complaints, condescending twatbags, narcissists, scams

Apparently, she’s playing social worker now…

The featured photo was taken May 10, 2002… the day I earned dual master’s degrees in social work and public health. Fair warning about this post… it’s probably going to come across as rude and offensive to some readers, because I’m “processing” again. Read with caution after the first two paragraphs. 😉

I am a little disappointed in myself today. It’s already almost 11:00 AM and I’m still sitting here in my nightie, listening to an old Conway Twitty song, and typing a blog post. I had such big plans for the holiday weekend. There are so many places around Wiesbaden that we haven’t yet explored. But we’re not doing that right now, because while we were having breakfast, Bill complained about how “shaggy” his hair is. And looking at it, I had to agree, his look was missing a certain sharpness. It had been awhile since his last haircut. I can cut his hair, but I don’t do as good of a job as the barber does.

So Bill went off to get a trim, and I’ve been migrating more music to my newer computer. I’ve been a bit surprised this morning. I had no idea how much Ella Fitzgerald I had in my collection– well over 700 songs! Ella was born in Newport News, Virginia, which is right next to where I was born, in Hampton, Virginia. I think that’s kind of cool. She was such a wonderful singer. I can’t say she’s one of my idols, but I sure do admire her a lot.

So anyway, it’s been awhile since I last upbraided my husband’s ex wife. She’s been pretty quiet lately, and I’ve had other things on my mind. I was actually thinking that maybe she decided to get off social media, but nope. She’s back on Twitter. And I couldn’t help but notice that, once again, she’s showing off her false persona to the masses. This time, she’s acting like a social worker.

Someone on Twitter was lamenting about being 45 years old and having to take care of both of her aging parents. The original poster shared a photo of herself looking really tired, yet still quite beautiful. She posted that she was having to take care of mother’s most intimate needs and is now exhausted.

Ex, in her attempt to fool everyone with her fake caring facade, posted this…

You absolutely must get home health care immediately or you will lose your sanity from lack of proper rest. I know you love them… but you cannot be their o my caregiver. Medicaid is another option to get assistance. Check with your local area agency and they can help, too! (she ended her advice with a couple of heart smilies)

All I can do is shake my head at this shit. Last year, she tried to get my husband’s stepmother to move in with her. I know she’s “hosted” her mother and her husband’s mother, too. And she has a “severely autistic” son, as well as two more “children” she claims are autistic and need her. Ex’s youngest child, by the way, will be 17 years old this year. But she doesn’t actually take care of any of these folks. It’s left to her adult daughters, especially to include older daughter, who will be 32 years old this year and still lives with Ex. She takes care of her brother. I get the impression that Ex just sits on her ass and watches Outlander.

Granted, I’m not there to see this in person. However, I have a pretty good idea of what goes on, because for years, I’ve heard about it from very reliable sources. I think Ex has a lot of nerve playing social worker/advocate to people on Twitter, when she doesn’t do fuck all for her own family! She just pays lip service about being there for her family. It’s a facade, and one that she only trots out to strangers. The people who actually live with her never see this kind, loving, wise side. She just tells them to figure everything out for themselves and then does her best to sabotage them and hinder their progress.

I probably wouldn’t be writing about this today, except we were reminded once again of how Ex insisted that she was the better parent and knew best… and yet my husband’s younger daughter had to find her own way to college out west. Younger daughter left home with two suitcases and nothing else. No money, no dishes of her own, no sheets for the bed… NOTHING. And if not for the intervention of a kind family from her church, she would not have been able to move out on her own. The way younger daughter tells it, the family arranged this without her input. They saw she had a need and fulfilled it. She never even asked them for that help. The fact that the family did that for her, tells me that Ex was acting in an obviously dysfunctional way in public.

Ex didn’t even want younger daughter to get a job when she was in her late teens. She did nothing to teach her about how to find work and make her own money. Instead, Ex made younger daughter get a GED, take online college courses for the financial aid (the excess of which she ripped off for herself and left younger daughter to repay), and never taught her the first thing about the world of paid employment. Learning how to earn money for one’s self is a basic life skill. Ex failed to teach it. And younger daughter frequently worked for free, doing babysitting and other jobs.

