By | May 29, 2012 104 Comments


Editor’s note: This artice was written by the Lovefraud reader who posts as “One/joy_step_at_a_time.”

I have been thinking a lot about Donna’s May 28 blog thread, If you feel an emotional void, the sociopath will step in, and the responses to it.

Tonight I took a long walk and sat down by the lake and thought about what the spath drew out in me. She showed me ”˜the gap.’ It’s humourous to me to type the phrase ”˜the gap.’ When I lived in Eastern Europe, I heard a phrase over the loud speakers at the train station, over and over again. I finally asked a friend the meaning of the phrase, and he told me it meant, ”˜mind the gap between the platform and the train.’

I haven’t minded the gap. I realize that the spath drew out two parts of my personality, and that these two parts of me, the three year old and my young adult self, can both look in on a part of me lost in the gap. I have often gone back and investigated ”˜the gap’ in my life. But, in the wake of the spath experience I see that it is still there, still in need of having light shone on it, and that I now have the opportunity to view it from two very different perspectives.

Damaged family life

There were brutal things that happened before this, but when I was eight, my mother had a horrific car accident, which put her in the hospital for a very long time, and damaged her body for life. It damaged our family life and left my sib and I to fend for ourselves as my father tried to maintain the family farm. We were terribly isolated in our small rural area. We had no family close by, and my parents wouldn’t allow us to go to live with our grandparents where we would have gotten the care and attention we needed.

The spath drew out these two strong parts of my personality — one part that existed before the gap, and one part that existed after the gap. During the gap my needs, first as a child, then as a teenager, were neglected. I did not have a role model for understanding feelings, nor a way to contextualize them. Life was like a dark dream — even when I was happy, there was so much pain.

When my mom finally came home from the hospital, broken and battered, she screamed in pain for hours on end. My poor little empathetic heart broke. I was not allowed to go to her, but would endure listening to her. I would not leave the house. I would stand under her bedroom and wait. I am not sure what I was waiting for — except the cessation of her pain. When she was finally able to get around, she was not a happy woman — she was riddled with pain and drugs. She was bad tempered and not able to cope with the life she was living. We should have left the farm at that point, so that she did not have to go back to work to support the damned thing — but my father is an n and she is supply, and he wanted to farm.

At the age of 13 I was asked to write an ”˜autobiography’ for one of my school classes. I had a wonderful teacher that year; someone who showed compassion and who really tried to reach me. I remember discussing my autobiography with her when she returned them to the class. I had written about my life to the age of 8 or 9, and then from 12 onwards. I had skipped the years in between as ”˜I didn’t remember’ them.


I ‘woke up’ at 14, and immediately started to club myself to sleep with drugs. I was emotionally and sexually used by the young men in our area. I met the son of one of them last week, and it brought shame to the surface. I looked back on all the boys I knew from the age of 13 on, and there was a lot of usery. I didn’t know that these boys were using me and my friends. I didn’t know that my feelings were indicators that another’s behaviour was bad for me (how could I stay in my house if I KNEW that), and I was innocent. I had no idea what they were up to. Just as I didn’t know what the spath was up to — as I had never run into that before either, and no one protected me with knowledge. Innocence isn’t lost. It is torn from us. Pulled out our souls, leaving great rivers of raw wounded feelings.

My parents didn’t do much to help me understand life. They didn’t give me the emotional tools or the notion of boundaries that would help me to take care of myself and make my way in the world. They yelled at me, they ignored me, and they smacked me every now and then. Most of the significant events of my early life were met with an emotional frigidness that left me feeling shamed and alien. My mother was supply, and was set on my sib and I being supply, too. Dad was an n. I did my best to fit in, and when I couldn’t, I took drugs. Lots of them. I also participated in my own abuse at the hands of others — some who were too young and dysfunctional themselves to really be held accountable. And I learned to hurt myself in many ways: emotionally, mentally and with the choices (non-choices) I made.

The spath and the gap

It was great to move out of home and BREATHE. I started to feel the beauty in the world that existed outside the dark dream and repression in my family. But I carried on making ill-informed choices. And all of these hurts and abuses piled up. They lead me to the other strong part of my personality — the woman who wants to run, the woman who would fight fist-to-cuffs, the woman who cries like a warrior on the outside and who holds a river of pain on the inside. I didn’t truly meet her until I was duped by the spath.

The ”˜gap’ is the person who bridges these two strong parts of my personality. I don’t know what to do for this part of me, for this part of my past, but I need to shine some light in that frozen dark dream space. It seems to be thawing, yet again, as I look in from the eyes of the child and the eyes of the warrior. The spath once called me a ”˜magnificent creature’. It was a deep compliment to me. She saw both this warrior and this child. She called the warrior out. The fake boy (child) she made up needed to be cared for. I need to care for myself, but I learned early and repeatedly to care for others — even if all I could do was stand frozen in the face of their suffering. I wasn’t taught autonomy — I am lucky that it is natural to my character, but I still have to fight all of the time to develop it and retain it. The spath got me to care for the fake boy — instead of myself. But in the end I have learned that I want to take care of myself at the expense of taking care of others. My eyes have been opened to what my family members are, and what they would still take from me if I allowed them to. It has been a hard, harsh lesson.

