Róża Lewanowicz's Blog, page 2
November 3, 2019
Project manager for life
If you were not loved by anyone, you feel like you are drowning. All the time.
The pain comes back one time by another, and you have no way to escape it because the only cure is being loved by someone significant.
This is how we were created - we must experience love; otherwise, our life is unbearable.
I've learned to provide good things for myself, which is very helpful. There are moments of my existence that are too hard, though, and I need to acquire the ability to cope with them. The nervous system is 'overloaded,' I am tired and bit confused.
In fact, at some point, the life of a person who did not experience love and who did experience a lot of abuse turns into a big project of coping with the results of a painful past. And most of the people around us have no idea about our fight; they don't see survivors in us. We're lucky if they don't consider us as losers.
The pain comes back one time by another, and you have no way to escape it because the only cure is being loved by someone significant.
This is how we were created - we must experience love; otherwise, our life is unbearable.
I've learned to provide good things for myself, which is very helpful. There are moments of my existence that are too hard, though, and I need to acquire the ability to cope with them. The nervous system is 'overloaded,' I am tired and bit confused.
In fact, at some point, the life of a person who did not experience love and who did experience a lot of abuse turns into a big project of coping with the results of a painful past. And most of the people around us have no idea about our fight; they don't see survivors in us. We're lucky if they don't consider us as losers.
October 19, 2019
My Pathetic Suicide
Let's talk about suicide. My suicide.
The only attempt in my life I desperately wanted to forget about.
But forgetting doesn't change anything because the problem comes back, though it is masked and hidden behind some substitute. The reason it always haunts me is simple: I have never faced the direct cause.
Silence days.
This is how my non-mother was 'punishing' me, God alone knows what for. Suddenly, her mood changed, and she stopped talking to me. I could only count on the look of hatred and single growling from time to time.
She knew it hurts me. That was the point. And I am quite sure she was aware that this very pain was so unbearable it could kill me. By doing so, she could feel full power over me, she had the control.
That day, it was too much for me. I was sixteen, spending winter or summer break at home with her. And she didn't speak to me whatsoever. This situation prolonged, and I didn't know what to do. The pain inside my chest and head was so tremendous I was sure I am going mad. I couldn't stand it. So I took a pill. One pill of a painkiller containing tranquilizer. But the pain was only increasing. So I took another pill. And another. And another. Until the pack was empty. I drifted away for a very long time. I was quite sure I am going to die, but it didn't bother me. I simply wanted to stop feeling the pain. I was lying on my bed in my room for almost two days, and she didn't check on me, not once. She didn't speak to me, after all.
When I gathered, I was alive, but something inside of me died for good. And stayed dead up to this moment. I pushed myself away from the shock; I suppressed the memory. I felt like an ultimate loser who cannot do anything properly - even kill myself (it was after I found out that this amount of drug wasn't enough to take the life). In my own eyes, I was a pathetic being.
Today, I think that suppressing this memory, though unsuccessful, let me live. There was also another factor I wasn't aware of, helping me survive. I discovered it now. But about that maybe another time.
The only attempt in my life I desperately wanted to forget about.
But forgetting doesn't change anything because the problem comes back, though it is masked and hidden behind some substitute. The reason it always haunts me is simple: I have never faced the direct cause.
Silence days.
This is how my non-mother was 'punishing' me, God alone knows what for. Suddenly, her mood changed, and she stopped talking to me. I could only count on the look of hatred and single growling from time to time.
She knew it hurts me. That was the point. And I am quite sure she was aware that this very pain was so unbearable it could kill me. By doing so, she could feel full power over me, she had the control.
That day, it was too much for me. I was sixteen, spending winter or summer break at home with her. And she didn't speak to me whatsoever. This situation prolonged, and I didn't know what to do. The pain inside my chest and head was so tremendous I was sure I am going mad. I couldn't stand it. So I took a pill. One pill of a painkiller containing tranquilizer. But the pain was only increasing. So I took another pill. And another. And another. Until the pack was empty. I drifted away for a very long time. I was quite sure I am going to die, but it didn't bother me. I simply wanted to stop feeling the pain. I was lying on my bed in my room for almost two days, and she didn't check on me, not once. She didn't speak to me, after all.
