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Grace seeks sanctuary

~ scrawls from the edge ~

Grace seeks sanctuary

Category Archives: The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat

Narcissistic Parents

30 Sunday Apr 2017

Posted by Graceinspades in abandonment, Abuse, Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, Narcissists suck, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat

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Narcissistic Abuse, narcissistic mother, narcissistic personality disorder

When the adult survivor embarks on adult relationships, they often do not have the skills required for to develop and maintain a healthy relationship, with partners, friends, and sometimes with their own children.

Often adult survivors of narcissistic parents have poor, unhealthy boundaries, that cause more issues – such as becoming an easy target for further abuse in adulthood.

Surviving narcissistic parents, is literally all about survival. Narcissistic parents treat their children like extensions of themselves. The child is there entirely for the needs of the parent(s). The child learns to navigate issues, they are never meant to endure. A childhood being raised by narcissistic parents, is far from normal. Narcissistic parents are toxic and selfish […]

via 10 Damaging Ways Narcissistic Parents Emotionally Harm Their Children ~ Lilly Hope Lucario — Healing From Complex Trauma & PTSD/CPTSD

A single sentence 

07 Monday Nov 2016

Posted by Graceinspades in abandonment, Abuse, Childless momma, Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, Coping, Cruelty, Daddy, damage, Darlene H., Darlene Higgins, destroyed, devastation, Domestic violence, emotional vampires, evil, family, Fears, Friends, hopeless, Lexi and Savannah, loneliness, loss, Mark D., Mark DeDeaux, Narcissistic mother, Narcissists suck, Parental Alienation Syndrome, senseless cruelty, Sociopath Mother, Sociopathic games, sociopaths, Survivor, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat, Uncategorized

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abuse, blame, challenge, destruction, donestic violence, parental alienation, psychopaths, scapegoat, surviving

Some days I want so badly to scream my story from the rooftops and just throw every sordid (and possibly boring!) detail into the air like confetti .

Other days, I wish there were even one person in my life who knew it all already and I wouldn’t have to struggle with words and sordid (or boring!) facts and stories at all.  I realize at this late stage in the game after all the damage has been done and my eyes have finally and painfully been pried wide open to the truths of it all,that is no longer a feasible possibility or option. 

So I challenged myself to try to wrap the whole thing up in one sentence…just one solitary sentence that might somehow encompass the feel of the whole thing.  The entirety and bitter irony of my entire life to this exact point in time. 

And this is my sentence:

They cut off my wings then crucified me because I couldn’t fly… and blamed me that I couldn’t grow them back from their mangled feathery bloody stub-bits that were  left behind. 

Toxic Air

17 Monday Oct 2016

Posted by Graceinspades in Abuse, Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, Coping, Cruelty, Darlene H., Darlene Higgins, desperation, evil, family, Fears, Guilt, hopeless, Jean-Baptiste Mouton, Narcissistic mother, Narcissists suck, Nostalgia, senseless cruelty, Sociopath Mother, Sociopathic games, sociopaths, Survivor, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat, Uncategorized

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art, evil, innocence, Jean-Baptiste Mouton, narcissists, nature, no win situations, photography, punishment, scapegoat child, sociopaths, solitude

Photo by Jean-Baptiste Mouton

Since it is Mommie Dearest’s birthday week, I’ve decided to focus on sharing some experiences of growing up with a Narcissistic Personality Disordered mother. 

I’ve fallen in love with the artwork of Jean-Baptiste Mouton. He is a talented genius! So many of his photos resonate deeply for me in depicting the sense of grace with horror in a way that makes me feel as though he can see the defining conflict and depth of misery of a life with a pathological narcissist. I get the sense of innocence defiled and a horrific mental hell that is the playground of  narcissistic sociopaths. I think of the innocence of children living in times of war where the very nature of it all goes against all things  childlike and sweet, portraying a definite contradiction that simply is no place an innocent mind and heart can function or survive in tact.

The need to breathe. The desperation for safety when the very air you must breathe every day is toxic with confusion and bitterness. 

For 16 years, I lived in toxicity, desperate for fresh air, love, and security to just be…. to be me.. to be silly…to be happy… to feel what I felt, whatever it was… to like whatever color I liked best in any given moment without snide comments about being a liar because yesterday I liked a different color best. 

