The Stress of Exploitation

Not long after starting my day I received a message from the owner of where I work; sent out en masse to me and those I work alongside. I shall share the link HERE.

The longer I sit here the more bothered I become. The section on "Pre-shift" really gets my panties in a bunch. That's just a saying, for I am currently wearing boxer briefs. Which are yet another reminder of how much comfier things are for men. There are literal breeze holes for my butthole. Anyway...

We are a small staff in a small location. The kitchen is set up to only be able to handle so many food items at any given time. Last night we brought in nearly $5,500 with our labor. It was a bad night for us, but a good night to be the owner. We live in technologically driven times and because of that the Service Industry now has the option to use an app called Homebase. This app keeps track of your scheduled shifts and even tells you how much you made (pre-taxes) for your shift. Last night, our labor brought in nearly $5,500; pre-taxes I made $77.28.

The owner likes to stop in randomly and last night she showed up to a defeated FOH staff and a depleted BOH staff. While I was finishing up some cash transactions she said to me, "This is good. We want it to be busy. It's better for you than if it were slow." I looked her in her soul and said, "To a point."

I believe that for many, Service Industry workers are seen as stupid. Our bodies are seen as means to an end. At 31 years old my knees are wearing out, my wrists and elbows stiffen and groan, and my emotional strength is able to hit an all-time low. When you are going out: Treat restaurant, bar and retail staff nicely.

I don't think business owners realize what is occurring right now. We see signs that put the blame on the shoulders of those unwilling to hand over their labor and bodies; "staff walked out" and "the younger generations are lazy". Let us flip that script to "business owners are exploiting us for the bare minimum" and "selfishness and greed have been normalized". Now we're being told to keep our weekends open (whichever days those may be) for processing things; please don't do it on the clock. It is not useful or productive. "Your time off should complement your work. You shouldn’t be doing anything that impedes you being your best."    Also, do not discuss unions or unionizing because that really just harms you and I in the long run.

Last night things were hard, and some patrons took it upon themselves to remind us that we were to be serving them and that they were to be pleased. We were failing at pleasing them and they were not happy. It's always so very easy to spot those that have never worked in the service industry. They will be the people hollering at you from across a crowded room, sometimes snapping their fingers or even clapping. These individuals have no problem with reprimanding you very publicly, while those around sit silently by watching this form of abuse. They see me and my peers as trained animals and not as human beings. You often hear that these sorts of jobs are not to be complained about if we haven't attended college. Completely missing the mark. I have worked with many people who have gone to college and yet still stand alongside me at the silverware tray.

Capitalism is greed. It is the idea that hard work means money........... for someone, somewhere. I'll be taking my $77.28 with a smug face (don't tell me to smile) and the understanding that I am ready to set fire to the systems that be.

I handle my stress fairly well in the grand scheme of things, thank you.

March 4th, 2022

I learned something on the night of February 6th and into the early hours of the 7th. I learned that it is completely possible to both be so very happy while so very sad and angry.

That next morning before heading into work I stepped into the shower of his sister's place. I started weeping. I tried to hold it in so that Z couldn't hear me. It felt like my chest was cracking apart. I finally knew. I knew he didn't love me. I knew that I had loved him, despite the fact that he had never loved me.

I knew I had to leave. The person I was leaving him for was neither permanent nor rational. That didn't matter. I knew that I would regret losing the next two weeks more than anything else I'd been accepting around me. I knew my relationship meant nothing to me anymore. I was free.

I cried so much, and if he heard me; he never said anything.

-My Phone- 

When Do We Know?

How do we walk through life and figure out who is safe to be around? We can trust someone with our life and then be killed at their hand. We can fall in love, only to find out the other person never loved us but only found us useful. How long can one remain useful? I guess I am 3-years' worth of usefulness, and I'm alive. So that's good news I suppose. I don't know how much longer that 3-years could have gone had I not left him when I did. I believe he would have eventually left me. He knew I had nothing left to tear from my flesh and spill from my veins, I could no longer feed him. I wasn't even feeding myself most days.

I can wonder if it is because nobody knew me before Sacramento. I can wonder if it's because I do a really good job of coming off like a bitch. I can wonder about many things. Or I can allow myself to understand that it took a stranger meeting me, becoming my friend, and knowing within a very short period of time that I was more than the woman he saw sitting across from him. I was sinking. I'd wasted away in front of those that claimed to be my family now. I had been on my own while surrounded by the friends that carried his last name. They would have watched me die and then given him a ride to my funeral or paid for an Uber so he could make his loud, presence known; take my death and form it into his own tragedy. Then it would have become their tragedy to laugh about over a competitive game night around the table.

