“What’s the point of always taking the high road if nothing ever changes? It gets old. Why don’t we try the low road for a change?”
“I hear your frustration, bud. It sucks. I know it does. It does get old.”
“Well, he never takes the high road.”
“Maybe you’re confused about what it means to take the high road.”
Will reached for his coffee and said, “If it doesn’t improve the situation, I don’t see the point.” Continue reading →
At this point, she’s an overwhelmed stay-at-home mom, an ineffectual facilitator for the kids and their father, a disappointing wife, and basically, a single parent.
While some women have a lengthy list of chores to greet them at the beginning of each new day, she had two lists – one of her chores, and one of her failures. It’s hard to enthusiastically fold towels or chop vegies for stir-fry, all the while knowing she’d be criticized for both. Certainly, the kids were a bigger priority than perfectly folded towels, but he didn’t see things that way.
She could handle his indifference toward her. She was used to it. By now, she was aware that she’d never perform well enough to meet his standards. But it broke her heart to think he held their precious kids up to the same standards.
She noticed his growing disdain for the oldest child, and the way he patronized the youngest. Was it all in her head? Most days he treated his kids as if they were mere inconveniences.
“Dad, when do you want to get together for Christmas? Does Christmas afternoon work for you?”
“Well, I’m leaving town Christmas morning. I have that whole next week off. I’m sure your brother just wants to do a quick visit where I bring presents and we only chat for an hour, but I’d like it to be a longer visit. When are you coming to town.”
“We’ll be in town on Christmas Day and most of the week after.”
“That doesn’t work for me.”
In hind sight, the choice was a no-brainer. Of course any sane person would choose safety over money. But, dammit, one more hit from the narcissist and I was starting to lose my sanity.
We’d given him official notice that we were moving – six weeks in advance of the move date. Prior to our little family meeting where we delivered the news, he had expressed his suspicions – to the kids – about a pending move. He wasn’t surprised.
I was the one who was surprised.
The week before our move, in an uncharacteristic one-line email, he informed me that he was lessening his financial support of the kids. I could almost hear him saying, “Take that for moving. Take that for taking my source. Take that for going on to live a happy life without me.”
I did not reply to his email. I have not spoken to him or written to him since before we moved. Continue reading →
“Hey Jesse! How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Well, we all came down with that stomach bug. Only three of the four of us could even eat the dinner. My pumpkin pie turned green. And the dogs ate all of the salami we’d sliced for appetizers. It was the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had, and I’m NOT being facetious. How was yours? Oh… I’ll have a Fat Tire, please.”
Hank laughed, “Wow! You sound like a beer-drinking Erma Bombeck.”
“I’d bet she tossed back a few in her day. Seriously, though, how was your turkey day?”
“Nice and quiet, just how I like it.” Hank placed an almost over-flowing glass of beer in front of Jesse. Continue reading →
We are mostly unpacked. We’ve unpacked enough so that I’ve created a little altar in the walk-in closet. I know! I have a walk-in closet! I’ve never before had such a decadent thing. In lieu of running out and shopping for clothes to fill all the empty hangers, I inadvertently decided to turn part of the closet into an altar.
(When I first saw the walk-in closet, I gasped and told him that I didn’t have enough clothes to fill it. He said, “That’s okay. This might just become your hiding place when you need to get a break from the rest of us.” I shook my head and innocently said, “Whatever do you mean?”)
An altar wasn’t my plan. I didn’t do a Google search for altars. I’m not sending up offerings to the Gods and Goddesses hoping for good vibes to rain down on our new chapter, although I wouldn’t mind if they sent a little good juju our way. It just happened, as all good things often do.
I was unpacking and finding homes for things. This new chapter seems to require different arrangements of pictures and rocks and shells and feathers and momentos that have been gathered in this new chapter. But I am not ready to part with all the sweet keepsakes from the closed chapters.
I’ve also been looking for what may turn out to be my comfort zone in this new home. I’m getting close. The house is starting to smell more like us – Thieves essential oil, dark roast coffee, laundry soap, Italian Seasoning and a bit of garlic. Some of our artwork is up on the walls. The kitchen shows a lot of our favorite tools. There is plenty of room to spread out our craft projects and make messes. And yet, I’m still looking for that spot where I can take a deep breath, sit for a minute and try to remember what’s important versus what it is I’m currently stewing about. Continue reading →
Keep your crystal ball, I want a bird’s eye view of the path I’ve chosen. Make no mistake, I don’t want to know the outcome. I’m not rushing off to a fortune teller in hopes of getting validation that I’m on the right track. I’ve consulted the runes enough times to get confused over their seemingly mixed signals. They offer some encouragement, but I want more than that.
