Another Chapter Closes

April 10, 2010--my father came to my house with threats and physical aggression.  To give you an idea, my last dog loved absolutely everyone--she was, by far, the friendliest dog that I have ever had. I only saw her get upset one time in all of my years with her (growling, teeth bared, fur raised, standing squarely in front of me in a protective stance). This occurred when my father arrived at my house unexpectedly, believing that I wasn't home and thinking that he could snoop around (it was also the only time he had ever "visited" me in the years that I had her--and it wasn't a friendly visit, not by a long shot). I eventually had to go outside to talk to him because I was worried he may shoot her (yes, he carries a gun and had it showing in plain sight). If my dog feels I need protected from someone, they probably aren't a person I should have in my life. And he wasn't, but as my father I continually forgave and let him back into my life, only to be hurt time and time again. Honestly, I should have listened to my dog--as soon as we were outside and away from her, his actions turned from verbal threats of harm to physical force.

April 22, 2010--my father made his threats reality and attempted to have me committed to a hospital. This involved submitting a false report that resulted in police officers, handcuffs, and one of the hardest days of my life. The years that followed this were much worse. The events of these two days were the catalyst to me removing my father from my life and avoiding events that he is at (family gatherings, holidays, family reunions, etc). He has officially been removed from my life for almost ten years now. The unexpected side effect? I am doing better mentally and emotionally. I had no idea through the years how much of my own self-worth was colored by his negativity toward me or how much of my lifelong depression was connected to our interactions. While his removal has been painful in many ways, the overall result has been a happier, healthier me.

Friends and family alike continue to tell me that my father loves me and that I need to "get over" all that he has done to me. I am fairly certain that if he were a random person in my life, people would have encouraged me to get a PFA or a restraining order. Not only does he tell all of them very different versions, he tries to tell ME that none of the events ever happened--including a great number of things that he did in front of others people--people that 100% remind me, yes--he did do those things. It's funny how people so often expect us to accept treatment they would never condone from others in their own lives. Had these actions been directed at them I have no doubt they would have reacted with lawsuits, physical retaliation, and strong actions themselves. All I ask for is acceptance that I do not wish my father in my life.

In 2012, I got engaged.  I struggled with the idea of having a wedding where my entire family was invited except my father and his wife.  To me, that is horrible and cruel.  I reached out to him and tried to make amends.  I desperately wanted to repair that relationship, despite potential costs to my sanity.   He again stated that I was crazy, that he was on my side during the 2010 PFA hearing, that he never accused me of being on drugs, that he did not come to my house and make threats or try to hurt me, that he was 100% supportive of me throughout the entire PFA process, and that I just doesn't remember the events correctly because I was so "ill".  He went on to say that if he had not stepped in as he did, I would have killed hundreds of people, maybe more, in a mass shooting but luckily he prevented all of that and I am all better now because of him and his actions in 2010.  It doesn't matter that there are plenty of other folks besides me that know of his threats and actions, that were there to witness his behaviors toward me--the gaslighting still occurs.  More so, HE believes his narrative and seems baffled that I do not see him as the hero.

It somewhat reminds me of an ex-boyfriend I had decades ago that did some pretty awful stuff to me (and to other girls)--he later bragged that I was who I am today because he helped make me successful.  My boyfriend at the time knew what he did to all of us and put the boots to him.  I didn't want them to fight, that happened after I left in tears and appalled that he bragged about some imaginary good part he thought he had in my life, but I can't deny looking back that he deserved those boots and probably some significant jail time.  The connection here?  Hurting someone deeply, beyond repair, and still believing that you are a hero to that person and they should be grateful.  The belief that the person should sing glory to you when in reality, they are a sum of broken pieces because of your actions against them.  I suppose perhaps this is how some folks manage to live with themselves and are still able to sleep at night.