That stranger, my friend; saved me. I don't know why I never left. I've been trying and trying to understand my own mind. I don't know if I ever will. Up until that night at the Silent Disco I had only been existing through Portland and Sacramento, but then I met someone.

And although it has been so fucking hard some nights, I am keeping my promise to my friend. I am keeping the promise I made to myself. I will live.

I want to live. I want to experience everything that I can. I don't want to be afraid. I choose kindness, the ever-heavy experience of growth and healing, and to believe that there are good people mixed in with all of that trash.

I have a piano lesson tomorrow. I’m excited and nervous.

Ways to Go

Thank you, John.

Fuck yourself, John.

Is Love Blind?

I finished watching Love Is Blind Season 2, on Netflix. It's essentially an experiment on human connection. People sign up to discover if love is possible without knowing what another person looks like. They meet through a wall and start talking. Over time people are drawn more to some than others. The conversations become longer and deeper. Then they decide if they want to meet the person and go on to get married. It escalates quickly, and yes, I shit talk the fuck out of these people. As if I have any room to stand or talk.

My upbringing didn't allow for much wiggle room on intimacy and love. There were expectations placed upon me and the surrounding women I grew to know and admire. I thought intimacy and sex were one-in-the-same. If a man is pleased, then wallah! That's great news.

After leaving Zackary, I've learned such a huge lesson in such a small amount of time. Maybe that makes the three years feel like less of a loss. That is still to be determined. However, today I know more about myself than I did a month and a half ago. Intimacy and sex are not one-in-the-same. Intimacy is important amongst family, friends, and romantic partners. Communication and honesty bring you the warmest and safest feeling. It isn't always about the big, fun moments. Life isn't magical, it is just life. Who can be there in the not-fun moments? Who can experience both the ups and the downs in a healthy manner? Who makes you want to be a better person?

Every day comes to an end. There are so many ways to see the sunset. Are you looking? Who are you looking with? Maybe no one. That's okay; that's beautiful too. Just look up. Breathe in. Breathe out. You are here. You are safe.

I am grateful for every sunset.

Who Is 1 Stranger You Still Remember?

I will never forget this human being.

I was standing at the bus stop; it was cold outside, and the bus was running late. I was in early sobriety, and I really didn't want to be late to my AA meeting. Everyone always notices when you are late. I did not want to be noticed. I just needed to get there and slip in so that I wouldn't have to talk unless I wanted to. I was in a shitty mood. It was a bad day. Instead of seeing this as an opportunity to grow I decided to act just like the selfish, asshole, alcoholic that I am. So when a man I assumed survived in the streets started walking towards me I thought: "Oh here we fucking go. They are going to want money. They are going to want a cigarette. I'm not in the mood. I don't fucking want someone talking to me." He walked right on by me. The bus was still not fucking coming. I was pissed. A few minutes had passed and I saw that same guy walking back towards me. I figured there was no fucking way he was going to not ask for something this time. He pulled out a box of Reese's Pieces from his pocket and said, "Here. I love you, okay." I was confused for one second and then full of shame the next. He could tell I was having a bad day. He saw me as a human being and I saw him as a hassle. When I didn't take it right away because of the shame spiral I was tumbling down, he said, "Don't worry. I got some for me too." He opened his jacket and showed me his own candy choices. He went on to tell me that his mom didn't want him to go far but she would sometimes let him go grab treats from the gas station. He had different needs and a childlike innocence; she was an older woman doing what she still could to care for him. From what I gathered, she was all he had. He had picked out the Reese's Pieces for me. I love those things. He couldn't have known. I think I only spoke a handful of words during our interaction. Then he said he had to hurry before she got worried and he skipped along his way. He was very excited to get back home to eat his candy with his mom.

The bus drove right by me; I deserved it. That 15-minute, chilly walk was spent thinking about who I had become. I got to my meeting right-after-they-had-started. When they called on me to talk, I told everyone about him. I admitted to being the very version of myself that I blamed alcohol for. I was cruel, without the alcohol. I was scared that I had become my father. I was scared that it wasn't the alcohol, that it was me. Well, honey bunches, I've got some news for you: It was me. Alcohol may have made everything exaggerated and over the top but I actually was angry. I was so fucking angry that it was pouring out of me like lava in the form of hate and resentment.

That was the day that really cemented in the fact that the only thing that could help me do this, was love.

Inspired by Thoraya Maronesy via YouTube.

CPTSD From Narcissistic Abuse

Breathe in, breathe out.

You are here. You are safe.

