Peep Fiction #1

I tried my hand at some fiction to describe my life earlier on. With the graphic zines, I figured this was a redundant enterprise and focused on expressing things in drawn form,  but kept the writing and decided I would share it here. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and GUILTY.

 
Budgie is born with a giant smile on her face and is happy to be alive. Things got worse as she has to deal with Queen spider and her minions later than early days she is very happy The origins of Five Hundred Pound Peep are dubious so thus Budge is shown popping out of the egg in “The Budge is born”. Also called Peep, Budge or Budgie, Budgie is eager to see the world, and is happy enough in that early time. 

Then things get a bit more dicey, as Peep deals with Queen Spider [Mrs.Spyder and Mr. Spyder, who aren't very nice to little children]. Midge and John had children believing they were supposed to in those pre-child free movement days, and definitely were overwhelmed and annoyed by the whole ordeal. Only weirdos didn't procreate. Children cost money, children made noise! Such was the outcome of wanton breeding with little thought behind it. Their female middle child was an unwanted extra. Mr. Spyder already had his son who looked just like him and Queen Spider, her obedient Mini-Me [Mimi] who hung on her every minute. Why were they having to take care of this burden, the child who embarrassed them by being afraid of everything and hiding and for being too smart and asking too many questions? For some reason, some people who should never have had children, have too many, and the extras are thrown away. This is something inexplicable in our world.

Supposedly Midge laying back and thinking of England, fertilized the egg that brought the yapping little presence who stared down two dark triad black souls with her shiny big eyes.  Budgie annoyed Midge. She would observe Budgie looking at her, why does that little girl always have to nose into everything? Why does she always want to find things out?  She was mad because she could read by the age of 3. The little girl seemed to condemn her. Midge thought inside, “How I hate her”. 

One day Budgie was watching the tv talk show Donahue, and laughing, and Midge got angry, that's not a show suitable for little children, how can she even understand what is going on? As Mini-Me Mimi laid on the couch, Midge grabbed Budge by the scruff of her neck and dragged her upstairs to her bedroom, and opened the door and shoved her in, slamming the door and locking it.  It was time to lock the little brat up yet again! John had said “Don't let the neighbors find out, that you are keeping Budgie locked up in there!” “I won't!” said Midge. “I will threaten her upon pain of death, so she doesn't scream out the window like she did last time! I had to tell Mrs. Humperdink and Mrs Dooray she was playing a game with her sister, to cover up why she was screaming like a banshee! Wow she pisses me off. Can we give her back? Ah that won't look good. “

Budgie cried and cried, she was tired of being locked in her room. It was hot and boring. She wanted to go outside, she looked at the rooms pink walls and a few books scattered about and started to worry about when she'd get to eat next. “Mommy” had failed to feed her lunch and she knew it was already late afternoon. Would she be able to get a glass of water? Would they hit her if she peed in trashcan again? Budgie noticed a hair pin that had fallen out of Midge's hair, when she had been in her room last, and she started to pick at the lock, it held the door fast but it was a cheap bedroom lock. She picked and picked, and then all of a sudden she heard a click, and she was able to creak the door open but was too afraid to leave, she knew that would earn her a definite smacking if not an out right beating. She closed the door shut again but felt happy knowing she could get out if there was a fire. Getting out meant freedom.

On a later day, Budge sat in her favorite place on the front stoop of the house, she could hear planes flying by overhead and would imagine herself flying to get away. The drone of the airplane engines above spoke of escape. The Spyder's didn't understand a little girl that just wanted to sit and think and it made them angry. Thinking was a waste of time, doing and making money and having a perfect house and yard is what mattered!  Budge pondered her escape, “These people hate me, I do not belong here, there's gotta be somewhere I can go!” 

A few weeks earlier, her and Mr. Spyder had gone to the hardware store, and she realized that this man who called himself her “father” did not love her, so she probably wasn't even his child. She started screaming to be rescued. “This man has kidnapped me! Save me!” Mr. Spyder scooped her up as she struggled and squirmed to run away. “He is not my real father!” Worried strangers gathered around. John's face grew red, and he grew hot with anger, he wanted to unleash his wrath on the bratty hellcat putting him at risk of being dragged off to prison. The store manager approached, “Sir, you will have to step aside so we can see what is going on!” He followed him to his office, yanking screaming and crying Budgie, who still cried for rescue. He wanted to beat her right then and there, but knew that would not look good to others. He'd rip her hair out or hold her head under the water in the pool a minute too long later.

For now he had a jam to get out of which meant telling these strangers, that Budgie was really his daughter. He sat down in the Formica chair across from the manager's desk, “She really is my daughter, my name is John Spyder. “ Here I will let you call her mother, to vouch for me.” The manager called Mrs. Spyder who answered with a sweet smiling hiding her rage at that troublesome Budge. For years Mr. Spyder would tell this story to his friends, “That ungrateful brat, she almost got me arrested!” The friends would nod and smile but no one ever asked why Budgie wanted to escape so badly. 

Budgie had gotten a beating when she got home that night, not enough to put her in the hospital, the Spyders knew good government jobs vanished if you had to drag a beaten child to the hospital with black eyes, bruises and broken bones but enough to make their message clear, “You better be quiet in front of others”. They smacked her, and pulled her hair until she cried. 

Budgie knew she wanted to run away, she wanted to find a new place to go and be. Daddy was in the back yard busy hitting Johnny for leaving toys in the lawn while he tried to mow. Mommy was upstairs, cleaning with Mimi. Peep grabbed her brother's red wagon. She snuck quietly into the house hoping Mommy would not hear her grabbing the cheese slices out of the fridge or the box of Vanilla wafers out of one of the bottom cupboards. She grabbed Raggedy Ann out of her bed, knowing she could not leave her behind, and ran down to put her things in the wagon and leave. 

The Spyders lived in a suburban housing complex in the middle of nowhere. It was soul-less suburbia that was out beyond the reaches of the moon. The area offered one pool and community center, an elementary and high school and one IGA and not much else among the dairy farms. Mr. Spyder drove 40 miles one way to his big city computer government job. He was gone a lot, and also taught at one college and took classes.

Budgie remembered one school trip to do tie-dyes where she cried over not having a white t-shirt to dye like everyone else and Mommy buying corn from the farmers, and also the spicy garlic bologna made at the IGA but most of her world encompassed endless streets of bi-levels and ranchers that all looked the same. She often got lost, trying to find friend's houses knocking on the wrong doors but she could find her house easily since it was on the corner and Daddy had put a giant white fence around their yard. 

Budgie walked slowly, she didn't want the rattling of the wagon to get Daddy's attention, he was still yelling now something about tools at her brother. He hadn't noticed her in a long time. She walked away down the street, past the house across the street on the corner, down the way from the Dooray's the farthest Mommy ever allowed her to go. She kept walking, the houses seemed to go on forever at the Flowery Seasons housing complex. There seemed to be no end to them. She got tired and rubbed her feet sitting on one curb. The sun beat down. 