Comment on this article

Please Login to comment
Notify of

One/Joy – thank you so much for this post. Although experiences with sociopaths are devastating, they do often point to issues within ourselves that we need to be aware of, and heal. I’m glad your finding the healing you need.


One/Joy: Thank you for your post. You write so eloquently. I am sorry for you that you had such a difficult childhood. I can somehow relate. Only in my case it was a woman N.

Thank you for giving me the thoughts you have shared.
You are right, this journey started out being about the spath and has turned into being about us….they get no credit for it because they didn’t inspire it, WE DID. Not because of them, in spite of them.

You are in my prayers for healing…



I wonder what is in the gap? It must be something very special for you to hide it even from yourself.

It’s what she was looking for. She thought she’d found it all but she didn’t see the gap, you hid it well.

Spaths can’t see things that aren’t shiny or moving, though they try. My spath looked and looked for every nuance of emotion he could find.

He tried carrots and sticks. He tried sex and faith lures, he appealed to my pity. He watched my facial expressions, he held me close when he knew my heart would pound in the movie theaters during the action sequence.

Somehow, I sensed that I needed to hide my core self from him. He never could figure out who I was. Finally he said, “I’m tired of your God like ways!” That was the clue that I was next up in line for the heaven-express, and I made my exit.


One_Joy…thank you so much for your insights. I follow what you’re saying, and it does make sense. Again, thank you!


One Joy,

How eloquently and openly you write about the damage that can be caused by the long arm of the dysfunctional “family”….

My heart goes out to you.

You survived and here you are, helping other war torn and battered by their experience. .I often read your posts and find such comfort in them. This article is no exception.

Thank you and wishing you every blessing that you hope for.


Onesteprs – You say ”even when you were happy – there was so much pain ” I understand your dark dream Onestep. I am so sorry for your sad childhood. But look at you now ~! You are going back and reclaiming that child, you are disecting and examining your life one step at a time.,.and finding at last, some Joy, some understanding.
Onesteprs this is HUGE, it takes so much courage to face those demon’s. To look inside that gap. To lay aside so much shame and guilt that neglected and unloved child had to bare.
I am so proud of you for loving yourself this much. Sharing your life like this will help so many people with similar life experience’s.

I wish I had the courage to examine the gap’s in my childhood. Perhaps you have planted a seed……..


hens, i have started using this proverb as my signature line in my personal emails: All the flowers of all the tomorrows are in the seeds of today.

i hope i understand more deeply this time hens. I had stopped looking, party because i didn’t feel like i ever got anywhere. but that was before the big fat hematoma known as jsj.

take courage hens….it begets courage. every time i sat here on a Friday night and RAGED, and people stood with me, it gave me more courage to be honest and truthful with myself. since the spath openness and honesty have been in short supply in my heart. but they are making a comeback. 😉


wow, i didn’t expect this to get published so fast. thank you Donna – it’s such a help to have further conversations about these things right now.


skylar, skylar, skylar – you are such a gem.

“I wonder what is in the gap? It must be something very special for you to hide it even from yourself.

this is yet another idea of yours i will investigate. sexual abuse, disrespect, neglect, self neglect… what else, i do not know. the spath drew so strongly on the warrior – a pained and fist to cuffs woman, who is outrageously sensitive, and a serious loner. she came alive with the spath, and she had some airspace for the first time in 25 years (she was out and about when i was an activist feminist dyke.) But the warrior – she can WRITE, and she has a life she wants written down. And in this way the fake boy was a huge gift. He drew me/ her out. (but unfortunately the gift was only a bag of poo with a ribbon on it.)

“It’s what she was looking for. She thought she’d found it all but she didn’t see the gap, you hid it well.” whoa – she saw the shiny and tried to mess with my pain – but she sure didn’t get into all the dark spaces. given how much i do talk, it might be surprising to know that i can hold things. close.


storngawoman – the ‘long arm of the dysfunctional family’; hehe, you made me laugh. there is SUCH a lot of dominance and old west in my background – that the law metaphor is really apt.

i am going to take your caring heart and see it as a little light shining on the gap. if we can shine a little light on each others dysfunction, that is a great gift. and there is no ‘poo’ in that.


Truthspeak – you are so welcome. i love your name.


dupey, thank you. please send 250 w light prayers.

the old bag of poo spath did give me a gift. (and some day i’d like to bean her with it.) actually, i do think about putting a flaming bag of poo on her doorstep…but, she lives way too far away, and her front porch only has room for one sack of doo, and that’s her.


one/joy: your 250 w light prayers are there, darlin…

you hang in there, because you are amazing….

Love ~ Dupey xxoo


dupey – for several months i dedicated the merit of my meditations to the spath. it is a way to break the karmic connection. because i wouldn’t wish being born a spath on my worst enemy (well, that would be redundant as she IS my worst enemy) and dedicating the merit should not only break my connection with her, but also help her if there is such a thing as reincarnation. mind you, i’d have to get several thousand people dedicating merit to her, to mitigate the evil she has perpetuated in her life.


sky – i brought up the train story for some unconscious reason. the gap at the train stn. was a space between safety and danger. a space away frowned on by outside authorities, a space of standing still, in between.


one/joy: I can relate, as I have dedicated many meditations towards my “THING” as well over the years. Yes, I agree with you, dedicating the merit should break that connection. I have never heard anyone speak about that ‘connection’ that needs to be broken. I went through the same rituals to assist me in breaking that connection. I felt I was being visited upon by the devil himself! And, meditating does help. It works. Hopefully the good karma floats to them and their wretched souls, but none the less, we need that good karma about us by being the stronger to wish well – it makes us the bigger person. I can completely relate.

ha: i can relate to that remark as well:

“…I’d have to get several thousand people dedicating merit to her, to mitigate the evil she has perpetuated in her life.” I am afraid that the “THING” I used to know would require quite the same, Lovey….perhaps a bit more than several thousand though….

