Getting Back to a Peaceful Life

The Fine Artwork of Carolyn McFann

It's an early Friday morning here in gorgeous Geauga county. The world is so still and peaceful outside. I couldn't sleep so I'm up writing in this blog. I've been busy cleaning, organizing and just enjoying the new house. It's so wonderful, words cannot describe it. From my numerous bedroom windows, clouds just roll by in the big sky. So relaxing. I can't wait to get outdoor furniture so it will be comfortable to draw outside. Doing artwork had been on "back burner" during my move but will soon be top priority again. Fall has always been a busy season for me and this one will be no different. My urge to create is heightened by dealing with family problems. The worse they are, the more charged I am to do artwork. It's a great outlet for my anger and pain, but my drawings aren't dark..rather the opposite. I draw how I want life, animals and other things to be. A kinder, gentler world. It's fun to retreat into the world of marathon drawing or painting and forget the real world for awhile. Just put on some good music or a movie and drown out problems, just create. It's kept me sane all these years :)

My two cats are getting along great now. Beau and Matisse really are buddies, it's wonderful to see. Beau no longer growls at Matt, who has been loving and sweet all along. They can be found snoozing near eachother most of the time now, usually downstairs in the kitchen. Recently I bought a kitchen nook (two benches and a matching table) for my kitchen and the cats have taken it over as theirs. It's cute, but they have to get off when it's time to eat! I come downstairs in the morning to find both cats spread-eagle stretched on the nook, just enjoying the breezes from the windodws nearby. It's amazing that one set of furniture could bring so much entertainment to cats, glad they like it. Nobody sleeps on my bed anymore but me, since they have officially taken over the kitchen.

Later today I will be designing more iPod Touch cases. I've done about 250 so far and there's many more to go. From the way the clouds are looking it might be a good day to stay inside, like it's going to pour. My garden will love it. It will be wonderful go get my garden going but this year it's kind of small. I'm very busy with other things at the moment and will resume gardening here and there. Next year I'll get rose bushes, hydrangea, hosta, mums and other plants but this growing season has been dedicated to moving and indoors work. The few plants I did get in the ground are looking ok, this place is a landscaper's dream..so much to do still but oh so fun to think about. As I work on the computer, the garden is in the back of my mind, still in the planning stages.

My heart is heavy about my parents, but I know that it was the right decision to back away from them. I love them so much but mom is just to volatile to be around. She just can't respect me, and tries taking me over as if I have no brain of my own. It's like water torture. Drip...drip...drip...nitpick..pick...correct...analayze... Being corrected, scolded, analyzed, treated like I don't have a brain or common sense hurts. I tried to look the other way, stand up for myself, but it doesn't matter because in her mind I have no rights. And she plays the martyr/victim, always upset if I don't do what she wants or interrupt her endless, unwanted "advice" with "I know, mom". How dare I have a mind of my own! How dare I don't set the table in her house when she demands it. When I have company over, family or not, I don't dictate orders to them. It's my job to treat people like guests, which they are. Not mom, don't do what she wants and get yelled at/guilt tripped/demeaned and belittled. I did the "good daughter" thing and brushed off her quirks as just that..but when she's screaming in my face in a fit of rage and I feel my heart beating out of my chest, I could see that she-and her terroristic ways-have no part of my life. There is no bigger pain than to let go of parents, even abusive ones.



So, my life is my own. There is a sense of deep relief now that wasn't there before. I'm not new to being totally on my own, living in other states and places for many years. Being independent is great. There is total peace. My home is my sanctuary. No yelling, no anger, no fear. Just peace. This is the way life should be. I hired a therapist to help guide me through this separation from family. Therapists in the past helped me gain a different perspective on things besides just my own views. They always suggested that I "run", to get as far away from my parents as possible. I lived in Florida, Pittsburgh, Cancun..yes, I did what they said and it helped. But missed Ohio. I didn't ask for my parents to move close to me, but they did. I went with the flow and tried embracing it all, thinking maybe we all grew up and can get along this time..but no, reality has hit again and now I know it isn't to be. It hurts. It rips my gut out in a million pieces. My stomach churns all the time with tension, internalized sadness. Why can't we just get along? Because mom is a narcissist and just can't have peace. That's why. It sucks.