She started to cry, the roads of suburban houses stretched as far as she could see. There was no stores, or place to sit down except the curb, and no restrooms either. Budgie thought, “I better go back, because I don't see me making it anywhere”. She ran and walked back. It took some time. Daddy was still mowing the lawn and her brother had disappeared, maybe down the street himself or next door to Chipper's house. She went inside. Mommy was watching TV. No one had noticed she had left. 

Sometime later, Mommy came and said “I am sending you to your aunts for the summer” The rest of us are going to take a vacation. My best friend Sister Jude is going to take you on an airplane, and drop you off at your aunt's house". Budge found it weird her family planned to take a trip without her, but did not protest, she wanted to escape after all. Maybe she would get to have another family. She had met her aunt a few times, and thought things may be fun. Her aunt had come to visit before with other relatives, and they had seen fire works and area museums. Her aunt Janet was always interested in everything and smiled a lot. She enjoyed life, unlike Midge who spent hours cleaning the kitchen. Budgie was excited about leaving. It was a dream to finally get away when she had run away.

Mommy seemed fed up and had gotten angrier and angrier with her. One day Budgie had gone into the bathroom to show her, a book she was reading. Mommy was cleaning off the sink, and Budgie said, “Look I can read this Dr. Seuss book, A Cat in the Hat”, isn't this funny?”, and Mommy took one look at her and said, “Leave me alone!” and then shoved her hard. Budge ran crying into her bedroom. 

Mommy hated her, of this she was sure. Sometimes Budgie wondered if she was adopted. Mommy had three covered baby books covered in white satin, one for her, her brother and sister. She noticed while her sisters and brother's had a lock of hair tape into the front page and multiple pictures including ones of them as very little babies, her baby book was nearly empty. There was one picture of her at around 7-9 months old but nothing earlier. Budgie would say to her brother, who was a year older, “I think they adopted me!” Budgie called her “mother” Mommy but the word felt funny. 

Mommy was always angry and didn't treat her like other girls in the neighborhood mothers who seemed happy with them and bought them pretty dresses. Normal mothers sometimes got irritated or told Budge or her friend to go play upstairs or outside, and sometimes drank wine and got overly attached to their soap operas, but didn't shove them, or pull their hair and they sometimes smiled and looked happy and talked to them instead of yelling at them. Mrs Spyder did a lot of housework and watched soap operas all day but was angry and pissed off all the time. There was never any kisses, hugs or nice pats on the head. Mrs. Spyder considered her an annoyance and a burden. Budgie learned to hide out as much as possible but Mrs. Spyder never left her alone enough either.

One day Budgie was outside in the backyard playing when she went by the fence and she overheard her mother talking to a neighbor lady down the street. “That little bitch is too smart for her own good!”. Budgie realized with horror, Mommy was talking about her. She felt scared inside, and a pit started forming in her stomach. “She is too weird!” Mrs. Spider spat out. The friend while looking shocked nodded and pretended to agreed, “Your daughter is not normal.” “I don't know what to do”, Mrs Spider said, “she is impossible”. Budgie sat back and felt even more afraid. Her mother hated her so much! 

Budgie wasn't sure why Mommy hated her so much.  She didn't like Mommy that much either. She scared her. Her friend Teresa's mother always seemed to like her and told her she was very smart. Mrs. Dooray too. Another neighborhood lady said it was great Peep could read already and made a joke about little pitchers having big ears and this pitcher knowing way too much. 

Budgie's visit to her aunt was not the first time she'd been sent away from home. Budgie had been sent to live in her cousin's bright pink bedroom when she was even younger. Her memories were vague but she remembered one grandparent, her aunt, and her weird balding husband, and hiding a lot in the upstairs. Her time there didn't seem very pleasant either.  They seemed drunk all the time. One grandfather always seemed to grabbing her. He put a wig on her head.  Her Aunt Maybelline cackled and giggled and seemed fake. The adults scared her. Her brother was there too but seemed to ignore her a lot. She remembered her sister on the couch saying “I can't walk”, and her parents being frantic and then suitcases were packed and there they were after her sister was put in the hospital.

Mrs. Spyder's best friend was a nun, she was one of those modern nuns who did not wear habits, but Budgie had to call her “sister”. She wore sensible sweaters and lots of black skirts. Later she would leave the convent but back then she was SISTER. Mommy said she worked with bishops and Cardinals and was very important and had multiple advanced degrees. She seemed nice enough to Budgie.

One day Budgie told Sister Jude that her parents were mean to her, hit her, and locked her in her room. Sister Jude, just laughed, “Oh you little kids make up stories, your parents love you very much”. Budgie liked it when Sister was there, because Mommy and Daddy would act nicer, they wouldn't yell so much and wouldn't slap her. Budgie realized Sister was kind of like Mommy when she burst out crying on the plane because her ears hurt and she could not hear. She was irritated with her. Otherwise, Sister Jude was nice, but she was never going to rescue Budgie. 

Budgie's aunt lived in a rented white bungalow out in a rural area. Across the street were farms and endless cornfields, same as Budgie's grandmother's house which wasn't far away. Aunt J was young and hip, and had long black hair she wore like an Indian and wore beads and moccasins. Mrs. Spider wore her hair in a helmet hairdo and mannish clothing and polyester pants, but Aunt Janet looked like a model and sometimes wore dresses and long leather boots and belt buckles. Aunt Jane had a baby 6 months before. Her husband who was Budgie's uncle who'd go to New Mexico years later to “find himself” and write a book on New Age Affirmations.They had married straight out of high school. 

Their house was straight out of the 1970s with orange counters and in one corner a Indian rattan chair with a huge round disc-like back. Aunt Janet stayed home to take care of her baby while her husband worked. The living room held her newly purchased black leather couch. She made a tidy welcoming comfortable home. Budgie and Aunt Janet spent a lot of time outdoors. There was a circle driveway in front of the house, and a  broken down shed that had a very large garden next to it.  Aunt Janet. loved plants and they blossomed under her care. She had huge broccoli and cauliflower plants, Budgie loved their huge green and white roundness, big flat leaves and crisp smell.

Mr. Spyder hated Budgie's aunt and uncle and would yell about “the Hippies”. Mr. Spyder looked just like brunette Archie Bunker and yelled like him too except he wasn't married to a simpering Edith but a tough as nails Midge. Mr. Spyder was into computers, cars and repairs and dressing like the actors on the show the Madmen. Aunt Janet was into art, health foods and Native American pottery, crafts and culture. She loved camping and buying dream catchers. Budgie bonded with her. At times she would tell Budgie, “Be quiet the baby is sleeping” and other reminders but she made Budgie nice meals and gave her fun things to do while helping in the garden. The days passed by pleasantly. Budge loved her new life. 