I want to sore above the trees and get the kind of perspective that only a bird can get. I want a view of the horizon. I want to see right up to the edge without any spoilers. I don’t want to know how it ends. I don’t want to know if there will be a “happily ever after.”
I want to know if I chose the correct path. I want to see if the guideposts are meant for me. I want reassurance that the struggle is due, without knowing the payoff.
Please don’t tell me to have faith.
I’ve had faith before. I’ve continued blindly on what I thought was the right path. The signs along the way were screaming at me to turn around. But I had faith, and I kept going down that path. I had faith, but I didn’t believe. Continue reading →
“Hey Jesse, I heard you have a new zip code. Whatcha doin’ in here?”
“How are ya, Hank? Yes, we do have a new zip code. It’s only about 90 minutes away. I’m in town to get the house ready to rent out.”
“Wow. Big changes afoot for all of you. How are you doing with it all? And your kids? I saw them the other day at that frozen yogurt place. They appear to be happy and thriving and growing. What can I get you?”
“Do you still have Bayern Amber on tap?”
“Comin’ right up!” Continue reading →
“It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight,
and fight again,
and keep fighting,
for only then could evil be kept at bay,
though never quite eradicated. . . .”
– J K Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
You probably have an HSP in your life. There are a lot of us out there.
If you’re reading this, you are most likely a Highly Sensitive Person.
Many, however, who are probably not HSP, read the title of this post, rolled their eyes and opted to read something else. They are tired of hearing about us. They can’t relate. They aren’t wired to relate. They’ve come to believe that HSPs are an inconvenience or that we are high-maintenance. We’re too sensitive, take everything personally, and get overwhelmed easily. They may not realize that they have HSPs in their lives who serve very important roles.
HSPs are the folks you turn to when you need real human contact. Continue reading →
“Oh dear! I can’t bring myself to watch.”
“Pass the popcorn, Margaret. This is getting good.”
Margaret passed the bowl of popcorn to Gladys. “Gladys! How can you be so insensitive? She’s struggling. Can’t you see that?”
“Of course I can see that. That’s why it’s getting good!” Gladys scooped up a handful of popcorn in one hand and with the other, she deliberately ate one popped kernel at a time, while watching the drama unfold.
Basil walked over and sat next to Gladys. “Uh oh. She’s at it again, isn’t she.” Continue reading →
“Hey, Hank! How’s it going? It’s weird to see you outside of the bar.”
“Hey, Matt. I haven’t seen you down there in awhile. Looks like you’re getting some new gear today? Have you been doing a lot more fishing this year?”
Matt held up a package of spinners and laughed, “Yeah. Funny thing is, I’ve been fishing a lot more since … well …. since I broke it off with Sarah.”
Hank reached for some leader, “Ouch. I hadn’t seen you two around, but I didn’t know. I thought you two were good together.”
Matt shook his head, “So did I.” Continue reading →
The well-versed child of a narcissist knows never to get his hopes up. He grows up believing that it’s better never to count on people.
If he trusts at all, he’ll only trust a handful of folks. Often he’ll choose to trust only a few close friends instead of relations.
The well-versed child of a narcissist develops a wicked sense of humor. She’s been laughing at dysfunction since she was old enough to understand it.
She’s able to see what makes people tick. She knows who to stay away from, and who to develop relationships with, believing that her energy ought to be saved for a select group. She won’t have a lot of friends. She doesn’t want to risk being vulnerable. But for those in her inner circle, she’ll give her whole heart. Continue reading →
If your lizard brain stands in as your dating coach, odds are you’d better stay home.
Lizard Brain: You aren’t wearing those shoes are you?
Me: Why not? What’s wrong with them?
LB: Well, those heels will probably make you taller than he is, but it’s up to you. Continue reading →
She couldn’t help herself, she felt sorry for him. She knew the details of his childhood. She knew he’d been all but abandoned when he most needed caregivers. Each and every time she looked at him, she could see that hurt little boy who longed to be acknowledged, loved and cared for.
What kind of monster would she be if she didn’t feel sorry for him? She could be the one to show him love … finally. She could be the one to show him his worth. Someone had to do that for him. Why not her? Once he felt safe and secure in her love for him, all would be right. Then he would be whole, and he could give her what she needed.
He was drawn to her kind heart, the way dirt is drawn to that rubber floor mat you walk over as you enter from the garage. He probably wasn’t even aware of the magnetic attraction he felt for her. He didn’t realize that she was motivated by feeling sorry for him. Here was a woman who was willing to put herself aside for him. She would do anything to prove how much she loved him and that gave him power. Every time she felt sorry for him, he would glow in the focus of her attentions.