I remember back in 2006, Bill paid child support for Ex’s eldest son, who is her first husband’s child. He was an adult at the time– 18 years old. Ex was the one who had drawn up the divorce papers, and she had put in the language about Bill paying support until the kids were 22 years old, unless they met certain conditions. He paid for former stepson, but then it later became clear that the young man was just using Bill for money. Bill had planned to pay support for his daughters, too, but Ex– having seen how her son moved out with the money Bill was paying him directly– realized that would give her daughters too much autonomy. And she also knew Bill would not pay her directly anymore, once the kids were over 18. So she made it impossible for Bill to contact them, and then did her damnedest to clip their wings.

I can only sit here and shake my head in awe at younger daughter’s incredible resilience. She is a very kind and thoughtful person, and she obviously impressed people, because some folks from her church in New England helped her by “hiring” her to be a nanny in Utah. They paid for her to go on vacation with them and help with their kids– and the end of their vacation ended at just about the time school out west started. The church angels gave her some money, wished her luck, and friends helped her get from Utah to Idaho, where her college was. The whole thing was basically a ruse to free her from Ex’s clutches, so she could go to college.

Younger daughter showed up at her school with nothing to set her up for success. EX DIDN’T DO A GODDAMNED THING FOR HER OWN DAUGHTER! And she wouldn’t let Bill do anything for younger daughter, either. By that point, Ex had quit communicating with Bill and was doing her best to obliterate him from his daughters’ memories. Bill would have been there in person to buy things like sheets, dishes, and school supplies. Now, here Ex is on Twitter, playing the part of a kindly social worker for strangers, advising them on elder care and Medicaid. What complete bullshit!

I know some people will read this objectively and think Bill is at fault, too. And I wouldn’t necessarily blame them for coming to that conclusion. I wish to God Bill had never met her, let alone married and procreated with her. I wish I had been his first and only wife. I would have done so much better by his daughters. I wish we could have taken her to court and insisted on a change in custody when they were kids.

But the circumstances at the time made it seem impossible. There was no money for lawyers, nor the ability to take time off work to go to court. What sucks even more about this is that people tend to think that the parent who has custody is the better parent. It ain’t necessarily so. Bill absolutely would have been a better parent to his daughters than Ex was, because he has the capacity to love, and he genuinely cares about them. Ex only cares about herself.

I’m just glad that at least younger daughter will talk to Bill now. I’m glad he can help her now. Wish her older sister would get out on her own instead of giving her best years to her mother, doing the household chores, and taking care of Ex’s youngest kid.

It blows my mind that Ex feels so free offering kindly advice to people on Twitter, when she won’t even help her own children take care of their most basic needs. She didn’t even teach them the most basic life skills, like how to earn money. Like it or not, people need money to live. But Ex didn’t want her kids to have money, because money equals power… including the power to walk away. Thank God there were good people in the LDS church (which was another one of Ex’s ideas) who saw what was happening and were moved to help younger daughter.

This is narcissism. Ex could be the poster child for it.

I just needed to get that out. Maybe it’s not appropriate for me to be writing about this, but it really does gall me, and this is how I process it. I truly don’t care if what I write is embarrassing to Ex. Abusers thrive in secrecy. I suppose some of Ex’s egregious bullshit is down to legitimate mental illness. However, I think she knows very well that her conduct is wrong… because she doesn’t show the ugly side of herself to the masses. Her public persona is not what the people closest to her see.

You know, I realize that I’m not the most likable person myself, but at least what you see is what you get. I would not blame younger daughter for being extremely bitter, and yet she somehow manages to stay kind and genuinely caring. She’s like Bill in so many ways.

Sigh… rant over. I probably should go read my latest book for some new subject matter. If you managed to read this and maintain some objectivity, thank you for putting forth the effort. I appreciate it.

For you, Ex. Because your daughter is way too kind to do it.

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bad TV, book reviews, fashion, fiction, narcissists

A review of The Wig, The Bitch, & The Meltdown, by Jay Manuel…

In a recent blog post, I mentioned that I was reading Jay Manuel’s 2020 novel, The Wig, The Bitch, & The Meltdown. In that post, I wrote that I understood and appreciated what Jay Manuel was doing with his first novel. He was processing trauma by turning it into a fun fictionalized read. I’ve done the same thing on multiple occasions, so I already had a warm feeling about Manuel’s debut into fiction.

I also can’t stand Tyra Banks, even though I watched her reality show for years. My devotion to America’s Next Top Model was less about idolizing a retired supermodel than watching a trainwreck. I don’t actually care much about fashion, and those who have seen me in person can attest to that. I just find narcissists fascinating, even if I want to keep them at an arm’s length. ANTM was chock full of narcissists, and its resident Queen Bee, Tyra Banks, was the most toxic of them all… as far as I can tell, anyway. Obviously, I’ve never met Tyra in person, but I have heard what she says and observed how she behaves. She makes my N chimes ring even louder than Meghan Markle does.