Once around the age of 7, I had gotten in serious trouble for not closing the kitchen cabinets all the way. I had left them just barely open, as close to shut as I could get them without them making a clicking sound and waking up Mommie because the Saturday prior, I had gotten a pretty severe spanking for closing the cabinets after taking out cereal, a bowl, and a spoon to eat it with. I hadn’t tried to be noisy. The cabinets had magnetic closures which pulled them to shut when the door was at all close to the frame and the click they made was inevitable. 

Mommie always slept in so it was up to me to get my own breakfast in the mornings, I would never dare to wake her just because I was hungry!! So after getting a spanking for the sounds the cabinets made when the magnetic piece clicked against its frame, I was scared to close the cabinets all the way at all this morning.  I very carefully closed them as close as possible without getting in range for the magnet to pull it shut the rest of the way. This took some effort, but I was happy to do it and felt proud of myself  that I was being so quiet getting my breakfast for myself.

It backfired though. As I was finishing my  cereal, Mommie woke up anyway and came into the kitchen. Feeling confident I had been the perfect angel of quietness, I smiled my most cheerful smile and said, Good morning, mommy! 

Mommie was furious! You left every GOD DAMN cabinet in the kitchen open! What the hell is the matter with you?  And she yanked me up from the chair by my arm and started spanking me as she screamed this at me. At 7, I already knew better than to answer her furious questions. I knew that I never answered them right and somehow I always made it worse by trying. I said nothing about how I’d learned my lesson the Saturday prior about how noisy the magnetic cabinet closures were. 

I cried though. I wouldn’t learn not to cry at being spanked or being frustrated or being scared until I was exactly 14. I didn’t yet understand how my tears fed her fury like a steak thrown into a pit of ravenous wolves. So yes, I was 7 and I cried while she spanked me. 

A few hours later when she was back in her room applying her makeup and I had calmed down from crying, I ventured cautiously into her bedroom to ask if I could go for a walk outside in the woods behind our house.  Even as a very young child I was drawn to the serenity of nature and solitude. And I knew it was a good idea to reflect on the error of my existence and my every choice in order to try to understand and hopefully realize wisdoms and how to make good choices that might make Mommie smile and be happy with me.  Nature and solitude were like my gas masks of safety, the only place I knew where I could breathe easily.

This was my intent today now. To spend my Saturday quietly in nature, alone, where I couldn’t make mistakes or annoy Mommie  at all, so I bravely asked her even though I knew she was furious with me and my stupidity,  if I could go for a walk in the woods. 

Mommie flipped out again. Screaming at me that she WASN’T STUPID!, she HADN’T BEEN BORN YESTERDAY!, and she demanded to know WHAT BOY I WAS MEETING IN THE WOODS?!

These questions really scared me because I didn’t have any plans to meet any boys in the woods. And I also was wise enough to know that denying the accusation was equally dangerous because it would be considered the same as “calling her stupid”. 

There was no right answer to this line of accusatory questioning where she “already knew” the answer/the truth / whatever.  So I said, I’m not meeting a boy Mommie. I just want to go for a walk outside by myself because I’m sad that I didn’t close the cabinets this morning. 

Ohhhh the rage! I was not allowed to go for a walk, I would go “STRAIGHT TO MY ROOM “ because I was “giving attitude ” and “insulting her intelligence ” and she was just “tired of looking at my face already”. 

I went to my room and wished I could be like my older sister and sleep til noon so that I could have avoided making Mommie so mad twice already before 11 AM.  At least I didn’t usually provoke and infuriate her while I was sleeping… not usually at least. 

Happy Birthday Mommie Dearest 

16 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by Graceinspades in abandonment, Abuse, Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, Coping, Cruelty, Daddy, damage, Darlene H., Darlene Higgins, desperation, destroyed, devastation, evil, family, Fears, Gratitude, grief, Guilt, hopeless, loss, Narcissistic mother, Narcissists suck, Nostalgia, senseless cruelty, Sociopath Mother, sociopaths, Survivor, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat, Uncategorized

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aparht, child abuse, children, cruel mothers, DENIAL, desperate for love, growing up, hate, invisible child, love, narcissistic personality disorder, neglecr, scapegoat child, siciopath, Therapy


Today is the birthday of the female who gave birth to me. She turns 67 today. I will always feel uncomfortable on this day. It’s a weird feeling to know there is a person out there whom I once shared a body with who not only doesn’t care if i live or die, but who actually gets pleasure from my pain. 