Luckily, there are other friends and extended family around. Life is still good, my business is a joy as it operates itself nicely. I have much to be thankful for. Work is an escape that I love. Life goes on. The knot in my stomach will dissipate, I will find others to spend time with and the memory of my mother's hysterical, vicious behavior will eventually fade. My parents sneered, "You'll be back" when I left their house last. No, sadly, we don't get along. I won't. I will be visiting your neighbors, whom are wonderful people, but not your house. It's up to you, mom and dad, to find new people to invite over, then scream at/belittle and attack when THEY don't do what you want. I'm out of the "cult". My therapist is my deprogrammer. The world is a beautiful place far from violence and cruelty. Life is still good.

Ridding Myself of Family Secrets While Learning

The Fine Artwork of Carolyn McFann

Yesterday I was cruising YouTube for information on adult abuse survivors, thinking I'd find a video here and there that could be interesting. Well, I hit the motherlode..wow, did I ever!

To my amazement, I found the postings of an expert on Narcissism, what my family is all about, named Sam Vaknin and his videos really hit home. I always felt like a freak growing up with such an abnormal, hostile and angry family. All the terrorism, scapegoating, my narcissitic mother stirring up trouble then blaming it all on me every day, all the time. She bullied, insulted, hurled insults, belittled, manipulated (dad) and ruled the house with such ferocity then would be a sweet, loving, squeaky-clean Montessori teacher during the day. She fooled the public with her sweetheart act, but not the therapists.

My parents were having marital trouble when I was 12, and when the psychotherapist saw how messed up they both were, she wanted to see me. My parents didn't like therapy because mom resisted change and everything (in her little world) worked the way she wanted it to (she can't handle criticism in any way, shape or form and therapy to her was blasphemy). But I loved therapy because it was safe, respectful and gave answers to a life where I thought I was always to blame for everything. My therapist Janeen told me at twelve not to use my mother as a role model because she was very abusive to me. It was a revelation, hard to understand but she taught me in time what abuse was and that I wasn't crazy/bad/the cause of all things bad in our home.

My mother was (and still is) very attractive, vain and arrogant. She feels entitled and unconsciously thinks being (hopelessly) spoiled is her God-given right. She demands it. Later when therapists told me that my mother and father are both narcissists and that they "cannot love you", that was harder to take but it made complete sense in some sort of twisted, odd way. One therapist told me, "This is probably the hardest and saddest reality you will ever have to accept in your life". It is. Most definitely. I tried "fixing" them (teaching them things I learned in therapy). It fell on deaf ears. They consistently blame me for all their troubles, play the martyr all the time and banked on me being a loser, someone with no brain, no mind of my own..someone to look down upon and to criticize. All the while bragging to me to their friends on how I won this art award or how I was in this newspaper due to my artistic abilities. They used my strengths when it would benefit them, then the rest of the time I was used as their personal punching bag..in private, of course.

So here I am, watching these videos last night, my jaw jut hit the floor! Sam Vaknin was describing all the insanity I lived with for the 17 years I was in my parents' home, and also the struggle to overcome the serious damage inflicted upon me by them in my adult life. He described it in such detail, exactly what went on. And the damage that was done to me (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, clinical Anxiety and Depression). I never realized how pathological and damaging living with these people was..not really..until I saw these videos. It explains so much.

I have spent the majority of my life in therapy, consciously working to break the cycle of abuse by being aware and not repeating the mistakes of my parents. Ok, I have some narcissism in me due to being spotlighted for my artwork since very young, but it is not harmful..in many ways I think it saved my life and gave me something to live for. I enjoy the attention but don't live for it and actually prefer to be in the background, making art more than anything else.