-Danae Brooke

My Dating Profile:

 

I'm a 31-year-old womxn with a past. When drunk I have been known to put my feet on the wall while still wearing shoes. I've also been known to be up for a random bike ride here and there. Don't worry though I'm an alcoholic who doesn't drink now! Are you ready to take that on? It will be fun! I smoke on and off. It's a thing; a sexy thing. I've been told I smell of pancakes. I have a tapestry I refuse to get rid of that reads "Eat My Ass" and yes, I eat....

in bed when I am depressed. Depression! Depression for everyone! I can be really sad and really bummed out at any fucking time. I'm mysterious. I was raised Mormon. The One True Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints bestowed upon my head the gift of trauma and I am not fucking angry about it at all. I swear. Do we actually still care about that in 2022?

I dressed up as an Indigenous person. Which is super, super great and not problematic at all. I also had a dreadlock, super chill. I'm patriotic! Protesting Fascism, Racism, Police Violence, Capitalism, Misogyny, Another Missing Womxn Not Getting Enough Attention, Phobia of Human Existence, Anti-Abortion Laws? I'm in. I'm so proud to live in such a free country.

Wooooo! USA! USA! USA! We made it!

I've had an abortion.

END FORCED MOTHERHOOD.

My cat is my best friend, and you won't always be invited to join us. Bring a lint roller

or don't come at all, I don't care.

Texts With a Movie Star:

 

It's crazy how much we can be affected by someone without realizing it until we're on the outside looking in. Humans are either good for us, or they are bad for us; and balancing on that journey is fucking hard.

-D.B.

It's good to reflect back. But go easy on yourself. Remember you attract what you are not what you want. If you want respect from someone else, you have to respect yourself first. So give yourself the grace and respect you deserve right now. You are okay.

You are human. And being human means making mistakes.

-M

...

 

"Study the past if you would define the future."

-Confucius

Tummy, Brain, and Heart

When our outside world is filled with chaos it can have a negative impact on our insides. Our bodies know. Intuition is something I believe each of us carries from the moment we are born. I believe women carry it much deeper within us. The world is set up to quiet that intuition and make us question everything about the person we see looking back in the mirror. Intuition keeps us alive, literally and metaphorically.

Why do we lose our passion? Why do we give our bodies to those that do not deserve to even breathe the same air? How often do women end up at home taking care of kids or locked up in a box? How often do women settle? Much more often than a man. I saw this in my upbringing. I heard it during sacrament meetings. For those unfamiliar with Mormon Corp. lingo sacrament meeting was the first of three hours in church. One Sunday really sticks out for me. It occurred around the age of 15/16. That whole first hour (+some) was spent with white, upper middle-class men, telling us (kids, women, families) that while college was a good choice, my true calling in life was to be a wife and a mother. I was to serve my husband and if I wanted to work outside of the home then it should never interfere with that. My husband, whomever he would be, would be my King, my Master. If he were to lose his job, then I would financially provide for my family until he found another job. Then back to the kitchen I would go. I was angry. So when did my anger start? Did it start after my father took my body and made it his own? Was it before that? Did it start when my first short relationship ended after I was cheated on because I was a virgin and not ready to have sex? Did it start when my virginity was coerced from me? Did it start when my high school boyfriend told me I was less worthy of him because I wasn't pure while he himself watched horses fuck women and preyed on young girls online? Did it start when I entered into my first physically abusive relationship? When did my anger start?

I guess I started to look for freedom in men. I don't fucking know. It really doesn't make sense. I spent my whole upbringing being told what to do, how to sit, what to wear, and how to act. Then I dated men who tried to control me and cage me. I was drawn to the familiar. Can I be fixed? How in the fuck do you change what is so deeply engrained?

Who am I? Who in the fuck am I?

The funniest joke (or something) from this all is the fact that two of those church leaders who spoke of being essentially worshipped by their wife and mother of their children, cheated on their wives. I remember when I found this out it made me so sad. It had been years since I'd stepped foot in that neighborhood of toxicity. A ward full of cruelty and judgment. One of those women who was cheated on was my tormenter, the other a woman full of love. A love that I have been reflecting on a lot. I think she stayed with him. Brother Dumas, the stereotypical white man with a wife far out of his league. Why do we stay?

Are we trained? I have often referred to myself as HIS puppy dog. He never walked with me, he walked me. He never experienced life with me, he wore me like an accessory. I am not a necklace, nor am I a pet. I am a human being. I am a woman. I am more, and not less than. So why do we stay? Why did I stay with Nick? With Camron? With Eric? With Parker? With Britt? With Zackary? I think it's time to talk about all of them, and those in between. It's time to face those parts of myself that were drawn to them. I don't want to end up with anyone like them ever again.

Today is........

whatever I make of it.

I set fire to the box.

Dangerous boys become dangerous men...