I downloaded Jay Manuel’s satirical novel about reality TV modeling competitions back in January 2022. I decided to read the book when I started watching episodes of ANTM while Bill was away in Bavaria. As I watched ANTM and cringed, I read up on Jay Manuel and his now non-existent relationship with Tyra Banks. I remembered that they once used to be friends. What happened?

Well… Jay wrote his book, and that sure didn’t help their friendship. But there was a lot that led up to the book being written, and having been around a lot of narcissists myself, I spotted all of the red flags in The Wig, The Bitch, & The Meltdown. Clearly Mr. Manuel had loads of experiences and incidents to fuel his creativity when he penned his novel. If only a fraction of the crazy in this novel has any basis in truth, Jay Manuel went through Hell to birth this book. And the price of writing the book was losing his “friends” from ANTM, as it was reported that Tyra Banks was angry about the novel. She allegedly asked people from ANTM not to interact with Jay, or help promote the book. Apparently, people from ANTM value relationships with Tyra enough to grant her request/demand.

I can understand why Tyra Banks would be upset about Jay Manuel’s novel. The novel is clearly based on Jay Manuel’s relationship with her and others from ANTM, even though the book is fiction. I’m sure she sees him as disloyal, and narcissists can’t abide disloyalty. Moreover, Jay Manuel really took the piss out of Tyra, including plots that were obviously based on things that actually happened on the show. The end result, for a reader like me, is pure entertainment and occasional laugh out loud moments. Obviously, Tyra Banks doesn’t want to be laughed at, and even though she’s made a lot of money and become very powerful in the entertainment business, she doesn’t want to be upstaged in any way.

Jay Manuel is still not as powerful as Tyra is– or was– (like Donald Trump, she seems to have lost some of her popularity). However, writing this book probably boosted his prestige. I was definitely impressed by the imagination and creativity he showed in his novel. There’s a good reason why Jay Manuel was the creative director on ANTM for so many years. On the other hand, a lot of what he writes was obviously inspired by crazy stuff that actually happened on the show.

So… on with the plot…

Pablo Michaels (Jay’s alter ego) is the silver haired, silver eyed creative director of a reality show called Model Muse. It’s a rip off of America’s Next Top Model, set in the present. I mention that the novel is set in the present because Manuel mentions a lot of technology that didn’t exist when ANTM started in 2003, or even when it finally ended in 2018. He seems particularly wedded to Apple products, as he mentions them a lot in the book.

Pablo is not naturally silver eyed or silver haired. This is a look that the supermodel he works for, Keisha Kash (Kash is perhaps a play on the last name, Banks?), wants him to look that way. Pablo and Keisha met when they were both a lot less famous, and they were friends. Over the years, they had shared a lot of pints of Dulce de Leche ice cream. Pablo had become Keisha’s rock, fixing things that went wrong, and always having Keisha’s back. She started her reality show, and he was the one person she trusted to be the creative director. She was right to trust him, though the job means that he never gets any time to himself, nor can he do things that he wants to do.

Pablo and Keisha work with other “legends” from the fashion industry. Noted British fashion photographer, Mason Hughes (modeled after Nigel Barker) is onhand, as is the world’s “first” supermodel, Sasha Barenson (Janice Dickinson). Miss Thing (J. Alexander– Miss J.) serves as a judge and a runway coach. Joe Vong (perhaps Ken Mok) is an executive producer. And De La Renta (perhaps Sutan and/or Christian Marc combined) is in charge of hair and makeup.

Sasha still wears a size four dress, even though she’s in her 60s. But she constantly nurses a sippy cup full of “water” that smells a lot like Chardonnay. Mason is “happily married” to a boyish looking Indian woman, although he seems to like men. Miss Thing is hilarious and witty, but also a bit catty and two-faced. Joe Vong has created many successful reality TV shows, but is completely dictatorial and manic. And De La Renta, like Pablo, seems to be one of the “good” guys who cares about the models somewhat. Keisha’s mother Brenda Paris (Tyra’s mom, Carolyn London) is in prison for trying to steal jewelry from a safe at the morgue where she worked as a photographer. Carolyn London, in real life, is a medical photographer. Tyra always presented her mother as wonderful, but in Jay’s novel, she’s a criminal.