When I gathered, I was alive, but something inside of me died for good. And stayed dead up to this moment. I pushed myself away from the shock; I suppressed the memory. I felt like an ultimate loser who cannot do anything properly - even kill myself (it was after I found out that this amount of drug wasn't enough to take the life). In my own eyes, I was a pathetic being.
Today, I think that suppressing this memory, though unsuccessful, let me live. There was also another factor I wasn't aware of, helping me survive. I discovered it now. But about that maybe another time.
October 14, 2019
Come back to Earth, watch 'Ad Astra'
[This post contains spoilers]
'Ad Astra' movie is not a killer as 'Joker' is. It is also a good piece of work, though. I found many negative opinions about it on the Polish internet; the viewers seem to be disappointed as if they have expected something else. Well, I didn't expect anything. I just wanted to spend last Sunday evening at the cinema, and the film about space travel is always the right choice for me. I received more than anticipated.
To be honest, the subject of this movie could be easily depicted in the theatre, on the mere scene, without all these special effects and divine music (OMG! I love Max Richter, and this was the most delightful surprise hearing his compositions). But special effects also played a significant part, not only as stage directions.
In a few words, the movie 'Ad Astra' tells about complicated relationships between father and son. It says about bad parenting and how it impacts the next generation's life. And the lives of many other people. It shows that the father is responsible for his son's future, emotional state, essential choices. But, luckily, it also points out that the grown-up son becomes responsible for his own development if the father lets down. Whole this journey - at some point even absurd, if we consider crazy flying monkeys - was an allegory of desperate attempts of saving the absent parent. It was about saving, bringing him back where he should have been all the time, and convincing that his 'mission' is, in fact, a delusion. The son would do anything to change his past, even fly to the fringe of the heliosphere.
It is not said directly, but the son realized and accepted the fact that his father wasn't a hero whatsoever. He stopped protecting his father's perfect picture and started seeing his own life from the right perspective. He could come back to Earth - in a metaphoric and literal sense.
As for the absurdity of some scenes, I think there is a possibility that whole this story was in Roy's head only. This was how he coped with a bleeding wound of the abandoned child. This was his individual road to healing, becoming a mature and free person.
'Ad Astra' movie is not a killer as 'Joker' is. It is also a good piece of work, though. I found many negative opinions about it on the Polish internet; the viewers seem to be disappointed as if they have expected something else. Well, I didn't expect anything. I just wanted to spend last Sunday evening at the cinema, and the film about space travel is always the right choice for me. I received more than anticipated.
To be honest, the subject of this movie could be easily depicted in the theatre, on the mere scene, without all these special effects and divine music (OMG! I love Max Richter, and this was the most delightful surprise hearing his compositions). But special effects also played a significant part, not only as stage directions.
In a few words, the movie 'Ad Astra' tells about complicated relationships between father and son. It says about bad parenting and how it impacts the next generation's life. And the lives of many other people. It shows that the father is responsible for his son's future, emotional state, essential choices. But, luckily, it also points out that the grown-up son becomes responsible for his own development if the father lets down. Whole this journey - at some point even absurd, if we consider crazy flying monkeys - was an allegory of desperate attempts of saving the absent parent. It was about saving, bringing him back where he should have been all the time, and convincing that his 'mission' is, in fact, a delusion. The son would do anything to change his past, even fly to the fringe of the heliosphere.
It is not said directly, but the son realized and accepted the fact that his father wasn't a hero whatsoever. He stopped protecting his father's perfect picture and started seeing his own life from the right perspective. He could come back to Earth - in a metaphoric and literal sense.
As for the absurdity of some scenes, I think there is a possibility that whole this story was in Roy's head only. This was how he coped with a bleeding wound of the abandoned child. This was his individual road to healing, becoming a mature and free person.
October 10, 2019
Joker's Universum
[This is not a movie review. It's my personal opinion and feelings after watching 'Joker' in the cinema. The post contains spoilers.]
Loud silence
Five hundred people filled the cinema on Sunday evening. Five hundred young craved for good entertainment people ready for consumption of tons of pop-corn and gallons of cola. I was terrified. First, crowds make me feel uncomfortable. Second, I hate the sound of crunching and chewing, along with this specific smell. But for almost two hours, there was only silence. And palpable shock.