At my brother's wedding in January 2014, I was approached with the opener of: "I know you hate your father, but..." and I had to explain that I don't hate my father.  I don't think that my father or anyone else understands that me excluding him from my life and avoiding family functions is not some vengeful act.  My actions, over the past years, are not about hurting anyone, or trying to make him feel sorry or guilty--it never has been.  It is simply because even though it hurts me to exclude my family from my life, it hurts me even more when I let them in.  This is and has always been self-preservation.  But I guess when he has always seen me as a monster, misunderstood me and viewed me as a horrible person--it only stands to reason that he wouldn't understand my absence any better than he understands my existence.  Nor has he ever taken the time to get to know me--that is his doing, his choice.  All I have ever wanted was for him to see me for who I am--it hurt when he couldn't.

A few Christmases back (2015? 2016? I am not sure), I attempted to attend a family function and had my dad corner me, hug me, and tell me that he loved me.  I suppose the normal person would see this as sweet and his attempt at healing things.  I distinctly heard my one aunts say "aw..."--everyone reacting as if this were a beautiful Hallmark moment of healing.  However, for me it was a horrible moment of feeling trapped and retraumatized.  Please don't forget, that prior to this, the last time my dad acted like he was going to give me a hug, it went from a hug to him grabbing me firmly by the shoulders and shaking me back and forth like a ragdoll (I weighed 115 to his 300+ lbs), yelling at me.  I was forced to use blocking self-defense moves to protect myself and had to ask him to leave my property.  THAT was the last time I willing allowed him to touch me and it may very well be the last.  You don't force yourself physically on people that you have been abusive to.  That isn't okay.  And due to his actions and words when we are alone and do not have an audience, I cannot be convinced that his hug was anything other than a show he was putting on for others.  Either way, it wasn't okay.  It was still physical force against my wishes and against what is healthy for me--it was still ignoring my boundaries, my comfort, and him asserting his will upon me forcibly.  Some may insist it was just a hug and his attempt to fix things--however, I have 46 years of experience suggesting differently.

January 2017, I decided to wish him a happy birthday through Facebook, because apparently I am always the fool extending an olive branch.  That was when I discovered that he has me blocked on Facebook.  It was a firm reminder that no matter what he tells others, his actions are still 1000x louder.  Facebook blocking is for those that you want absolutely nothing to do with in any fashion.  So for all of his talk and show (he loves me, but I refuse to have a relationship with him--he keeps trying, but I'm the problem, etc), he and I both know it is exactly that--talk.  You do not block people on Facebook that you want in your life and are trying to rebuild a relationship with.  These are the things that I get to see that others do not.

July 2019, he sent me yet another horrible birthday card.  Perhaps someday I will learn to just throw them away, but that tiny piece of hope still lingers that they will contain the kindness, love and words that I always wanted when he was in my life.  While they no longer say weird things about me needing to accept his wife and his marriage, they are still ugly and still get straight to the point that he just doesn't get it.  These are things that tell me I am better off keeping the distance between us.  These are the things that remind me that if I let him back in, more pain will follow.  

All of my life it has been this way--he plays Mr. Wonderful Dad for the world, yet is a completely different person one-on-one.  Loving words and a show for others--while private interactions are often cruel, hurtful, and meant to bait me into conflict.  I don't know if I am bitter or if I just can't get over my "animosity", which he claims is my issue--but at this point, an apology will no longer fix it.  There was a time when all I wanted was for him to acknowledge what really occurred during that time in 2010, that if he could have even potentially entertained the idea that he was wrong about me and those events (and ideally, sincerely apologized for not helping me, but instead making the PFA situation 1000x worse), I would have let him back into my life.  It has been almost a decade since these events.  No apology ever occurred, no entertaining on his part that perhaps he was wrong, just more gaslighting, with nasty interactions done in private.  I have now had almost ten years to see how my life is without him and to discover that it is a better place here.  Inner peace needs to be a part of my life--I cannot have my father in my life, too. I cannot have both. I tried that for 36 years and it didn't go well. I have had almost a decade to examine the events of 2010 and the 36 years of having my father in my life. I am able to look back and see everything in a very different, clearer light. A light now removed from feeling, emotion, and attachment.

