Monday, March 19, 2012

Displaced Anger

     As a preface of spring, today my post will be a little bit different.

     It was a beautiful Sunday and we had incredible weather for March; warm, sunny, with the promise of spring is the gentle breeze.  It was the type of day that you cannot help but feel happy.  I was doing errands with my daughter in preparation for her trip to Israel and we popped into CVS for some travel toiletries.  On the way out, I crossed the small parking lot to my car.  To preface this, my car was parked front end in, against a small curb on the side of a grassy area that ran parallel to a secondary road, albeit labeled Route 135W. 
     As I backed out, I heard this horrific honking.  I looked around…no one was behind me.  I wasn’t blocking anyone.  I was pulling into the correct traffic placement for this small lot, on the right hand side, preparing to drive to the exit.  In front of me was a car, in my lane, however it was facing me.  Traveling in that direction, that car rightfully should have been parallel to me in the lane to my left.  Behind the wheel was a fairly young looking man – perhaps about 30.  Leaning on his horn, he grabbed the handicapped sign that hung to his window and began shaking it.  OK – he was handicapped.  But as far as I knew, a handicapped sign gives you permission to park in the handicapped spaces.  It doesn’t give you permission to have fantasies of driving on the opposite side of the road, pretending you are in London.  Nor does it give you permission for unnecessary rudeness.  And he’s honking his horn and shaking this sign and yelling.  Hmmm…WTF???   
     Still, I couldn’t be mean to this poor delusional man, confused as to the meaning of his handicapped sign.  So, I “illegally” pulled to the left lane and blew him a kiss before driving off.  OK – perhaps it was a little antagonistic, seeing the unexplained rage he was putting out…but it defused any anger he may have provoked with his unreasonable display of temper.  And maybe he would contemplate it later and be grateful that someone blew him kisses instead of blowing him off with a well displayed finger.  

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Get A Life, You Stalker - ‘Cause You Can’t Have Mine

Stalking??  I mean, really???  For over 16 years??  He didn’t show this much fascination with me when we were married….so why now?  The life a narcissist…..they just cannot wrap their head around how someone could not want them.   My ex is the consummate narcissist – in fact, I truly believe if you look up the word “narcissist” in the dictionary – you will see his picture.  
During our marriage, he was in constant search of replenishing his narcissistic supply….i.e. looking for other women.  Perhaps they were more suggestible, or more willing to stroke his ego, as he only revealed his charm.  But they weren’t his wife…the mother of his children, the one he was legally committed to and the one who eventually threw him out of his bed and home.
As with personality disorders, they sometimes merge.  It’s call comorbidity.  It this particular case, my ex’s narcissism merged with anti-social personality disorder; and often referred to as a sociopathic narcissist.  It’s a frightening amalgamation of two highly destructive conditions. It can cause a mere stalker to seek more vengeance than just knowledge of what is going on in the life of the one who rejected him.
But how much energy can one put into focusing on someone else’s life?  After 16 years, why hasn’t the stalking and harassment ended?  What is the goal of this narcissistic sociopath??   Many lie awake in fear of the next move but I couldn’t just waste time, thinking of him thinking of me.  I live my life and consider his stalking and harassment, just a little bump in the road, as I live my life with gusto, except for that pesky little irritating mosquito of a man.  It takes a little bit of savvy awareness to avoid getting stung…but after that, the feeling is just to swat this annoyance away.  
My favorite music group is the Beatles.  One of their lesser known pieces is the perfect anthem for the pathetically empty shell of a man who cannot get his own life because he only wants the life of the one who he has lost.       

With thanks to Lennon/McCartney

I'm a loser, I'm a loser, And I'm not what I appear to be

Of all the love I have won, and have lost;  There is one love I should never have crossed
She was a girl in a million my friend; I should have known she would win in the end

I'm a loser; And I lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser ; And I'm not what I appear to be

Although I laugh and I act like a clown; Beneath this mask I am wearing a frown
My tears are falling like rain from the sky; Is it for her or myself that I cry?

I'm a loser; And I lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser; And I'm not what I appear to be

What have I done to deserve such a fate?; I realize I have left it too late
And so it's true pride comes before a fall; I'm telling you so that you won't lose all

I'm a loser; And I lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser; And I'm not what I appear to be

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

The Meaning of the Blog Title

As there seemingly is a reason for everything, there is an explanation on why my blog is titled, “No More Fearful Whispers”.  A synonym for whisper is a rumor.  Terrified is another synonym for fearful.  When you are whispering, there is doubt in your words.  Fearful whispers result in perhaps not even believing what you are saying, as the terror of being discovered is so great.  If you can’t believe your own words, how can anyone else?