Peace and joy to you…



dupey – how about ALL the people in the world? 🙂 it wold be awesome if we could meditate them out of existence! mind you, it would take eons….


one/joy: wouldn’t that be something? all the people of the world meditating at the same time towards the same good goals. cataclysmic, for sure. evacuate earth, psychopaths!

alas, it would take more effort than they are worth, I am afraid.




spaths aren’t really considered to be human according to my lama – but beings from one of the hell realms. means they are caught in that cycle for a gazzzillion years…an almost unending cycle.


one/joy: we could talk about this for hours upon hours, my dear…
people don’t want to know something that might terrify them.

nighty night…thanks again for the great article!!!



one/joy: thank you for this. You said a lot of intriguing things, getting me thinking. I don’t have much to say at the moment…. going within to ponder a bit. 🙂


One steppers,

That’s a good analogy about the “gap”. It’s another opening for the spath to come in and try to fill to be the savior we think we need. You didn’t need someone to save you though, you saved yourself.

I do believe the spaths can be very insiteful, it’s part of being a prediator, they need to know their prey. Her insite into your warrior spirit and the little girl who just wanted to be loved, gave her all sorts of ammunition to manupulate you.

The spaths do all of this naturally, they are natures horrible mistake and to make up for all their emptiness, use their preditory insticts on us. It’s like breathing to them. Like you said, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, we have the last laugh after all.



“they are natures horrible mistake”

I like that. Like the runt of the litter.


Dysfunctional family is my middle name. Any light shining will be greatly appreciated. Like you, there are things that I experienced that I have not looked at for a long, long time. It’s painful and it makes me angry when I try to work out WTF happened. So I leave it ….back there in my past life.

Inevitably I look for reasons why I was targeted. Oh yes there are the obvious ones. I can see them now. But I was told about ten years ago to draw a line under it and move on. I was told I was an angry person. You know, it worked to a certain extent. But my search for why I am the person I am always comes back to wondering how the hell did I get here

Sorry I’m sort of rambling. I think in some ways I just believe my parents did the best they could under the circumstances. They were Fu***d up in their turn, to quote Philip Larkin. I have tried to keep the lid on something that needs to be looked at and …I don’t know!! Acceptance comes after examination, perhaps. And I’ve never really scrutinised myself thoroughly maybe.

You have had the courage to take your past and look at it and write about it openly.

That takes guts my friend.


Your story and how you tell it moves me, one/joy, thank-you. I hope there is a Part Two.

I know the kind of wounding you are talking about with slight differences. I grew up having a mother who was in and out of the hospital and a father who was stressed and mean and wanted me to be invisible and quiet and have zero needs because he had enough to deal with, “cld I give him some peace and quiet for pete’s sake.” It was my mom who was the Narcissist, though, something I only discovered after my exspath bf experience that is now almost 2 years ago. My mom is: a narcissist, a devout Christian, handicapped. Imagine! Diabolical. I wasn’t physically abused as you were and I’m sorry that you experienced that on top of everything else. I can relate to the profound loneliness of being a child who lives in such an atmosphere, the kind of profound loneliness you never quite shake. When my mother was home in between hospital stays, I had to mother her, get her in and out of bed, dress her, take her to the bathroom. This started when I was 8 so she got to train me nice and early on how to do every little thing for her and then anyone and everyone else who stepped up and professed a need. The spath experience changed everything.

This sentence choked me up: “Most of the significant events of my early life were met with an emotional frigidness that left me feeling shamed and alien.” You know what that strange and almost exquisitely painful feeling is like? Thank God. It’s a feeling that is similiar to Skylar’s “being slimed” but yet different – maybe it falls under the same umbrella, or the feelings are sisters and brothers to each other.

re “I wonder what is in the gap? It must be something very special for you to hide it even from yourself”: what a positive response and challenge! This comment, a few other comments, and your post made me start humming Madonna’s “Live to Tell.” These few lyrics are why: “the truth is never hard to find, YOU’VE KEPT IT HIDDEN WELL / hope I live to tell the secret I knew then / will I ever have the chance again?” and your concerns regarding light “I know where beauty lives / I’ve seen it once, I know the warmth she gives / that LIGHT that you could never see / it shines inside, you can’t take that from me.” I love this song. Anyway, the truth can be found, it won’t remain hidden, and the light is in you – have you tried shining it inside/out?

I don’t post often because I get myself too worked up but I read faithfully and appreciate everybody’s words (incl the little squabbles).


(including the little squabbles) thanks for the chuckle…

Hi Parallelogram,
A while back you asked me to write about slime.