He claims that I am bitter, vindictive, hateful. I can see where that is what is easiest for him. Perhaps I can justify that removing myself is just to protect my father from such a vile person as myself--if he believes all of those things and is not willing to get to know the real me--there is no point. This is exactly what I explained to him in 2010 and I can see the message still hasn't translated properly for him. Nearly a decade later, I choose to continue walking as I have and healing. I choose the next 36 years father-free and being mentally healthy.

"If they made a monster out of you because you walked away from their drama, so be it. Let them deal with what they have created. Be at peace with yourself, and stay out of the conflict." ~Dodinsky~

Another Decent Read

Worth sharing.  Why Trauma Survivors Can't Just 'Let It Go'

"Trauma survivors are often highly motivated people. Many are conditioned to be hyperaware and hypervigilant out of survival. They are often overly critical of themselves because they were held to impossible standards by their abusers, and their attempts to please them often went sour. Some become overachievers, yet never feel like what they achieve is enough. Because nothing is ever good enough to appease an abuser, some survivors give up trying, becoming the self-fulfilling prophecy of whatever their abusers told them they were. Many survivors internalize that they are 'lazy' when it’s not a lack of motivation that keeps them from their goals, it’s trauma. Trauma causes the nervous system to fight, flee or freeze, and for many survivors, their bodies are either stuck in one of these, or alternate between the three. Holding this pattern together is a web of toxic shame that is extremely difficult to break. Think of a race car stuck in first gear, with a foot on the gas and a foot on the break. That’s how many survivors get around."

My Personal Recipe For Depression Removal

Today, one of my posts was about "smiling depression", which was a new term for me.  At any rate, I added the following personal information: "Having lived with major depression from birth until around age 38, this article reminded me of all the times that I heard 'just put on a happy face and eventually you will feel happy'... most assuredly, that did NOT work for me in my 38 years of trying--kudos to those that it does work for, I just wasn't one of them..."  This was met with the following question: "You indicated that at 38 you no longer suffered from major depression. Can I ask what helped you?"  My response was this:

"I can say part of it was that I learned about KFUK (thank you, Anne Lamott and thank you to CBT) and learned to 'change the station'.  KFUK was probably the biggest thing that removed my depression--another piece was removing the negative person that helped create that station, in the first place.  For me, I visualized a radio in my mind, anytime that I realized I was talking horribly to myself, I literally visualized turning the dial to another station.  So a lot of thought-stopping and thought refocusing in the beginning.  A LOT.  As that got easier, I started trying to figure out where the negative thoughts were coming from and why.  I then processed them and kicked them out.  So thought challenging, thought reframing--becoming more aware of inaccurate or negative thinking and responding in a healthier manner. 

So much of my depression was directly related to that negative self-talk.  It's still a work in process, but it gets easier with time and makes life so much better when you learn to be nice to yourself.  Being happy is NOT an option as long as negative self-talk hangs around. I know that depression is a complicated and evil beast, there is much more that went into me kicking it--but those were two of the big pieces--eliminating negative people, eliminating negative thoughts."   

　
But here is the unabridged version:

What helped me? Whoa.  Not one thing alone, that's for sure.  More like a recipe, with a smidgen of this and a dash of that...  But, I did go from major depression (with suicidal tendencies) to happiness and contentment with life, so this recipe worked for me.  Will it work for everyone battling depression?  Probably not, but I thinking even taking bits from it to recreate one's own personal recipe would help...

Step 1: Remove ALL negative people from your life--doesn't matter who they are or who insists you cannot remove them (lies--do it anyhow).  If they are bad for you, say hurtful things to you, if your soul screams when you are with them--run.  Don't look back.