Being the child of narcissists is a thankless job. You learn that "mom" is a "four letter word"..and inside you have a LOT of anger from being emotionally violated/abused/manipulated by someone (especially mom) who was supposed to love but cannot. I consciously never had children because I was terrified of being abusive or angry. The therapists told me that I probably would have been a very good mother. And now, looking back, I think they are right. I work very hard to have healthy outlets for my anger, and do not blow up/throw tantrums/threaten/scare or hurt anyone. One psychiatrist told me that I am "highly controlled". Yep, and I plan to stay that way. I take my anger out on drawing pretty pictures, of what I want life to be (pretty, upbeat), not what it has been (disappointing, dark and confusing when it comes to family, yet successful otherwise..away from them). It is imperative to me to be a rational, logical adult..not the emotional, immature basketcase my mother is. She is ruled by her emotions and lives to criticize and control everything (and I do mean everything). Her personality is that of a child, easily bored, quick to anger and needs entertaining or she gets upset. The world is about her and only her. She is smart, though, and will keep any bad behavior well hidden from her friends because deep down somewhere in that black heart of hers she knows full well what she did to me was wrong.

When I was in my twenties, I used to sell my artwork on pins and earrings. Mom offered to take a bunch of them to her school and see if anyone would buy some. They did, they bought a whole lot. When she got back she gave me a bunch of checks but no cash. I asked if there had been cash (because naturally there would be in my dealings with selling them in the past). She denied it. I took her word for it.

I was friends with a teaching assitant of mom's, who later told me that people were "throwing cash" at her, for my art pins. Lots and lots of it. When I contronted my mother with this, she (and dad) quickly got furious with ME! Their response was "Our Christmas wouldn't be the same without that money". They lived in a very expensive home, and lived very expensive lives..how could MY money have made their Christmas?? I lived in a small apartment and scraped by for money. They knew the money was something I needed at that time. Mom never had remorse for this at all, and kept up her angry, insulted stance, knowing full well she was guilty. Dad did give me some money, behind her back, later. It was the first concrete example of how I seriously couldn't trust her and it hurt so much.

Mom sabotauged my friendship with Kim, the assistant, for "telling on her". She told her lies about how I had said bad things about her, which I did not do. Kim was on my side throughout all of this and mom had discouraged the relationship from the get-go, telling me not to tell her any of our family "secrets" (it really had made her nervous). I told mom at that time, "If you did anything wrong, then you have nothing to worry about, right?!" She knew. I knew. No wonder she hates me so much. I just don't let her get away with things. Narcissists HATE that with a venomous passion.

I'm writing all of this now, years later, because I'm letting it out, years of hidden secrets that I am no longer willing to keep inside because it is very unhealthy. There are no more secrets. I kept the secrets long enough. My mental health suffered at times because of it. Not anymore. I am an open book from now on, spurred on by therapy, and always desiring health/healing. If you are abused, don't keep the secrets, let it out. Those who don't understand can get lost. It's your life and you need to be heard. I never thought I had a voice as a child..but learned through many years of intense therapy that it's indeed there. And I've been using it more and more as life goes on..it feels amazing to be free now.

Please see Sam Vaknin's videos here, if the link doesn't work click on the title of this post:

http://www.youtube.com/user/samvaknin

Child Abuse..Growing Up With Abusive Parents

The Fine Artwork of Carolyn McFann

This entry may be disturbing for those with parents who are healthy, because you thankfully won't relate with what I write here. Just know that this is all real, and it is what abuse is. The person doing 99% of the abuse was my mother, a (now retired) teacher of small children. My dad has abusive moments but was himself a victim of child abuse as a child, and in general used to be a sweet and caring dad. He just didn't stand up for me much. Anyone can be an abuser, and look so sweet and innocent. They behave during the day, and become monsters at night. Then they can be "nice" later. There is no consistency, no stability. One day they are trustworthy, the next they aren't. Be glad you weren't raised in the atmosphere of terrorism, anger and attacks. The experts say that there is healing in expressing old secrets, in letting it out. Well, here goes. I used to stuff all of this deep down inside, keeping the secrets..not anymore. Others can learn to spot abuse from reading this. If you know anyone who is being abused, call the National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD

As a young girl of around 3 years old, I loved butterflies, bugs and just about anything that moved in the world of nature. My parents and I would take walks in the park and they would show me the flowers, bugs and other things as we went. It was educational. Usually all was fine. But mom had a twisted sense of humor and one time there was a big, fresh pile of horse sh_t on the ground covered with butterflies. Mom told me, "Look, Carolyn, butterflies!", knowing I'd run over and try to catch them. I did what I usually did, ran over and clamped down on them, on the horse poo. Mom and dad laughed heartily as I then realized what it was and desperately tried to clean the stuff off of my hands. It was humiliating and gross. Mom and dad didn't think anything of it. To them, it was funny. In the coming years, there were many more instances here and there of public humiliation. Many. I'll leave it at that.