I'm not very fond of cinemas, both big and small ones. I like watching horrors there, though, or catastrophic movies for better effects. But I knew that 'Joker' is the film that I must-see on the big screen only. I somehow knew this movie will be about me too.
I read the opinion that it is hard to watch, that it is a 'heavy' picture with a very stifling atmosphere, and, due to that fact, even some spectators were leaving the cinemas before the end credits. Yes, and that's the point.
I was watching this movie with nothing but satisfaction. Other feelings were not significant at the moment. Finally, someone else could feel something that is my personal experience on a daily basis. I wasn't shocked by what I see. I wasn't in shock at all. Not after all these years with my non-mother and all this crap she keeps in her head. I know, for I saw it, the viewers were confused, they felt anxiety, and at some point embarrassment. The only thing I wanted to shout to them was:
"Welcome to my world, people!"
See what I see, feel what I feel
In my opinion, as a person who, for decades, suffers from mental health problems, 'Joker' is so far the best movie depicting mental health issues. It directly tells about the causes (surprise, surprise! - Arthur's mother was a diagnosed narc, and he was abused by her lover). It also shows the dramatic results (not everyone becomes a mass murderer, but Joker's figure vividly reminds me of at least one dictator's biography). From my point of view, however, the most important thing was how Joaquin Phoenix played that part.
Portraying character with emotional disorders is not easy because most of the people, actors too, have a very shallow understanding of what does it mean someone is struggling with mental health.
In the movie, there is a scene where Arthur is with his therapist, informing him about fund cuts, and that this is their last meeting. He then said something that is an epitome of being a mentally ill person in society:"You don't listen."When he was saying these words, he wasn't sick whatsoever. He was totally sane.
We are sick because nobody listens to us; nobody who can do something - parents, family, teachers, priests, shrinks. We must fit in some template; we must answer tendentious questions; we must obey. My therapists didn't want to listen to what I want to tell them - they only wanted me to be a 'good patient' to play another role in my life. While things I say always end in some void.
Arthur's voice wasn't heard, he stayed invisible. But his actions gained the attention. Why? Because he did something that many people wanted to do too. Of course, this deed was not in their name, for he didn't have any agenda. He simply was desperate. Like they were.
I won't lecture about society's unfairness and class division because it's not a real problem here. People's desperation starts long before they become grown-ups. And it also applies to rich people, expressing their despair differently. The thing is some persons endure tough times on emotional level (war, economic crisis, etc.), and some not. The internal stamina develops at home, at very early stages of life, usually, when we are too small to speak. But society stays behind our drama, e.g., when it destroys the institution of a healthy family; when there are no fathers present in our lives. It backs and covers unhealthy practices and makes them new normal. Society (family, school, church, social services, neighbors) ruined my life by letting my non-mother do whatever she wanted to do; by protecting her and not protecting my father's rights; by promoting the figure of a 'brave' lonely mother; by denying she's evil person... These made of me a vulnerable person, poorly enduring hard times.
We grow up, and we already are tired. We are fed up with being maltreated. We feel we do not belong to any kind of group, and if we do, we are not able to adjust. We feel like we are depersonalized. The frustration is more significant within years till the moment something breaks for good. If a man has no good bone, some compass-like faith in God, the tragedy is inevitable.
Antihero but hero
Arthur craved for the attention. He wanted to be a stand-up comedian, which is quite understandable for me as people from dysfunctional families very often play the role of a court jester. They try to control the changing moods of an emotionally unstable parent by the lough. Later on, they attempt to control the bigger audience, much scarier one. I've been there, and I am a great comedian if the situation requires that. I can make others laugh, though inside, I am hauling like a wounded animal.
Do you think his laugh was a real laugh? No. It was a cry. There was nothing funny about it. And the viewers, sitting around me in the cinema, had been expressing obvious distress while watching it.
He finally attracted attention. He became a hero, a model role even. And it didn't bother him it was because of becoming a cruel murderer. He gained self-confidence no one ever gave him. His voice was heard.
White mirror
I've read that there was massive butt-hurt among liberals concerning 'Joker.' Honestly, I have no clue why. I am not a liberal or leftist, despite my tough past and lack of family, and I don't know what so outrageous they could find about this movie. In fact, after leaving the cinema, I thought to myself: it's just a movie, and there are no political connotations in it; it's good to see such a non-engaged picture.