Step 2: Change your inner-dialogue.  That awful little inner-voice that says terrible things to you?  Fight it.  Anytime that you catch yourself talking horribly to yourself--stop.  It is hard to do, but talk to yourself the way that you would to someone that you love more than life itself (your child, your best friend, someone you would never wish to harm).  Figure out where the negative thoughts are coming from and why--process them--and then kick them out.  Being happy is NOT an option as long as the negative self-talk hangs around.  My depression was directly related to that self-talk.  It's still a work in process, but it gets easier with time and makes life so much better when you learn to be nice to yourself.  And YES, you do deserve to be nice to yourself--start ignoring that sort of negative that immediately.  We all deserve happiness in life--end of story.

Step 3: Reduce your workload as much as possible while still being able to live and pay the bills--too often work equals stress.  Figure out what makes you happy and then pursue those wonderful things that make you happy (mine, as it turns out is ferrets--they make me laugh, feel calm, and make everything better--so my ferret recipe, at any given time, is six or more ferrets).  Exercise as much as you can, eat as well as you can, sleep as well as you can, spend as much time in nature as you can--these things are all amazing and can do wonders for the vehicle that you know as your body. 

Step 4: When you have a bad day, let it go.  Go to sleep--remind yourself that tomorrow is another day.  Seriously, SLEEP ON IT.  Try again the next day.  Setbacks happen, but they do not define you.  They are speed bumps and potholes in the book of life.  Your current success rate for surviving is 100%--don't ever forget that.  This also goes back to step two--learning to forgive yourself and moving on.

I have to also start by defining a few things that happened to me in recent years.  In 2007, I met what I thought was my dream partner--I was on cloud nine, thought my life was amazing in all areas (work, love, play--things were amazing).  In March 2009, I moved in with him and discovered him without his mask.  Living with him was hell, it sent me into a depression that I almost didn't come back from.  By the point that I left, I wasn't even sure if I was strong to escape, but I did on November 27, 2009.  April 1, 2010--he still wouldn't leave me alone, it had escalated to me living in absolute terror--I finally got a PFA on him.  April 22, 2010 was the official PFA hearing--it was also one of the worst days of my life and inspired this entire blog--so I won't go into that too much.  Long story short, I lost everyone in my life--my brother, whom I considered a best friend; my nephews, whom were my life and my everything; my dad, which also meant giving up my entire paternal family, which was also the only family I had--2010 was traumatic on levels I cannot describe in just a few sentences.  The depression that engulfed me during that time may have even been worse than when my mother was murdered in 1993.  Suicide was a constant thought and I had a real fight to stay alive.

Before the 2010 event, there were many people that I loved and considered to be my friends and family—but I discovered most of them were not good people and many of them were using me.  I was devoting so much of my time, my energy, and my love to them.  While I lost many good people, I also lost many that didn’t belong in my life.  I am now thankful for the empty spaces that they left behind.  Those empty spaces have been used to focus on me, my life, and the people that truly do love me.  A big part of my lifelong depression being eliminated?  Due to the 2010 events, my father is no longer in my life.  I later realized that my inner-dialogue was his voice, his words to me through the years, all the painful, hateful things he would say to me?  I learned to say them to me, too.  I am healthier and better without him and without that inner-dialogue.  It may sound harsh, but 36 years with my father in my life was a major source of my depression--I didn't know that at the time.  I just saw the depression as another of my many personality flaws and another reason to hate myself--vicious cycle.

Through 2010 and 2011, I attended weekly domestic violence meetings with other survivors.  I started to piece myself back together.  I had to learn to love life and most of all, to love myself.  I had to learn to not only be okay with myself as a person, but to like myself.  This has probably been the most difficult struggle.  But it is essential in reducing and removing depression.  I also began to recognize who my true supports were and kept only them.  I did hurt some people that I wish I had not during this cleansing, but many of the people that I had as friends were very hurtful to me on a regular basis--some without intending to--some because it made them feel better about themselves, but I had to set guidelines on what was hurtful and destructive to me.  I had to walk away from those that were tearing me apart, piece by piece, a little at a time--just as I did with the ones that did it in brute force, like my father.