The summer proceeded. Mrs.Spyder had been vague about how long Budgie was going to stay but months passed. Budgie went on trips with her aunt and baby to visit the dam, the woods, some museums and other relatives. They visited the neighbors across the street who owned Great Danes, as tall as Budgie. She would play with her baby cousin, and would read her Peanuts comic strips and started her sketchbook where she drew herself as “Lucy” and the other Peanuts kids, Linus, Charlie Brown, Lucy and Pig Pen. Aunt Janet encouraged her reading and drawing talents. 

One day, Budgie had Aunt Janet say she may have to go back home. Budgie said directly, “I want to stay here and live with you!” Tears sprung to her eyes as she begged her aunt, “Please let me stay, I won't be too much trouble!” “Don't send me back there.” Budgie didn't know why she couldn't stay. Mrs. Spyder was happier most likely. Budgie was happier. Aunt Janet and Uncle Rickie and baby cousin Arnie seemed happy to have her as a member of the family, “Why did she have to leave?” Years later her brother would tell her, “You made Mom really mad, when you told everyone you wanted to live with Aunt Janet for good!” Budgie responded, “Why didn't she let me?” 

When Budgie returned “home” she could tell Mrs. Spyder was really mad. Mommy was more livid and gave her mean looks. She knew she was going to be made to pay for choosing her aunt and letting other family members know about it. At 5 years old she was already screwed. When Mommy wanted revenge, the smirks were gone, and her green eyes got colder and harder. Budgie hoped she would live through the week. 

Mommy had cleaned out her bedroom and gotten rid of all her old things, there was new white furniture with pretty flowers on it. Mommy took her suitcases into her and her sister's bedroom, “Look I got you both a new bedroom set, don't you like it?” Budgie responded, “It's nice but I wanted to stay with Aunt Janet!” Mommy got really mad and slapped her hard, “What's wrong with you?” and stormed out of the room locking the door as Budgie cried. The furniture was nice, and Mommy had bought her sister new little glass animals that looked interesting and she wanted some, but she missed her other life. 

Mrs. Rice was a teacher that was kind to Budgie. When young Budgie could read very early and she did well in school, it was a source of some comfort in an other wide harsh world. Books from the time of Dr. Seuss and Charles Schultz had become Budgie's escape. That year, she had an open class room and did her lessons on blue SAT cards. Her teacher was encouraging her to study at her own pace and she believed in creativity. This is when Budgie started sharing her drawings with her classmates too.

Mrs. Spyder put Budge and her shorter and thinner sister into ballet class, every week on Saturday morning, they would go and practice. Budgie was the biggest girl in the class, and a head taller then all the other girls her age. Ballet was the last activity a fat clumsy child on the autistic spectrum should have been placed in. Their teacher was thin, and young. and a lot of the activities seemed to include spinning around and putting legs up on bars. Mimi enjoyed the activities while Budgie found some of it fun, the teacher seemed frustrated with her a lot telling her, that she needed to “follow directions” and “only bad girls didn't listen””. Mrs. Spyder said all the time girls are supposed to be pretty, petite and slender and Budgie was none of the above, and should have been born a boy. 

Budgie was not a thin gazelle,who could kick lithe legs several feet into the air, there was no appearing to float, or giant jumps into the air. She got dizzy just turning around once. She would trip and sprained her ankle almost every week.

Once there, the Spiders told her it was time for rehearsal and she had to get dressed in this white lacy ballet dress, and go with her class on stage. Budgie was not happy about this. She got nervous and cried,  “I don't know my lines.” She knew this stage was not a pleasant place for girl like her. Her parents tossed her into the back seat of their midnight blue 1967 Chevy Bel Air station wagon and drove to the community center for the show. Budge ran out of her mother's grip and found a bunch of boxes to hide in. Mrs. Spyder was lived and muttered “How dare this girl embarrass me in front of my community”

Mimi  had already done her dance show with her age group the week before, and it had been a success. Mrs. Spider like a stage mother from hell threw Budgie out onto the stage. Terrified and frozen, she forgot her props-the flowers that each dancer held. She remember her dance steps but forgot to smile. The Spyders turned to each other, in disgust and decided any investment in Budgie was a waste of time. She didn't make them look good.

The Spyders moved to a new town, it was a rich suburb next to a huge metro city known for lawyers and corrupt politicians. The bicentennial colonial style was in full swing and 1776 was in the air. It was the year when the Spyders moved from the oddly isolated housing development in the middle of nowhere with just an IGA a few miles away to a more established town with a library, malls, and things to do. Budgie found some friends, but remained an outcast shy and quiet, and went for public school kids in her neighborhood and Vietnamese refugee kids, who were more understanding to those to outsiders to American culture. Budgie would eat spicy meat and rice out of bowls at their houses, and listen to their parents speak Vietnamese. For some reason her Vietnamese friends loved Jerry Lewis, something she never understood or got.

The favoritism for her sister had increased ten fold. Mimi could do nothing wrong. She was the little angel, always neat and perfectly dressed. Mommy didn't care that she got Cs and Ds in school after all Mimi had been sick and got behind. Mommy criticized Budgie for sleeves that were never in the right place.

Budge and Mimi got up for school. Budgie wished she could sleep all day. Mommy was always calling her lazy and yelling at her. “Why are your legs and butt so much fatter then other girls?” Budge felt confused as to why she was so fat. The other girls ate candy, cookies, Frito's, and drank chocolate milk and orange Fay-go soda.  Unlike other girls, she had to deliver newspapers for an hour and half every afternoon and Saturday and Sunday morning on her bicycle, so when teachers told her exercise was supposed to make you lose weight, Budgie couldn't believe it!

Mrs. Spyder ruled the refrigerator with an iron fist, not one morsel passed out of there without her notice. Mrs. Spyder would bellow through the house if a chicken leg went missing out out of a whole bucket or if Budge somehow managed to snatch one slice out of a 100 piece box of Kraft cheese. While meat and potato dinner portions were generous enough Budgie's house was not a place of any free snacking. Mrs. Spider even bought padlocks to snap on the front of the freezers, because Budge's brother Johnny Jr. loved ice cream and would sneak eat it with a spoon right out-of-the-box. 

The Spyder children were given the same nutritionally void food daily. So for breakfast, they had some insulin resistance creating sugary cereal. Budgie's choice was Life cereal and Mimi would stick by Honey nut Cheerios for the next 40 years. Lunch was three Chips Ahoy cookies in a plastic bag, a garlic bologna sandwich with iceberg lettuce, later switched to leafy green lettuce as the family fortunes rose, and and a stack of 30 or so Pringles, and/or  Lays potato chips. Carrots and celery sticks would make an occasional appearance but whenever Mrs. Spyder was upset over Budgie's weight, she'd cut her sandwich in half.