Pablo Michaels is doing all he can to keep the show together, as Keisha and the rest of the cast misbehave in a multitude of ways, showing a complete lack of regard for those who aren’t narcissists. Pablo ties to be the voice of reason as Keisha does everything she can to make more money, become more famous, and expand her brand. Manuel really went to town on this– bringing up Tyra Banks’ memorable foray into the music business by making Keisha release a song, even though she’s tone deaf. In real life, Jay Manuel studied opera, and presumably, he can sing. I’ve heard Tyra’s song, and as a musician myself, it didn’t impress me.

I dunno about this… This was one of the challenges for the models, but she barely used them. The video was all about Tyra.

Manuel also covers Tyra’s attempts at writing, as he has Keisha write a novel. Tyra also famously wrote a novel for teenagers. I have it downloaded, but I can’t seem to bring myself to read it. Maybe I’ll punish myself by reading it soon.

Throughout the book Manuel skillfully illustrates the classic ways of a malignant narcissist, to include having Keisha have a huge meltdown in panel. Tyra Banks also famously screamed at a contestant in Cycle 4, angry that the young woman wasn’t “upset” enough about being cut. The circumstances of Keisha’s meltdown are somewhat different, but the behavior he describes is the same as what all ANTM fans witnessed when they watched that episode.

More outrageous behaviors are described, and if you were a viewer of ANTM during its prime years, when Mr. Jay and Miss J. were on it, you will easily recognize some of the contestants. Manuel blends some of them into new people, including some famous and memorable statements some of them uttered during the show’s run. Some of the incidents are clearly based on things that happened on the show, but others are pretty diabolical (and hilarious) mashups based on things that a malignant narcissist supermodel might do. The part about the wig, for instance, is pretty scandalous. If you’ve ever seen one of Tyra Banks’ famously crappy makeovers, you might have a good laugh… as you also cringe in horror.

Manuel’s writing is often pretty snarky, and there’s a lot of objectionable (but believable) language in this novel. Sometimes, I wish he’d hired an editor. He misspells some words and names. For instance, he repeatedly refers to Mommie Dearest (the book and movie about Joan Crawford, written by her adoptive daughter, Christina Crawford), but he spells it Mommy Dearest. He refers to “door jams”, rather than “door jambs”. He also employs some words that are what one might call “fifty cent words”. At times, he doesn’t quite use them correctly, or he uses them when a simpler word would better suffice.

I got a kick out of how Manuel describes Keisha, who is obviously based on Tyra in almost every way. He repeatedly writes about Keisha’s “creepy” little girl voice. If you’ve seen ANTM, you know what he’s referring to, as Tyra does the same thing. He describes what she looks like, and her tendency to not like contestants who look, in any way, like her. Manuel also makes Model Muse rigged– blatantly stating that the winners were chosen long before the runway show at the end of the season. I don’t know if that’s actually how it worked on ANTM, but I’ve always suspected that the winners were ringers. What’s sad to me is that a lot of the young women, who tried out for that show, legitimately thought it would open doors for them. Although some contestants went on to form careers in entertainment, only a few became legitimate working models.

Overall

I enjoyed Jay Manuel’s book, The Wig, The Bitch, & The Meltdown. I found it a fun and entertaining read. I’ve seen a lot of people saying that Manuel isn’t much better than Tyra Banks is. I don’t know if that’s true, but he does appear to have some real talents. I think it would be pretty difficult for him to have an ego larger than Tyra’s. Moreover, while I think Tyra has some talents in terms of self-promotion, I also think she totally got off on being worshiped by the contestants on the show, even when she gave bullshit advice, contradicted herself, or cut them for ridiculous reasons. Jay, at least, seemed to have some sensitivity… and he has the excuse that he wasn’t the boss of the show. Tyra was. He was working at her behest.

I found some of the elements of Jay’s personal story– which he weaved into Pablo’s story– fascinating. Jay Manuel was born in the United States and grew up in Canada. He was adopted when he was a baby, and he puts part of that story into the book. Jay also has a very interesting racial makeup; many people think he’s Hispanic, but he’s actually got Italian, Czech, and South African ancestry and thinks of himself as Black.

I think I’d give The Wig, The Bitch, and The Meltdown four stars out of five. I don’t read a lot of novels anymore, but I legitimately enjoyed Jay’s snarkfest. I laughed out loud several times, or just exclaimed in disbelief; I think that counts for a lot. I also liked the ending. I found it very satisfying.