March 2011, I met my current partner--definitely a good thing on all sorts of levels.  He has definitely supported me in pursuing my dreams, helped me figure out what makes me happy, and has been a huge support through hellish days.  I don't know how he managed to even stand me in the beginning, let alone love me or stay.  I was a mess and a challenge even to myself.  During one of our bookstore adventures in 2011, I found the book "Toxic Parents"--which was a bumpy ride and hard to read, doing the activities was even worse, but it was definitely a book that changed my life for the better and helped me start to remove my dad's "soundtrack of negativity" that I had over my lifetime turned into my own inner-dialogue, but never realized.  It helped me heal the lifetime of damage that relationship had caused, not that he meant to cause that inner-voice or that damage, I think we are just two very different people and his approaches at "fixing me" broke the fuck out of me.  I also started a blog (this blog, in fact!) on 8/9/11 about the 2010 events and I have to admit, that has been some of the best therapy ever.  Writing helps me work through issues, helps me process the crazy in my life, and sets me free.  In October 2011, I took Reiki I and Reiki II--life-changing, as well.  Reiki has been a beautiful thing in my life and I remain ever grateful that I pursued that path.

On 2/25/13, I bought my treadmill.  While it has done nothing noticeable for me physically, mentally it is a godsend.  It's where I go when I am angry, sad, frustrated--it clears my mind, gets me on track, and helps me mentally in ways that I never expected.  I typically walk between 9-12 miles per week on it--I can tell when I skip it--I get moodier and meaner than normal.  In 2013, a friend gave me Anne Lamott's book "Bird-By-Bird" and I learned about KFUK and learned to change the station (this was probably the second biggest thing that removed my depression--the first was removing the negative person that helped create that station, in the first place--I am including a blog post, Managing Those Inner Critics by Pamela Hale Trachta, that I found about KFUK to simplify things).  Also, July of 2013, for my 40th birthday, I bought myself a sewing machine.  I had no idea how to use a sewing machine and was terrified of them--but sewing has become one of my major therapy sessions.  I process so much mentally while I sew and work through so many issues.  That purchase also led to starting my own clothing line in August 2015, which has also been good for me spiritually. 

2016--ugh.  Can we delete 2016?  Another terrible year in the life from start to finish.  My depression did come back to play A LOT that year.  The setbacks, the deaths, the work crazy--all of it could have permitted the depression to reenter.  BUT, it didn't.  I cried so many tears during 2016 and had days where I had to fight to keep going, but like a test, I passed.  2016 was beyond ugly and I still feel sad thinking about any number of the nonstop events that transpired that year.  But 2016 also helped me realize that I am resilient.  I can bounce back.  I can still have happiness and contentment, no matter what life (and death) throws at me.  Making it through that year and still being depression-free gives me hope that I finally beat it.

In February 2018, I found kombucha and started brewing my own.  Weird as it sounds, when I have a bad day, I come home and reach for the booch--my mind eases.  Tension melts away.  I relax instantly.  I know it sounds silly, but yes, kombucha is part of my happiness recipe.  I feel silly even adding it to this list, but I have to.  My personal happiness recipe?  I guess it looks something like this: writing, Reiki, blogging, lots of ferrets, true friends, self-work, physical exercise, kombucha, sewing, self-love, self-healing, a supportive and loving partner, shutting off KFUK, getting rid of bad voices--whether they were my own or attached to family and "friends", a desire to get better, a desire to change--being fed up with life as I knew it and wanting happiness--wanting to be free.  It didn't happen overnight and I won't lie--it was hard work, it resulted in a lot of tears, a lot of angry moments, but I had to dig inside and find the roots of my depression and had to rip them out.  ALL OF THEM.  Even the ones that just had tiny roots and didn't hurt as much as some of the bigger ones--it all had to go.

So yeah, my recipe for eliminating depression?  Get rid of bad people and negative self-talk.  Replace them with people that love you and are genuine supports.  Not an option?  It is better to stand alone than with people that hurt you.  Love yourself--learn to look in the mirror and see the good things.  Discover your strengths and passions--pursue them.  Find the things that return you to a state of peace, calm, and joy--do them more.  Work on challenging and changing your destructive thoughts--they serve no purpose other than causing misery.

