Could you stand some good news for a change? I know I could.
Before Momster ever pulled the rug out with the gas card on the first, I had this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach she was up to something. The quiet before the storm perhaps? I had a small panic attack the weekend before she did this. I was looking ahead at bills coming up for me...the car inspection, the car ins starts again in Sept., oil change, etc. and realized THIS is how she will "do me in". When things got kind of quiet as far as the family's frequency of stalking....I could feel something coming down the pike at me.
I guess since BPDs are such shallow vapid people they think since they can be bought off that everyone else can be as well. I suppose Momster thinks if she gas lights me enough and tries to financially crush me under her heel that I will bend to her will. She has no idea what I am made of. I guess she sees my mate (my everything) coming over less and less so that translates to her world as me being vulnerable to her games. She also thinks I didn't get a contract in my profession so I am also vulnerable because of this. BPDs love to see you in a corner with no where to turn. Most of the time, they are the reasons you are in this corner in the first place as they manipulate your life and isolate you. Yes, even BPD parents do this. Abusers ALWAYS isolate their victims socially and financially....then go for the jugular.
Her fist step was the gas card. I could almost bet on the stalking decreasing sharply after this incident. Amazing-it did. After all, if I am grounded--I'm not going anywhere in their minds. Funny enough, at the same time, her nosey tenant immediately stopped staring down the driveway to check on where my car was daily. Hunh? I know it sounds overly paranoid...but as my mate says, NOTHING these sick people do is a coincidence. They plan, they stalk, they plot, and they manipulate.
Last weekend was uBPD/ASPD's b-day party. She showed up leaving a bag of chips on my door handle. Didn't knock, nothing. This was her "primer stalking". If the bag disappears, I am obviously there. Don't call ahead like a normal person...no, that would be....normal. Just play games like a 5 year old. Even sicker is what was in the bag. She left receipts for expensive shrimp and prepared shrimp types from the market to say, (once again like a 5 year old) "we are having a birthday party, look how good we have it". Throwing it in my face. I am struggling to keep my self fed here (selling jewelry), she offers no real help, and she cries poor about the gas card....yet she has the money to blow on her son's birthday dinner. I swear, if I read this myself, I wouldn't believe any of it!! It's so sick, it's like something out of a fiction novel...and a bad one at that.
Anyway, she comes back from the party with a few bags of groceries. That's the "ploy" to talk to me. She bangs on the door. I find her bent over messing with the bags. She stands up and looks like a witch. Funny, she even looks crazy now. I used to cut her hair & my sister's hair...yes, I KNOW how enmeshed I was, thankyouverymuch. Anyway, she has the money to get a haircut. She just won't do it to show that "I don't care for her anymore". Yes, so passive-aggressive that she neglects herself in the process. Crazy much? So her hair is getting long and straggly. If it weren't for her dying it, it would be grey-white and REALLLY look like a witch. Ok, I digress. She makes me bend over & stoop in front of her to pick up the bags. Yet again, makes me stoop over at her feet to pick up the bags. She couldn't hand the bags to me like a normal human being, noooo, she has to make me bow before her like some kind of peasant. I couldn't even talk to her. I have nothing to say. I gave her back food I have problems with....I don't even start to tell her I'm working on a diet to get rid of health problems....there's no point. She doesn't care, she won't remember, and it will just give her more fodder for her insanity. I can hear it now, "you don't have IBS, you have an eating disorder". You know, like my brother with the "You can't possibly have worked out and gotten that thin, you must be bulimic or doing drugs."
She tells me my en-sis is doing better but still in the hospital. She says NOTHING about the gas card incident last week and says nothing about brother's party she was just at. She was staring at me with this look of hatred and disgust on her face....and almost the hint of a smile. Kind of like she was expecting me to blow up at her about the gas card or brother's b-day party or even the money she blew on it. I simply don't care. I don't care enough to give her the satisfaction of ever seeing me angry. I do believe that's one of the lessons on the BPD boards. Don't show any emotion towards them and don't show them that they have made you react in any way. They feed off that drama and the fighting...I dare say they get off on it. Well, not from me. Like I have said since last spring...my "give a damn has been broken". Yeah, it's been broken for a long long time.
Well, after all that bullsh*t...there finally is light at the end of the tunnel. I got the news Friday that I got the job I interviewed for. Granted, it's not great--nowhere near what I need to really move out of here...but it's something. This economy has been so bad in this part of the country for so long, I am amazed I even got an interview. I have been looking in earnest for regular jobs in this area since my career-based professional interviews were over...March? Yeah first interview for a job since I have been applying since March. Five months people...I was seriously considering applying for welfare in the last few weeks. That's how desperate I was getting and that's how little hope I had left.
I still have to sell a few things to get myself started at this position, but it's a start. It's SOMETHING. Something to keep me afloat and to give me hope. Unfortunately, along with this position comes a few other things. I have to get a PO box to avoid my mother opening my mail & finding out I have a new job. I'm sure she'd try to ruin that for me too. I have to start up new accounts with banks she knows nothing about. I have to hide everything I do from this woman so she doesn't ruin it all for me again. Any little advancement she will try to crush.
As it is the past two mornings I have had the garage door slam open at 5 am. I don't sleep well and that's not helping. This could only be my brother. He gets up early with his wife whether he is working or not. My mate & I discussed it. The only reasoning behind stalking me at 5 am is that they are waiting for me to snap at them about it. I personally think they are doing this to check to see if my mate is here or if I am actually staying here. June 23 when I backed my brother down during that last fight I think freaked them out. When I said I didn't care if they sold the building (and evicted me) because I had options....that scared them. Anything they can't hold over your head anymore freaks them out. Perhaps they think my mate got an apartment and I spend most my time there. Who knows. All I know is I am "f*cking with them right back" these days and it is freaking them out. They don't know what to do with me to get me to react to them or to get me "back on the farm" as it were to be manipulated.
Threats of violence isn't working, threats of eviction isn't working, threats of taking away what little financial help they give isn't working, and even using my sick sister as a pawn isn't working. The way they have turned the tenants and old friend against me isn't working either. They simply don't know HOW to "get me" anymore. And I hope it runs like a cold f*cking chill up their spines when they realize I am succeeding in getting away from them. Even more so when I leave this place and they start getting served by lawyers. Best of all, when I have a safe, secure home again with the man I love...building an abuse-free normal family....NEVER to see their awful faces again. THAT is the best revenge of all. After all, sociopaths HATE the control taken away from them and can't STAND being ignored.
Here's to the future.
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