u sad mommy?"
I was taught life is pain, all people suck and being happy puts you in a very vulnerable position. I thought, why be happy? It's not comfortable...

q1605 said...

Yeah Elli I just put a savage Garden song up a few posts back and he is speaking in third person and he says that love is a journey that she just doesn't have a map for.

Elli G said...

Thanks Q,
I’ve seen this post. Last week I finished reading all of Lisette’s posts on House of Mirrors, so now I’ve started with your blog. My awakening started last summer but you people finally helped me see that my momster belongs under that same category. She is a malignant fartissist. She is not even up for the term narcissist, there were times when we were alone and her mask wiggled so much that I could see how much she hated herself as well.

So where can I buy one of those tickets to the moon? I’d give it to the freak and tell her it’s a free excursion to the holy Land; oh the devoted Christian that she is! Just make it one way…Or maybe not, she might alter the orbit of the moon just to crash it into my apartment. At least I know she’ll give it a shot.`

q1605 said...

Elli Between me and Lisette we both run the gauntlet of the Narcissistic Spectrum, experience-wise . People that don't like me or this blog seem to think I am trying to shout over them or get into a "pissing contest" over who has the worst parent. If this were a contest I lost. I would give everything I to have come from a normal family and non chaotic parents. But it's too late for that.

q1605 said...

And Elli, Let me catch you up on my mother. She died on October second 2012. My sister and I were not told about her death until sometime in January of 2013. We found out about it when my ex-wife filed my mothers will leaving her all the money from the sale of our family farm.

Elli G said...

I feel what you are saying. Last week I revisited a pedopsychiatrist to whom the bitch took me when I was 16 because she was forced by one of my high school teachers. I asked him if he had it figured out that my momster was so rotten and his answer was: “If it’s any consolation to you, you are not the only one.” I told him no, it was a consolation that I was finally sure I was not the crazy one. He just nodded. Now what you said would fit perfectly right after my answer: “I would give everything I have to come from a normal family and non chaotic parents. But it's too late for that.”

Q, I like your blog and Lisette’s too. Even though I don’t know you I feel you are closer to me than any friends I might have had in real life, which were not many. It would be either dickheads looking for supply or kind of normal who were attacked by the momster. Not allowed to have normal friends. Ever. Fuck the bitch, just fuck her…

Congrats on the Barbarian’s death. I hope it was painful and lonely.

q1605 said...

Elli while we are getting acquainted I would like to clarify something. In the beginning I wrote all my own posts. It's not hard to do with the wealth of material my sociopathic mother gave me/us. But in 2013 I had what is tantamount to a stroke. I had to learn how to walk again and even though it didn't effect my speech much I am sort of a muted person compared to what I was before. My wife says she likes me better this way. I think it's that if we have an argument it's pretty well over before I can think of what I want to say. But after that time you will see me leaning on pasting things I like from other people and a preponderance of songs rather than text. Most people tell me they can't tell the difference but inside my head and looking out I think the difference is glaring.

q1605 said...

Back to the business at hand, I would say my mother hid her insanity very well. Her effect on the family is something I would compare to termites eating your house out from under you and you not realizing it until one day the roof and walls collapse around you. People would visit her and gush over how much they liked her. One guy my mother had an affair with and pretty well broke up their marriage told my mother that she knew they were up to no good. Said she couldn't prove it, but she knew. One other time my mother had a couple coming over to visit and she met them at the door in a peek a boo negligee. The wife had a fit and left and never went back. Other than that I think she had everyone fooled. Her long lasting effect on my life was that we were always starting over. My father thought pulling up stakes and moving would reel her in so me and my sister were always starting over at a new, school, my dad was always between jobs, moving in a new (old) house selling cars to finance the move etc basically living like itinerant farm workers. Thats what seems so confusing today. Her hijinks made her life just as chaotic as ours but nothing seemed to slow her down.

Elli G said...

Sorry to hear you had to go through more so recently. But I would have never known, hadn’t you told me. I guess it already shows that English is not my native language, and so it is hard for me to pick up differences in writing style.

“I would say my mother hid her insanity very well.” Makes two of them… Mine two. From the stories that I’ve read about yours, it seems that no one ever tried to do anything to slow her down. Why would she do it by herself then? In my language we have a saying that would translate into something like this: “Cheers to the dumbass!” I think that’s all she could think of whenever manipulating anyone. Better than booze for her.

q1605 said...

That's one of my key tactics to avoid going crazy. I just keep telling myself that with everything she did there was an adult near by watching her that did nothing to stop her. I would never have guessed English is not your first language. I have compensated around my halting affect well enough that people in the grocery store it seems try to run me over in the parking lot and inside with their carts because I don't limp and I look like a functioning person. It's probably all in my head.

q1605 said...

You have a good read on my mother by asking why would she stop or slow down if there were never any consequences for her boorish behavior. Thats it right there. She had a stroke and spent her spare time successfully keeping me pissed off 24/7 after I moved in to care for her. I let her do what she wanted until she got so bad there was no living with her. After a point it just wasn't worth it to make a point with her. She would argue with a statue until it would run out and throw itself off a roof. Well she is dead now and she can take it up with someone else. When I found out she had died I drove to our plot at the cemetery and literally stood on her grave. That was the only way it seemed real to me.

q1605 said...

Elli you would think from what I write about her that she was a boozy old flirt. But I never saw her drunk and she never did drugs. She was just such a bitch we all got high to be able to function around her. If she abused substances she couldn't stand there clucking like a chicken at any one that had too much to drink or smoke etc. . The guy she rooked into robbing the other guy used to take benzedrine inhalers and coke the speed out of them and shoot them up in our bathroom, but she seemed OK with that. I used to see them stumbling out with spots of blood on their shirts from the injection site. For some reason they all wore oxford shirts and the dots of blood stood out from a mile away.