As a child, I sensed her snide joy whenever I hurt either from her hand or another’s. I was a wise enough child to try to justify that in my mind and heart. I fully believed that was real love and I accepted to the best of my young and immature ability that when I “grew up”, I’d be able to understand better how that is love no matter how much it didn’t make sense to me at the time.   My sick gut feeling I got regularly when this woman was ruthlessly and randomly cruel would be proven wrong the minute I matured enough to understand real love. After all, I was just a child… how could I understand such complex things as even love was supposed to hurt? And hurt bad and hurt regularly? How could I possibly know the right way to love a child? I was just a child myself! One day it would all be crystal clear and the words she occasionally spoke saying I love you would some day make sense even though her actions and behaviors didn’t feel like love to a silly little sensitive child like myself who probably was just extra needy of love and affection because I was just so unlovable and so very difficult to love.

As an adult, it never did make sense. I was 23 and had been in therapy since I first was freed from the mother at 17. After my first year of therapy and telling brutal truths (truths I hadn’t ever  admitted even to myself before) about how truly horrible and unlovable I had always been, I will never forget the exact moment my therapist said the words, Do you ever resent your dad for not protecting you from such horrific abuse from your mother?

Immediately, I felt defensive of both my parents and guilty that I had apparently somehow inadvertently misled this woman whom was the first person in my world I’d been brutally upfront and honest about every single bad thing about me, every last little bad deed I had done and even the horrible thoughts of self pity and ingratitude I had felt so often throughout my 20-some years of life at all the love I’d been given even though I didn’t deserve any at all.

What? Abuse??!?  No, you don’t understand Dr. Patty! I wasn’t abused. My mother loved me! There was no abuse?? I was not abused. I was a difficult child. I was born really bad and impossible to love. My mother tried really hard to love me and she loved me sometimes in spite of how awful I was born. And my daddy??!?? Ummm… why would my daddy have protected me from being loved by my mother? He loves me too. He wanted me to be loved and to grow up and be a good person. He loves me in spite of being born bad and completely unlovable too!! ABUSED? ME?!??  No! You’ve misunderstood ! Somehow I’ve tried to tell you every awful truth about me and you’ve totally misunderstood, Dr. Patty!! 


I couldn’t understand how I had misled Dr. Patty so badly even by being 100% truthful no matter how embarrassing it was to admit what a horrible human being I was. I couldn’t grasp why she wasn’t confirming what I needed her to confirm- how lucky I was to have had a mother who loved me so much even though I certainly had never been worthy of any love at all. 

This was why I was investing so much time and effort into therapy!! I was a “grown up” now and I was still sometimes ungrateful and immature enough to not feel like my mother loved me even though she’d said the words to me all my life,  why did her actions still seemed senselessly cruel, demeaning, and evil? Those words that proved my intuition and understanding were just twisted and backward. Those beautiful words that proved what a wonderful and amazing mother God had given me… those three words, I love you. 

Abused?!? I was not abused! I was lucky and so very loved! And now, I’m an adult and I need to understand that truth . I’ve waited my entire life to understand this is the truth of love. Love hurts . Love feels cruel and sad and very painful , but that is what love is!! Why do I STILL feel in my gut that it’s not love? Why can’t I understand what real love is? How can I be intelligent and still be clearly so immature emotionally that my mind and my heart are still in constant conflict? Why does my mind STILL try to convince me that love shouldn’t hurt when my heart knows my mother painfully loved me !?  I was supposed to understand by now  that my mother loved me beautifully all my life!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME THAT I STILL DON’T GET IT?

Dr. Patty, that’s just crazy…. I was NOT abused. Why would you even say that to me?

After this infuriating misunderstanding, I skipped my appointments with Dr. Patty for a few weeks. I was so frustrated that I had somehow misled her even by being brutally honest.  

