Thank you!
(I'm typing this in a .doc to c/p, and hope the format is ok)
I currently have three books out there. There were two reasons I wrote this book. First, if my experiences can be helpful to someone else, it was worth writing. Second, I don't know anyone who has all the facts- the information in this book- so I believed it was time I "had my say" to clear up misunderstandings.
When I was a young child, I already knew there was something wrong with my mother- other people didn't do the things she did, didn't act the way she acted. Much later, I concluded she had Narcissistic Personality Disorder. While she had all the characteristics, the most troublesome were her sense of entitlement over other people and to other people's lives, and total lack of empathy that ranged from scary to sickening. Her mother shared those characteristics.
My mother occasionally remarked that she'd wanted two kids, and had two kids. When I showed up many years later, I guess the inconvenience accounted for a comment she made throughout the years: "I own your life! I bought it!"
She prided herself on her ability to make anyone believe anything- no matter how outrageous. Not only did she often say so, I knew of some almighty scams she came up with to get what she wanted out of some other people, and, as they were much older than I, solid citizens, well-liked and well-known in their communities, I knew I didn't stand a chance.
Her sense of entitlement to my life came down to one goal: that I would never leave her house, that I'd take on her responsibilities in her home until either one of us died. Her con to achieve that goal was to make people believe I was incapable of living on my own and having an independent life.
Stunned to this day about how people can be so gullible, she managed to get people to believe I was intellectually-substandard, grossly immoral, and very lazy. During my earliest years, she started by presenting me as Different- that I was not like other people, and could not have the opportunities they had.
The first situation I was aware of: when my older siblings were small children, they were sent to Sunday School, but I was denied the opportunity when I reached the appropriate age. Next, she pressured me to mispronounce words; I was praised when I complied, but when I refused and said words correctly she'd retort "Who do you think you are?!" and "You think you're really something, don't you?!" Mispronouncing words was the reason I lost a second-grade spelling bee.
She also encouraged me to use baby-talk throughout elementary school.
Cons and scams went on throughout the years and decades. Shortly after I graduated from high school, my father's attitude and behavior toward me changed. Throughout my childhood and teenage years he'd been a good father, so it was scary when he turned into a male version of her. My eldest brother and I had a compatible plan: when I finished school, I could live with him and he would put me through college. I guess I somehow knew this would not happen. Although I'd been legal age in my home state for more than three years, I needed police assistance to safely get myself and some belongings out of her house.
In one instance I was scammed by a much-older cousin; on two other occasions I fell for my mother's scams. Regardless of age or time-frame, threats continued: threats of physical violence, but, worse, "if you ever dare cross me, I'll convince the authorities you're not quite right, and have you put away." When I had kids- even when the oldest was on the way, not yet born, she began using them against me, too. If I were to do anything other than what she demanded, she'd misrepresent me as an unfit mother and take my children away from me.
Even when I was on the opposite side of the country, she always found individuals in my location that would go along with what she wanted. When I was nearby, her two main requirements were that I not get a job so I could save up money to move, and that I not associate with anyone outside the family because old friends or neighbors might see what was going on and help me. The only person on my side was my aunt who was supportive, compassionate, and helped as much as she could, but she was very much afraid of my mother (her younger sister).
When I was young, I'd had pen-pals- many, many of them. It occurred to me perhaps individuals who weren't involved in this mess might have advice, so I started this practice again. However, it didn't occur to me there was a difference: my youthful pen-pals talked about music and similar interests, but those I began writing to when I was middle-aged had much different lifestyles than myself. Yet, if you're in a desperate situation and someone offers hope, it's like a life-raft tossed to a drowning person- you don't know it's not a life-raft until it's too late. As I explain it: if you look for answers in the wrong places, you'll find the wrong answers. One pen-pal- a woman around my age- agreed my life sucked, and I deserved better. She said my life could change for the better, but there was something I must do: I must 'work the Twelve Steps.' So, although I'd never used drugs, didn't have a drinking problem and hadn't even had a drink in more than six years, I followed her advice, and, an expression I'd heard in the past, went from the frying pan into the fire.
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