At times, weird foods would appear in the house for Daddy to eat, when heart problems forced on the Pritikin diet. The low fat craze was just getting started and weights would skyrocket in America. During Friday's during Lent, the baloney sandwich would be swapped out for tuna fish mixed with mayonnaise and celery. Back then Budgie was not allergic to potatoes and fish. 

Budgie got up and was running late, today was a carrot sticks and celery and half a sandwich day. Budge went into the kitchen, her sister  Mimi already being up for some time was busy scarfing down her gleefully smiling yellow goldfish crackers. No one else in the house was allowed to touch them.

Mrs. Spyder told Budgie, “You are getting so fat, it's horrible, you can live without breakfast since you are so late and would not get out of bed.” Budgie cried, “I'm hungry”, her stomach was growling full force. Budge was hungry all the time. She hated how skinny kids could eat three squares a day with maybe one snack thrown in and not be punished all the time. Their bodies were nice to them, they weren't the ENEMY. They could be who they were. They could do cartwheels and climb on jungle gyms and be happy. Their mommies didn't hate them. 

Budgie and Mimi made their way to school. St. Anne's Catholic school was right across the street. The kids already were laughing when Peep came by, it made her nervous ever since she hit the third grade, the kids had gotten meaner. She used to be more normal and was pretty much ignored back then. She missed those days. Teasing went up and down with body weight. Third grade brought more curves, a bigger stomach and thighs, Budgie was sunk. 

Budgie felt angry, why didn't they ever leave her alone, it sucked they were always picking at her, and even if she cussed them out or threw a fit or ignored them nothing worked to stop them. The adults seemed to agree with the bullying and never stopped it. She would beg teachers after school but Budge would be told, “You need to ignore it, they look for a reaction, you know.” Budgie would remain silent and totally block out the mocking, she would pretend she was someone else and not their target, but it never ever stopped them. It made it worse. Being a robot didn't work and fighting back didn't either. What was she supposed to do?

One girl as she crossed the front parking lot sneered “Tub o' Lard!”.The boys always talked about her big butt and legs which made Budgie very self conscious. She hated boys, who always seemed to be even skinnier, while being the biggest pigs eating whatever they wanted. A few girls joined the “lard” girl, and started laughing and pointing. Budgie ran behind the school building, and hid and the bell rang and she didn't line up with her stupid class. “Why did they always make you line up at school like you were a stupid puppet?“ she thought. 

Softly Budge sang the lyrics of Pink Floyd's “Another Brick in the Wall” “We don't need no education, we don't need no thought control”......She sat on the bench and leaned her head back. All the kids were gone, she enjoyed the silence. Ten minutes later she walked into class, Sister Cornelia was angry that she was so late as Billy the bully went on about earthquakes, saying “Boom” with every step she took. She wished she was really an earthquake and could put him under a giant pile of rubble. 

Sister Cornelia assigned problems in math. Budge hated math, which was not like reading or history where she excelled. Instead of doing her math problems, she got out her latest Stephen King novel and hid it behind her math text book. “Screw this class”, Budge thought. She thought Carrie was a wimp to get beaten up in the gym shower and what was a tampon? At the end of the book all hell broke loose. Carrie would have her day.

Budgie closed her eyes and imagined lighting the classroom on fire with her mind. She didn't want to take anyone out like Carrie, but wanted her classmates to finally show some respect. They would run screaming as their desks burned in shock at her newly gained powers. Sister Cornelia interrupted her day dream. The nuns didn't like her choice of horror novels and weird fascination with Charles Addams comic books, she checked out old ones from the 1950s from the public library. They were always confiscating her books, even once swooping up a copy of “Late Great Planet Earth” , and lecturing her parents about Budgie's choices in books. The only freedom Budgie had was in reading so she was sick of the penguins and their endless rules. 

Budgie was sent to the corner, like always. Mary Ann in the row in front of her starting to have a nose bleed. Sister Cornelia had to take her to the nurse. This gave her a 5 minute reprieve from being watched by her teacher. As the obedient class continued with their math problems, Budge ran into the cloakroom. It was dark in there but not too dark to see. Her classmates gym shoes, coats and lunch bags were all lined up. The smell of gym socks and bologna sandwiches free of refrigeration let out an interesting aroma. Budgie's stomach growled even harder from that morning, and she had the thought, “I bet there's some tasty sandwiches in here, maybe even some with cheese!” Budgie grabbed Billy the bully's lunch first, it was time for some pay back. He had a ham and cheese sandwich and his Mom had packed a giant dill pickle too. 

Budgie thought of all the kids who were always making fun of her, it was time for some sweet revenge. Budgie took a bite of his sandwich and wolfed down half of it. Crossing this line, Budgie started going through lunch bags for the most interesting food. Anna had a hard-boiled egg, Yum! She took a few sips of Martin's thermos with a tasty tomato soup in it. With her hunger abated, she kept thinking about all those skinny kids abusing her and thought, “If I can't eat in peace, neither can they!”

She tossed down the rest Billy's lunch and squished it. Food and lunch items poured out of the cloakroom, classmates came running. Sister Celia had only been gone for a five minutes, the class was in a giant uproar. Budgie was fed up and ready to fight and start punching and so she did. She was beyond pissed. She grabbed her classmate's hair, she saw red and fought 10 kids at once. Sister Celia came back and was in shock. Budgie had destroyed her classroom. Sister Celia ran down the hall crying for other teachers and they came and dragged Budgie away kicking and screaming. She almost got expelled, if the Spyders didn't pay tuition and donated lots of money to the church, Budgie would have been in public school the next day.

 Mrs Spyder never defended Budge, if anyone was going to pick on Budgie, it was going to be her and the others were just adjuncts to the big tear-down. Budge became a budding atheist as Sister Helen told her that God was unhappy with her and on the side of her mocking classmates. What could be done? The nun recoiled as Budgie shouted, “There is no God!” and the shocked nun muttered about possessed children under her breath.

Summer finally began and Budgie escaped her babysitter. The Spiders kept her penned up as tight as a lab rat except when she was put to work delivering newspapers for 2-3 hours every afternoon and every weekend morning. Babysitters meant blessed freedom. Peep able to go for miles on her bike from all the newspaper delivering wanted to see the world away from her school and route. She escaped into the giant city park with big woods, and a stream, it was almost like being in the wilderness with no one around. She was glad. She dreamed of the day, she could escape for good.