It felt like the time I was 14 and went to the optometrist.  I answered every question and eye test truthfully and still I somehow “faked that I needed glasses”. I didn’t need glasses. I “just wanted attention because I was a needy, overly sensitive, never-satisfied-with-the-love -I-got-every-single-day kind of impossible and ungrateful child”. I didn’t need glasses, I was just trying to get attention. And ohhhhhhh boy, was my mother pissed at me for lying to the optometrist!!  And livid that I had “cheated” on the eye exam and totally “manipulated the doctor” into believing I needed glasses when I didn’t. I was just trying to get more undeserved attention than I already got every day. 

And now, I’d cheated and misled my own therapist too! I had to accept that I was so bad and so irreparably broken that I had done it again even though I thought I’d been totally FUCKING honest this time!

I was just fucked. I was hopelessly fucked. 

It wasn’t until a few years later when I became a momma myself that I realized Dr. Patty had been so right. There was nothing in the world I could imagine more terrifying and utterly crushing than the sound of my babies crying or hurt or disappointed even. Then, I knew I had been in denial all my life. I had never even known or been able to understand love nor to what degree I would be willing to go to protect my child from hurt and harm until I looked into the sweet blue eyes of my two precious babies.

I knew love. It really wasn’t me!! The woman who gave birth to me had zero comprehension or ability to love outside herself or her bitter resentments or her furious seething anger at simply being forced to look at the light in my soul. 

I have understood love all my life. And dammit, I would show my children all the love I could possibly demonstrate. 

So happy birthday to the woman who doesn’t acknowledge my existence, who thrives on my miseries, who feels invigorated by my pain and struggles, who can’t tolerate anyone loving me, who doesn’t care if I starve, or if I die, or if I’m beaten or raped… happy birthday to the woman who spent 27 years showing me everything HATE, apathy, anger, injustice,and senseless cruelty is… who demonstrated clearly the fucking opposite of anything love could ever be.

After all, Mommie was really nice to me once when the janitor at my school put his hands inside my panties in the first grade.  That was before I was truly bad and slutty and evil though…  several years before my Shameful Panties. 

Happy birthday, Mommie Dearest. I don’t wish you any ill will. My only wish for you is that all the “love” you showed me will come back to you threefold. You worked hard for that karma. And I want nothing less for you. 

Happy birthday from your other, nonexistent child who could never get anything right in her life, who desperately just wanted to love and be loved by you. 

Happy birthday to you. 

Mommie Dearest, her golden child(my sister), and Mommie Dearest’s 3rd husband: Christmas circa 1992



Recognizing Real Life Superhero’s

11 Thursday Aug 2016

Posted by Graceinspades in Abuse, Chaos, Cruelty, damage, destroyed, devastation, family, grief, hopeless, senseless cruelty, Sociopath Mother, Survivor, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat

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Gifted people are not those that can act and are good at sports. It is those sensitive, caring, loving people who have been given hate, pain, and abuse their whole lives. Yet they still return with love for the world. They hold the key. Currently how our society is set up, is we treat the most caring sensitive souls like garbage. The ones who could save humanity are in psych wards, detox facilities, and treatment centers. Until we learn to embrace these gifted souls, our problems will continue to mount and destroy us. We embrace the wrong things and this is the result. We are killing them off. When they become extinct, we will all go away. It can be cured. The solution is simple. Love. Find an addict or someone with “mental illness” and give them pure love today. It will change the world. You won’t see the results, but it will This picture is my cousin Jon tonight. This is what an accidental drug overdose looks like. He is on a respirator right now. He is not a celebrity, so people won’t notice. But this happens to people every day and it is an epidemic. As a child he was tortured and abused. His stepmother didn’t want him so he was treated that way. His father wanted his wife to be happy so he was beaten and abused. Then at 16 everyone said he was “crazy.” He came to live with us and became my hero. He loved us and saved us. If Jon makes it out of this, he may never speak to me again or kill me. But at least he will be alive. This is Jons story.

via Wanted: Superhero for my Children! — takingthemaskoff

Narcissism Why you were the target and why you were so special

16 Wednesday Dec 2015

Posted by Graceinspades in Childless momma, Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, Cruelty, damage, Depression, destroyed, devastation, emotional vampires, grief, loss, Narcissistic mother, Narcissists suck, Parental Alienation Syndrome, senseless cruelty, Sociopath Mother, sociopaths, Survivor, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat

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black sheep, child abuse, childhood, estranged, manipulation, mean mothers, narcissists, parental alienation, scapegoat, unforgivable

Video post by @JANICELEVINSON.