HE loved hurting animals. I didn't know this until meeting his family and hearing them talk about it while laughing. I'm shaking my head even now. While I was saving rolly polly bugs and worms he was putting duck-tape around his dog's mouth and possibly killing wildlife. I try to believe that didn't happen. I never asked if he'd killed an animal because I really didn't want to know if he would lie about that. I just repeatedly heard "he liked hurting animals". Ironically, he is a vegetarian.

He also loved to flick open his pocketknives and stare at me. Sometimes he'd even come towards me. After hearing about the animals this no longer was just alarming, it caused fear. I was scared of my boyfriend. Once I felt that fear it began to transfer over to our sex life, or lack thereof after a point.

One night in particular I had reached my limit. He flicked his knife open as we sat on his sister's couch, and he closed the space between us. I got mad. I raised my voice and I bopped him in his upper chest. He actually got upset with me. He said, "Owwww, why?!" also in a raised voice. He couldn't believe I had hit him. This is when I asked, "What if you killed me?" He laughed. What he said after left me with an uneasy feeling. He said he would just tell people I went crazy after he made fun of my music. He would tell them it was self-defense. He said people would believe him.

As far as I was concerned, I never wanted him to touch me again. A familiar feeling had swept back in; I didn't like him.

A day earlier we had talked in our therapy session about how important music was to me. How I really wished he would stop making fun of me for what I listened to and chose to sing. I mentioned how when we first "fell in love" that he would sing karaoke songs with me and listen to music. I truly believed it was something we had connected over. Then it stopped and it was no longer something we enjoyed together. I asked that he please stop mocking me and my love of music. 

He had used our therapy session against me, he had weaponized it. So I did what do, I went to Reddit to see what other women were saying and that's when I learned that if you are with an abusive partner therapy can just be another way to leak them information that they can use against you. They take a safe space and wreak havoc. No space is sacred to a Narcissist.

So I don't know if he killed any animals. I don't know what he's capable of. I do know that me and my cat are much calmer now. Maybe me and my cat really aren't as crazy as I grew to believe. Also, your partner should never have a plan for if they kill you. That's not normal.

3/11

Yesterday would have marked three official years with him. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to handle the day, so when I found out a friend's birthday party was going to be on the 11th, I dove in. I've been trying this new thing lately where I go out of my comfort zone. I want to better understand what I do like, and what I do not like. I lost that understanding a long time ago. It's also possible I never quite had that grasped.

As to be expected in a large group of people there was the creep. The first time he touched me I stopped breathing normally and my body clenched up. Then I rolled my eyes and got on with my life. Another day, another creep. Ummmm, no! That was the wrong course of action. I should have looked him right in his fucking soul and asked him, "Why did you do that?" It is quite a lesson to be taking into my 30s. You see, if men are going to harm us anyway then my silence has only allowed them to most likely have harmed me more than once.

He touched me again, and again, and by the time we stuffed 14 people into the hot tub he'd made sure to end up by me (yayyyyy in Bo Burnham's voice). He kissed my shoulder and sniffed me (trigger). He lifted my leg in the air in such a way that I was taken back to my last sensual touch from a man. A touch I wanted, and a touch that was reached through mutual understanding and through what I hope is mutual respect. I started to shut down. This is when he decided to start rubbing and holding my feet. I sat through twists and turns of anxiety before I got out of the hot tub and walked inside. I didn't care if I was a party-pooper. I didn't care if I was seen as moody. I just didn't want him to have access to my body any longer. (He was later told to get the fuck out of their house. I was not the only woman he was doing this to and once we all started talking his time was up. WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS SHIT, LADIES!!)

I remember the night HE first tried to kiss me. We were in the back bathroom at work, and I was doing drugs again (surprise, surprise). He just came at me. There was no hesitation, and there was certainly nothing done to lead up to this. He had a girlfriend and he treated me like shit. Why would I want him to kiss me? This memory makes me so angry. I remember feeling cornered and backed against a wall. So why, only months later, did I go on to give 3 years of my life to this person? I knew exactly who he was when I first met him. To put it simply: I did not like him.

I am fucked up in the head. However, as fucked up as I am I have never taken someone's choice away from them. I've never taken a body and made it my possession. I feel like this is important to document so that when I have another really awful day, I can read that back to myself. I know there are going to be so very many awful days. All I can do it take them as they come. I have survived everything up to this point.

As women, I must wonder how often we are surviving rather than thriving...

