17 May 2017
Today I dressed up to attend a wedding and funeral. There was no celebration in a (re)birth. In a classic black and white outfit, wearing nice jewelry; tresses lightly curled (using a brush and hairdryer), free flowing with my white streak standing out against the sun-kissed blonde. I donned some comfy sandals, with my pedicured toes peeking out. SNHU colors, the graduation cap prominently showing on my big toe. I felt good, and I looked good─tan, rocking my outfit, showing my 45 pound-lighter frame. Bold green eyes.
I was ready to face the day. Focused, I went in not to seek revenge, but to demand responsibility and what is right. Responsibility for me (the taking care of myself plan), and making someone accountable for their actions. The funny thing with a narcissist is that they believe everything they’re doing is the right thing. They don’t care about the damage, pain and scars they’ve caused.
Instead, I walked into a battlefield.
There are such things as compromises. What I saw was another attempt to maintain control over me. Another take, take, take scenario. Another narrative where my inheritance benefits someone who took all my money, never let me have any money ($160 cash/month, that’s it), and felt insecure if I had a few hundred dollars. Someone who lied and took away an agreement, a vacation (three), and so much more.
I am the disposable one. I am the one who gets an expiration date. I am the one being forced and chased away. I am the one everyone wants to keep, but nobody’s fighting for me. There are some battles one person cannot fight alone. I may be strong, but I somehow got knocked back again. My “little rock” is a bit concerned about me and watches me from the lawn tonight as I sit outside, with a glass of bourbon trying to make sense of what played out in the field today.
I am on this battlefield alone. I am not one to give up. I am a fighter. I am the one who stood up at the beginning, shouting out to the world that I was not going to be controlled, manipulated, dragged through the muddy trenches, disrespected, and undeserving of everything someone wanted to put me through. Did put me through. Continues to put me through.
Somehow, I have to pound out the last 5,000 words of my thesis, and do some major revisions this week/early next week. I cancelled my wine tasting trip to California because life is too much to handle and my school work is insurmountable.
Natalie has to learn from trial and error. Nick is cocky, believes he’s untouchable, thinks everything should be his way; he leaves Natalie to take care of everything, including leaving her to a train wreck that runs through their home. He thinks he’s God’s gift to the world as he tries to juggle an engagement and an affair. My readers do not like him. Hell, I don’t even like him! There is no justice served to him; only pain and regret. Seems like life mimics all that is happening, but nobody admonishes his behavior.
I wonder if I have some special powers (Wonder Woman post coming soon!) because I sense things before they happen. Or maybe it’s just women’s intuition. I know my gut instinct is pretty darn strong and rarely steers me in the opposite direction.
Guns were fired. The battle began. Bullets grazed the skin, the mind, the heart. Scars began to form. An anger fueling the battle was more subdued than it should have been, but wouldn’t have done any good. The opposing party seemed impermeable. Take, take, take. The OP wanted me to pay, pay, pay. For what? For an affair that I was not involved with? For all the money spent from the community? Because it was the “right thing to do”? This is still unacceptable behavior. I need to be the voice of abuse. I need to be vocal about being disrespected, and how I respect myself too much to let disrespect continue.
I sustained a bullet wound that is too painful to speak about. The wound is going to produce yet another scar to the many appearing in a short amount of time. It’s so unfair that I get zero in return. That an inheritance can be taken away so fast and never returned─more broken promises. The OP made it very easy to return to a life recently left, at a future date, and being able to move back in, as I am driven out and away. I will not waste another ounce of energy or time on something that I was told was mine “until sold.” Sold, my ass. It’s being taken back.
I have to muddle through the negative to reach the positive. Nobody walked away unscathed. Nobody was happy with the outcome. Battlefield injuries were sustained; the magnitude of those are amplified by OP actions. I’m sure the OP thinks there was another successful win. I approached the battlefield thinking there wasn’t going to be a winner and loser. I was right, but the approach is just wrong, wrong, wrong.
How does a wrong get righted? How is punishment avoided? Live in New Mexico and you will learn all about this bullshit.
I am not done on the battlefield. I have retreated to the tent to think of the next tactic. I will not give up. I will approach the front line with the intention to be feared. Again, not revenge, but a super strength to say enough is enough. I sense the violent crimson rage running through my veins. I will harness that energy to make bolder statements. Somehow, I am going to rise above this whole fucking mess.
Pictured below: Duke looks concerned, don’t you think…