Like us, Claudia Moscovici had her run-in with a psychopath, one that almost destroyed her marriage. Since then, like many of us, she has thoroughly researched this destructive personality disorder. She started a blog called “Psychopathy Awareness,” and wrote two books: a novel called The Seducer, and an upcoming nonfiction book called Dangerous Liaisons.
In her review of my book, Love Fraud—How marriage to a sociopath fulfilled my spiritual plan, Claudia writes, “I didn’t think I could learn much more about the subject, but Donna’s book proved me wrong.”
Read the entire review on Psychopathy Awareness.
Love Fraud is available in the Lovefraud Store.
Last night, it was getting late, and I was just getting ready to turn off the TV and go to bed, a 20 year old memory popped into my head and upset me so much, I couldn’t sleep.
I was already in my early 30’s when it happened, so it wasn’t like I was a little kid. Let me preface my memory by saying this: I had already been in therapy for at least 2 years, and had been working through a lot of “adult child” issues. It’s not as if I had forgotton this memory….I knew it had happened but I just never attended to it any more.
Also, both my parents have been dead for years, and I have not wanted to stir up old feelings, because I prefer to let them, (and me) rest in peace. I thought I had worked through a lot of this stuff.
I don’t want anyone to expect a horror story…it isn’t, really that interesting, it’s just baffling and a real WTF moment for me! I’d love some feed-back.
When I was about 32, married to military X narcissist and raising my kids on extreme East Coast, my parents continued to live in my home state of Washington.
I was offered a plane ticket by a gentleman I knew who was flying to Seattle for Christmas. The original plan was his wife would go withhim, but she had just landed a new good job, and couldn’t. The ticket was non-refundable.
I was thrilled and excited. My Dad had come to visit twice in the in the three years that I had lived on EC, but my Mom hadn’t. Couldn’t wait to see them. I called them immeadiatly and said I was coming. Gave them all the flight information, including arrival times. We decided that I would take the airport shuttle bus from airport to my home town. We discussed my arrival time.
I got up at the butt-crack of dawn, husband drove me to airport. I took a 1 hour flight to Atlanta, walked around the airport for an hour or two, then flew to Seattle, a 4 or 5 hour flight, picked up baggage, walked to airport shuttle, travelled an additional hour to home town, was dropped off at closest drop off point to parents house…about a 5 minute drive.
It was a bar, for God’s sake and I was recovering. Oh well, It wouldn’t be a problem, I would only be ther a few minutes anyway.
I waited about half an hour and when my Dad didn’t arrive to pick me up, I called to let them know I had arrived. No answer. I called again. No answer. Again, and again.
I sat there for 4 hours!
When my Dad did get there, I told him I had been worried, where was he?
He answered, “Well, you know your Mom, She wanted to get to the Grocery store and do her shopping, then she wanted to get the grocerys put away!
I knew it was true. That WAS how my Mom would think, and my Dad would go along with it….but WTF? I hadn’t seen my Mom in 7 years! Of course she would not want him to see me first, so he would have to wait to pick me up.
Yep. Always on the back-burner and waiting around for some man, too.
Another memory that came out of nowhere, last week:
I was three years old. My parents went out on Friday or Saturday night, and my brother (15) was left to baby-sit.
(happened ocassionally).
I spilled grape soda on a scatter rug, and my brother ranted and raved. Then he went out the door and up the street about 3 houses and attended our neighbors party. I was 3 and had never been left alone before.
I don’t have a clue how long he was gone, but I remember feeling traumatized. I remember standing at the back door crying for him to come back. The music was blaring at the neighbors house, so ther was no way he could hear me.
Eventually my parents came home. He was busted!
I just wonder if that contributed to my fear of abandonment.
I wonder if the raging before leaving was also a set-up for future abandonments.
Dear Kimmie,
I am so sorry your parents were such sheets….sitting four hours in a bar waiting while they put the groceries away. SHEESH! Makes you feel important and valued doesn’t it. LOL
I sort of felt like the same thing when I went to my “Best friend’s” house in Texas—-felt pretty much unwelcome the entire time I was there, even though I’d been “invited.” Funny how those memories of things like that come back and we SEE them for what they were. LOL
I had another strange dream last night—hadn’t had anything like it for quite some time, but this is two nights in a row that I’ve had the “theme dreams” as I call them of NOT HAVING CONTROL over what is happening to me. Since I fell for the BAITED HOOK of the egg donor and sent my friend over to her house to pick up the drawing. I have it packed up to send to my husband’s grandson who will appreciate the nice portrait drawing of his grandfather, but not think about the P-son when he sees it like I would. LOL
It is odd and also interesting to me how we work things out in our dreams at night that are bugging us in the daylight. I remember when I was working on my own “care-taking-of-others” issues I had these dreams over and over that had a “Theme” to them of me taking care of something or someone who was helpless (baby animals or old folks) while my own life fell apart around me in the symbolic form of a wagon hooked to mules, horses, oxen or donkeys, which wandered off and over turned while I was looking after the “helpless” and not paying attention to my own Life (the wagon.) Sometimes the egg donor would be in the dream, sometimes my step father would be there to give me advice (like he would have in real life) and even in the dreams his advice was what he WOULD have told me if he were alive today….and it was good advice.