At the time, I hadn’t made the connection that slime is about shame. Then I did some research and realized that shame often goes unfelt because it’s so difficult to admit. That’s when I realized that I had renamed the feeling “slime” because it was easier for me to relate to and to accept as a feeling.

There is a special quality about slime that’s different from shame, though. I think that slime is what is felt in the moment of shame transfer from observing psychopathic behavior. In other words, when I felt shame that belongs to someone else. For example, I might feel ashamed to be seen naked but I would feel slimed to see a stranger naked.

Anyway, you inspired me to write an article about it.
The article is here:
It’s called Apocalypse of the Psychopath because the etymology of the word shame is “to hide” and the etymology of the word apocalypse is “to unveil”. When you unveil the psychopath you find hidden shame.

I can also relate to feeling shamed and alien for having emotions in my family. We easily expressed animosity but love and tenderness were shameful things. Can you imagine how perverted that is? But I see now why that would be. Love and tenderness leave you vulnerable, animosity makes you feared. In a family controlled by a narcissist father, my mother learned never to show love and that’s what I learned.


parallelogram –
thank you so much for your post. writing an article on lf bring a huge gift – i get to hear the ideas of other’s and understand more about this spath experience and my own personal journey. i’d recommend it to anyone. this ‘gap’ piece has been on my mind, so to write about it and listen to other people’s ideas is so rich and feels so loving.

that magic number ‘8’. maybe that’s why I don’t like it! i don’t like 5&3 either… My mom was disabled from the car crash. Now she has dementia. i drove past her house tonight (work car rental) and cried because i can’t just go see her, ’cause she lives with the fucktard, my father. My mom had a lot to deal with, but she also came from a highly dysfunctional background. I can only imagine what she may have been like if she didn’t marry an n. i have cried for my mother most of my life…wanted her to have just an inch more happiness and joy. i tried very hard to do the same things you did for your dad. but, now she is demented, all chance of an inch more of real happiness is gone, and i am putting myself first. i miss her so much.

i did shine the light inside out – when i used to meditate all day. that was just before i met my n ex, and before the spath. it was the first time i felt right in my life in a very long time.

thank you for the song. i will look it up on youtube.

yep, skylar’s got some really good questions!

brothers and sisters: shamed + alien and slimed. twins from a marriage of a spath and an n.


((((stongawoman)))) – i so relate to your quandry, uncertainty, and frustration. i have taken the lid off so many times and fished around and found tiny fragments of ‘maybe’, and never have had a sense of really knowing, examining and accepting. it’s more like just stirring the damn pot!

i am really glad all this is floating around again. wish i wasn’t in such a pressure cooker at my jobs, as I would like to spend more time with it.

i drew lines under things too. did help – but that stuff doesn’t really go away. just need a spath to point to it. i came out of the spath experience more enraged than ever in my life. i have developed some very unkind traits in the wake of the experience, and the PTSD…oy, the PTSD!

but it will get better over time. it IS getting better over time. i know i have to accept myself just as i am now. it’s the only way i am going to find out who i really am (especially after the spath) and who i could be.


Good one Hope for Joy!!


I sure do (remember) Skylar, and thank YOU for remembering and sending the link – the article is impressive and I read it last night and printed it today. I’m going to reread a few times and then comment because there are so many things that caught my attention. I will comment on the 180 Rule page so as not to derail discussion on this beautiful post. This shame/slime stuff is so interesting to me and it’s part of my vernacular now. I’m constantly pointing and crying “slime” now when I see it – even when I`m watching tv. I can’t tell you how many times I get that “kick” when reading something you wrote (“kick” is good). You get nuances and I suspect you won’t stop until you get the exact essence of a matter; your viewpoints are thrilling to read. And re your article, btw…you had me at “Apocalypse of the Psychopath.”

One/Joy (one for sorrow, two for joy?), I understand. I’ve cried the same tears on behalf of a parent for what might have been. Crying about that particular subject, the tears come from way far down, holy, like you’re crying about something that goes back to the beginning of time and you are just you, one person who wishes everybody would just get the love they deserve. This is love. My dad wasn’t kind and he turned into an unloving shadow but he had much to deal with concerning my mom but so often he displayed a part of himself that was so amazing I wld wish that he had never met my mom and had been with someone who could have been his equal. He cld have been so awesome and happy, I’d think, and then cry about THAT for an hour (I am working on not indulging myself in this way.) Unfortunately, my dad would do that crummy thing where he’d be cruel but then afterwards he’d think about what he did and he’d know he hurt you so he’d be very quiet for a day or two, tender, speaking in a softer pitiful voice when he had to talk to me, and then try to do something nice. Often he’d knock on my bedroom door and ask if I wanted to get a slurpee or ice-cream. This was the signal that he was remorseful and he wanted things to go back to normal. He still does this (but I don’t live at home) and after the spath, I don’t have contact with him either because, while he may feel remorseful, he still does it and it still makes me curl into a ball and cry. I was not allowed to talk about anything regarding my feelings and I always knew it was because he didn’t want to face his shame, which is what he’d have to face if I started talking. I allowed it b/c I loved him; I still love him but I don’t allow it anymore. I disgusted myself every time I took it with a closed mouth smile. I’ve been hurt in my life, deeply, and I didn’t turn into an asshole and take it out on innocent people and he didn’t have to either, the end.

