While I’m not sure exactly why it’s so hard to let go of the anger after narcissistic abuse, much less abuse of ANY kind, what I do know is that speaking from personal experience, I ALLOWED the “THING” that temporarily made me ITS little bitch to anger me longer than IT deserved to!As I’ve worked through, grown, and thrived in the wake of the years of not just my lifelong HOOVERING narcissist’s damage report, but the damage inflicted upon me by my malignant narcissist “father“, it’s the stoic mindsets and principles that I’ve drawn strength from and adhered to the most. As such … NO MORE! No one gets to take up space in my head in ANY regard unless I fucking say so!
As for “Hoovery MacHooverson”, the “two grapes and a ‘lil cocktail pickle BOY dick in between ‘em”that’s been slithering after me like a Jean-Claude Van DAMN actual vacuum cleaner for going on 30 years now, my disdain for it avails itself in my head as comic relief at this point, NOT anger. Although it wasn’t ever really “my master”, because I was just to weak, vulnerable, and uneducated at the time to realize that the power it once had over me was all MY doing, not its, because NO ONE can pull your reins unless you ALLOW them to do so, I gave it the power to believe it was “my master” long e-fucking-NOUGH!
I’m not gonna lie, folks, but if and when the day ever comes that I get news that it has finally kicked it and slithered on back to hell with its own kind, I’m going to laugh my FUCKING ass off. That’s awful, right? Yah, don’t worry. I’ll take my medicine for that flagrant disregard for “life apparent” when I meet my Maker. That being said, I’m just thinking there WILL be grace for not giving two FUCKS whether the spawned that walks among us lives, dies, or chokes on its own fucking vacuum cleaner dust.
Meanwhile … to any of you in narc abuse recovery right now, I say this:
WAKE UP AND TAKE BACK YOUR POWER! Haven’t those THINGS that tried to devour your soul had enough of you already? You deserve to RESERVE your “anger and retribution” for actual PEOPLE who matter enough in this world to own real estate in your heart. SPAWNED CREATURES FROM HELL DO NOT! You are SO much better than that! Rise above your anger for them and spend it on someONE whose lifeblood actually adds value to humanity … not THINGS that only subtract from it.Just sayin’!
By the way, here’s an EPIC song about breaking the chains that once held you captive and taking back your power. Hopefully Quora won’t delete it, because trust me when I tell ALL of you “angry narc victims” out there … it needs to be your fight song during recovery! BE PISSED … THEN LET IT GO!
The back story on this song is about a miscarriage my ex and I went through before I got sober. The loss of our son Jude after 7 months of pregnancy was so devastating it sent me into an alcoholic & drug spiral that lasted a year ending with an overdose and me finally getting help from 12 step anonymous programs. For many years I carried the guilt and remorse wondering if I had done thing differently would the outcome had changed. Eventually through recovery and therapy I came to accept and make peace with the loss. Many times when late term miscarriages occur we rightfully attend to the mothers & pour over them all the compassion and care we have to offer. My story is one of the devastated father. The men who lose their son’s & daughters before they ever get to know them. My prayers are with anyone who is has or will experience this soul crushing loss. It does gets better. When we share our pain we divide it. When we share our joy it multiplies.
Ten minutes later, and not less than two minutes before I delivered her, my mother found her way to my room. There she stood holding my right hand, while Pete was holding my left, when Gina Marie, our precious baby girl graced us with her brief but powerful presence. She was 9 inches long and weighed just over a pound. The few hours she lived were the longest of my life, and there are no words to describe my anguish. The baby I had prayed desperately for on my literal hands and knees had been cruelly ripped from my womb and now I held her broken little body in my arms. She kept trying to hold on to my finger, but her tiny hand was too small to grasp it. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I helplessly watched her gasping for air and struggling to live, then watched her take her very last breath. I struggled for so long to find a single good thing that came from all that heartache and trauma, as it is something I will truly never understand, but what I can tell you is that there in that otherwise frigid hospital room, racked with grief and agony in my very darkest of hours, I had never felt so truly loved. How blessed was I to be surrounded by all the people I loved and cared for the most and who loved me in all the best ways they knew how? My husband, who after all he went through to bring that little girl into my life, and who despite my best efforts to push him away never once in our lifetime together at that point had ever physically left my side. My father, who despite his shortcomings, seemed to love me in the best way he knew how, and despite our many battles, I know would have traded his life for my daughter’s in that moment. My sister and one true and unconditional rock, there at the foot of my bed on her hands and knees sobbing inconsolably for the indescribable pain that I was in, that if she could have, I know she would have taken from me. And, of course, my beautiful mother who has loved me all the days of my life and I was blessed to have standing beside me when each of my children came into this world, and then again when one of them left it.