Last night I was taking a helicopter ride in a small helicopter that was meant for a pilot and two passengers….and the pilot who was someone I didn’t know…allowed his wife to also get into the copter which was an over load….the plane was flying but I complained to the pilot and he wasn’t interested in hearing me, so I finally demanded that he set the plane down and let me out. When I got out, of course I was without transportation so I had to figure out how to get back to where I “lived” in the dream. I remember telling the pilot that I was going to report him to the FAA which didn’t seem to worry him any….the rest of the dream was the frustration of trying to get to where I was going in a strange city, by myself, without directions.
While intellectually, I think I have realized I got “had” by the egg donor and “bit” at her bait by responding to her e mail about the portrait instead of maintaining NC for anything but LEGAL REQUIREMENTS, I know there must be more “to it” emotionally or I wouldn’t be having these dreams and “theme” dreams or apparently feel so NOT IN CONTROL subconsciously.
Memories, the emotions that go with them, odd flotsam and jetsam that keep going through our heads at odd times….all stones on which to stub our toes on the road to healing, in life. I think the biggest thing though is to recognize these, deal with them as we come on to them and recognize them for what they are, then move onward.
Oxy, I thought your bull and pack of wolves dreams were interesting. Recurrent dreams that change slightly are important dreams. In these, you were trying to patch up boundrys. In one, it was the “bull” you were trying to keep out, and then It was the wolves. What you might of thought was just bull, turned into a pack of real predators…At least they weren’t disguised as sheep. LOL.
I used to write prose poetry and recite it at open mike events. I wrote something called, “Amanda is fine, but her plants are dying.” It was a humorious look at how our caretaking is a frantic attempt to avoid dealing with ourselves and our problems, and that we can actually love what-ever it is we are care taking to death.
F-I-N-E, in my vocabulary stands for, F’d up, Insecure, neurotic, and egotistical…So in this case, it wasn’t so good that Amanda was fine. In the meantime she transplanted, over-watered, over fere3lized, and over pruned her plants…
of course there was nothing bothering her though. LOL.
Yeah, Floatsum. Now that Spath has been gone for three years, and I am living alone, I think some of these issues are coming up again…I can’t ignore and deny them, because I’m too focused on a spath, or anyone else. for that matter.
Don’t beat yourself too hard with that skillet, either Ox. She didn’t get any real information out of you, and your Hubs GS will be tickled to get the portrait. No skin off of your nose.
Kim Thanks for sharing those memories, so much childhood bullchit can surface when we least expect it. I do the same thing, I look at it differently these days tho, you need to sweep those memories into a dust pan and trash them, we have stopped sweeping them under the rug, your parents are gone, examine the hurt and unload it. dont carry it anymore – it’s a burden – so many f–ing injustice’s – so much hurt – i can finally let it go – most of it anyway – let’s not sort through so much of what cant be undone or repaired – kinda futile – all your doing is lightening the load..smile and enjoy your day Kimmers –
Oxy and Kim, your dreams and memories are so interesting…
and you intrepret them so well, really hit the nail on the head.
I have some memories of father yelling at me and then leaving for hours…
too painful to think about too long, really set me up
to avoid making people angry ~ was always scared they would leave.
hens is right, I need to let it go…
LL, these psychopaths push people’s buttons even when it clearly goes against their own interests. I just ran across an article on the news today about Charlie Sheen’s latest delirious rants against his bosses:
http://www.popeater.com/2011/02/28/charlie-sheen-cbs-war/?icid=maing%7Cmain5%7Cdl2%7Csec1_lnk3%7C47067
Claudia,
In my opinion (unprofessional) this man psychopathy is so outrageously obvious, I often wonder if it needs a true diagnosis.
Each time he opens his mouth now, his delusions about his “specialness” become more apparent. My spath was rather covert and stealth. nothing like the outward outrageousness that is Charlie Sheen.
LL
Dear Guys,
Hens, I think you are right we do need to sweep it up and throw it out…and we have swept it under the rug so many times.
My “world famous” analogy is about the cat cheet in the middle of the floor. We see it, we smell it, but we put down something over it, a throw rug, and the cat cheets on that, and we throw another throw rug over that until the pile of cheet and throw rugs is almost to the ceiling. Someone comes in and they sniff the odor de’kat;cheet and say “I think the cat cheet somwhere” and we say “WHAT CAT? I DONT’ HAVE A CAT!”