Sorry to ramble but I shared that to say that your tears for your mother must be even saltier because she is “innocent” if I read your words correctly, and you feel helpless to be there for her. I’m sorry for your sadness. I do hope you write a part 2 or part 3 – you’re on an interesting path right now and I can’t wait to read what happens next and wish you strength through it. I’m happy to read that in the midst of the pain you are taking care of yourself first. Think of yourself and how hard it is to live through this – some people don’t do it because it’s too hard (your mom? I cldn’t say, but I’ll say like my dad) and other people suffered as a result, incl themselves. It’s harder, it’s so freakin’ hard, right? The circumstances may suck but never forget that they had the choice as to what they would do about it; it is not your responsibility or obligation to fix it, even though you can’t bear what they are going through. You’re doing that hard thing and breaking the cycle that began probably way before your mothers dysfunctional family…blessings. // Oh, of course you know about the inside/out shining thing because of your meditating! Ok, shine on again, then, you… diamond. Re your inner warrior. Have you read “Women Who Run With the Wolves” by Clarissa Pinkola Estes? I’ve mentioned it before and I’ll mention it again probably – I’m nuts about it and everything Clarissa Pinkola Estes (except the Mother Mary as guiding light stuff). It might be your cup of tea.

p.s. hens: some of us still don’t know how to stick up for ourselves with clarity and dignity and these squabbles are instructive like you wouldn’t believe. I was so glad someone mentioned the multiple daily postings by some people – I’ve been wanting to mention that myself because…holy cow, THANK-YOU! Like I said, I’m an infrequent poster b/c it takes a lot out of me and I don’t know how some of you do it. All I know is I’m grateful.

Ox Drover


In Dr. Viktor Frankl’s book “Man’s Search for Meaning” he talks about how people respond to their own victimization in different ways. Some people sit down and turn their faces to the wall and literally die. Others become more compassionate, some also take their frustration and pain out on co-victims, or others who are innocent. Some strike out at the world at large just because they feel that because they have suffered, they are entitled to make others suffer.

“The same sun that hardens the clay, melts the wax.” In other words, the same conditions do different things to different people based on what they are inside.

You are right. We can choose how we respond to the pain we have been given in our lives. your dad may have experienced pain and abuse himself, b ut HE CAN CHOOSE HOW HE RESPONDS to that pain. He can abuse others in turn, or he can NOT abuse others. His choice. Even though he may feel remorse afterward and offer to buy you an ice cream cone, that isn’t the same as sitting down and talking about it, showing contrition and STOPPING doing it in the future….my egg donor, when I wanted to TALK about what she had done to me said “No, let’s just pretend it never happened and start over.” WTF? Pretend it never happened?

NO! I did that all my life. She would shaft me, hurt me, betray me, lie to me and I would PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED, but no more, I will NOT lay pretend any more.

BTW, I wish you would post more! Enjoy your posts!

I agree with Oxy, your posts are amazing.
If it must be that you post infrequently in order to have that amazing quality, then so be it. But if there is a way for you to give us more of what you are, then please, don’t keep it to yourself.

The pain we feel…there’s no way to talk about it, it seems sometimes. And then someone does, and it feels good to read it.

Recently, I read about Jesus’ words on persecution. He said, “Blessed are the persecuted for my sake, for they shall see the Kingdom of God.”

He tells us that we will be persecuted for being good.

Already, I know that I’ve lost the aethiests in this crowd. That’s too bad because what He said had nothing to do with Christianity. I’ve come to understand that spaths can read our faces. They look at our expressions and know when we are empathetic. They target us for that reason. Jesus knew that. That’s what he was saying. He understood Gray Rock.


Word, Oxy, word (and thank-you for the encouragement). I always believed this but felt I shld only be concerned about whether I behaved in accordance with it and forgave others who didn’t seem like they had it in them to rise above it. That wasn’t correct of me and not only because it’s presumptious. And the pretending is bogus. When you stopped pretending with your egg donor, how did she react?

I DID read “Man’s Search for Meaning” b/c you referenced it a lot, I read it a few times, although “read” doesn’t quite capture it. It’s a teeny tiny book that is worth its weight in gold, truly.

Ox Drover


Yes, that tiny book was what turned my life around….gave me hope and helped me to get rid of the shame….what a wonderful man he was. Glad that you too enjoyed his book. It was sometimes a painful read, and I started to feel like “wow, Joyce, you have no reason to feel bad, this man suffered so much worse, but then, he talked about how pain is like a gas, filling its vessels completely. Each person’s pain is TOTALLY FILLING and that made me realize that my pain was REAL and I was OK for feeling it…and that because he “lost more” than I did it did not mean I had no right to feel my pain. That was an IMPORTANT turning point for me.

Yes, forgiving them is not the same as TRUSTING them again….and I don’t think that God expects us to trust someone who has not repented, who is not showing any signs of contrition. Forgiveness to me is getting the bitterness out of my heart for MY SAKE.

The teachings of the Bible are not just for the religious or even for the believers. I don’t “believe” in the Greek gods, but there is a lot of wisdom in the stories there if you look at them carefully. I don’t believe in the Hindu gods but there is a lot of wisdom in some of their teachings or in the Dali Lama’s religious leanings, but he has a LOT OF wisdom. There is even a lot of wisdom in the book “The Art of War”—where ever we find wisdom we should SUCK IT IN! DRINK IT UP! Inhale it!

