When Aphrodite on the half shell morphs into the Willdendorf Goddess and all hell breaks loose

I realize my mother was my only adult friend, only adult I had any sort of rapport with at all, at the time. I had no adult guidance after she died. I knew at 13 I'd been raised enough, so that was fine. I didn't need guidance.

Babci blocked other female relatives from stepping in? Seems to me no one tried. I was entirely tongue-tied. I have a few precious days in my entire childhood/youth when my tongue for whatever reason became untied and I was part of whatever was going on. Usually I was ignored.

 Peeps thought she took mother's place. How could they? Babci so depressed. So isolated. So non-intuitive. Absolute worst sort of person for me to be guided by at that point. Persued perceived problem, always way off base.

Like Michelle. Tell me what's wrong so I can fix you.

Only I can fix you. And if I can't it's your fault. Nothing else will fix you. Only I can fix you.

And their version of you fixed is warped by their Narcissist's bell jar...

I felt I was getting better.

She said I was getting worse. That my therapist was driving me to suicide.

Meaning, I was embarassing her somehow, slipping from the Narcissist's magic circle of acceptable people.

Our marriage couselor saw me alone after Michelle refused to continue because the problem was me. He was too subtle. once you're off a narcissist's list you don't get back on. What he should have said was: get the hell out of there while you still have half a brain (generous) intact.

It is like being in a cult. Is why I wrote Jonestown play. Understand on some levels. Naive/idealistic underclass peeps kept in states of confusion by someone with plausible superiority so partner/followers are malleable: New Clay. Predator/Prey. Stepford wifey.

And when Aphrodite on the half shell morphs into the Willdendorf Goddess and all hell breaks loose, it's a twister, Dorothy. You walk in the house and it spins out beyond the back of beyond, and you're in Munchkinland or Oz or down the rabbit hole and you never know what's going to greet you at the door. Well, not greet. Michelle never greeted me. More like: "juice!" "I never get dinner before midnight" "change my oxygen"

I ruined my health for her.
She sabotaged friendships I tried to make.
After she died I was told people wanted to get to know me but were scared off by Michelle.

Michelle's bitterness, her sarcastic tongue, her non sequiter harangues, her tactless statements, her rudeness ( she defended it as honesty)...I tried to soften it.

I'm a little rough around the edges. Not a softener. Not the right type to cater to a narcissist. Even F (blunt and fairly intuitive) said I wasn't codependent, I didn't talk codependent. I'm not the typical jealous/overzealous lover.

I stayed single til into my 30's, mostly by choice (though the choices were limited)
I was sober and just finishing RN. So I'd be independent. With a job skill I could do anywhere. there was Unity--positive thinking. A total revolution in thought. And Prozac, when it first came out. I'd been on all the old anti-depressants with minimal results and maximal gas attacks (as I recall);

I woke up one day, right on schedule, 4 weeks after starting Prozac, and I didn't want to die.
I hadn't realized I woke up wanting to die every day of my life until the day I woke up being okay with being alive.

I've been waking up lately not not wanting to die. Prozac doesn't seem to work anymore. None of the fuckers work anymore. Paxil did for a while, then stopped.

God, the meds I've been on. imiprimine, stelazine, (as a major tranquilizer, not an anti-psychotic, although I was having distortions in vision and hearing at the time), mellaril, lithium, prozac, seroquel, paxil, wellbutrin, benzodiazapines,

After my 2nd rehab, when I was living in State College, PA (home of Penn State University and The Meadows Dual-Diagnosed treatment center),  a psychiatrist suggested I try Ativan for my anxiety. Before I could think about it, I blurted out: "I can't take that! I'm in recovery."

"Oh, you are?"

I was healthier then. Now I'd dope-fiend my mind into condoning taking whatever the good doctor (who apparantly hadn't read my chart to the depth of finding out my primary diagnosis) prescribed.

Or maybe not.

I should get an Epstein Barr titer. Maybe I need to go back on an anti-viral.
I'm one of the lucky 1% who has recurring active Epstein Barr. So does my high school girlfriend. Cooincidence? She's been sick since she was a kid, however.

These diseases that are chronic, recurring, changeable hourly... people don't believe .... doctors don't believe... they exist. Except the doctors that have them.

Patients doubt themselves half the time...it's a big topic.  Got kicked out of an online group for being obnoxious, negative, and sarcastic. I hate sentimental shit. It makes me want to kick a kitten.

NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF THIS BLOGPOST