Source: Narcissism Why you were the target and why you were so special

No More Exorbitant Apologies

14 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by Graceinspades in Abuse, Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, Coping, Cruelty, damage, Darlene Higgins, devastation, emotional vampires, family, Fears, grief, Guilt, hopeless, Mark DeDeaux, Narcissistic mother, Narcissists suck, senseless cruelty, Sociopath Mother, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat, Uncategorized, Words to a Sociopath

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adapting, dysfunctional family, fear, grief, life, loss, loveless, mean mothers, Mother, Quotes, unacceptable, unforgivable, Validation

meryl.jpg

*CORRECTION:  Apparently this is not Meryl Streep’s quote, but a quote by Jose Micard Texieira.

I am so deeply delighted to have discovered this quote this morning!

As the daughter of a malignant narcopath, I carry guilt equivalent to what most people associate with the Catholic religion: Asia sized damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t chronic 10 tons of guilt.  If I stand up for myself, I feel like I’m being a bitch.  If I don’t stand up for myself, I’m being a doormat who deserves to be treated like shit.

So, standing up for what is healthy for me, insisting that I do matter, and refusing to tolerate anyone who refuses to honor that is exceedingly painful for me . THANKS, MOMMIE DEAREST for that life-long handicap, by the way!  THANKS MOMMIE DEAREST for punishing the FUCK out of me for trying to stand up for the plethora of unjust things you brought to my world growing up AND later telling me I “deserved to be beaten by my boyfriend because I allowed it” so I must “like it”.  No, I did not “like it”.  I am merely the daughter/by-product of a sociopath who was furiously angered and punitive if I liked a different color better than your favorite color. You removed my backbone, then punished and taunted me for being a spineless doormat. THANKS, MOMMIE DEAREST.

And after a lifetime of being a spineless doormat, I realize that my very soul and spirit depends upon no longer accepting that and re-training my brain to refuse the guilt which also comes when i stand my ground, walk away, and insist I deserve to be treated with the same God damned consideration and compassion as I have always given my abusers.

This quote helps me see that it really IS okay that as my life-long abused parts are screaming for mercy and kindness so loudly now that I can’t hear the world anymore or feel much of anything but chronic pain from the shrieking screams coming from my gut, that I am insisting on at least basic consideration as a human being.

It’s ok that my patience for chronic-kindness and turning the other cheek and loving til it hurts has run out.

It’s perfectly acceptable that I don’t sparkle my precious smile everywhere any more, tossing out my inner glitter and quietly begging for approval and to be liked at every person whose path I cross.

It’s okay that I don’t like some people or value them if they are cruel or unjust monsters.  I don’t have to be Jesus to be worthy.

I was born worthy.  I was born into a world where not everyone deserves my unconditional love or acceptance, my limitless patience, or my respect.  It’s okay for me to expect those things to be earned and, at the very least, to only give back what is given to me in some measure as well.

Thank you Jose Micard Texieira for this beautiful validation!

 

Cleaning by candlelight aka the “snowy suicide”

28 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by Graceinspades in Abuse, Chaos, Complex Post Traumatic Disorder, Cruelty, Darlene Higgins, Death, Depression, family, Fears, Narcissistic mother, Narcissists suck, psychic abilities, senseless cruelty, Sociopath Mother, Sociopathic games, sociopaths, Survivor, The Golden Child vs the Scapegoat, Uncategorized, Words to a Sociopath

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child abuse, confusion, mental abuse, mental games, mind games, Monmie Dearest, reality, sister, sociopaths, torture

Okay, so this isn’t literally about “cleaning by candlelight”. We had electricity!! It isn’t even actually about my mother’s lifelong and excellent private performance of Mommie Dearest. This is actually a memory about my older sister. One that haunts me to this day when something triggers it. An experience/event that in all my vast research on various types of mental and emotional abuse, this event still perplexes me.

It’s all enmeshed with a Mommie Dearest event though, so it all sort of entwines itself together into a surreal, confusing, “WTF” kind of experience.