Another Blogger with Lipo-Lymphedema

An older article of mine, "Mental Health and Severe Lipedema" was recently shared in the Lipedema community and well received. I talked about some heavy issues in that article regarding Lipedema. I wrote about how it can affect us emotionally and otherwise especially in case like mine where diagnosis is delayed and people go into severe stages. The mental health impacts of Lipedema can be pretty serious. In my case, there were several other issues to contend with too, as well as being an Aspie and an ACON. I saw some of the comments, and many women agreed with me about how hard Lipedema is emotionally. Another blogger with Lipo-Lymphedema shared her opinions about my article too:

"It Always Comes Back to the Blessings"

"Destiny stepped in and the Lipedema Project posted in Facebook another blogger's article about Mental Health and Severe Lipedema.  After reading the post, I shared it with my friends on Facebook as well because the article really resonated with me. I wanted people to know how HARD this disease is not only because of the pain it causes and the physical deformities, but because of the stigma that follows its sufferers around because people just assume you are a lazy, overeating person who just can't control themselves and the mental anguish all of that causes.  Fighting yourself and society's ideas of who you are is exhausting - especially when you agree with a lot of the negative thoughts.

 Before starting Keto, I was headed down a very dark path.  Most people wouldn't have known it (I think) even if they were around me all the time because I had learned to hide it and was trying (unsuccessfully) to deal with it on my own.  I didn't have some of the issues that the blogger did (my family never rejected me, I was never hospitalized for infections, I am not in poverty) but I have/had so many others that have affected my life (and still are truth be told) in ways which I'm just not ready to verbalize (or write down) yet.  So I got it when the blogger posted, "...Your own body becomes an enemy when it comes to lipedema. I hated my body for years more often than not while I attempt to be more forgiving now." I understood her.  She talked about being told, "You have such a pretty face!"and while on the surface, that is a compliment, what someone like me hears (truth or not) is, "Your face is the only thing that saves you from being eaten by wolves" and not to mention when she discussed feeling as though you were being cursed. "

Article:"No Contact: When the Scapegoat Walks Away"

"No Contact: When the Scapegoat Walks Away"

This is one of the best ACON articles dealing with the scapegoat who walks away and then loses the entire family as the price for walking away from abuse. As everyone who is a long time reader of this blog knows, I went no contact with my malignant narcissistic mother and other narcissists. Around a year ago this included the decision to walk from the entire family. This article does a great service in describing what happens to the scapegoat who must make that difficult decision. In the ACON world, I have met others who have had to do it. The narcissist's will holds sway over the family.  The alienation can be difficult. I feared "being alone" but realized I had been alone [when it came to my "family"] all along. 

"The scapegoat says ‘no more.’

After decades of psychological abuse, random family interventions on the scapegoat, years of smearing, backstabbing, triangulation, and more likely than not, another attack of family mobbing – the scapegoat says ‘enough is enough.’ The final goodbye is not pretty, and usually, after the final confrontation, the scapegoat walks away. Nothing has worked. Assertion hasn’t worked, distress hasn’t worked, and most of the scapegoat’s warranted reactions have backfired on them.

The entire family watches on in dismay as the scapegoat informs the family that they will no longer be abused by them, and wants nothing more to do with them. They wander off into the darkness, (which eventually turns to light)  never to return.

An earthquake has literally erupted, and the scapegoat’s family of origin is left to pick up the pieces. Narcissism is one of the few conditions where the true victim is left alone in a complete state of emotional terror; and isolation, while everybody flutters around the emotional terrorist, and dotes on them. Whereas the true victim often walks away from their war-torn family, only to have a complete psychotic breakdown.

The entire family turns their back on the scapegoat in their time of need. Members who once supported the scapegoat have become victims of brainwashing and now believe in the lie. Not one single family member will check to see if the scapegoat is ok – and nobody tries to find them; because nobody cares. This is the nature of the narcissistic family unit."

fter an act of family mobbing against the scapegoat, all of the family members flock around the narcissist, while the real victim, the scapegoat, is left in a state of emotional terror.

The scapegoat has lost everything all in one sitting. They have lost their family, close relationships with the members of the family that were turned against them, their dignity, their reputation, and their identity. Their identity has been trashed in this family unit, they have no reputation left, and they are in a state of shock. It is not unusual for someone this bullied to have a complete psychotic breakdown, experience suicidal ideation, fantasise about dying, experience C-PTSD symptoms, huge triggers, and daily panic attacks.

Narcissistic abuse is a complete attack on the soul, personality, and emotions; almost always leaving victims feeling emotionally dysregulated, suffering panic attacks or agoraphobia. The scapegoat is left in a state of emotional upheaval.

This innocent victim of abuse has been cast out and left to fend for themselves. They are vulnerable, fragile, and broken.

This article also goes into the hardships when one is forced to walk away from an entire family. I was fortunate to have a loving husband with me. He has expressed feelings of relief since my no contact as well. I was dismantling toxic relationships right and left including all the false narcissistic friends as described in other articles. I am coming out into the light these recent months. Being freed from them all the last year, was the last puzzle piece to be put into place. 

"The scapegoat embarks on the biggest healing journey of their life

If the scapegoat has a partner, healing from narcissistic abuse is going to be a smoother process. However, if the scapegoat is completely alone in their healing, then they may struggle immensely. If they are alone, or with a clan of children (a single mother) while grieving, then the lack of family support will take its toll.

Either way, the scapegoat is about to embark on what could be described as one of the darkest, bleakest, scariest journeys a person can embark on. They are about to grieve years and years and years of abuse, rejection, abandonment, and betrayal, from the people who were meant to love them. Grieving an entire family is one of the darkest, bleakest, scariest journey’s a person can endure. It is often filled with horror, depression, shame, guilt, and condemnation of self.

Years and years of brainwashing has taken its toll and has controlled the scapegoat beyond belief. The chains which have held them captive emotionally for a lifetime, are finally about to begin to dissolve. This may take a number of years. However, as time goes on, the scapegoat will most likely eventually relinquish the crazy cult like beliefs drummed into them; as well as their brainwashed pathology – by finally realising that they can now be the autonomous being they always wanted to be, because no one is watching them, or judging their every move, any more.

This journey may be very painful, but joyful, bleak, but full of opportunity, and darker than one could imagine. However, once the grieving is done, the light is brighter than the scapegoat ever thought it could be."

The article describes the freedom that awaits too. I too have felt the freedom in no longer trying to please or be connected to people who treated me so poorly or dismissively. There is this idea now of living life, the way I want to live it, free of people's judgments that has led me to a lot more happiness. 

"However, at the very same time that the scapegoat experiences these terribly overwhelming, gut-wrenching feelings of shame, pain, guilt, anger, rage, and complete distress; they also feel an immense sense of freedom. For the first time in their lives they are free to do what they want, when they want to, without having a bunch of nasty onlookers laughing at them, picking their choices to pieces, disagreeing with their decisions, telling them how they should be, and still trying to control every single aspect of their lives in adulthood."

