Do we just keep running? Or can I stop today?



I need to keep going before they catch me up in all of the lies that they continue to tell themselves.  I am running towards a private life to know love, happiness, peace, and to know what it is when people say don't give-up there is always hope.  I run like a mad man to know these things before I am absorbed by my past that is creeping up on me.  As my family begins the hunt once again I stare at no one, I have no one, I am alone. This is not any different than any other time in my life.  I know that it may seem to you as sad or shocking but why?  You just don't know because you never ask and when you do I am told, "lots of people have worse lives than yours." 

After many years and great thought I am ready and aiming at all the people that refuse to see that evil lives next door and answers the doorbell when it rings.  It has dinner parties, Wednesday Night Salons, Christmas parties, Easter Egg Hunts, goes out to dinner, entertains the Grandchildren, pays for boarding schools, goes on vacation, pays the bills, drinks coffee, enjoys a hot cup of tea, is unemployed, or employed, owns their own business, has a non-profit, donates all their time, loves their children to death, never questioned, lots of friends and this probably is somebody you know personally.  You may work alongside of them, you may be taking a walk in the park and pass them on the path.  You could shop in all the same places, spend the same money on the same things.  You probably share the same hairdresser or barber.  You might even go to church at the same place.  Your kids might play together and you may find that you go to a movie tonight look over and see a relation to me.

I have never heard one person offer to help me.  Never has anyone offered to expose the lie.  Never does anyone that I have ever met in my entire life feel sorry for me. This is not because I look for it or expect it, so don't jump on any high horse with me.  I have only done one thing, that is to look for everything that I do not know.  I was not loved as a baby and I have been told that this causes great problems as an adult. I learned how to behave with the public at large, through The Brady Bunch, Little House on the Prairie and other T.V. shows along this line.  At eighteen I decided to look for everything that I seemed to be missing. Never did I go out and tell strangers, nor friends about my childhood.  Anything that they did find out was always well after meeting me. No pity, no compassion, no evidence of anything other than flight or total abandonment after the light had been shed on my life, usually by my family.  You see, every person that I ever had as a friend also new my mother and according to her she knew them first.  It is all fine and dandy, they always sympathize with her as she tells them the story of her possessed and demonic daughter.  How she is on the loose and preys upon the innocent lives of others.  She goes on to tell them how I never go home for dinner, how she must pay for my children, she must care for my children while I am busy being addicted to prescription drugs.  She goes on telling them that I have written and published a book of scandal about the family.  I am destroying the innocent lives of my brother and sister.  All the dreams they have had are being destroyed and all they want to do is work in the family business, keep their heads down and make an honest dollar.  My mother explains that she began a non-profit business that is helping autistic people like her daughter.  She will say and exploit every avenue to do only one thing, destroy the friendship permanently.

No matter what the reasoning is today, yesterday or tomorrow I have suffered a life of great tragedy and yet it is remarkable.  This is a quote from a psychiatrist that did a full report and recommendation for my life going forward. As just a person existing on this planet I have found no one that is or can relate to my story in person.  I have found on this site many others that seem to suffer my plight.  What I am most discouraged about generally is the lack of persons that will confront and hold responsible the monsters that have delivered such despair to so many.  As the offspring of a cult leader, a malignant narcissist or medically known as a sociopath, I declare to who may interested in my declaration of life the following.  I will proceed forward in the battle I have been in privately so far to expose and hold responsible those persons that answer the character description of a soul shatterer. I am tired of people that do not believe others when the distress in there voice can be heard from the words written in letters on blogs.  The simple act of being a person that chooses to not just exist here for their own pleasure brings me solace.

I am compelled to deliver a story to you about the lacking of sympathy to a person that has knowingly lived a life of pain and twisted agony.  I have learned more from the interaction I have had in life about how what I watched on the television as a child is just a lie and an imagination of things that are not real.  The character assassination of the average person should come from the severely neglected children of the world.  Had the layman not turned a blind eye in my youth than I would be in a different state of mind.  All I have proceeded in learning as an adult is to never talk about anything upsetting if it is you.  If it is gossip and about another than for fucks sake never end the conversation or attention into that person's private life. It is this fact that makes me squirm.  I hate it when people talk behind your back and as you make it into the room there is this uncomfortable silence.  Never forget I was raised by two, then three, then four, then a congregation of narcissistic prone adults, just learning from my mother how to advantage there life and there pocketbook.  It is in the coarse action of other people that I have seen lack of remorse or proper acknowledgement of their action in the crime against my life and the far bigger crime against humanity itself.

I was born into slavery and cannot declare my innocence because the belief of such an act is dismissed readily by everyone.  I want you to log-on to the following site and start at the end, reading your way through the entire blog.  I want you to count how many times slavery is referred too.  I also want you to recognize that you are not well-versed in the tongue of the malignant narcissist that speaks between the lines to testify to the actions.  This is done so that they can say behind the closed doors on any day, but I told you what I was doing, it is not my fault you did not read what I wrote on this public venue.  The layman needs a narcissists dictionary that has never been written.  I need the relief of the pain that I feel for myself to end today.  As the person that took me out of school along with my mother to educate me at home is running a Christian Home Education program on the net. She purports herself to be something that she never was to me, a private tutor. Make sure you read the entire sight before you question me in an appeal of this horror of a life I survive and continue to live on a daily basis.  Being frank and totally honest with you today, I have had to use the public that I meet in passing as the parental reference to proper behavior to become socially acceptable as an adult.  I quit my appeal to anyone in regards to what is proper or improper behavior when I find an active site that supports the malignant narcissists that are so openly and proudly speaking of there work. I have to support myself and my memories of the horrors that this person and people just like her perpetrated upon my life with my mother as a support.