It’s called “The Mathematics Of Faith”, and it’s factored by strength, fortitude, and resilience” … the total sum of which is always “LOVE” … be it love for one another or the love we’re commanded to have for ourselves by the God that gifted us to one another in the first place) no matter how short or long our seasons). Perhaps the best part of this ‘lil quotient is that you don’t have be a genius to figure it out! As a matter of fact, as far as faith and most matters of the heart are concerned, the deafer and dumber you are, the better!
Fast forward to today and everything I’m feeling as I revel in the victory of powering through what would have been her 21st birthday had she not moved on to The Brighter Side Of Grey so quickly. Grieving not just my tiny angel, but my husband and so many others I’ve lost along the way has been difficult, of course, but more so than that, the utmost and highest privilege of my life. Why is that, you ask? Because it means I “got” to love them in the first place. Their deaths remain “nothing at all“.
My prayer for all of you beautiful warriors out there is to keep on carrying on and let nothing and no one take that crown from your head or steal your faith. As for me? Although losing a child of my own flesh and blood (no matter her age or how fleeting the hours I had with her) is something I would never wish upon another parent, what I can tell you is this …
You have to let go of the need for black and white proof, walk through all the grey and fear blindly, and trust the process. It’s scary, I know, but the fruits of the immense amount of courage it takes to stop trying to make sense of certain things are infinite. I PROMISE!
On January 31, 2013, I wrote these words on my Facebook page:
If you could carry a cross or a burden SO heavy at times that you thought it would actually kill you, would you do it if you knew that when you finally made it home where you could safely lay it down, you’d be thanking GOD on your hands and knees that He ever gave it to you in the first place, because now YOU can help someone else carry theirs?I say yes, laden me, God. If it was good enough for your Son, it’s good enough for me. Thank You for allowing me to be shattered and broken into so many tiny pieces, because now I am AWARE and PREPARED! I love You.
Thirteen years later (but hey, who’s counting, right?), I wrote THESE words here in The Diary:
… and if I was ever given the cosmic option to somehow go back and unbreak one single piece of my heart or uncarry all of the heavy things I’ve GOTTEN to carry, I can honestly say with every single shred of my beautifully shattered soul that I wouldn’t want to change a things. Besides, if it was good enough for Jesus, it really WAS good enough for me, too, and I’m thankful I was chosen to live this life. Lol. If only that “me” from 11 years ago today who was most likely sitting at the desktop in the tiny little “desk closet” in our one- bedroom PALACE (since I’m fairly certain I didn’t have an iPhone yet at that point) could see me know, she’d be SO fucking proud to see how far we’ve OVERcomethe burdens we’ve gotten to bear and how we NOW run headfirst into the storms instead of either running from or denying they exist. Hey, God? Thank You! No, really … THANK YOU! And hey, to my babies? This lightning’s gonna strike right through those hearts of yours again, ’cause this rain ain’t gonna stop, and you’ll feel every drop as they keep on dancing on your heads. But you gotta hold on … you gotta be strong … right here with me if it all goes wrong to keep you from harm … away in my arms … steer you away from the storm! When The Sun won’t come around and your world keeps washing out, I won’t let this love fall down. I’ll carry you. So, let’s run toward waiting lights, ’cause I know there’s better skies ahead. Sands through an hourglass … you’re floods are gonna pass … and we’ll still be standing, hand in hand! Love, Mom (“I’ll Carry Them“)
Feels like I’m standing on the edge of the platform now. Maybe somehow I’ll fall. Walking for miles, inside I know it’s true … this soul has holes like you do. And I watch the train get closer into the station. And I backed up just to get a running start to send me on a permanent vacation … a new destination. Sometimes the only way to save me is by making space for someone else. When I feel the world surround me, can I be the strength for someone else? Hey mister tell me can you hear me, ’cause I’m down and out … maybe just lost and found. And it’s crazy what I’m saying but I’m praying and I don’t know you but maybe you could just hear me out. And I watched the train get closer into the station. And I walked up to the doors and watched them part. And I met this man without a hesitation … a new destination … (Tommy Vext)
“We’re standing in the halo our greatest Hope! Right now, we know ourselves … but what do we REALLY know? That we were born with the right to have a sense of self and not have to deny all we’ve felt inside. Don’t tell us that we’re black or white, ’cause we won’t sell our souls to pretend! Now everything will be alright. We’ve made it through so many nights … and a mask will not be our end! We won’t be our own worst fear! We don’t wish to just disappear! It’s what America means to us … that we will NEVER be blind again!”
(Tommy Vext’s Words Adapted)
… and now, here we are, folks! It’s time to finally FIX this broken machine! Let’s just hope that the faith we’ve ALL put in him, regardless of our “color” – black, white, red, blue, PURPLE, and every other color in between – has NOT been blind!
Hey … “47”!