My depression was from birth until a few years ago.  It was severe.  There were times that I tried to end it; there were daily thoughts of ending it, even beyond the attempts.  For the past years, I have been able to live without the depression.  I have happiness.  Yes, I still have times where I struggle, but I can now fight them off and still be okay.  I am lucky--I had the tools necessary to start the healing journey and to see it through.  For those that do not, finding a good therapist--especially ones that specialize in CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) and ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) would be recommended.  Depression is a cruel master.  I would not wish it upon anyone.

Another Birthday Passes

Today, my mom would have been 69.  I can't picture her aging.  I have currently outlived her by three years now, myself.  My biggest question is who would she be now?  I like to imagine her making a comfortable living as an artist and having a little cottage near a beach in California.  Maybe Malibu.  Maybe in northern CA.

I picture the gardens, the flowers, the white picket fence she always wanted.  I picture a home filled with warmth, friends, and tea.  I see us traveling together, exploring the world--still my best friend, still with a sense of adventure, still with a desire to meet new people and to learn everything about them.  I picture her enjoying her grandchildren and teaching them to bake, to paint, to dance.

I picture her with cats on her lap, as she reads all of the books that she has missed over these past 26 years.  I picture her being amazed by what she can do with the internet and getting lost in the magic.  I imagine hearing her voice on the phone and being able to tell her that I love her.  I picture visiting her and feeling that sense of home that you only have when with your mother.  I picture her happy, something she struggled so hard to find here.

 

Yet, no matter how hard I try, even with these images in my head--she is still only 42--I simply can't imagine beyond that.  I am okay with this, though.  This was the first time that I was able to picture a happier vision.  Generally it is always linked to her murder, the pain attached, and the grief of missing her.  I am hoping to retain this vision, to heal, and to be able to smell the flowers and the sea when thinking of her on these days...  

Why We Catastrophize

The catastrophizing.  It is so hard to get others to understand why we do it.  We do not want it, either.  I was 19 when my mother was murdered by her second husband.  She was 42.  Her own mother died suddenly, tragically, when I was ten months old (my maternal grandmother was 41--it is still unknown if she was murdered, if it was suicide, or if it was an accident), at a time when my mother needed her own mother the most.  She was young, alone in a new area, newly-wed, but essentially raising a child alone.  She had no family here, limited resources, and married a man that was emotionally unavailable.  I was raised by a motherless daughter engulfed in her own grief.  A mother wrapped up in a depression that often led to suicidal tendencies and statements, a mother trapped in her bipolar manic depression, and a mother with numerous added health complications (lupus, a stroke with her last pregnancy, diabetes, and more).  Our mother often spent days in bed between the health complications and her own mental health issues.  I was raised by a mother that expected the worst in life.  I have fought hard to overcome that with my own thinking patterns, but I am working on it.

My father was never interested in being a parent and shared anger towards me in response to my grief at the loss of my mother and matched my heartbreak with his own special brand of rage.  My brothers were 9 and 13--they were not permitted to express grief, either.  The night that we found out--our father woke them up, told them their mother was dead, they went to school that morning as if nothing happened.  That was the extent of our discussing it.  I was too lost in my own grief to even reach out to them--I didn't function, myself, for the next three years--I couldn't.  Turning to our father for comfort was never truly an option.  My brothers may have developed relationships with him, I never was able to.

I have lost so many loved ones to sudden death throughout my life.  Vehicular accidents, suicides, additional friends murdered at the hands of domestic partners, heart attacks, aneurysms--the list goes on and on.  The people that I love most are typically whisked out of my life without a warning.  Worst case scenarios and catastrophizing are so wrapped up in my thoughts that I struggle with just being "normal".  That fear of losing the most important people in your life becomes second nature because life has already shown us that it happens--over and over...  It reaches a point that sirens, ambulances, late night phone calls stir terror in the heart until all loved ones are marked “safe” and accounted for.