Well, it seems leftists can see wrong things everywhere nowadays. Especially when it touches their 'subconscious biases.' Maybe they have the impression someone put the mirror in front of their eyes.
Loud silence
Five hundred people filled the cinema on Sunday evening. Five hundred young craved for good entertainment people ready for consumption of tons of pop-corn and gallons of cola. I was terrified. First, crowds make me feel uncomfortable. Second, I hate the sound of crunching and chewing, along with this specific smell. But for almost two hours, there was only silence. And palpable shock.
I'm not very fond of cinemas, both big and small ones. I like watching horrors there, though, or catastrophic movies for better effects. But I knew that 'Joker' is the film that I must-see on the big screen only. I somehow knew this movie will be about me too.
I read the opinion that it is hard to watch, that it is a 'heavy' picture with a very stifling atmosphere, and, due to that fact, even some spectators were leaving the cinemas before the end credits. Yes, and that's the point.
I was watching this movie with nothing but satisfaction. Other feelings were not significant at the moment. Finally, someone else could feel something that is my personal experience on a daily basis. I wasn't shocked by what I see. I wasn't in shock at all. Not after all these years with my non-mother and all this crap she keeps in her head. I know, for I saw it, the viewers were confused, they felt anxiety, and at some point embarrassment. The only thing I wanted to shout to them was:
"Welcome to my world, people!"
See what I see, feel what I feel
In my opinion, as a person who, for decades, suffers from mental health problems, 'Joker' is so far the best movie depicting mental health issues. It directly tells about the causes (surprise, surprise! - Arthur's mother was a diagnosed narc, and he was abused by her lover). It also shows the dramatic results (not everyone becomes a mass murderer, but Joker's figure vividly reminds me of at least one dictator's biography). From my point of view, however, the most important thing was how Joaquin Phoenix played that part.
Portraying character with emotional disorders is not easy because most of the people, actors too, have a very shallow understanding of what does it mean someone is struggling with mental health.
In the movie, there is a scene where Arthur is with his therapist, informing him about fund cuts, and that this is their last meeting. He then said something that is an epitome of being a mentally ill person in society:"You don't listen."When he was saying these words, he wasn't sick whatsoever. He was totally sane.
We are sick because nobody listens to us; nobody who can do something - parents, family, teachers, priests, shrinks. We must fit in some template; we must answer tendentious questions; we must obey. My therapists didn't want to listen to what I want to tell them - they only wanted me to be a 'good patient' to play another role in my life. While things I say always end in some void.
Arthur's voice wasn't heard, he stayed invisible. But his actions gained the attention. Why? Because he did something that many people wanted to do too. Of course, this deed was not in their name, for he didn't have any agenda. He simply was desperate. Like they were.
I won't lecture about society's unfairness and class division because it's not a real problem here. People's desperation starts long before they become grown-ups. And it also applies to rich people, expressing their despair differently. The thing is some persons endure tough times on emotional level (war, economic crisis, etc.), and some not. The internal stamina develops at home, at very early stages of life, usually, when we are too small to speak. But society stays behind our drama, e.g., when it destroys the institution of a healthy family; when there are no fathers present in our lives. It backs and covers unhealthy practices and makes them new normal. Society (family, school, church, social services, neighbors) ruined my life by letting my non-mother do whatever she wanted to do; by protecting her and not protecting my father's rights; by promoting the figure of a 'brave' lonely mother; by denying she's evil person... These made of me a vulnerable person, poorly enduring hard times.
We grow up, and we already are tired. We are fed up with being maltreated. We feel we do not belong to any kind of group, and if we do, we are not able to adjust. We feel like we are depersonalized. The frustration is more significant within years till the moment something breaks for good. If a man has no good bone, some compass-like faith in God, the tragedy is inevitable.
Antihero but hero
Arthur craved for the attention. He wanted to be a stand-up comedian, which is quite understandable for me as people from dysfunctional families very often play the role of a court jester. They try to control the changing moods of an emotionally unstable parent by the lough. Later on, they attempt to control the bigger audience, much scarier one. I've been there, and I am a great comedian if the situation requires that. I can make others laugh, though inside, I am hauling like a wounded animal.