You’ll have 1,460 days to put all OUR money where YOUR mouth is! (But hey, who’s counting, right? Now, FIX IT! This is your MANDATE! Pray God.
As a child being born in America used to mean a lot of things to me. It meant that I was born in a free country. That my voice mattered. That if I worked hard and did the right things and took responsibility for myself and my life situations, I could become anything I wanted. It meant that no matter who I was or where I came from if I did what was necessary to succeed that I could have a better life than the one I was handed. As a man I proved to myself this notion of the American dream to be a fact. Over the past several years foreign interests and toxic corporations have spent trillions of dollars trying to make you ashamed to move an American. This may have fooled some of our neighbors, friends & relatives but as a whole they could not convince us. We have an election in 3 days that will probably determine the fate of our country and if our democracy will convert fully to communism or be restored to the Republic we once knew. Maybe something even better. But you must go out and vote. Four years ago, my entire life, livelihood, reputation and career was destroyed because I exercised my God given right to vote for the President of the United States. Rights that my father, grandfather, cousins and ancestors fought to protect. I’m not here to tell anyone what to do or how to think. I’m just asking that if you believe in the spirit of the American dream that you go grab a friend or loved one and exercise your right to vote … millions of men died for us to have these rights. Use your voice. Cast your vote.
Sadly, I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been accused of seemingly “hating” America because of my grave disdain for what’s become of her values these days. NOTHING could be further from the truth:
I have long been thankful that I wasn’t born a man and have prayed incessantly for the men I’ve known and loved. Generally speaking, men are birthed to an existence wherein EVERYTHING is expected of them. The entire weight of EVERYONE’s world, including the weight of their own, is laden upon their shoulders from the cradle to the actual grave. Whereas, GENERALLY speaking, American women have choices. Society now allows us to be whoever we choose to be. Go to college, don’t go to college. Get married, don’t get married. Be a full-time wife and mother, opt to have a career, or both. We aren’t “expected” to be anything other than what we were created for, and yes, there IS a double standard.
WAKE UP AND SMELL THE TYRANNY, and for God’s sake, PLEASE get out there and VOTE! Win, lose, or draw … and whatever or WHOEVER you believe in … USE YOUR VOICE before you LOSE IT and SIGN YOUR NAME on the dotted line!
As for me and MY house? We’ll keep standing up for our girl, pissed at her as we may be, because we REFUSE to be COGS in a machine filled with broken apparatus!
In the land of Gods and Monsters, I was an angel living in the garden of evil … screwed up … scared … doing anything that I needed … shining like a fiery beacon.
In a garden chock FULL of wannabe gods and real life monsters wearing human skin to mask the spawned evil demons they really are while they’re running around this bitch fucking things up for “huMANity“, I’m so glad I’ve stumbled upon so many actual beasts shining in all this darkness with fiery beacons who know when to be serious, when to scream and yell the truth, but also how to laugh at all the rest of the twisted ass bullshit floating through the atmosphere.
Although he had, indeed, already been listening to and LOVED you with Bad Wolves (Zombie was one of his favorite songs EVER), if only my husband could have survived HIS own darkness long enough to have gotten to know who you really are … well? He’d have loved the ever lovin’ shit out of you!
Thanks for the perfect comedic timing this morning, by the way! Like, as in I almost LITERALLY spit my coffee out laughing.
All that I’m after is a life full of laughter, as long as I’m laughing with you.
(Daughtry)
Well, ever since my king chose to abdicate his throne and I’ve had to learn to navigate a life full of laughter without him, the one quality I’ve found most endearing in people is their ability to find the laughter in as many moments as possible. For me, it’s what makes what can otherwise feel like hell on Earth a little more tolerable.
Much love to you, T! You’re a prince among men, my friend, and I dig the ya!
… because sometimes what’s actually in your own head becomes much more bearable and impeccable under not so impeccable circumstances when they’re being channeled through the thoughts, words, and deeds of someone who’s channeling someone else’s:
Oh, my dear Lone Wolf! If ONLY you knew LEGIT how many times a day I fucking SCREAM these words out loud either inside my head, in my car, or in my home. Sooner or later they’ll be tattooed on my back for some of those BASTARDS to read when they find my body dead somewhere.
“So take these chains from me … break these bastards … there’s no masters here! In the end … BREAK THESE BASTARDS! THERE’S NO MASTERS HERE!”
Just sayin’!
“What’s in your head … in your head … ZOMBIE … ZOMBIE?”
Happy New Year, Vext! You’re doin’ good, my friend, and I hope you know that you are loved, valued, and HEARD by those of us who need to NEED to hear you. I’m about to sign off of social media for a while to get my currently spiraling mental health back in order, but I’ll be watching and listening to you on our family page.
The Diary Of My Perfection 
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