How did my egg donor act? Pitiful of course. When I said “[email protected] We need to talk” she said “Oh, (insert pitiful look here) no, I only want to think of uplifting things, not hurtful ones.” Make me PUKE! Sure she didn’t want to think of things that would show she had been hateful, mean, nasty, vengeful!~ No, she wanted to PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED.

I realized that I had lived that way my entire life. Pretending it never happened. Not talking about my feelings, my pain, my injuries she had inflicted. She would carry a grudge till hell itself froze over for someone else, but DARE YE NOT mention anything SHE had done.

I caught her with a lie, STILL in her mouth, ,she hadn’t even had time to swallow the lie when I caught her in it, and when she was called on it, she said “Don’t tell me you never lied to ME!” I said, “yep, you are right I have lied to you, back when I was 15 years old, that’s about 45 years ago!”

One of the things that had kept me “down” where she was concerned was that I was NOT PERFECT. No matter how good I was, I was NOT perfect. And anything less than perfect was not good enough to suit her. I finally realized that I didn’t have to BE perfect to be OK. DUH! Yep, I could be imperfect and still be OK, be good enough!

I read the story of King David in the old Testament. David was not a perfect man by a long shot, he killed a man, took the man’s wife and knocked her up, did a lot of stuff that was FAR from perfect. But yet this man was called “a man after God’s own heart” How can that be? Well,, the way I see it, because he was a man who when he was shown that he was in the wrong, NEVER said “oh, it is someone else’s fault” he immediately TOOK RESPONSIBILITY, showed contritiion, publicly showed he was wroong and sorry, and made it as good as he could, and tried to be better in the future.

David also had a psychopathic son, Absalom, and he enabled this young man….forgave him over and over, and even when the young man tried to kill him in a Civil war that cost the lives of 10s of thousands of people…grieved over the loss of that son. When his general came to him though and said, “Shame, David you grieve over this psychopath while your subjects have sacrificed their own sons to save your sorry butt (paraphrased! LOL) and you are in here crying over this psychopath! Get up and wash your face and say sorry!”

David did exactly that.

David’s life was told I believe to show us that we don’t have to be perfect either. St. Peter was also a far from perfect man. Lots of the people in the Bible stories were far from perfect. Yet, my egg donor told me I had to be perfect in order to avoid hell…she never told me about God’s love…and sure enough not HER LOVE for me. By the time I was 5-6-7 (somewhere in there) I was terrified of this big old man with a white beard sitting up there ready to zap me into helll if I had a single sin on my conscience when I died. I can actually remember wondering how if I died in an accident I might not have time to say “god forgive me” before I died, so I went around saying “God forgive me” continually in case I got hit by a bus! That’s pretty awful to scare a child that way I think.

I also got a different take on forgiveness from reading about Joseph and his brothers….he forgave them a long time before they showed up in Egypt…but he did NOT trust them until he had TESTED them pretty harshly. I had read that story “a million” times and never realized WHY he had tested them so harshly….not untijl that summer of 2007 when I read it with NEW EYES…not ones that were contaminated by the egg donor’s hell fire and damnation views. Funny thing, that she and her few like-thinking folks would have the ONLY keys to God’s mind…or the “eternal truth” OR the gates of Heaven. Gosh it is going to be lonely up there in Heaven I would think with no one there except her and Jesus and God and maybe some of the apostles…but not Paul (he killed Stephen) and not Peter because he denied Jesus 3 X, and not Noah because he got drunk, etc. LOL and not even Moses because he killed a man and tried to cover it up then skipped town when the king found out. LOL Yep, egg donor is gonna be really lonely in heaven…that is, IF SHE IS RIGHT, but I sincerely doubt that is the case. But that is what God has to decide not me. HE is her judge, just like He is mine, but I will believe more in love than hate, and forgiveness more than damnation of those who are doing the best they can.


Aw, THANKS Skylar!!

“The pain we feel”there’s no way to talk about it, it seems sometimes. And then someone does, and it feels good to read it. ” Exactly, just…exactly.

My parents are old fashioned Christians (Dutch Christian Reformed). The kind who won’t divorce or cheat or steal or spend money on Sunday b/c it’s a sin, but will behave badly in smaller but more insidious ways, maybe ruin the quality of their children’s lives, etc. I’m one of the only people in my family that is still Christian. Most of my siblings wanted no part of something that my parents preached but didn’t practice. I don’t blame God for their behaviour and misinterpretations, and I love hearing about all faiths and practices. (I’m researching Scientology right now – wow, the similiarities to sociopathy is…strange, unbelievable). I understood that verse to mean we wld be persecuted for our faith in Jesus (“for my sake”) – that because we love and follow him, others will hate us for it and mock us and treat us badly. Jesus understands Gray Rock, heh – and I agree. Turn the other cheek cld be Gray Rock, actually. Gray Rock = turn the other cheek = walk away. I thought a lot about how God wld want me to handle the situation (spath, family abuse) once I was made aware of it. Like, “God, I’m dying here, can you be a bit more clear on exactly what I shld or shld not be putting up with?” I did feel God was telling me that I wasn’t the only one who had to follow the rules and that He wouldn’t mind me speaking up about it and not take it just for the sake of taking it. He reminded me about that time Jesus shouted while overturning tables in the synagogue.