So yeah, I made it through what would have been our three-year anniversary and I am home reflecting a lot. I feel like shit, and I am exhausted; but I am alive, and I didn't drink. There are also some great things that came from tonight. I met some really rad people, and it didn't matter if I was hiding away in the corner or sitting on the floor. People wanted to talk to me about my tattoos, about my water bottle, and about my song choices for karaoke; something he often tried to make me feel stupid for. My love for music brought out other creators who just wanted to talk about and appreciate music. I've spent a lot of time carrying the shame of "bad daughter" and "bad girlfriend" and I think this started to bleed into me believing I am a bad person. That a healthy connection wasn't a possibility. That I am boring. That I am too much. I often disappear inside myself when in overwhelming social situations. Some have even gone so far as to label me as not funny, annoying, and a prude.

I'm no prude, let me make that very clear. I have also never had my body appreciated and adored quite like I have since breaking up with HIM. It has been enlightening, empowering, and orgasmic. I'm so grateful that I am sitting here right now. I am so grateful that I am free. Post-coital clarity has never been more spectacular, I guarantee it.

Heterosexual gals, leave your deadbeat boyfriends/husbands and go have someone blow your fucking mind and make you cum.

...or take care of yourself...

I recommend a rabbit. *chef's kiss*

Trauma Bonded Relationships

When I signed us up for Couple's Therapy for some sort of lifeboat as our ship sank, I never could have imagined how much worse I would feel. Therapy is supposed to help you, right? This is incorrect. Couple's Therapy is not helpful if one or both partners are abusive. This information is not well known. So let me repeat myself: Couple's Therapy is not helpful if one or both partners are abusive.

There would be days when we would get out of a session, and he would go back on something we had discussed. As soon as the laptop shut his character changed. He said what he knew she wanted to hear. He said what he knew I needed to hear. At the end of the day, nothing was improving. When I decided I was done I didn't even discuss it with him. I just emailed her and told her we would not be continuing due to his constant complaints of attending and needing to send me money for the payment. I had started my anti-depressants at this point, and I found myself feeling more able to handle my emotions. Things were starting to feel less foggy. Those meds on top of the fact that I had continued tracking what set me off and when, made it clear: I still needed therapy. So I signed myself up.

In my first session I showed up a mess. I had plans to get ready, but as with most any other day I really didn't have the energy. I told her I think my boyfriend is a Narcissist or I am crazy. She asked me if I was making any sort of safety net. Did I reach out to friends? Did I have money set aside that he had no access to? These questions alarmed me. However, I had been doing these things for a few months. She said that was good. We continued from there. The more I talked to her and my friends the more I heard things like: "that's not normal", "that's not okay", or "he seriously harmed you/he could have killed you". I still wouldn't leave. I had the money. I had built back up my support system. I had Kathy. I couldn't leave. I wouldn't leave. I truly believed he and I were meant to be and that I needed to get better in my head.

Now I am thinking about how our therapist from Couple's Therapy threw out the term Trauma Bonded Relationships. She knew I was reading a lot of articles and following different studies. I see what she was doing now. She was trying to help me see what I refused to see. I emailed her after leaving him to let her know I got out. She told me she ethically could not tell me to leave. I was angry. Another system set in place to protect abusers and exploiters. However, I've had some time to reflect. She has a job. She has a family to care for. Why risk losing her job for me? Who the fuck am I? She left me a trail to follow, and I eventually followed it. I really need a few knocks around before I get a message.

Please watch "8 Common Patterns in Trauma Bonded Relationships" by Dr. Ramani on YouTube.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You are here. You are safe.

-Danae Brooke

WAP

The bar is already pretty low for men. 

I decided to dig a 50-foot hole and throw my bar right on down there. This is much more than just my last relationship. This goes to my first long term relationship, the one that followed that, the next one, and then so forth and so on. This includes many of the dudes in between those dudes. There will be no slut-shaming here. You're in the wrong place. Stay focused on the matter at hand: shitty men.

Today I was picked up to go see a movie at the drive-in, so it was already off to a great start just on that note. I fucking love drive-ins. The fact that I was picked up in a vehicle went a long way as well. The knock at the door although startling, was also refreshing. It didn't include a text of "here" or a honk of the horn. He even showed up with a plant. I squealed on the inside.

Once we arrived, he backed his truck in and set it up with pillows and blankets. My guard was up, not because he had ever done anything to make me think he was up to no good. No, no, no, my guard was up because of 99.9999% of the men I have previously dated (seriously or not). I was worried my boobs were going to be groped. I was worried he'd try to finger me. I was worried he'd pull his dick out and try to force my head towards the depths of hell. None of that happened. I must reiterate that he had given me no reason to think he would do any of these things. It was a very lovely night.