All are Real

I joined a gym

                                       [picture source]

I joined a gym last week. So far so good. I've gone twice. My 4 months of illness with all those viruses told me physically I am getting in trouble. I can use the stepper at the gym but can't walk fast enough yet for the treadmills, maybe later. I did do hand weights and pull weights and there are a few machines I can use. Some machines don't work yet, but enough did for me to have something to work with.  I am probably the most disabled person any gym in the world has ever seen. I did see this guy who weighs 650lbs who joined a gym on Facebook. He is obviously disabled but went down to the 500s.

This gym is okay with someone coming in on a walker who has to go very slow. My husband is helping me, making this possible. He joined too. He is able to do the aerobic stuff and get on the bicycles and helped me on and off the Steppers. I am using 10lb weights and the lightest stuff but will see where this goes. During non-housebound times, I told him we should plan on going twice a week. The gym is open 24 hours. The structure will help me. More art is done when I go to art class and probably more exercise will happen now as well.

 I am kind of old, and almost 50. I am not expecting miracles or magic weight loss but doing something is better then nothing. I am just trying to stay alive. I also thought well the PACE program has exercise equipment but I can't afford to wait 5 more years to get some exercise. My four months of illness really messed me up, my diabetes got out of control, with blood sugars ranging from the 150s-130s. I had a few 170s. I was so sick.

Another reason I joined the gym, is I can't walk well anymore to walk around for exercise. I hurt my ankle with a severe sprain last year and it never was the same. It is easier to go on a Stepper and hold on to the hand rails, though I am going very slow, then trying to walk on bumpy sidewalks with a walker and an ankle that feels weak.  I used to walk around the apt building and stuff like that but I hurt the ankle last year trying to walk to begin with and it just wasn't as possible..  I fear weight gain because of this. Remember my body wants to be 700lbs again. It is not normal. Even to get my diabetes down, is taking bearing hunger pains and eating foods like cottage cheese and grapefruits and avoiding as much pasta as possible. I have considered skipping meals but I get so sick, I was late eating lunch one day, and it hit 4:00pm and I literally felt like I was going to pass out but I keep emergency food on me due to the diabetes and ate some of it.

I did get the sugars down this week back down to the 120s and low 130s until the later leg infection came. The eating is always adjusted for this. It's not easy. Remember when I told you all I asked doctors to hospitalize me for weight loss, because I felt unable to lose any weight they always turned me down. I am scared at the amount of weight my body wants to hold onto.  CICO has failed me. I am just trying to do what I can. It troubles me, why won't they hospitalize someone who is not losing weight? They can watch me and feed me a controlled diet and figure out adjustments. One doctor said with Lipedema this severe, it's more complicated. I get so sick without carbohydrates but even now I am wondering if I should switch to a more Keto diet or an adjusted one.

I also am planning to go see a Rheumatologist very soon to get a handle on so many infections, fevers, chills, pain and fatigue. I am trying my best. It's time. Women with severe Lipedema can face multiple autoimmune problems. If I have Dercum's, that brings more risk for infections.

My MLD said I already do at home what a Lymphedema Rehab would do with me, and realized she was right. I am seen as one of their most compliant patients with leg wrapping and sugar record keeping.  The other doctors said my weight was "stable" and I was not sick enough to be hospitalized for weight. Maybe it'd be boring being in some hospital bed and their food is worse, they aren't worried about non-GMO food and avoiding MSG. I was 530 last year and 526 last month, and 513 in the middle of the year. It does remain frustrating. Some of the hard fatty tumors seem to be growing

Sometimes my body weight does weird things, I almost had major wardrobe malfunctions at the gym. I told my husband sometimes my underwear is too loose on some days it's from the constant weight changes. I have to wear dresses to the gym, but tried wearing these cut off spandex shorts but they were too loose from years ago. My body is shaped so funny, normal clothing just doesn't fit right. I will be wearing shorter dresses at the gym.

One odd thing about me, is I used to like lifting weights when I was a teen. Our gym class in high school had some weight machines. I found it fun to do. I did feel some of this feeling of fun coming back. My husband told me he used to run into college and did exercises, he was on the school wrestling team. It will be good for his health too.  I have told him this will be our new hobby. Exercise bought me some time you know, the PT helped me a lot from years ago.

The gym people have been friendly to me. No problems there. This gym specializes in "no judgement" which I like a lot. I did get a leg infection, this week, probably from over-activity in general, but do plan to go back to the gym as soon as it is possible. It was great to find a gym we both can afford now too.

Finding Happiness

                                        picture by me


The diary posts were interesting to me,  I am analyzing a lot of life since the deconversion. I'm putting my whole life into a context.

My Old Diaries 1989-1990

My Old Diaries- 2002

 I am trying to figure out ways to form a new path. This is a period in life, where I am focused on forging a new path, with some hope of where it may lead.

I am older now, and there is this feeling of not a lot of time left but I want to use it the best I can. I have told myself despite the class and health issues, finding some happiness can be possible. In the last months outside of the illnesses, I feel overall, I have had some major depression lift. We are talking years of depression finally easing up. I didn't even know this was possible.

My endeavor now is to fill my life with things that give me meaning and happiness. I have succeeded on some counts with the new UU fellowship and new plans regarding art.

My no contact is finally producing positive results.  The earlier years can be harder but wait things out. Don't give up.  Since the religious deconversion, I have become a far happier person, it's like thrown a load off my back that weighed me down for a very long time. The god of fundamentalist Christianity was a tyrant making me miserable beyond belief. I have been able to enjoy music, nature, and other people far more.

 I'm 4 and half years in with main narcs--June 28th will be the 5 year freedom day there, 1 and half with the entire family. I was the scapegoat to the max. It's bittersweet you get deeper in, and it changes your life. I changed. I am no longer the same person. When I told myself I could be who I am and no longer had to blame myself for everything it created a shift. It allowed the door open for not only the physical escape but the emotional escape.

It even changed my religion. I am happier back in the Unitarian Universalist church and leaving fundie Christianity. That has been like slicing chains off my wrists. I now warn others about the prison of fundamentalist Christianity elsewhere.

I am happier that now I don't have to stress about bad relationships anymore. I don't have to impress anyone anymore. I had literal decades of severe panic attacks lifted, now if I get one it's rare and a medical cause like physical breathing problems. Even dumping all the friends, I have felt relief, I know this sounds crazy, but I had a lot of people around me who were putting me down. The ones who were more subtle about it were doing enough harm that it was something that needed cleaned from my life. When I dumped the ex-millionaire friend and she didn't fight for the friendship or anything, and went to go smear me immediately, I knew I should have ended things decades before.

It can be lonely with the clean slate. It's scary but you have both positive anticipation for reforming yourself and finding a different way of being and different kinds of people be with. You think about what kind of people you want to connect with, and realize you want people who are loving, and who care about justice. You meet more kind people online, and realize the difference.