At 16 years old, I had to go to the doctor, so I got off from school and mom was driving me back from my appointment. The doctor had perscribed a few expensive medicines for my acne, with made mom very mad. She then wanted to go to Heinen's to get food, I told her I needed some apples at the store while we were there as we drove on Green Rd, about to go to Heinen's. She then exploded, "I will be so happy when you're grown and out of the house, I'm SO SICK of you wanting things" (I was not a demanding child, not at all). "You need to get your fat a$$ a real job and stop being a lazy slob(I had a job, working at a nearby country club as a buffet girl, was maybe 20 lbs overweight and I was anything BUT lazy or a slob). Logic, in her mind, didn't exist, she just said whatever. She then punched me. It was a small car and her arms were flailing in every which way as I tried to block the punches. I got out of the car and though it was raining, she zoomed off, angry, not looking back. Home was at least 5 miles away. I didn't care, just wanted to be safe and away from her. I started the long walk..a friend (who was cutting study hall to go to the nearby deli we all liked) saw me and picked me up in her car, brought me back to school. I had been crying and was all wet from walking in the rain. I immediately went up to the art room, my sanctuary when upset. My art teacher took one look at me and looking horrified, without my telling her the details, said "What did she do to you??!". Mrs.Biehle knew, she'd heard me mention problems in the past and had been there for me all along.

That night, Mrs.Biehle took me to her house, made me dinner and told me to relax, she said I wasn't going to be going back home but not to worry. She had a meeting at school to go to, she said, and would return shortly. It turns out that that night, Mrs.Biehle, the school counselor, my Diaries teacher Mrs.Beesley and maybe others (I forget) got together and compared notes all the signs they had seen in the past of abuse. I had come to school red-eyed from crying a few times, trying desperately to hide it. My mother would scream her angry rants at me during the 45 minute drive to school, and terrorize me like crazy, so much that I would shake and feel numb. I felt hostage, captive and terrified underneath it all. I was told that in my Diaries class that what I'd written about daily home life was anything but "normal", due to the abusive behavior of my mother. They had to protect me now. All the clues added up to the teachers for them to reach this decision..

It was decided in the meeting that I would go live with the headmistress of my school, Barbara Barnes, who lived next to Laurel School at Lyman house (a lovely, big house on loan to the head of school during their tenure there). The teachers went to my parents house and got my belongings for me, they told me for my safety not to visit or talk to my mother and father. I found it very hard because I loved them and was programmed to worry about them and their wellbeing all of the time. I stayed at Lyman House with Mrs.Barnes for the remainder of my time at Laurel School. Went to prom from there, even. They kept warning me to not go home. I didn't listen and decided to move back in the summer before college.

Bad idea. The day I moved back, mom screamed, carried on and threw a huge, scary temper tantrum at me, blaming me for everything and calling ME "sick, crazy," etc. She told me "THEY don't have to live with you..", yada, yada, yada. I was feeling unsafe and locked myself in my bedroom. Mom didn't like that so she called my childhood pediatrician (!) to try and get me committed or something. He came, talked to me and I told him the truth. He checked my arms for any signs of drug abuse. I never did drugs, or even a cigarette, in my life. I was (and still am) pretty "square". He could see that I was being abused and I listend through the door as he scolded my mother for her bad behavior. When he left, she continued her hysterical rant again..furious at being "humiliated", and dragged me to University Hospital to try and get me committed. They looked me over and said I'm not crazy, and immediately contacted law enforcement. A police detective and a psychiatrist sat with me, away from my parents, and told me that they were there for me. The detective told me that he would not let her hurt me anymore, and asked if I wanted to go someplace else instead of home. I insisted on going home because I was scared of going to a foster home, having heard horror stories of those before. They begged me to reconsider but I told them that I am going to leave for college soon, and that I would promise to contact them if I felt the least bit in danger. They were so very nice to me, and it felt good to be respected and listened to.