Do you think his laugh was a real laugh? No. It was a cry. There was nothing funny about it. And the viewers, sitting around me in the cinema, had been expressing obvious distress while watching it.
He finally attracted attention. He became a hero, a model role even. And it didn't bother him it was because of becoming a cruel murderer. He gained self-confidence no one ever gave him. His voice was heard.
White mirror
I've read that there was massive butt-hurt among liberals concerning 'Joker.' Honestly, I have no clue why. I am not a liberal or leftist, despite my tough past and lack of family, and I don't know what so outrageous they could find about this movie. In fact, after leaving the cinema, I thought to myself: it's just a movie, and there are no political connotations in it; it's good to see such a non-engaged picture.
Well, it seems leftists can see wrong things everywhere nowadays. Especially when it touches their 'subconscious biases.' Maybe they have the impression someone put the mirror in front of their eyes.
September 28, 2019
Foe of mine
Being a child of a parent who is narcissistic sadist is something awful. But the much worse situation is when one is a member of a narcissistic family. It's not so rare, and the people who are aware that there is something wrong with their clan are in very complicated circumstances. They have two options - stay with the family or run away. The first alternative means they probably won't have the chance to heal their wounds, to be themselves, to live a healthy life, full of love and happiness. If they choose to escape the gulag euphemistically called family, they should be prepared for the war. And since they are fragile human beings, usually weakened by the ordeal they came through, the fight for their own well being seems way too hard for their nervous system.
Well, this is my reality.
On the one side of the barricade, they - predators, united against me, angry people, prepared for doing really nasty things to me. Things they call love, common sense, and observing God's commandments. They have assembled everyone they could: in-laws, friends, even secret lovers. Every single attempt to convince me I am a terrible person is justified in their eyes. These persons are backed by Church, neighbors, my 'friends' and teachers from my school.
On the other side, me. Just me. Some people told me, "you're not alone; we are with you." But once I was openly attacked by some family members, I found allies in people I didn't expect.
It took me too much time to understand why my non-mother's sibling and their spouses (and spouses' sibling) are so fierce and united in their campaign. She and they don't even like each other, they were permanent enemies, plotting and accusing one by another of real or imagined things. But this is how NPD families work - they join the forces against a common foe. In this case, the adversary is me. And this was also a mystery for me. They act as if my decision was a threat. For it is.
NPD families are built on lies. Many lies. The person telling them the truth is dangerous and should be silenced by all means. The lies are like glue for the fiction created many years ago by our ancestors - it makes the impression everything is in the right place. They don't believe in these myths though. In their guts, they know that everything is wrong. Just like me. They simply don't know that living in truth is possible.
Well, this is my reality.
On the one side of the barricade, they - predators, united against me, angry people, prepared for doing really nasty things to me. Things they call love, common sense, and observing God's commandments. They have assembled everyone they could: in-laws, friends, even secret lovers. Every single attempt to convince me I am a terrible person is justified in their eyes. These persons are backed by Church, neighbors, my 'friends' and teachers from my school.
On the other side, me. Just me. Some people told me, "you're not alone; we are with you." But once I was openly attacked by some family members, I found allies in people I didn't expect.
It took me too much time to understand why my non-mother's sibling and their spouses (and spouses' sibling) are so fierce and united in their campaign. She and they don't even like each other, they were permanent enemies, plotting and accusing one by another of real or imagined things. But this is how NPD families work - they join the forces against a common foe. In this case, the adversary is me. And this was also a mystery for me. They act as if my decision was a threat. For it is.
NPD families are built on lies. Many lies. The person telling them the truth is dangerous and should be silenced by all means. The lies are like glue for the fiction created many years ago by our ancestors - it makes the impression everything is in the right place. They don't believe in these myths though. In their guts, they know that everything is wrong. Just like me. They simply don't know that living in truth is possible.
September 9, 2019
Is it you or is it me?
The biggest paradox of people who were not loved by their mothers (
and they are not aware of this fact
) is that they never become fully independent human beings. It's not only about being immature. It's about being a part of somebody else's body and mind. And this is the main reason these people deny anything bad happened to them from the hand of the mother. Admitting that the beloved mom, this fantastic person, contemporary saint, is, in fact, the merciless abuser is something beyond their ability.