At sixteen years old she gave me an examine in my mothers home.  She graded this test, looked at my mother and said the following, "she has a sixth grade education. We should start with fourth grade material and if I were fortunate she will catch on before it is too late to educate her properly."  My mother screamed Hallelujahs, jumped around in her bathrobe and said, "I knew I was right to pull her out of the school she was in, they said they were going back to the basics but obviously they have not."  I looked at both of them, stood-up, shut the book in front of me and said nothing.  I never saw another book, I never was given any material to educate myself with, fourth grade or not. This so called educator never returned to do any sort of education in my mothers home where I was to reside for the next two years in silence.  I sat until I was eighteen in that home of ill-repute. I could not leave or I would have been a truant. I don't do anything without great thought and even greater consideration of the repercussions on everyone concerned. To suffer at the hands of so many that are so capable is reprehensible.

Maybe I am just hot under the collar, but if you read this website and find that the program they use to educate children with is as deplorable as I feel it may be,  then help me stop the pain, so no other children suffer the agony of sitting and waiting while never being educated at all.  Just counting the days and the years until they hit eighteen.  Please read this poem all the way through before you continue to the website that I have posted below.  The pain is real, the agony is not bearable by many.  By best friend committed suicide over what happened to him.  Help me by helping the be voice of the innocent victims that cannot be heard today.  Sadly, by the time we can be heard and can decipher the web of confusion brought upon us by our parental figures, it is too late.  The damage has been done and cannot be reversed.  PTSD are avoidable in this instance if you can understand that evil just finds a new venue to perpetuate its message.  You cannot stop that which refuses to heed anything other than its own protection of the crime that they are committing against humanity.

For the children who were broken

For children who were broken

it is very hard to mend......

Our pain was rarely spoken

and we hid the truth from friends.

Our parents said they loved us,

but they didn't act that way.

They broke our hearts and stole our worth,

with the things that they would say.

We wanted them to love us.

We didn't know what we did

to make them yell at us and hit us,

and wish we weren't their kid.

They'd beat us up and scream at us

and blame us for their lives.

Then they'd hold us close inside their

arms and tell us confusing lies

of how they really loved us

-- even though we were BAD,

and how it was OUR fault they hit us,

OUR fault that they were mad.

When days were just beginning

we sometimes prayed for them to end,

and when the pain kept coming,

we learned to just pretend

that we were good and so were they

and this was just one of those days

...tomorrow we'd be friends.

We had to believe it so.

We had nowhere else to go.

Each day that we pretended,

we replaced reality

with lies, or dreams,

or angry schemes,

in search of dignity ....

until our lies got bigger

than the truth,

and we had no one real to be.

Our bodies were forsaken.

With no safe place to hide,

we learned to stop

hearing and feeling

what they did to our outsides.

We tried to make them love us,

till we hated ourselves instead,

and couldn't see a way out,

and wished that they were dead.

We scared ourselves by thinking that

and scared ourselves to know,

that we were acting just like them

--and might ever more be so.

To be half the size of a grown-

up and trapped inside their pain....

To every day lose everything

with no savior or refrain...

To wonder how it is possible

that God could so forget

the worthy child you knew you were,

when you had not been damaged yet ...

To figure on your fingers

the years till you'd be grown

enough to leave the torment

and survive away from home,

were more than you could count to,

or more than you could bear,

was the reality we lived in

and we knew it wasn't fair.

We who grew up broken

are somewhat out of time,

struggling to mend our childhood,

when our peers are in their prime.

Where others find love and contentment,

we still often have to strive

to remember we are worthy,

and heroes just to be alive.

Some of us are healing.

some of us are stealing.

Most are passing the anger on.

Some give their lives away to drugs,

or the promise of like beyond.

Some still hide from society.

Some struggle to belong.

But all of us are wishing

the past would not hold on so long.

There's a lot of digging down to do

to find the child within,

to love away the ugly pain

and feel innocence again.

There is forgiveness worthy of angel's

wings for remembering those at all,

who abused our sacred childhood

and programmed us to fall.

To seek to understand them,

and how their pain became our own,

is to risk the ground we stand on

to climb the mountain home.

The journey is not so lonely

as in the past it has been ...

More of us are strong enough

to let the growth begin.

But while we're trekking up the mountain

we need everything we've got,

to face the adults we have become,

and all that we are not.

So when you see us weary

from the day's internal climb ...

When we find fault with your best efforts,

or treat imperfection as purposeful crime ...

When you see our quick defenses,

our efforts to control,

our readiness to form a

plan of unrealistic goals ...

When we run into a conflict

and fight to the bitter end,

remember ....

We think that winning means

we won't be hurt again.

When we abandon OUR thoughts and feelings,

to be what we believe YOU want us to,

or look at trouble we're having,

and want to blame it all on you...

When life calls for new beginnings,

and we fear they re doomed to end,

remember...

Wounded trust is like a wounded knee--

It is very hard to bend.

Please remember this

when we are out of sorts.

Tell us the truth, and be our friend.

For children who were broken...

it is very hard to mend.

by Elia Wise

Start here and then click on the site I have posted, I did.  I am sure that I will not have any support, as I never have known support in helping to stop or expose the crimes or cons of narcissists.  A con is con, a rose called by any other name is still a rose.  My older sister Tam and her words that I have grown so tired of hearing in past years but seems so appropriate today. 

 
http://philomathfoundation.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogcategory&id=14&Itemid=37&limit=8&limitstart=48