They then put me in another room as they talked to my parents. The walls were thin and I could hear the conversation. They strongly warned and scolded both my parents that this kind of behavior was against the law and not permitted, and the next time there would be severe consequences towards them if this happened again. Mom whined "But you don't have to live with HER!".. and tried to manipulate them but they wouldn't have it, they knew better, and understood what she was trying to do. They gave her a particularly harsh scolding. I was wide-eyed, amazed on the other side of the wall. Wow, they were saying things I only had hoped of saying. If I'd said them, I'd be dead!

When they emerged from the room, mom was a bawling, hystericallly crying pile of mush. Not so big, swaggering and tough anymore. She was milking dad for as much sympathy as possible as he led her away, stuck in the middle from protecting me and appeasing her. She had absolutely no shred of remorse, and never did. She never apologized (though dad did to me away from her). We ate lunch at the hospital restaurant before going home. She just cried and couldn't even look at me..not out of guilt but total disgust. She felt wronged and knew I carried the business card of the detective..and if she got out of line again, I was to call him. Not being able to control this was eating her on the inside, no, jabbing hot pokers into her..how she wanted to attack..but couldn't.

Time goes on. I'm in college. Mom begged dad to take me out of school. She hated that they were spending soooo much money on me and my education. Times were hard for them and instead of caring about my wellbeing, I was cut off. I was in a private, expensive school, with no money of my own, left to fend for myself with absolutely nothing to my name. Mom "won", and thoroughly enjoyed my suffering. She told me NOT to come home, that when I was 18 I was an adult and she never would have me live under her roof again because she wanted privacy with her husband. She suggested I go live at the YWCA (where poor people go when there's noplace to go). I lived with my ex-boyfriend's lovely family in Rochester. I went back to school on my own later but at that time had to drop out since there was no money to go there with. My parents didn't care, just turned their heads as I floundered and had noplace to go. I lost my nice campus apartment, due to not being a student anymore. I'd been homeless for two weeks before moving in with Dave's family. They were nice, and staying there, I could see what a "normal" family was. They listened to one another, they didn't try to attack, belittle, scream at or criticize eachother. It was a huge revelation to me. I'm grateful to the Frankunas family to this day. Oh, and my parents tried to get my student loan for THEIR bills. I luckily found a lawyer to wrangle the check into my hands first, so they couldn't take it for their own use. I still couldn't afford to go back, so I bought a car and got a menial job to support myself.

Years later, as I struggled to finish school on my own, mom gloated when her school paid for her to take an art class here and there. She relished me not being able to afford them and how she was going to be an artist too. One time she spilled coffee on artwork I did, then blamed it on ME! She was always jealous of my art abilities and the attention I got from them, yet contradicted herself and would brag about me to her friends. Yet, she secretly despised not being the center of attention. She never became an artist, and no amount of education given to her could teach her to do the artwork that I do. She just wanted to feel superior.

So, this is only a tiny portion of many, many instances of what it is like to live with abuse. It is terrorism, plain and simple. I have had to overcome Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety and Major Depression through years of counseling. These stories have caused my former therapists to cry, and to despise my parents. I have learned from this whole experience, and only discuss it now to heal more, and inform others of what NOT to do as a parent. Rageaholics shouldn't be parents. If you rage and continuously bully your child, that adrenaline rush stays with them, they then naturally end up with anxiety problems because of it. I am a calm person now, but only after years and years of therapy to undo the mountain of garbage she heaped onto me. I was a good kid. Never in trouble with the law, never done drugs, never violent or mean. Her attempts to discredit/belittle/label me have gone in vain. Mother is a product of her own past. She cannot stand peace, and has to stir things up. She loves drama. I don't, and will avoid it at all costs. This is why now, at 47 years old, I am giving up on being her daughter. I love my dad but he nearly never stood up for me. I used to protect HIM from her rants. All the screaming, blaming, shaming, all her unqualified diagnoses of my being "crazy, psycho, selfish, etc" are her trying to cut me down so she can look big and tough. I go by what the REAL experts say, and they say that I am an incredibly strong survivor. They respect me and tell me that I have overcome so much, that I'm anything but crazy or psycho. And that mom is accusing me of what she is guilty of.