One evening my mother arrived home late at night, well after dark. My step dad had built her a big beautiful home on 20 acres of land out in the country. I never once saw my mother clean a thing… That was our job. That was “what children are for”.

I was around 11 or 12. It was a pretty large house, so the cleaning was a time consuming, constant activity. I had cleaned late into the night after school one day, hoping to get mother’s rare and unlikely favor to ask if I could go to a slumber party that weekend with a friend from school. I cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned… the very best I knew how from my 6 vast years of experience as my mother’s live-in housekeeper.

The evenings she stayed late at my step dads’ business working were always my favorite. The house was temporarily safe from screaming and my constant unintentional, inadvertent “transgressions” when she wasn’t home. ( by the way, mother worked because she wanted to, not because we needed the money or because my step dad insisted. She insisted.) So I cleaned fairly joyfully and hopefully with all the optimism and excitement of a pre-teen hoping and praying… Wordlessly begging even… for a normal childhood weekend experience like a slumber party with friends. All the girls at school did this every weekend and often week nights too. I had had one sleepover before in the 4th grade. Mother’s answer was always no, so I’d become often too afraid to even ask as the years of no’s went by.

I’m cleaning into the darkness every moment I can until she gets home. So excited to surprise her and hopeful for the favor I may get in return .

Around 8 PM, her car headlights come shining into the house as she drives down the driveway. Only then, do I start to feel afraid and nervous. I’m very proud of my hard work cleaning though, so my hope outweighed my fear for a rare moment.

She comes in the door. I excitedly hug her and ask how her day was …quietly waiting for her to notice how especially wonderful the house looks tonight. I see how she glances around. I knoW she sees the hard work I’ve done, but she says nothing.

Absolutely nothing. My surprise is ruined! She goes in her bedroom to change (I KNOW she’ll notice my hard work then!), and comes back out silently pretending not to even notice!

Hmmm… I wait a few minutes for her to sit down and relax (my fear is growing exponentially by the silent seconds ticking by without the acknowledgement I had counted on) and I finally muster the courage to excitedly (but timidly) say, “Mommie, I cleaned the WHOLE house tonight for you!! How does it look?”

She looks around as if she’s searching for something hard to see for a few seconds. My stomach is now on pins and needles, scared and confused, but still trying to hang on to a semblance of confidence at how hard and thorough I had worked on every nook and cranny.

She looks around in silence for those excruciating few seconds and finally very quietly and carefully says, “Oh, you did? Well I don’t know…. I’ll have to have a closer look around and see how you did .”

I’m flabbergasted ! It was obvious everywhere how especially spic and span, tidy, and shiny everything was!???  How could she not have already noticed?!

These were always the most uncomfortable and confusing moments for me. I was just a child, yet I had always had the deep intuition of a wise old woman . My gut told me without a doubt that she HAD noticed. But my youth and worship of my mother the goddess couldn’t fathom WHY she’d lie to me about this after I’d clearly worked so hard to surprise her. I mean, of COURSE she didn’t lie! She was the queen of the world! The one who “hated liars of any kind” and insisted on truth down to every detail like what fabric you were wearing. And if you happened to leave out that kind of thing you were “A LIAR!”. No, this perfect woman of truth and knowledge would never lie, would she?! Yet, from a ver young age, my gut often sensed she lied chronically, she just simply hated being lied to. Here, was where the beginnings of my disconnect with myself and my spirit started. Chronic contradiction and things just never seemed to add up somehow. …just more proof in my mind  that I really was a “crazy problem child”. Survival instincts insisted I tell my intuition IT was a liar, not my beloved mommie dearest…!?  GAWD, the mass internal conflict and chronic confusion this brought into me!

After she “looked around” a bit , it was clear what a total failure and disappointment I was as usual.  At first, she just seemed disappointed and maybe frustrated..? However, as she began pointing out just how awful the house looked, she began to rise into the frenzy I was familiar with and terrified of…

She’s got ahold of my arm, pulling me around the house to show me how horrible it looks, how unacceptable it is, how worthless I am… Her voice is rising quickly and this “disappointment” is fast turning into rage. I’m secretly wishing I hadn’t even tried. After all, she hadn’t asked me to clean the house today. I had just wanted to surprise her,delight her (and maybe go to a slumber party Friday night). Clearly, I should have safely stuck to only doing what I was told to do when I was told to do it . What was I thinking rocking the boat like this? I knew better!!