The mechanism is simple - unborn and newborn baby is so dependent on the mother's love that he or she is a part of her body and mind. And once the love is not provided, the person stuck in this very early stage of development and cannot move on. There is, of course, a way of solving this problem by replacing the figure of the mother by someone else, by some kind of authority who supplies the child with whatever it needs. But let's be honest, no one sees such a necessity when the mother seems to be so fabulous. Besides, she would never give up on the best mean of showing off as the best parent in the world.
For the child, saying that mommy was bad is equal to disintegrating whole the world, for if she is bad person, he is too. If she didn't love him, he had never existed.
The mechanism is simple - unborn and newborn baby is so dependent on the mother's love that he or she is a part of her body and mind. And once the love is not provided, the person stuck in this very early stage of development and cannot move on. There is, of course, a way of solving this problem by replacing the figure of the mother by someone else, by some kind of authority who supplies the child with whatever it needs. But let's be honest, no one sees such a necessity when the mother seems to be so fabulous. Besides, she would never give up on the best mean of showing off as the best parent in the world.
For the child, saying that mommy was bad is equal to disintegrating whole the world, for if she is bad person, he is too. If she didn't love him, he had never existed.
September 7, 2019
Searching for Gold in a Pile of Dung
So how does the fact that you had the non-parent
similar to my non-mother
impact your life?
Just imagine this: you were a victim - abused, sometimes 'used', neglected, maybe beaten - but you grew up without knowing the truth; you are convinced that the person who loved you the most couldn't be your abuser; you don't connect your problems with mental health or addictions to the possibility that you were not loved whatsoever and that you live in tremendous lie, backed by the family, society, church and yourself. And now, you are a grown-up person, making stupid decisions no one with a span of sanity understands.
One of the most ludicrous choices is marrying the person who... doesn't love you. Yet, it is not so ludicrous if you'd know the truth, for this is what you've learned: to see love where there is no love, to search gold in a big reeking pile of shit. You dig and dig, you are dirtier and dirtier, but you don't give up and you find these efforts as a proof for your stamina and strong character.
It's sad. It's pathetic. My heart, however, is full of compassion for these souls, because their feelings, unlike 'feelings' of the narc scumbags, preying on them, are genuine, and the pain is a hundred percent real. I'd like to tell them not to look gold where there only can be dung found.
Just imagine this: you were a victim - abused, sometimes 'used', neglected, maybe beaten - but you grew up without knowing the truth; you are convinced that the person who loved you the most couldn't be your abuser; you don't connect your problems with mental health or addictions to the possibility that you were not loved whatsoever and that you live in tremendous lie, backed by the family, society, church and yourself. And now, you are a grown-up person, making stupid decisions no one with a span of sanity understands.
One of the most ludicrous choices is marrying the person who... doesn't love you. Yet, it is not so ludicrous if you'd know the truth, for this is what you've learned: to see love where there is no love, to search gold in a big reeking pile of shit. You dig and dig, you are dirtier and dirtier, but you don't give up and you find these efforts as a proof for your stamina and strong character.
It's sad. It's pathetic. My heart, however, is full of compassion for these souls, because their feelings, unlike 'feelings' of the narc scumbags, preying on them, are genuine, and the pain is a hundred percent real. I'd like to tell them not to look gold where there only can be dung found.
September 6, 2019
Ugly Truth
It is hard to accept that the person you love the most hurts you. We try to 'protect' ourselves from this fact so we are finding millions of reasons why he or she is doing so. These reasons are supposed to protect the beloved one, to explain why he or she treats us like that, to justify his or her deeds. And the last thing we want to think about is that this very person makes us harm because he or she finds the ultimate pleasure in it.
That's right - pleasure.
Not so long ago, I've learned that these people, who like causing pain and, at the same time, feel attached to the victims, are called sadists while psychopaths are those who like hurting others but don't have any particular emotions towards them hence their victims are so often killed. That's why I say that my non-mother is a sadist, not a psychopath. She thinks she loves me because she experiences huge distress while I'm far away from her. And since she believes in it so hard, almost everybody believes her.