  You feel like you are out there with everyone wiped away but there is happiness that comes from not being around assholes who put you down overtly or covertly anymore. You can think. The air clears. The fog is gone.  A lot of energy is being reserved for yourself. I became done with trying to earn anyone's love or notice.

I don't have to worry about being told I am too fat, or lazy or a loser. I am astounded with the shit I even put up with one other bad friend I got rid of. I would rather be alone then having bossy mean people around me.

My husband told me he is relieved no more trips and social stresses with the narcissistic family too. One day we were both kicking back and I said, "Well look we don't have to worry about that shit anymore, having to get money together for trips for a bunch of people who won't even talk to us, who just brag to each other." He said he is relieved too. Oddly this whole thing, led me to simplify life in other ways to make it easier and better.

It's hard though because you do see people who have happy families. It wasn't until I was no contact until I realized what I lost out on. You imagine what life would have been with decent people in it. There's holes standing where the family you should have had should have been.

I noticed funny things like people had friends who hugged them, who cried when they cried and who loved them. [I have some good friends online, I kept and others who are deceased who were not narcs] but it's funny, I started noticing right treatment more. I noticed people who had families who looked out for them, where everything was not about a competition and cutting each other down. I saw people who were truly connected and loved each other. I fortunately did end up in a marriage, where we have love and connection but here's one thing too when I kicked all the damn narcissists to the curbs, our marriage grew better and even closer and stronger. One thing every narcissist had in common in my life from the ex-millionaire to my mother was putting down my husband. They had no respect for our marriage and I am glad to be gone from that too.

We had struggles who doesn't from financial pressures years ago but I knew I had at least one loving person in my corner and these other people never were. It's scary even several years in you will notice things, like how the family was sneering at you in photos while you stand there smiling and even bad friends you ended up with far too many years trained to take bad treatment.

You can find more happiness, and in my case, I walked from so many people, it was over 35-40 people near the end.

I don't know what the future holds, but honestly life is a lot better without abusive assholes in it. Get rid of everyone who puts you down. I am serious about this. They don't help you and only sabotage you, cut them off. Criticize you all the time?, Cut them off. Think they are better then you? Walk. Live your life for yourself and people who truly love you. Even if I am down to one person and few others, I am glad I have him. It's worth it.

My Old Diaries-2002

                                                                                      2002, I have lost down to 450lbs from near 700

 This is going to be a two-parter with the first diary from 1989 first and then the second from 2002.

I was cleaning out my closet and found these old diaries. I did destroy some of my old journals, and ripped out pages that were worthwhile, that folder is buried somewhere, I haven't found it yet. If I do maybe I will do a third post them.

My diaries were so hard to read, I kind of threw them away, because I would get sick, if I even took a glance at them. Let's just say they were rather triggering. I do regret that now. However maybe if I had them I could put more into context. Don't throw your old journals away!

My Old Diaries: 1989

This second diary is one is from 2002 and what is interesting about that one, is this is two years after I have escaped from Chicago. I had just lost a bunch of weight from medical treatment going down from near 700lbs to 450lbs.

 At the time, I thought I would keep losing and would "get better" but it did not happen. I would be down to 460lbs even as late as 2013, but I have unable to get my weight down more. My weight 6 months ago was 513. I weighed 526 this week. I had been up and about a lot. My husband thinks it was water weight, because while it warmed up, I was out more days but obviously the never ending battle to not gain remains. Keep in mind I can fluctuate 30lbs within a week which always freaked the hell out of the Weight Watchers people and they would tell me, "Please go see a doctor."  They gave me a year to shrink my present kidney stone at the kidney doctor.  I was 530lbs last year.

 If my weight doesn't go down from FINALLY joining a gym next week, I will know I am screwed. There's a point a person can only do what they can. I picked the day to join when I get paid and finally figured out one I CAN AFFORD. Yes I am scared. I hope I don't die of breathing problems and that I will fit on the equipment but I talked my husband into it, and figured out a place where two poor people can afford it. Finances delayed this far longer then I wanted it too. I hope to turn this into a new hobby so there is some eager anticipation too.


In 2002, it was two and half years after I had escaped Chicago to our very old small rural town. I was diagnosed with PCOS the year earlier, and my sleep apnea was finally treated about 18 months before this, which definitely helped with the weight loss too. I converted to be a born again fundamentalist Christian in 2002, and was totally in love with my new rural community with it's nature, peace and quiet, and friendly people. I had these odd ideas about finding a "proper" life and trying to "fix" everything.

This diary is full of a lot of religious writing and tons of prayers. This includes a lot of bible prophecy. 9-11 impacted me way too much and even today I think we are paying for some of the manipulative hysteria and fear.  It was interesting to read from that perspective, all those prayers were never answered but I mean well. Trauma took me into fundamentalist Christianity. I know it did. I wanted a God to care and with all the severe health problems I was a drowning person grasping at what I could grab. I had the idea too that if I became a good person and a nice Christian, people would love and accept me as well.

"God has blessed me with a sweet and kind husband"

"I read "The Merciful God of Prophecy about the end times."

I wish [friend's name] could know the real Jesus" 

"I need to replace my old nature with the Holy Spirit's new nature"

"I have too many sinful thoughts"

My husband is still sweet and kind, but there's some religious cringe here, though I understand my mindset at the time in it all.

I still have major health problems even with the weight loss, there's a lot of desperate prayers to God in here about breathing and a lot of problems related to it. I literally struggled just to breathe so many years. My anxiety because my lungs are so bad, is very high.

"Please God don't let me go mad from asthma"

COPD medicine a few years ago really changed my life, even comparative to that many years ago. I was housebound too by then, and still am but I did escape the constant breathing problems and asthma/COPD/bronchial spasms. I still have troubles breathing now but back then it was totally undertreated.

This journal is full of a lot of love stuff, technically we are still newlyweds, and trips and positive things too like a trip to my husband's college town with his best friend. The love stuff still applies. LOL

Even as I deconvert now, I understand WHY people become Christians, I get it. I was there, it was filling me with bliss, hope and eagerness, later the guilt, shame, disappointment and crash of reality would happen but back then the religion was bringing me new happiness and hope! I had survived. My husband and I had escaped the ghetto and extreme poverty, and he then was a newspaper reporter! We could have a great life, no we weren't rich, but we could find happiness. It was time to heal from trauma, and find a good life. I saw the lives of other happy small town Christians and wanted to be like them. It wasn't to happen but I understand what appealed to me even now.  It is strange to explain how this time was both very happy and had it's hardships too all at the same time.