Since the age of nineteen, I have often felt that I only had myself--that I have been wandering the world, lost and alone.  My mother was that one person on the planet that "got me"--that understood me.  Without her, what was left?   Thankfully, a year after my mother's murder, "Motherless Daughters" by Hope Edelman was released and I have since bought more copies than I can count and have shared them as needed with others.  It was my shining light that I wasn't crazy or broken--I was grieving.  I am so thankful for the others that have shared their stories and that have since helped me to know that I am not alone.  I am beyond thankful for such books, articles regarding grief/loss, and support posts in my motherless groups.  They have all helped me to heal.  Thanks to the other motherless ones, I now know that what I feel is 100% normal and that I am not alone. 

I am now 45.  I have outlived my mother by several years, now.  Her murderer is still behind bars, but we are regularly forced to relive his actions, our loss, by fighting his attempts for release.  My brothers have long since moved away--created their own lives--they rarely come back.   I hope that they are okay and have still found happiness within their lives—but how do any of us really know what lies in the true hearts of others?  Despite all of these things, I have created a good life for myself.  I have good friends.  Most days, I am happy.  Despite all of the "good-natured fools" out there that have never experienced their own loss, those ones that insist I should have since filled those holes and empty spaces and moved on, some of us know better...  There is a hurt that always hovers, and I will always miss her.  We catastrophize because we learned early that life is not fair.  We don’t want to catastrophize, but we have been caught off-guard before.   We learned early that bad things do happen to good people.  We learned that life can and does stop on a dime… These things are hard to fight—our inner thoughts will always be filled with those fears.  This is simply another life lesson.

An Excellent Read

Having lived through this abuse; having been gaslighted by not only my abuser, but my family and other individuals that I needed support from (not further abuse and breaking); and as a therapist that assists others with their own healing--this is by far one of the best articles that I have read to date.  I highly recommend that if you read only one article today--choose this one.  How Society Gaslights Survivors of Narcissists, Sociopaths, and Psychopaths--A Guide For Therapists, Law Enforcement, and Loved Ones

And a few direct quotes from this one:

"Survivor Ariel Leve explains that this form of secondary gaslighting is incredibly traumatic to the survivor. As she says, 'It wasn’t just that my reality was canceled, but that my perception of reality was overwritten…it wasn’t the loudest and scariest explosions that caused the most damage. It wasn’t the physical violence or the verbal abuse or the lack of boundaries and inappropriate behavior. What did the real damage was the denial that these incidents ever occurred…the erasure of the abuse was worse than the abuse.'” 

"What we need to understand as a society is that malignant narcissism is not an 'everyday' problem. While narcissism does exist on a spectrum, many of the survivors who are reeling from the trauma of emotional abuse have encountered individuals on the extreme end of the spectrum. They have met predatory individuals who have systematically stripped them of their self-worth and confidence. Victims of malignant narcissists often undergo emotional, psychological, spiritual, financial and sometimes even sexual or physical abuse."

"Someone who is a malignant narcissist has characteristics that go beyond selfishness, self-centeredness or vanity. They have antisocial traits such as a lack of remorse, a failure to conform to social norms, impulsivity, aggression, and a lack of conscience. This is someone who can engage in inhumane cruelty and acts of both psychological and physical violence just to get their needs met.  The narcissistic or sociopathic abuser is not 'just' a cheater, a player, or a 'difficult' individual – and you cannot approach them as such. They tend to be chronically abusive, manipulative, deceptive and ruthless in their mind games. They can even escalate into horrific acts of violence."

"This trauma bond is strong and demands attention. This was not a normal breakup. The survivor at this point has gone through a great deal of gaslighting and needs to work through what the abuser has done to them before they move onto actions which actively support their healing. They need to connect to a vocabulary of the abuse they experienced.  That is why they need to talk about their abuse first – to establish the tactics used and the effects of these tactics – before even attempting to move forward in any tangible way."