Oh, I too believe she suffers, for the only moments of true pleasure for her was when she had the opportunity to hurt me. My pain meant she was in control over something, probably the only thing in her miserable life. But after those years without her around me, when I was washing off my soul of her venom, I realized that this wasn't just about control.
I don't find pleasure in tormenting people, especially children. In fact, the thought I could have hurt anyone is terrifying. I literally cannot sleep, dwelling on words I said that could have done harm. And the longer I am good for myself the more stunned I am how she could be so cruel for so long, and that this cruelty was escalating and evolving withing years, adjusting to my age and needs (e.g., she stopped beating me when I was a teenager but she started leaving me alone at home for days and was constantly mad at me for no reason). Like I said, now I know it was nothing but pure pleasure for her.
I call it 'ugly truth' because for the people like my non-mother the truth is something utterly bad. They want to have control over a weak and dependent human being, and there is no better one than own child. They don't see anything wrong about what they do and how their emotional world is functioning. They feel entitled to such behavior. The truth that they are the evil person is unacceptable.
That's right - pleasure.
Not so long ago, I've learned that these people, who like causing pain and, at the same time, feel attached to the victims, are called sadists while psychopaths are those who like hurting others but don't have any particular emotions towards them hence their victims are so often killed. That's why I say that my non-mother is a sadist, not a psychopath. She thinks she loves me because she experiences huge distress while I'm far away from her. And since she believes in it so hard, almost everybody believes her.
Oh, I too believe she suffers, for the only moments of true pleasure for her was when she had the opportunity to hurt me. My pain meant she was in control over something, probably the only thing in her miserable life. But after those years without her around me, when I was washing off my soul of her venom, I realized that this wasn't just about control.
I don't find pleasure in tormenting people, especially children. In fact, the thought I could have hurt anyone is terrifying. I literally cannot sleep, dwelling on words I said that could have done harm. And the longer I am good for myself the more stunned I am how she could be so cruel for so long, and that this cruelty was escalating and evolving withing years, adjusting to my age and needs (e.g., she stopped beating me when I was a teenager but she started leaving me alone at home for days and was constantly mad at me for no reason). Like I said, now I know it was nothing but pure pleasure for her.
I call it 'ugly truth' because for the people like my non-mother the truth is something utterly bad. They want to have control over a weak and dependent human being, and there is no better one than own child. They don't see anything wrong about what they do and how their emotional world is functioning. They feel entitled to such behavior. The truth that they are the evil person is unacceptable.
September 3, 2019
Contemporary Witches
Why is it so hard to accept that there are mothers who don't love their children? Why this fact is so inconvenient for most people? As if telling it loudly was something awful.
Well, the awful truth is there are bad or even evil mothers but the worse thing is being silent about it. Silence makes the following generations have no chance to live a better life, for the lack of true mother's love impacts the quality of life in the whole society. Just as one priest told me: the world is so screwed because there are stupid mothers in it. Period.
It is not about some kind of witch hunt, even if I call these specific women witches. It is about improving the situation and the situation is that millions of women are nowadays ready to kill their children before (or even after) the birth in the name of 'free' choice.
But on my radar, there are women pretending love. The contemporary 'saints', with the mission to be devoted to their beloved children and, not so often, to the whole world, full of poor souls. These women, however, are not able to love anyone, either themselves. They are narcissistic witches, casting the spells on everyone around them, and few see their true faces. You cannot say that they are narcs, without being condemned by almost everyone. Believe me, you cannot!
And this is an odd thing - how people can be so blind? And the most peculiar thing is how is it that we, the children of these witches, stay in such darkness for so long, even all life, when only the truth may help us solve our various problems. This is the ultimate witchcraft!
I see them everywhere. The creations of bad mothers. If they don't become narcs themselves, they most likely have mental health issues, they are not able to sustain stable relationships, they break the law, overuse drugs and alcohol, commit suicide... And sometimes, they are so stupid that nobody can believe this is possible. People look at them, nod the heads and say:
"How can he/she be such an imbecile?! His/her mother was a fantastic person."
Well, the awful truth is there are bad or even evil mothers but the worse thing is being silent about it. Silence makes the following generations have no chance to live a better life, for the lack of true mother's love impacts the quality of life in the whole society. Just as one priest told me: the world is so screwed because there are stupid mothers in it. Period.