There is health in getting help. I have sought it out and continue to do so. If you have a cruel parent or parents, seek help. Not for them but for you. It does help and does work. I know, I'm alive when I shouldn't be. I'm a survivor. Maybe now, the world will understand me just a little bit better by my opening up about this. Maybe not. All I know is, life is beautiful. And it's more beautiful when not under the control of people who cannot love.

Life is Just Too Short to be a Scapegoat

Meraiah (middle), Eden (left) and Joy (right)..the best young girls in the whole world :)
The Fine Artwork of Carolyn McFann

Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself. - Harvey Fierstein

Today my mother and I got into a verbal fight. I generally am calm and cool about her rants and rudeness but being really screamed at really got to me and I yelled back. I'm not proud of it but she was right up in my face. It was horrible. She thinks she owns me and that I'm her servant. And that anything she does goes in some "bank" somewhere where it makes me somehow indebted to her later. It's a sick, twisted non-logic that always pits me as the horrible, disobedient daughter. I'm 47, not five. I don't deserve to be treated with such cruelty and she hit a boundary so I had to stand up for myself. It hurts. I want to love her but she just won't let me with her controlling, over-the-top aggressive behavior. I wish I had a dollar for every time they have tried to "disown" me for not doing what she says. The bullying is insane and I don't back down. I am close to just not dealing with either of them anymore, since dad just blindly follows anything she says. I'm not that weak, and I won't be controlled by the likes of her.

What started this rukus, you may ask? Something stupid, of course. Mom wanted to buy a $5 glass pitcher at the garage sale of my next door neighbor. She hands me $5 and tells me to get it for her (from home, on the phone). I agree to this. The neighbor then is not out and isn't available for the next few days. I stop at her place and she's not around. Mom, in the meantime, is on the phone, barking orders at me, trying to force me to bug the lady. I don't do that. No big deal, when she's around, I'll get it from her, not anything to freak out about. Mom gets more and more aggressive..

This morning is when I usually visit my parents for breakfast. On my way out the door, I stopped to see if the neighbor was around, she wasn't. Went to my parents without the pitcher. Mom went ballistic, screaming, furious that I haven't "obeyed" her and gotten her her pitcher today. I told her that I am SICK of her abuse and that I can't stand her anymore. That I have had it with being the scapegoat of the family. She rolls her eyes and looks at my father like "what a disobedient brat". They told me I am being disobedient. I told them from now on she can get her stuff herself, that I was stuck in the middle of this and don't appreciate it. And I will no longer be their scapegoat, AND, that I am NOT her servant. She got up in my face, screamiing and looking completely scary and I told her to stop being a bitch and get out of my face. Her eyes bugged out of her head, as she carried on, always trying to escalate, blame and shame. I left, wanting no part of anymore warfare. I HATE aggression and just tried to do her a favor, and now she's attacking me for not doing what she wants. It's like my childhood all over again. And why my school intervened and removed me-for my safety-from my parents, for being abused. As an adult, I can say "enough is enough". And as much as I've tried to be loyal, I am done being her whipping post.

Every week, mom demands, angrily, that I (a visiting guest in their house by their invitation) set the table when I visit for breakfast. I tell her not to order me around, but she thinks she is entitled to do it. I stand my ground, helping out some but not doing everything she demands and try not to let her get to me. It is usually a standoff. This is sick and not the way a "normal" family is. How does one love a mother who is so aggressive, histrionic and scarily unstable? She is capable of physically attacking me (hasn't happened in a long time but it has happened in the past) and I am always aware of this. But, I will not be bullied into submission. She loves to pit my father against me, he just does whatever she wants, as he's been controlled by her all these years. Why, God, why give me a mother like this? I want to be loyal and caring but it is impossible when she doesn't really care what I have to say, doesn't listen to me most of the time, talks over me and acts as if I'm scum of the earth when I don't do what she wants? It's blackmail and meant to make her look big and tough. There is nothing that hurts me more inside, to know that she will never be stable, without an agenda. She is smart and very cunning, is good at manipulating amd getting her way. But I don't fall for her games. This is why we just don't get along. I resist, she screams, blames and carries on World War III, knocking my character, sanity and anything else she can think of to make dad see her way. It's sickening. If she outlives my dear father, I will have nothing to do with her. I just cannot take her crap anymore.