 I had been low contact with the family since around the mid 1990s but around 2002, via my religious conversion to fundamentalist Christianity, was on this kick to "love" and "forgive" and seek to rebuild ties. Many ACONs make the mistake of thinking if they "fix" their lives, or overcome severe problems like an obesity problem, or unemployment etc, that it will change their family's hard hearts and they will be seen in a new light. Don't make that mistake. If you go no contact as a poor 20 something living in a rented room, don't think your new family, career or suburban house will changed their minds or their ways either. I thought since my husband had his newspaper career revived, he was a newspaper reporter in the early 1990s before we were in Chicago, and he had a book deal, and I seemed to be getting my health together, with a 250lb plus weight loss, that my relationship with them would improve.

I had this idea that my family would change their minds about us as we became more economically stable and I escaped severe uber-obesity. ACONS never make that mistake. If you hit the Lotto or you suddenly have your career zoom to heights, don't expect things to change.

However even as I tried to make this all happen, and I did things like visit my sister and her household for a week in 2003 and made a cartoon comic book for nieces and nephews and had my husband take me for trips to my mother's family out of state, about 120 miles south of where we lived back then, I still had a lot of moments of trepidation that show in this diary.

With this one, I had my severe infection in 2001, that brought in severe hearing loss, and I had become severely hearing impaired:

Thanksgiving went well but [my brother's then wife] freaked out. I think she's going to end up divorcing my brother. [They did end up divorced a few years later] I feel sorry for the baby.  Poor kid.  My mother seemed mad at me. My mother would keep ignoring me and I got lost in conversations and no one seemed to care. I got mad and said, you all do realize I can't hear but they didn't seem to care. I am going to talk about my sister about this. [she didn't care either] 

They were mortified to watch my brother's wife go on her spaz fits cussing everyone out. My brother is always apologizing for her and did so on this last go around. The condemnation is always there.

His ex wife probably had reason to cuss,  she was majorly scapegoated by my mother, but sadly she included me in the cussing out and there was no hope in any alliance. She had already smeared me to her. When I went no contact, I wanted to talk to her again and tell her I was sorry for not sticking up for her more but too much damage had been done. My mother made sure of no alliance happening there.

My family freaks me out, always has. My mother seems to forget I am in the room when others are about, even when no kids are there. I think I bore her and she looks at hearing impairment as being idiocy and retardation. When I say, "What?" she gets annoyed. I can feel her thoughts inside she's thinking, "She's so stupid."


My brother said weird stuff to me when we were alone and told me don't you dare tell my kids about any bad stuff about mom or dad being abusive when they are older. His baby isn't even a year old yet.  I said "what about when they are 21 and we are sharing deeper personal stuff?" He said, "Not even then, keep your mouth shut, and don't cause trouble."


I talked to my brother about his wife and said, our mother treats her badly, that's why she is so upset and cussing the entire family out, but he got mad and threw 12 year old stuff in my face. I think my family really doesn't know me at all.  They still think I am crazy and can't see beyond the weight.

I ran into this at [Aunt Denial's] house--she got mad at me and annoyed at something I said, and brought up in front of everyone how I would deny the family and how I would say I was adopted as a kid and I would get so weird. She embarrassed me in front of everyone. 


I should pray for all these people.

Extreme Christianity can set one up to be a doormat, and tells you to try and reconcile and forgive people there is no hope of it with. One freeing thing for me lately that has elevated a lot of depression for me, is realizing I don't have to be a doormat to anyone anymore. I don't have to do it for any God nor do I have to live with this idea of constantly being subservient to people or trying to get them to like me.  If someone treats me bad, the me of today just gets away from them.

Praying for these folks was a waste of time.  I do note how they treated my deafness, that worsened in the years after 2002, where no one cared if I ever heard and had the negative effect of adding to my voicelessness. Later I would get hearing aids.

I gave myself some bad advice in this journal. ACONS can make that mistake of trying to shoehorn themselves into conformity thinking it will bring better treatment. It won't. In 2002, I had learned about my Aspergers. If you ever get advice like this from a therapist, or anywhere else like a church being told more repression or silence or conformity will fix things, run like hell!

Why can't I be more normal. It's like a constant fight in my head. Is it the Aspergers nature? Try and get along with people.

* Make sure you are nice
*Try not to talk about yourself too much
* Hide more emotions, try and have normal emotional reactions. I screwed this up today but we all make mistakes
* Act Normal

This is all bad advice. Acting nice, actually is a way to get more abused!  Sadly my IFB church was filling my head with this advice. Counselors were admitting I was severely abused and diagnosing me with PTSD but since I lived in a very rural Christian area, most were Christians, and telling me the path to wholeness laid in reconcilation, they couldn't have been more wrong.

The trauma at the time too shows in the diary, I would have troubles with the violence in Chicago for YEARS. The me of today doesn't anymore, but this was some serious stuff.

 I know I have written about this before but my anxiety disorders were very severe. I have had major recovery when it comes to anxiety disorders since my no contact. If that was on gift I was given, from it, that definitely was it. Not being able to breathe physically can still elicit panic, but I am free from constant emotional panic attacks. I have theories too about how fundamentalist Christianity is tied to extreme fear. In that world, people are kept afraid, and focused on God solving their problems instead of being able to turn to others or self empowerment. Trauma can really take people into extreme religion.

Why am I always scared and worried
I think fear alone is messing up some of my hormones
Its oh no all the time and worrying about this
This is not an easy way to live. It's aged me
I find the entire world to be frightening
I wish I had no emotions
Having to hide this fear and anxiety all the time is never easy
I've known for years health problems or not
a creeping terror in my bones is not normal
and yes I'm saying a creeping terror.


I don't feel afraid like this anymore and that took many years to come. I do believe that severe narcissistic abuse is tied to extreme anxiety disorders. Oh, when I removed the last of the narcissists from my life, the anxiety abated even more. It was a step by step process. For many ACONs, you will realize your environment does impact your mental well-being, and when you fix whose around you, it will bring solutions to some long standing problems.

It's good to be free of stress even from simple phone calls:


I called my mother today big mistake because she threatened to quit calling me
because I was not home for two phone calls. She said, "I called on Saturday and you were not there."
I replied I had more to do then just sit around waiting for the phone all day. Her insane pursuit of the "perfect house" continues. My family drives me crazy. My brother hasn't called recently at all. My sister ignores me too. I truly connect with none of them--I even understand I have tried but their values and outlook on life are polar opposites. There is no communication.

Here's a snippet, that seems to point to Aspie problems.

Through the glass wall, I watch them all
I am glad the rain is back, the sun hurts my eyes

This one says something regarding this older article about how narcissists keep secrets:

My mother yelled at me, "You can't keep a secret!" This made me laugh inside. Myself is a secret to you. You have never known me. You knew your Longenberger baskets and objects of desire more then your own daughter. At best it was all mundane politeness with some feigned duty thrown but not much relationship. You said to me, "Sometimes you just keep things to yourself" Too bad this included every feeling, every motion, every introspective thought for 35 years.