I have a lot of work to do, and a lot of trauma to dig out. I can't believe I am about to fucking write this out where I can be quoted, but maybe just maybe some men aren't fucking trolls. I don't know. It's something I'm going to think about. It's something that will be discussed in my future therapy sessions. I've been so focused on my most recent horrible experience that I haven't taken time to think about everything that led me to him. How he could slip right in and hold 3 years of my life captive. Granted, a small amount of that time felt like a romance novel, if you enjoy violence and drugs. Mostly though, I realize how fucking stupid I was.

I want to leave this vital sentence right here for anyone happening upon my word vomit:

If he wanted to, he would.

I remember putting that into my old phone many, many moons ago. It was supposed to be a reminder after I got out of Couple's Therapy (a complete waste of my money). Ladies, I have yet to listen to my own wisdom. If someone wants to be with you, they will be with you. If someone wants to treat you well, they will treat you well. If someone cares about your happiness it will show through their actions. I refuse to accept a low bar anymore. In fact, I'm throwing that fucking bar away. This isn't fucking limbo. Men; cis-gender, heterosexual men: get your fucking shit together, and please help your friend Bradley/Andrew/Alex/Jake/Zach because he's really gonna need some guidance. Women are not here to teach you anymore.

It's time to start saying: No thank you, next.

Solitude vs. Loneliness

I have often found myself alone throughout my 31 1/2 years. So as I sat here sad, disinterested, and unable to remain focused, I asked myself what has changed for my alone time to once be appreciated and now to be feared.

I will be trying to turn this swirling mess around me into a healthy dose of solitude and not the despair of loneliness. It is said that our brains remember bad things over the good. That we as humans will stop being happy over winning the lottery before we ever let a bad grudge go.

I feel alone. I am in a room alone. I am not alone.

For the first time in 3 years, no this isn't just about him now, for the last 16 years I have tried to fill a void with the attention of others. I have fit myself into the square of "friendzoned" aka fuckzoned. I am the girl who believes no man can value my friendship so it must be about something else, right? So here I sit realizing that we don't need that. We need friendship, which I have.

When I left Salt Lake City, I left my circle. I left the people that knew me more than anyone. I left the people that loved me, all of my parts. The longer I stayed away the more lost I became. I no longer had those closest to me and I got so very far from myself. I did bad things to people. I accepted horrible treatment from others. I did illegal things. I was taken advantage of by many men. By the time I tried to stand back up, I didn't even know where the fuck I was or how to get back.

Love was and is my higher power. I can't hear God without being triggered from my time in Mormon Corp. so I had to search deep. I was so scared I wouldn't be able to find anything strong enough to pull me through that first day, then the next week, and so on. I chose love; for him, for my inner child, for my siblings, for my friends. I got sober for love. I am not alone.

I will be working on showing my friends I appreciate them. It cannot feel great to constantly hear me say how alone I am. I will work on making it clear that when I am saying it that I mean "physically alone". I've never been without their love and support. They have gone without mine.

They say we remember the bad more than the good. I rebel against that, starting now.

April 9th, 2021

 Friday 8:11 pm

I think if you spend too much time with someone you can’t always see how they treat you. Like, it all seems normal and right. Then you start spending time away from them and you realize maybe things were never okay to begin with. Maybe they were just better than what you’ve always known before and what you’ve known has always been so fucking shitty and terrible. So, what is this? This relationship right now, is it good? Or is it just better than complete shit?

When did my anger start?

-My Journal-

I'm right.

 You have survived everything up to this point.

I am going to an AA meeting tomorrow.

To be willing to work for humility

as something to be desired for itself,

takes most of us a long, long time.

I am waking up early, earlier than I have for a very long time.

Progress, not perfection.

And I won't be alone.

Did he not go because he couldn't open up about anything, ever? Did he not go because he knew they'd see right through his charade? He wouldn't have been the supportive boyfriend as he portrayed, he would have been my downfall. He knew they would know. He wouldn't have been able to open up. He wouldn't have been able to admit fault or weakness. He would never portray himself as vulnerable; one character he just couldn't play.

If I'm being honest, I didn't want him to go after a while. I stopped asking. It was the safest place I had. When I thought of him being there, I got that funny feeling. Hey, what can you say? My insides knew before me.

When I broke up with him and told him to leave, he didn't even try to stop it. He had no explanations, no arguments; he said something I don't think he's ever said to me: "You're right."

"When we meet and fall into the gravitational pull of a narcissist,

we are entering a significant life lesson

that involves learning how to create boundaries,

self-respect, and resilience.

Through trial and error (and a lot of pain)

our connection with narcissists teaches us

the necessary lessons we need

to become mature empaths."

-Mateo Sol 

Narcissist Abuse Recovery Playlist

Find peace.