Ox Drover


I don’t think Jesus was a pacifist! LOL He confronted hypocrites at every opportunity….He was kind, caring and compassionate to those who were in pain, or were abused, but He confronted those who were the abusers. The Pharisees and other hypocrites who did not DO as they preached. Who tried to make others live to a standard they did not themselves live up to. Psychopaths are that kind of hypocrites, and expect US to be perfect while they are far from perfect.

Challenging them in their false fronts of perfection is not a bad thing. I figure His example is what we should do. Yes, we will be persecuted I think if we live up to His example…and whistle blowers are always persecuted I think. Look what they did to Him!

In accepting my own imperfections, and realizing that while my egg donor might have required I be perfect to meet her expectations, I realize that God doesn’t expect me to BE perfect, just try to do better. Hey, I figure if it is okay with God that I don’t have to be perfect, then I’ll not worry about the egg donor’s expectations. LOL ROTFLMAO Forgiving myself for not being perfect was a big step for me.



I am also from a Dutch Christian Reformed family/community. I know exactly what you are talking about in that regard.

I’ve only posted here a few times, but I read almost daily, for strength.

Ox Drover

Welcome cut and run…feel free to post and share as the spirit moves you…unfortunately the group you two mentioned isn’/t the only one that has hypocrites in it. Church pews are full of them, but I am determined to not let the hypocrites get between me and God, That means that they are closer to Him than I am then…LOL

Parallel and Oxy,
I do think that we express our ability to love on our faces as well as a myriad of other ways we aren’t aware of.

Something about us triggers their envy and they envy our goodness, so what are they seeing? I mean to say that even when we aren’t doing anything particularly loving, we have a contented look or a look of innocence.

When Jesus told us we would be persecuted, I think that is what he meant. He understood that spaths are envious and exactly what they are envious of.

Not sure how to work on my poker face!


Oxy, I’m going to borrow your biblical references in my letter to my parents. The Joseph story always resonated with me but David – of course! And your comment on Absolom is something I never caught before, thank-you.

What your mom said to you, her pathetic accusation that you lied as a teenager and this justified her demonizing, is outrageous – and from what I’ve learned on this blog, typical. Once we finally get some intel out of them, their reasons for their harsh judgements of us are so breathtakingly ridiculous. A few years ago my dad, in what was supposed to be a phonecall that would lure me back into the family, said I was negative to be around and always have been. I asked for an example. He said this: Once, when I was a teenager, he asked me if I wanted to go for a bike ride and I said no and acted like I was better than him. He also said I was a “snob” as a teenager. I was 32 when he said this. Ridiculous. I’m glad he said it, though, it was a blessing. That’s when I started putting him on notice and beginning to think that maybe I’d been had. The pity voice and reaction and appeal is the worst. That is why I went “no contact” with my fam. I fall for it, I can’t trust myself not to fall for it so I have to make sure they don’t get the chance.

“Get up and wash your face and say sorry” – yeah! But that you walked around as a little girl anxiously reciting “God forgive me” in case you died is pretty heart-crushing and inhumane.

cutandrun: Hi and high five, sister! Sooooo boring, right? The most boring denomination ever, Calvin this and Calvin that. I’ve been Baptist since I left home so I’m no radical, either. I do miss the songs from the Psalter Hymnal, though.

skylar: my spath wld often bring up that he had seen an elderly person who had a really kind face and how happy it made him and how he loved looking at it and he’d speculate that they were probably really kind and giving and wise. He brought it up often and in different ways, sometimes in the way a normal person would bring up something fascinating they saw once while on holiday, and other times in the way a normal person talks about the awesome thai food they had for lunch. But never in an appropriate way. Once he took a picture of such a person on the subway and showed it to me. It was creepy b/c I saw that he was getting something from this observation while at the same time it didn’t mean anything at all. He didn’t know these people and he didn’t care to, what he was interested in was how their faces made him feel – and as to what it made him “feel” exactly, I’m not sure. Something vaguely cannibalistic, I think, and probably something else effed up and abnormal I never want to know about, as per usual.

I wld love a poker face, too. I’m one of those people who blushes and flushes and all that other stuff. It’s a security breach issue. I’ve been doing deep breathing excercises. I second the call out for any tips on how to achieve this.

that is so creepy. and it’s doubly creepy that my spath did the exact same thing! I knew it was a spath trait, thanks for confirming it.

He just went on and on about a person’s facial expressions and how they would likely commit suicide because they lost so much money in the casino. ugh.

Botox is an option. I hear it numbs your face. Or a burka would be cheaper. For me it would probably help if I didn’t wear a cross around my neck, that’s a dead giveaway!


Wow – well, that’s a spath for ya, doubly creepy. Actually – have you noticed that there’s no ceiling to their creepiness? You think you’ve remembered the creepiest thing about them but then something even creepier pops up.

Wear one of those crosses that is also a sword! Or if you suspect someone, casually ask them to hold it for a sec and see if it burns through their skin. Joking aside, it might be a dead giveaway but your cross is stronger than their….nothin’. Botox, chuh.