It is not about some kind of witch hunt, even if I call these specific women witches. It is about improving the situation and the situation is that millions of women are nowadays ready to kill their children before (or even after) the birth in the name of 'free' choice.
But on my radar, there are women pretending love. The contemporary 'saints', with the mission to be devoted to their beloved children and, not so often, to the whole world, full of poor souls. These women, however, are not able to love anyone, either themselves. They are narcissistic witches, casting the spells on everyone around them, and few see their true faces. You cannot say that they are narcs, without being condemned by almost everyone. Believe me, you cannot!
And this is an odd thing - how people can be so blind? And the most peculiar thing is how is it that we, the children of these witches, stay in such darkness for so long, even all life, when only the truth may help us solve our various problems. This is the ultimate witchcraft!
I see them everywhere. The creations of bad mothers. If they don't become narcs themselves, they most likely have mental health issues, they are not able to sustain stable relationships, they break the law, overuse drugs and alcohol, commit suicide... And sometimes, they are so stupid that nobody can believe this is possible. People look at them, nod the heads and say:
"How can he/she be such an imbecile?! His/her mother was a fantastic person."
September 1, 2019
Why don't you love me?
One of the biggest milestones on my way to recovery (which still is an ongoing process) was the discovery that my non-mother simply hates me to the bone. It took me so many years to accept this obvious fact because of at least four reasons. First, Stockholm syndrome. Second, her constant lies, so common among narcs. Third, social discourse. Fourth, so-called religious upbringing.
But, since I came to this realization, I started asking myself a plain question: WHY? And again, I fell in self-blaming and looking for the explanations within myself until I remembered how I hated someone else to the bone without any particular reason. No one was more surprised by this feeling than I was. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Now it's clear that people with 'narcissistic wound' (not necessarily narcs) may have this compulsive need to direct the hatred toward one or more people. In their minds, there is, of course, a good justification for that which, in fact, doesn't have a lot in common with common sense. But... we must hate someone just like we were hated, usually by our own mother.
However, there is one big problem here. In most cases, we don't know that our beloved mom hated us. We do not accept the reality, for it might have destroyed us. Whereas, it is quite the opposite.
It's easier when people are aware that the mother never loved them. You may think that bearing this knowledge is something terrible but unawareness is much worse. This is like living with a big secret that is tormenting our subconscious and nervous system. The body knows that it was hurt and that there was no love, yet the intellect tries to dupe it.
For my non-mother, I was the perfect scapegoat to transfer her hatred, anger, and accusations. She could blame me for everything she desired because it was allowed by her non-family, church, society, educational system, etc. She could feel the relief whenever she wanted, thus her changing moods, bursts of anger coming out of nowhere, inconsistency in the value system. Nobody knew she hated me. Nobody knew she never loved me. Nobody knew she was a real threat to my health and life on a daily basis. She was 'safe'.
But, since I came to this realization, I started asking myself a plain question: WHY? And again, I fell in self-blaming and looking for the explanations within myself until I remembered how I hated someone else to the bone without any particular reason. No one was more surprised by this feeling than I was. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Now it's clear that people with 'narcissistic wound' (not necessarily narcs) may have this compulsive need to direct the hatred toward one or more people. In their minds, there is, of course, a good justification for that which, in fact, doesn't have a lot in common with common sense. But... we must hate someone just like we were hated, usually by our own mother.
However, there is one big problem here. In most cases, we don't know that our beloved mom hated us. We do not accept the reality, for it might have destroyed us. Whereas, it is quite the opposite.
It's easier when people are aware that the mother never loved them. You may think that bearing this knowledge is something terrible but unawareness is much worse. This is like living with a big secret that is tormenting our subconscious and nervous system. The body knows that it was hurt and that there was no love, yet the intellect tries to dupe it.
For my non-mother, I was the perfect scapegoat to transfer her hatred, anger, and accusations. She could blame me for everything she desired because it was allowed by her non-family, church, society, educational system, etc. She could feel the relief whenever she wanted, thus her changing moods, bursts of anger coming out of nowhere, inconsistency in the value system. Nobody knew she hated me. Nobody knew she never loved me. Nobody knew she was a real threat to my health and life on a daily basis. She was 'safe'.