-Danae Brooke

March 3rd, 2022

I always made excuses for why he let his uncle and aunt treat me the way they did. They helped him when he was just a kid. They were there when he was alone. So of course, he has to choose them. They helped us move our 5th Wheel, maybe I should just let it go. They helped me with the car. They're his family and I can understand how that's something you hold on to. I mean anything and everything went through my mind.

The first thing his uncle said when he met me was, "So you're both not drinkin', huh? The sex better be good." First, he told me I heard his uncle wrong. I wouldn't agree. That didn't work so he moved on, he told me he didn't hear his uncle say it even though he was right there. I pushed it down.

Every time we'd see them his uncle would offer me a drink and smirk, I'd always say no. Sometimes he'd ask me again an hour later, knowing I was now surrounded by people drinking. He knew I was an alcoholic and had been sober for some time. Even worse were the days when his uncle would pass me over and offer him a drink and look at me, that same smirk resting on his red and bloated face. Writing this out is making me feel so sick, I almost threw up earlier. I don't know what's going on with me today. I just don't feel well. Fuck. I keep telling myself to figure it out and stop distracting myself. No amount of attention is going to make this feel better. I can't though. I can't fucking do this. I smoked today, and if I'm being completely honest, I am about to do it again.

This can't be my life. I can't finish writing about his aunt and uncle right now.

**Sidenote: After writing this I had a real bad time, and well that bad time hasn't ended yet. Nightmares and I am smoking again. I've felt nothing but shame, but the words of my therapist do enter my head: I don't always see a victory as a victory. I didn't drink on March 3, and I didn't drink after that. I'm still not drinking.

" THANKSGIVING 2021 "

My boyfriend's family is toxic as all hell. This year it was him, his mom, his older sister and her friend, his younger sister and her girlfriend, then me. Elsewhere, his cousin went crazy after getting drunk (mean volatile alcoholic). Her daughter called weeping and unsure of what to do. My boyfriend and the rest of the lot were going to leave it up to her to get out of it even though she had no access to a car. They have a habit of leaving kids in abusive situations and I have had enough of it. So I said if you won't go get her, I fucking will. I told them they had a fucking responsibility to protect the kids because no one protected them. Honestly, it was too long of a "discussion". Finally, I pulled some sort of empathy out of them and we (his little sister and her girlfriend, then I) got the daughter out of the house. The poor girl was broken down and I was reminded of myself at that age. She is no longer allowed in her house. I'm hoping everyone who is a little less toxic will help her. If I were this girl though, I'd start making plans to leave the whole bunch.

As for me, I think I've made a terrible mistake. I came from an abusive, toxic family. I really didn't want to end up back here. I fucking hate this time of year.

-Reddit-

November 26th, 2021

We were playing Cards Against Humanity. His sister said her friend couldn't read. I didn't push because my little brother had a hard time reading and writing at a young age and I knew how rough it could be when you'd need to read something out loud. When we'd finished that game, I mentioned a game dealing more so with pictures and less reading and no writing. They laughed at me, his whole family and the friend. It hit me then that it was another lie. They all live in their own little worlds. He learned this from them. They all learned it from each other. How much of what they say is truthful and how much is some sort of.... I don't know what to call it, a game of their own?

Things only got worse from there. Since cutting off ties with my family I have never seen such blatant arrogance and enabling of abusive behaviors. They seem to have a sick co-dependency thing going on. It makes me wonder about their brother. Is he actually as toxic as they make him out to be? Or is he the me of the family?

-My Phone-

November 25th, 2021

On our first date he said girls with faces like mine do not age well. I reminded him of this after he was getting mad at me when I'd get anxious about my wrinkles and fixate on how my youth was wasted on booze and cocaine. He said he didn't say it. He finally realized I wasn't going to believe that. He said something along the lines of "Wow. How could you keep dating me?" It hit me wrong then and it feels wrong now. Like..... it became my problem.

-My Phone-

Mother's Daughter

^

^^

^^^

^^^^^

^^^^^^^^

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^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

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^^^^^^

The Prick from Before

NO.

(complete sentence)

 

Depression & Narcissistic Abuse

Please watch "Depression & Narcissistic Abuse" by Dr. Ramani on YouTube. I do not have permission to post or link the video, so it has been deleted. My apologies to Dr. Ramani, I only wish to educate those that are coming out of a Narcissistic Relationship.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

National Domestic Violence Hotline

1-800-799-7233

Planned Parenthood

Breathe in, breathe out.

You are here. You are safe.