I will third the creepiness of spaths’ infatuation with ‘older’ women, primarily. He has this sexual addiction thing going on and just loves older women. I mean MASSIVELY older than him. By 20 years at least. Calls younger women bitches.

As far as the cross thing…, I have always said that I do believe this is the manifestation of evil on our earth and I still do agree with that. I have seen the DEPTHS of evilness with my eyes and heard the ugliness with my own ears.

Over the past five years, I used to stop at the Catholic church, quite nearby me, every so often, when nobody was there and I would go in and douse myself with Holy Water (no religious preference and/or connotations here, merely a personal expression of choice) and get down on my knees and pray at the altar that God would take this devil from my life. I had thought about bathing in the Holy Water, however, I always thought that if the priest came out and found me bathing in it, he would be ever so perplexed. I had my apartment Blessed and display many crosses. I wear a ‘good karma’ doubloon around my neck. I have never in my life seen such evil before. And it stalks me and threatens me, continuously, although I am stealthed now.

Interestingly enough, I gave “IT” a silver cross with a couple of diamonds embedded in it, one time, as a gift, and the minute his hand touched it, he threw it at me and told me that MY GOD was a loser and that he has never done anything for anyone but make their lives miserable. I do think it burned him to the touch. I do. I will always believe that for the way I saw him fling it. It was like someone touching something despicable.

Botox??!! hahahaha
Let’s give all spaths botox injections in their cranium, perhaps it will wake them up, what do you think?

I am happy to report that although the stalking is still lightly continuing, (mostly by cyber and phone now), all is primarily peaceful and quiet and I am starting to get a refreshed attitude about this and a whole lot of other things that have been cluttering up my life and world. I am starting to find myself again amidst the rubble.

I have, within the past couple of weeks, accepted that this is very much an illness and there is no way you can fit a square peg in a round hole. I see it all for what it really is now and I think the medication I have been taking is really helping me a lot. It’s strange how you can be majorly depressed your whole lifetime long and never find relief until you take this little pill and suddenly, your depression has turned into something different. I am still amazed by this. Almost too good to be true. I am sorry for everyone that it doesn’t work for but I am so grateful I have found a little ‘relief’.

I am very well secure here and although I still look over my shoulder, I am not afraid.

{Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil….}

Happy weekend to you guys.
I am going to TRY having a decent one; let’s see what happens.

mwahhhH! xxoo



why skylar, look at your little face smiling and twinkling…
aahahahahahahaha ~ Hold that pose…

Happy Saturday, Lovey…


I am happy your pill is working for you. I am not anti -antidepressant’s. The lexapro did not work for me and neither did zoloft. Truth be told I prolly didnt give them time to work, and my bout’s of depression have always been situational. I knew why I was depressed so I dealt with it, lived with it and worked through it. I get the blues, I get lonely, but no pill will fix that. When I was emeshed with the spath I suffered more from hyper vigilance and anxiety, I think that comes with the package. I was an emotional wreck, the spath enduced stress almost killed me. I didnt know which way to turn or run. But I did finally realize the relationship was unhealthy and as much as I thought I loved him I had to make him leave. I remember thinking it must be me, I must have comittment issues or something,,but in hindsight I almost killed myself trying to please him and keep him happy. Nothing would of worked, that’s just the nature of the beast,,,So lesson learned.
I have vision’s of Dupey taking a bath in holy water in a catholic church singing row row row your boat…
Instead of a silver cross you should of given him a silver bullet in the heart……


hens: Thanks for the wishes. I had to do something. With my heart and all, I just wasn’t doing real well. I am completely amazed and astonished this Lexapro is working for me. Nothing else ever has. And, I think I have tried them all!

My bouts of depression haven’t been all situational. Some of them I was born into. Long story…I knew “IT” was making me further depressed but now that I am OUT of it, I can let go of all THAT. Thank Goodness! That was just a dead end road and I do mean dead end. Oh yes, hyper vigilance and anxiety, I can completely relate. I can relate to almost being killed by the ugliness. Almost a ‘smothering’…’death by proxy’; hm?

hahaha: let me tell you something, when I was going to that Catholic Church, I felt evil hot on my trail, my Friend…still do to some degree. It made my hair stand on end and my blood run cold through my veins. I have never seen such wickedness and deception and ugliness. If I could have lived in that cauldron of Holy Water, I certainly would have….you are right, LESSON LEARNED.

You are also right about the silver cross…I should have given him a silver bullet, unfortunately, I am not as wicked as “IT” is.
A person can go to jail for doing that to someone and I am not suffering any further than I already have. Let someone else give him that silver bullet. I won’t be getting anywhere close to that zombie.

Love you hens: hope you are doing alright. I send happy thoughts and wishes to you all the time. You are one of the ‘smiles’ in my life. ((hugs))



“When I was emeshed with the spath I suffered more from hyper vigilance and anxiety” – Great. Another bitter irony. I remember having that same acute hyper vigilance. And it was at the exact same time I was missing all the blatant and audacious things that were being done right in front of my face. Probably where my vertigo came from.


Gently down the stream…


…merrily, merrily , merrily, merrily…..
spaths are but a dream….

Send this to a friend