So, here I am at home, where it's gloriously peaceful. I spent the day with a lovely 12-year-old girl who lives next to my parents, a fellow horse-lover. I spoiled the girl rotten, we went to a stable, found a good place to go riding, got her a riding helmet, and then hung out at my place. While there I picked up that blasted glass pitcher mom had wanted, since the people were finally around to get it from them. I dropped it off when I brought the girl back home. If I had been a mother, I would have probably been a pretty good one. I know how to be calm, logical, dependable and supportive. I don't pick fights with people (though I will defend myself on occasion if totally necessary). Maraiah, the girl I spent the day with, had witnessed some of my parents' cruel dealings with me and told me "they are mean to you". I took it in stride and told her, "I know how NOT to be, by their behavior and it's ok, I won't let them get to me". I was calm and collected. It's embarrassing when people see me treated like that but I downplayed it so not to scare Maraiah or escalate anything. I know better.

All I ever wanted in life was a good relationship with my mother. Since I cannot have that, and don't have children, I enjoy spoiling and being with Maraiah and her family. They are family to me in their own way. They don't scapegoat, get mad or disrespectful towards me. Nobody other than my parents do. Both my parents are spoiled rotten, think their way of thinking is the ONLY way of thinking and that nobody (me) should disobey, ever. I am not like them, thank you God. Years of counseling, especially with my favorite therapist, Janeen Carrell-Brown many years ago, taught me to live my own life, be my own person and don't use abusive people as role models in life. In turn, I find it important, imperative, to be a good role model to young kids. Ok, I'm a big kid with lots of my own faults, but I have a good heart and am genuine. I don't play the phony games that abusive people play, trying to think I'm better than others. I know I'm not. And who cares? We all have our strengths and weaknesses. My strength is my artwork. My weakness is trying to "fix" a family that isn't fixable. That is downright unhealthy most of the time. What do I do? How I wish I had all the answers, but I don't.

So, tonight, I'm ok. Maraiah is home with her family, happy and excited about our day today. I feel good because being a fellow horse-lover, I can help her start to ride horses and enjoy the sport. Memories in my youth of people who helped me made me want to do the same for her. It feels great to be cared about, and to be able to care for others. I'm not alone. I am strong and life goes on. Life is wonderful..here, without abuse, drama or fighting. Some people don't understand why I prefer being independent, it's because I love an uncomplicated, peaceful life. I can have friends and adopted family, but come home to total peace. Glorious peace. I never feel lonely. I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. Nobody defines me, I define myself. :)

This article explains EXACTLY what I have been going through all these years. This is an extremely accurate portrayal of who my mother is. It's hard to read if you have a loving mother..not pretty but psychologically, it is EXACTLY who my mother is and why I just can't take it anymore.

http://parrishmiller.com/narcissists.html

If this link doesn't work, click the title of this post to go to it instead.

A Busy July

The Fine Artwork of Carolyn McFann

It's a lovely July here in Amish country, Geauga County, Ohio! By now I am nearly settled into my house, which is total HEAVEN compared to my former apartment, which had endless problems of different kinds. This house is fast becoming a sanctuary for not only me but the cats as well. There is loads of room to move around, a decent and working kitchen, windows everywhere, gardens and great neighbors. Thank you, God!

There are still boxes left to unpack but the pile is much smaller than previously. Now I can divide my time between working and unpacking. The cats run around the place, playing and watching out all the windows. I planted a small garden (a bigger one will come later when I'm more able and less distracted), bought some gorgeous potted plants for the front patio area and in a few days, will take delivery of a new breakfast nook (table and two big benches) for my kitchen. Things are moving along nicely.

