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I’m starting this off with a picture of my tits to encourage you to read this crap even though they have absolutely nothing to do with this post.

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(Last time I tried this I scored a paid ad, and frankly I could use a little cash!) 

The year that followed…

One of the biggest pieces of advice one is given after the newly conscious recognition of a narcissist/sociopath is to not run out and expose them. The main reason for this advice, is that nobody believes you and you just make yourself out to look like the crazy one.  Until somebody has actually encountered one and come to this realization all on their own it’s pointless.

It’s been a year now since my grandfather died and my kids and I were left homeless by the narcissistic abuse of the woman monster who birthed me. I wish I could tell you that things have gotten better by now but I can’t. I’m still stuck in the run down motel, my sociopath ex is playing games with my daughter and still denying me my legal visitations and phone calls (except sporadically and under his terms) all the while convincing the world that I have “abandoned” her. I can’t even begin to discuss the pain this is bringing me and tell people who ask about her that I can’t talk about it while breaking down in tears.

Fuck you sociopaths!

My emotions have been up and down and I beat myself up on a regular basis. Anxiety attacks happen almost daily. I get so low all I can ponder for a solution out of this is suicide, only to have that idea squashed by the constant fear of dying.

A perfect purgatory.

Fuck you mental illness.

One of the better things to happen to me was meeting my love, Sam. However, Sam can’t relate to what I’m going through and this causes many rifts in our relationship.  Sam has given me work and an occasional safe haven, just enough to get by yet not enough to live on. Meaning, he pays my rent. That’s it. Plus a few handouts when I cry that I’m hungry.

*My salary is basically punishment to stay living in this dump when all I want is to make a permanent home with him.

My job search has continued on this entire year and although I have been hired places, none of the jobs offered, paid enough for me to afford to stay. Meaning gas, childcare and housing costs were more than I would have brought home.

Pretty shabby after a 15+ year career that I more than excel at.

Fuck you economy.

After another bout of “I can’t do this anymore!” I went back to the welfare office with my tail tucked between my legs to once again apply for benefits. After all the criticism from judgemental friends who accused me of over exaggerating my situation and scoffed at me for not claiming my “American rights” at a free ride, I was once again denied.

*No food stamps, no daycare assistance, no housing, no wic (which is a private charity), and lastly no medical benefits….That is unless I coughed up the small amount of child support we have been surviving on (the state would allow me to keep $50 a month, so generous!).

*That’s right! I could collect benefits from the state that equal LESS than what I can’t already afford to feed my kid on! Way to go America!

For everyone in America who still thinks the poor can survive on welfare, fuck you too.

I recently had a “friend” message me to say, “My husband was just laid off! Tell me everything you know about being a loser on food stamps and WIC.”

I WOULDN’T KNOW!

Fuck you fake friend!

Some days I can relax and I feel like I’m home with Sam, when I cook his meals and clean his house. Then others he reminds me how it’s temporary. He makes it clear that his immediate family will always come before me and that I need to “prove myself” because my hard work both in his home and in his office apparently are still not enough.

While Sam’s daughter gets to sleep securely in her own room, I have a son who is bounced back and forth between Sam’s couch and our hotel futon, and a daughter I can even begin to fight for until I can reclaim a steady home.

As Sam reminds me that this is not his fault.

 

Security seems like a lifetime away and the more I push Sam to let me say goodbye to this hotel (that I’m basically only living at when his mother is in town) the more he backs away and stays unsure.

Banished back to the motel!

 

I can’t take the uncertainty of anything anymore….

In spite of everything, I’m still trying everyday! I work my ass off for Sam because I believe in him and I appreciate everything he has done for me.

Fuck your uncertainty, Sam!

My birth monster is back and once again using my grandmother as a means to get at me. This time conveniently using the supposed tragedy of her brother in law- Meaning having an excuse to stay with my grandmother and using her to call me repeatedly in an attempt to get my son over there to see her…The last time my son saw her she was taking his home away from him.

FUCK YOU LINDA!

You will never win.

Now, for the announcement!

“It’s not my fault. Sacrifice & Survival” has just finished her first official round of out sourced editing thanks to my new and magnificent editor! If you don’t already, you should really follow his blog:

ON THICK ICE

 

*Be ready for her early summer release.

 

Once she is finished, I will begin releasing my memoirs, the stories of my family tragedy etc.

And for the love of christ, someone please buy one of them! I dropped a deuce in the toilet earlier, and once again, it’s still hanging out in the bowl because the people who run this shit hole I live in DON’T CARE!

Buy a book, save a life!

(if you buy paperback make sure the seller is ELECTRIKKISS otherwise you won’t be buying from me)

….and if you don’t, fuck you!

(Seriously, my son and I can hear stranger sex in the room next door and it’s not cool people! Seriously, not cool.)

 

Here is a story that was inspired by this blogpost, GO!