"Some abusers are more sadistic than others. Some lack empathy, while others also lack a conscience. If you want to help any survivor of psychological abuse by a malignant narcissist, you have to help them acknowledge the mindset of what it means to be a predator – not further gaslight them into believing that they are dealing with someone who possesses empathy or remorse. You have to extend empathy, compassion, and nonjudgment to the victim – not the abuser."

"At the end of the day, all abusers have issues with their sense of entitlement, their need for control and their stunning lack of empathy. Rather than focusing on the victim, it’s time for society to wake up to the abusive nature of their perpetrators."

The 26th Anniversary of My Mother's Murder

At 45 years old, I have my Master's Degree in psychology, I am a Reiki Master/Teacher, I am a seamstress with my own clothing line, and I have many additional titles under my belt. I still greatly value education and strive to explore new paths and opportunities as they present themselves to me.
At 45 years old, I have my health. Despite chronic pain and other physical challenges, I am still upright. I am still mobile. I am still here. Maybe not always in the capacity that I wish, but I am still functioning physically. I am working toward improving my current vehicle and fixing what I can of these issues now.
At 45 years old, I have a wonderful husband that I love and enjoy. I have a life partner that helps me, treats me with respect, and does not intentionally hurt me--physically or mentally. I have a husband that I can count on and trust. I am aware how rare that is and greatly value this man that walks beside me.
At 45 years old, I have three stepchildren that I love. While I never pictured having children, I have enjoyed getting to know these three individuals and have enjoyed watching them grow from children into amazingly talented young adults. They are a bonus that I did not expect, but am grateful to have.
At 45 years old, I have the most amazing humans in my life. I have spent years collecting the best folks alive and am delighted by the ones that I call my friends. Good friends are such important threads in the tapestry of life--mine are strong, wonderful, beautiful, and true. I am beyond blessed for each of them.
At 45 years old, I have a wonderful group of ferrets that make me smile, laugh, and keep me sane. They may all have their own issues and quirks, but they keep my soul young and remind me why each breath that we take during this lifetime is so sacred. They are my life, my absolute joy, my passion.
At 45 years old, I have my creativity. I am able to express myself through writing, through art, through sewing, through the way I arrange the items in my house and yard--piecing them together to project my voice. I allow my creativity to serve as a form of therapy, a healing, and find it to be a great blessing in life.
At 45 years old, I have a beautiful home that I have created entirely on my own. The contents of my home make me smile, bring me joy, and comfort my soul--my home is a reflection of my life, my journeys, my being. I am surrounded by art, oddities, and an amazing property that is also filled with magic.
At 45 years old, I have a wonderful vehicle. It may be 16 years old, it may have occasional issues, but for the first time in my life, I have a mostly reliable vehicle. It has been with me through many independent journeys of great distance and has delivered me safely through my most terrifying travels, as well.
At 45 years old, I have my intellect. Despite great gaping holes that now exist in both short-term and long-term memory, I am still aware of who I am and those around me. I will continue to enjoy this as much as I can, while what I have left still remains. I will continue to work on keeping what is still present.
At 45 years old, what I don't have is a mom--she was taken away 26 years ago today. What I don't have is a dad--he never wanted a role in my life. Yet, what I do still have is me. I have great strength. I have the ability to keep moving forward. I have the many treasures above and know their value.
At 45 years old, I still have a choice. I can choose to use my past struggles and traumas to help others. I can choose to be a light to others, instead of being trapped in the darkness. I choose to succeed and be happy. I choose to value all of these positives listed above. I choose to cherish them and this life.
At 45 years old, I have the ability to appreciate this life and enjoy it. I am ever grateful for life and that I am still here to enjoy it. There were many times that I tried to end this life, but I am grateful that the universe had other plans and that I can now sit back, look up, smile, and be thankful to be here.
At 45 years old, what I have discovered is happiness. I never expected happiness during this lifetime. I was raised to believe that happiness was a myth, a lie--life events during my first three decades did their best to confirm this. My happiness is based on the contents above. Today, I choose to reflect upon them.