We not only need to clean up the cat cheet, we need to GET RID OF THE CAT ITSELF. I actually had a cat once, named Chairman Meow that was probably the prettiest cat I ever owned, and the most EVIL. The ONLY place he never cheet though was in the litter box. I finally threw him outside and he would WAIT BY THE BACK DOOR and when the kids would open it to come in, he would scoot through their legs and run behind the piano to CHEET. I got tired of cleaning it up, and I would rub his nose in it, then I would hit him and finally got to the point I would grab him and bounce his arse off the garage wall as I threw him back outside. I finally determined the ONLY way I would break him from running INSIDE THE HOUSE TO SHEET was kill him, and I told my kids that when I came in that evening I intended to Kill Chairman.
Normally there would have been weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth when any animal either croaked or had to be put down—but this time they said “OKAY!” cause I had been making THEM clean up the cat cheet when they would let him in so they were tired of his antics too. Anyway, I think Chairman wanted to deprive me of the JOY of shooting his arse because he had committed suicide by car that day while I was gone and his body was laying on the side of the road when I got home. Never had another cat that evil, but was glad he was gone! I tease about the one we have now being “evil” but she’s just a normal cat and she happens to like men and tolerates women, and thinks she is god, but she knows what a cat box is for for sure! LOL And she stays off the counters now too. Actually, she’s a pretty cool cat!
But back to the cat cheet analogy, until we ADMIT THAT WE HAVE A CAT, and that the cat is not cooperating with our “clean house” efforts, we are not going to be able to have a “clean house” (happy life) and no matter how many throw rugs we put over the cat cheet, or how we try to pretend it is not there, it is STILL GOING TO STINK.
My whole life, My family pretended that we did “not have a cat” and we ignored the ever growing pile of cat cheet and throw rugs building up in the middle of the living room floor. But I am not only admitting we have a cat, but an EVIL cat, and I am shooting the SOB and tearing out the carpet and CLEANING HOUSE of all the dirt, cat cheet, and cat hair and sweeping it out with the rest of the trash! FURTHER MORE, any cats that want to live in MY HOUSE better know what the litter box is for! (ps. guys I love cats but this does make a great analogy so don’t you cat lovers get your nose out of whack! LOL)
skylar,
i have read some of your posts. At first I couldn’t stand to read and even slowed down reading here. I did not/ do not want to deal with that but now I know I have to but I want the easiest way out.
I quit caring about myself around 13/14 and well it’s been bad every since. Can’t do enough to earn the love and respect that I need. I’ve so completely lost myself. I can’t feel my flame anymore and all I want to do is lay and sleep.
I am going to die of a broken heart. I see it happening, feel it unbearably but I can’t seem to get out of this dark hole.
I am so lonely.
It’s all why I willingly walked right into this horrific mess with the phub.
My father is a p,histrionic, most selfish brat I have ever met. large, mean man.
My mom is abroken victim that has lost her way into selfishness, or something. I know that she has sabotaged everything I ever tried to do that was good or prosperous. I don’t know, but I can tell you that she was the reason I stayed in my fathers life.
I attempted suicide and spent a while in the hospital as a teen. I ran away, but got caught and back into to hell. You never try to leave while they have authority over you… they will kill you before they will let you go. It must be them that is done with you or your nightmare is not over.
However, the phub has discarded me like yesterdays trash and the pain of waking up…. our entire time together, it was ALL a lie!!! I am flooded with emotion that I can’t get myself through but as I do little by little, a step forward and two back… I’ve discovered that I can’t get out of that until I face what got me into it in the first place.
I grew up in a very abusive home
I was malested before the age of 5, a very young age to look evil in the eye, to realize good and evil, probably my age of accountability, because from then on I always was aware of ‘is this right and good or wrong and bad?’ Is it good or evil.
I have no where to turn still some thirty years later. I mean humans. I walk in prayer every second of every day. I can’t breath. IT HURTS SO HORRIBLY BAD!!!! I can’t cry enough, I can’t sleep enough, I can’t scream load enough and I know I’m going to have a stroke or heart failure if anything pushes me.
I pray that he will find the lord and his heart will change and he will come back and make the years of lies come true.
I can’t believe how bad this all hurts
I hear ‘you just need to….’
and it’s never anything that I haven’t tried and tried and tried.
I’ve researched and researched, I’ve relearned everything over and over like each was the first time. Really, I learn it and then I get lost again.
We have been separated for a couple of years now and he still has my heart. He came around and messed with me some, got to poisoning me again and I came here… then I fought myself for two months… business required I contact him so he came by…. FOR SEX!! Of course my brain can believe this but my heart…. was crushed.
I really need someone I can’t do this alone, I think. I know, I should be able to lean on God for everything and I do but I need a companion…friend, what ever, you know, it is not good for man to be alone… ??
I type all of this knowing that some how I don’t have a clue. I think if anyone would know, it’s you, how I was independant minded, self driven and with support would have … How did that wild tiger get broke? Why? It was a good thing! Why kill it?
I think maybe I have so much love to offer and no one wants it.?