Driving by my old place on the way to my parents' house, I feel such a surge of relief. No more walking up a merciless bank of 24 steps (with no landing to break the work to climb all of them). No more HORRIBLE kitchen, dark rooms, pine floors that damage easily, and most of all, NO more monthly invoices (that they said they sent but almost never came). The landlords half-heartedly fixed things around there but the AC never worked well, I almost never had hot water and the kitchen sink drain was basically unusable. Other drains weren't all that great, either. Good riddance. They thought their place was a palace, I thought it was Hell. Let someone else have it with my blessings. They wanted me to stay. I couldn't wait to vacate. And now it's done! Woohoo! Life is good. No, life is GREAT.

Now comes the task of getting new items to grace all the extra square footage I now have. It's fun searching antique stores and such for items and furniture. I'm pretty good at bargaining good deals and got the lovely nook for a real steal of a price. My tastes are expensive so it can be frustrating at times to see items such as extremely pricey antiques that I cannot afford but whenever I really want something, I usually get it eventually. It's all priorities and motivation.

Beau sings happily in the stairwell landing upstairs as I write this. He and Matisse have fun running up and down the stairs, chasing toys and eachother. Their fav room though is the kitchen. I frequently find them sleeping in chairs next to their favorite window, close by one another. They have become buddies during and since the move. They're both in their element.



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No Justice for Caylee Anthony!

After hearing the verdict today, exonerating the mother of precious little Caylee Anthony, I felt absolutely nauseous. Justice just wasn't served! I truly believe in karma, and one day, Casey Antony will face up to what I believe she did..kill her daughter and toss her out like trash!

The Casey Anthony case has been going on for a couple years. When it all started, I was living in Florida, where it was broadcast in great detail, everywhere. I followed the whole thing from start to finish, trying to understand something so very impossible to understand...how could a mother do this to her child?! I thought child abusers were the lowest possible life forms around, but child murderers - and specifically this one - well, there's a special place in Hell for them.

Not having children of my own, I don't know what it's like to be a mother and feel the loss of a child, but Casey was no mother. If I had had a child who went missing, I would've been hysterical. Not Casey. She didn't bat an eye at her daughter dying/being lost, and went partying like some rockstar bimbo wannabe, getting bad tattoos and just forgetting she'd ever had a little girl. She just tuned out the fact that the child was dead, and lied through her teeth about her to anyone who asked! Amazing. How can someone who gave birth to a child be so heartless?? It is beyond my understanding.

For someone without a job and making an art of sponging off of family and friends, Casey Anthony couldn't afford a nanny. Duh. She must have pulled such a hoax on everyone she knew (either that or they were dumber than a box of rocks) to believe that she had a nanny taking care of her child! She was pompous and self-righteous, mad at her parents for asking about Caylee. The same people who bought her a car and let her live under their roof apparently rent free. The same father who got accused of molesting her. She just used everyone for her own needs, as if they owed it to her.

Now that it looks like Casey is going to go back to being the (free) shallow, soulless narcissist that she is, she now stands to profit on her daughter's death, which adds insult to injury to those like myself who believe that she is guilty as sin. She threw her entire family under a bus during trial, trashed the name of a poor lady with the same name as the fictitious nanny, and now she gets to be free to be her same idiot self again..but this time with money to profit from her evil deeds! Where is the justice? No wonder the jury isn't wanting to be identified. They know it wasn't the right verdict..she is guilty!!

Rest in Peace, dear Caylee. At least you are no longer with this cold-blooded, heartless monster. We will remember you, and hope that justice is later served for that vile creature - not worthy of being called a mother - who gave birth to you. She will quickly shed her frumpy court attire for high heels and revealing street-walker attire, so she can get sloppy drunk and hang out with whomever is dumb enough to befriend her. She used up all her old friends and now has to find some more morons to replace them. Hold onto your purses, girlfriends..she could steal checks and drain your bank account..what a "friend"!

Karma, Casey. It WILL catch up with you. Have fun dodging all the people who saw right through your lies and now want to give you a piece of their minds..they are a furious, immense group of people. They're everywhere. You'll probably wish you were back in jail. Public, she's all yours!