While in the throes of an abusive relationship, you live in fear and solitude, unable to utter your secret except some furtive whispers to someone you’ve managed to keep close.  

In my book, “…Until You Die”: The Narcissists’ Promise, there are so many times for whispering…the fear of being discovered for breaking the rules, talking on the telephone, confiding in someone else, the stressful sadness of the situation, the helplessness of being almost being forced into an unwanted abortion…and the brave planning to not allow that to happen.     

A very wise quote from Oprah Winfrey says, "In speaking the words, you release the shame.”   Thus my book; thus my blog.   

And I am most sure that you escape from the control your abuser has tried to maintain as you boldly reclaim your own spirit and fearlessly shout out, “I am a survivor of a batterer!”    

The last time I spoke to the batterer, he asserted, “I never abused you,” uttered randomly over the phone.  Did he read my mind… or just hear the confidence in my voice?  To quote the late John Lennon, “I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me.”  Since a sociopathic narcissist considers his partner property or chattel, and the realization that although he may have had her once; ultimately she left him…and that drains his narcissistic supply no matter how vehement his denying declarations may be, agonizingly confirming that yes indeed, this bird has flown.

So boldly proclaim yourself as a SURVIVOR.  Never call yourself a victim.  There is no need to fearfully whisper about the abuse you endured…because you are here and you survived.    

Tuesday, March 6, 2012


LOL - this wasn't a word or acronym when I was growing up.  Meaning “Laugh Out Loud” was something we just did years ago, and with gusto.  But, LOL has become more than just an acronym used by the youngest to the oldest...even by my 73 year old Uncle when he wants to express amusement.  Not sure if he also uses or is even aware of ROTFLMAO - another acronym that I admit to using...albeit mentally thinking of each word, as it doesn't just roll off my typing fingers as easily as LOL.  But, I've digressed...

What I really wanted to "blog" about is how useful LOL can be in confrontational e-mails or posting.  As a writer, I am very cognizant of creating a post/message/response that can later come up and bite me in my proverbial ass.  I firmly adhere to the old adage, “if you wouldn’t write it and sign it – then don’t say it”.  

Which brings me to my topic, and how three simple letters – LOL – quelled intense anger and a gut wrenching ache to carve some vile verbiage as an answer to a post entirely capable of growing monstrous rows of butt-biting teeth.  It began with a response to my book promotion on a neighboring state’s facebook page which addressed unfairness in the family court; however, undisclosed was the routine denial of the existence female victims of domestic violence.  Instead, the general belief was that women were vengeful liars; and any story, documentation, article, picture, announcement, attestation, or death certificate of a female victim held no weight.  Thus, began an unwarranted attack against me, (by a woman!) for my book advertisement; first with false accusations of owning a male-bashing facebook page, then advising against purchasing my book, and finally rapid fire interrogatory.  I took the high road and kindly explained that my book was a case study of someone (yes, a man) with personality disorders (and a disclaimer that the P.D. didn’t have a monopoly on just the male species.)   Despite my non-confrontational attempts, the woman was incapable of ingesting anything other than her programmed agenda of “women lie and men are victims”, as she snidely remarked my polite efforts were merely a “nice try” and advised seeking therapy.  Wow!  I felt some heat (not associated with my “tropical moments”) but I kindly posted my condolences and wished her a nice day.  I've learned that people with unbridled and unfounded anger also have a need to "get in the last word".  So, when Miss CB replied by calling me “defensive” and patronizingly suggested I "needed to confront my feelings”, my blood reached its boiling temperature.   Did it really matter to me who got in the last words?  No – not really. But her haughty remarks, despite my hopes for solidarity on tragedies inflicted on women AND men within an unjust judicial system and defusing a gender war, had me fuming.  Although her remarks weren’t bright or insightful – they were solely meant to encourage anger and the words of a fool were doing just that.  After a few deep cleansing breaths, I realized how ridiculous I found her words and I had to respond, and convey my feelings.  And that's exactly what I did; with a simple LOL and a wink.  

That was 54 hours ago.  Is she too angry to write back?  Has the steam has gone out of her sails.  Maybe she realized that we really are on the same team of fighting judicial injustice.  In truth, I really don’t care…because of part of me, imaging her face after reading LOL ;) ….is ROTFLMAO.