So on to the real event of this story………

Eventually after enough shrieking and screaming and raging, my sister ventures calmly upstairs from her private oasis in her seclude bedroom on the first floor. I’m sure she’s just curious what I did to set mother off this time… I had told my sister on the walk up the hill from the bustop after school what I had planned to do and why. My sister of course wisely took no part in my “big surprise” and had just stayed in her room all night.

Unfortunately, this mistake was SO egregious and disgusting  that this time mother chose to punish HER for my horridness as well. This rarely happened, but once in awhile, it did.

Mother is shrieking that we will ” BOTH CLEAN THIS FILTHY MESS UP TONIGHT IF IT TAKES US ALL NIGHT”. Like I said, rarely did my sister get included in these tirades, but even as the favored golden child, she knew better than to argue for justice while this level of rage was occurring .

Every light in the house was on from mother tearing through it to point out the mess I’d left . It was late, maybe 10 or 11 PM at this point. It was almost eerie with the whole house lit up bright as day and the windows were black from the complete darkness outside.

We both quietly began cleaning. I loved my sister for not seeming too awfully mad at me for getting us into this mess on a school night when we’d have to wake up for the bus at 5 AM.  As disconnected, favored , and quiet at home as my sister was, she was still my ONLY hope and  source of holding onto reality and sanity in this house. I looked up to her and desperately wanted her to love me…even from her quiet shell…

We had been cleaning a few hours into the night when my sister sat down on the piano bench looking upset. I sat down on the blue plush carpeted floor beneath her and in a quiet voice (mother was in the next room) asked her what was wrong.

Here is what she said…..

“I just feel awful about what happened to you and I’m really worried about you!”

What? I’m confused and really scared that here is when I’m going to find out how mad at me my sister REALLY is. I say, “Dawn, what are you talking about? This is my fault. I’m sorry you’re being punished too! I really wanted to go to that slumber party!! I’m so sorry!”

My older sister, Dawn, just looks super  sad and shakes her head kinda pathetically toward me like I’m just crazy, clueless, ignorant…. I don’t know… I’m VERY confused…and for some reason, afraid too. She says, “no no no …. You don’t remember anything that happened, do you?”

Huh?? I’m soooooo confused!! I know what happened! I cleaned the house all night and made mother mad and now we were both being made to clean everything over again in spite of the fact that it was all already spotless. I knew EXACTLY what had happened!!?? What was going on here???? Was my sister finally losing  her mind?

Very quietly my sister starts telling me what has “really” happened.

She says, no. You tried to kill yourself by taking a bunch of mom’s pills  and you were unconscious in the snow outside. I found you and mom and I had to take you to the hospital. You were dead but they brought you back to life. That’s why you don’t remember anything of it all. I’m just very worried about you.

This was creepy as heck!! WHAAAAT???? None of that had happened!!! NONE OF IT!! What was she talking about and WHY was she saying this and insisting it was true??

I started crying and saying over and over and over WHAT? No I didn’t !! Why are you saying this?? Stop saying that! PLEASE tell me the truth?!

She kept insisting and sticking to this story of my “snowy suicide” which had led to us being punished into cleaning the house in the middle of the night .

I was getting so upset and confused at this point I was no longer whispering . I was crying, scared, confused, and hysterically trying to force my sister to tell me she was just mad and playing  a silly joke on me with this bizarre random story .

Mother came in to find out what was happening of course.  I desperately asked mother why we were cleaning in the middle of the night.. ???? If I had tried to kill myself and been found in the snow ..??? if I had died and just didn’t remember any of it…????????

I was too confused and scared I was actually maybe crazy to even be afraid to ask mother these wild questions while sobbing hysterically, desperate to hold on to reality..

Mother shook her head at Dawn and said with a smirk, “don’t tell your sister that stuff Dawn. You know she can’t remember it. Quit confusing her”.

And we were allowed to quit cleaning for the night and go on to bed.

Does anyone know what this was? Any ideas? This eerie insanity from my calm, wise sister still makes my head spin today!

WHAT was that mental game? And why?????

 

 

 

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