Healing Wounds Right

That I knew she was a life-squasher from first glance, no one cares.

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One encounter and I knew I was dealing with a CON at some level.  But how, but where?  It’s just a hunch, I must be wrong.  They always call me wrong.

She was showered with love and swooning in approval.  Not to mention charming beyond all reason.  I should like her anyway, because that’s what we do, in our clan.

Besides, she was all that he wanted, that any man could conceivably want: Beautiful, caring, young, gregarious, doting, etc., etc.

That I talked to her, privately, intimating, questioning her ever so delicately, which I can be just as efficacious at as I can be badgering mercilessly.  No one cares.

There’s consensus, we’ve aligned with it, and if you ask a single unsavory question, you will be met with the total indignation of our collective clan wrath. 

How dare you sense what we can’t see!  We do not agree, missy!

But, wait, what about me?  When I march along I’m blessed, but when I disagree I’m pitied?  I’m castrated?  I’m eye-rolled out of existence? That speaks much more of y’all than it does of me.

You say you love me, care about me, have protected me and yet . . . My senses are routinely dismissed, and completely subjugated under your defenses. 

Do you care how it feels for me, really, to sense these things, to remember these things, while being systematically dismissed by those who say they love and care?

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Don’t rock our boat!  Well, that proves right there you are narcissistic and selfish! And a bully! A bully is rocking our boat of perfect delusions and illusions! STOP HER!

And yet, the truth will set ME free.  I will, at last, be able to force that 300 pound laughing man off my lap, for once, and for all! Once every person in my life who finds this acceptable is OUT, breathe will return to me once again.

The liars will scatter, and even fear.  

Heaven on MY hearth.

 

Queen Myth-Makers

The following is a guided step-by-step in creating the perfect family myth. 

First, you need a volunteer myth-maker.  You will need a covert narcissist for this function.

The covert narcissist will need a team of flying monkeys. These are easy to create or buy.

She will need to be highly skilled in manipulation.  Most likely she will have learned this craft from her mother, as did she from her mother before, and so on.  

She will need to be married to an overt narcissist, this makes the ideal toxic family cocktail.  She will need to create trauma-bonding and sibling rivalry in the intimate environment through various forms of chaos-creating, including divorces, constant big parties and events; Sample menu: hors d-oeuvres of guilt and shame, a main course of roasted denial bullshit, and a dessert of flaming marzipan-coated turd-lies.

She will be able to move with ballerina-like precision between states of victimhood, coquettery, contempt, servitude, flattery, and various other forms of emotional witchcraft, and be magically-skilled at spinning every pair of granny panties into thongs.

She will need to remain oblivious to the drugs her children are consuming, provided by enablers on her staff.  Once they reach legal age this ‘selective blindness’ will be forgotten, or denied, or normalized, or most likely, all of the above in a varying cascade of verbal and visual spellcraft.

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This is speculation only.  I have no experiences or acquaintances in this domain.  It is for entertainment purposes only.