-Danae Brooke

November 15th, 2021

I was talking a lot. It's been a hard, long week. So I was talking about that, I was talking about what was on tv, I just needed to talk. My depression meds haven't been working as well. He said abruptly, "I have a headache. I need some Tylenol." I sit in silence so often with and without him, I just needed to talk tonight. When he said that it felt like a punch in the gut. I shut up instantly. It was the way he said it and how he got up. Like I was a bother and the cause. I still feel like my words are poison as we sit here in silence. Is this what he wants? A quiet girl who listens to him talk, makes sure the bills get paid on time, and lets him choke her during sex. All he ever wants to do is grab my neck or hair or stick his finger in my mouth and pull down. I started to think about sex with my ex today. I guess that's how my mind ended up here.

I ended up snapping about a tv show. Really, I'm upset that I can't talk to him. I'm upset that when my mental health took a drastically sharp decline, and I needed my friends he said that we couldn't move. So he has become the only person I can talk to. The only person I have. So why can't I talk freely and openly?

-My Phone-

 **Sidenote: This one was really hard to read back to myself. I was in so fucking deep. 

November 17th, 2021

I went to sit on his lap facing towards him. To cuddle maybe kiss, but he got upset about me possibly messing up his hair. He does this every time, pulls away for his hair.... pulls away because I'm being annoying.... Basically, he doesn't want me touching him or loving on him. Attention is only given to me when he's horny. I've realized this is how it's always been. When I drank and did drugs it was easy to go with the flow. Ultimately, I had no cares, and when I did say no, he still got a yes in the end. It was why I first got upset and started drinking instead of going home to him. I resented him as soon as I realized he saw someone he could take from as he pleased. When I tried to get sober, he would drink in front of me after getting me to another bar. He bought cocaine. I resented him for not wanting better for me, or us. He let our roommates disrespect me, he let them lie about me. They were telling people I shaved their dog. It hurt to know he didn't have my back because he didn't want to lose that shitty fucking place where I was miserable and being mistreated.

Everything was too much. I was so angry. I wanted out. Then all of a sudden, I didn't. I was a drunk. It was my fault. I fucked up. I could do better. I would do better. I could get sober. I would get sober FOR HIM. 

That must have been the ultimate high; knowing every day I didn't choose a drink, that it would be for him. At least, that's how I see it now.

-My Phone-

Intermission

To whatever may come my way. . .

Photo Credit goes to Cassandra

Intimacy Avoidance

Please watch "Intimacy Avoidance" by Dr. Ramani on YouTube. I do not have permission to post or link the video, so it has been deleted. My apologies to Dr. Ramani, I only wish to educate those that are coming out of a Narcissistic Relationship.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You are here. You are safe.

-Danae Brooke

Silence Protects Them

 I had a couple of panic attacks last night.

A co-worker asked me if I was afraid that putting my blog out there and sharing it with people would piss him off, causing him to come back and hurt me. I laughed the suggestion off. I told him I was allowed to write; he couldn't take that from me.

Fast forward to sitting alone in the dark, while I ruminated on the keys he wouldn't hand over. He promised me he wouldn't come over. He promised me he wouldn't use them. So why didn't he hand them over? I don't like that he has the keys. My best friend said I should change the locks. I can't imagine that this is the life I am living. I feel my emotions swirling again. I had another hard time of getting out of bed today. Then I thought about what else my best friend said: talk to your neighbors.

So I did just that. I got up and started the coffee, put on my slippers and went out into the sunshine. It's a beautiful day and you can hear the birds chirping. Something that once brought me sorrow now brings me hope.

I ended up talking with a lovely woman who I see sitting outside on her porch almost every day. She sort of looks out at everything taking it all in. While she has stared at the world, I have stared at her. When I first moved in here, she came over and said, "If you need anything, anything at all, come over." I never held her up on that until today. I said hello and told her that this was feeling awkward, but I needed to ask her for help. I told her that she had no reason to fear for her own safety, but that for my own peace of mind I needed her to tell me if she saw him around the place. She didn't even blink. What she said to me caused me to come right back over here to start writing this. Coffee be damned.

She had married young and believed that marriage was a forever thing. Divorce wasn't an option. She believed you had to push through no matter what. Her ex-husband's violence only increased over their 21-year-long marriage. She showed me a mark on her face that could easily be mistaken as a birth mark. She said he had beat her to shit one day and that mark had never gone away. He even broke her leg and left her a mangled mess. She said up until then she just wouldn't leave. Then a hero came in the form of someone she never would have expected; a religious man who saw a woman in need and told her to get out. He came over and changed her locks and told her that her ex-husband would no longer have access to her home, nor her body. When she could walk again, he helped her find a job. He helped her find a good school for her young child. She told me she was lucky to be alive. She told me that we should always err on the side of caution because when we do not, we end up dead. She told me that things get better. She told me to keep going to therapy. She told me she'd be right there.

We can't keep this stuff in anymore. Our silence only protects them.

Kathy said he would have eventually killed me.