I’m taking off a star for the editing glitches, although I am impressed by how well-written the book is, given that Jay Manuel isn’t primarily a writer. I hope he’ll write another novel, and next time, hire an editor to give it some polish. And I hope he’s as likable in real life as he is in his writing and on television… although I’m sure those who knew him on Top Model are probably no longer sending him any emails. 😉

As an Amazon Associate, I get a small commission from Amazon on sales made through my site.

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communication, family, lessons learned, narcissists, psychology

My mom confirms something important to me…

The featured photo is a picture of Mom and me in Sousse, Tunisia, over the New Year’s holiday in 1978. I was five years old. We lived in England at the time, so it wasn’t a super long journey.

Last week, I tried to call my mom a couple of times. I had forgotten that she was going to be having knee surgery. She had told me about it in March, I think, and it slipped my mind. My mom lives alone in a senior apartment community in Hampton, Virginia. The community was formed out of what was once a grand hotel. It overlooks the Chesapeake Bay. She has a wonderful view from her two bedroom apartment, where she’s lived since 2009. My dad shared the apartment with her, until he died on July 9, 2014.

My mom is going to be 85 years old this year. She’s still quite independent. Her mind is sharp. She still drives, though not as far as she used to. She doesn’t go out much, though, so I was a little worried when I called her three times and didn’t get an answer. Our neighbor’s mom is my mom’s age, and she’s been having some problems lately. She broke her leg, and a few weeks ago, she picked up the wrong keys to her house and got confused. Not being able to reach my mom caused me to to worry a little. I hoped she wasn’t suffering with the same things our neighbor’s mom (who is also a neighbor) does.

I sent one of my three sisters a private message on Facebook, asking her if she knew if Mom was okay. She reminded me about the surgery, but then contacted another sister– the eldest of the four of us– to confirm. Oldest sister said Mom was doing fine. The sister I contacted also called Mom’s apartment community to check on her, and they confirmed that Mom was okay. So that was that.

This sister and my mom have always had a lot of interpersonal issues. I don’t know what they stem from, but they’ve had difficulties for as long as I can remember. It’s too bad, too, because both my mom and my sister have things in common. They are both extraordinarily artistic. My mom can do almost anything with needles and thread. For years, she owned her own business, in which she sold cross-stitch, knitting, needlepoint, and other supplies. She taught many people how to do these needlecrafts (although I’m not among them). My mom, even in her 80s, has made some extremely beautiful things by her own hand. When I was little, she used to make clothes for me. She also knitted sweaters, hats, socks, and scarves.

My mom and one of her many incredible creations… She is a very gifted artist.

My sister, likewise, is very talented with needles and threads. She sews and does needle crafts, like our mom does. She’s also a legitimately gifted artist in the way most people think of artists. She paints, draws, and creates true works of art through many different mediums. In addition, she’s a skilled writer, having earned a master’s degree in journalism, and she has excellent taste in music. My sister introduced me to some of my favorite artists, including Kate Bush.

Really, though, my sister is probably best known as an artist. I’ve been to a lot of art museums, and I can tell you that I would expect to see something my sister did hanging in an art museum. Below are a few examples of her work:

You’d think my mom and my sister would get along famously. They have some things in common. But they don’t really get along. My sister seemed to mesh better with our dad (most of the time). I, on the other hand, have always gotten along with our mom. My dad and I fought a lot.

Back in July 2007, while Bill was in Iraq doing his “patriotic chore”, I attended my paternal grandmother’s funeral. Granny was almost 101 years old when she passed. She was much beloved by everyone in her community. I had to bring my dogs with me, because it wasn’t possible to board them. Consequently, when I stayed at the Natural Bridge Hotel (for the last time, it turned out), I got a room in the “cabins”, which were motel rooms on a hillside. My uncle ran the Natural Bridge Hotel for years, and I’ve stayed there many times. The last time I stayed, it was pretty uncomfortable. I think they’ve renovated since 2007, but I haven’t been back… in part, because it was uncomfortable, and in part, because of something my sister said to me that brings back traumatic memories.

After Granny’s funeral, my sister and I were talking. She was also staying in a “cabin”. For some reason, she chose that time to tell me that she’d always believed I wasn’t my dad’s daughter.

Keep in mind, we had just buried our grandmother, who was my father’s mother. If I wasn’t his daughter, that would have meant that Granny wasn’t my actual grandmother. She was pretty much the only grandparent I’d ever known, since my other grandparents died when I was very young. I do remember my mom’s father, but he had severe dementia when I was conscious of meeting him, and he didn’t really know who any of us were. I also met my paternal grandfather’s mother– my great grandma– but she was also very elderly and died when I was about nine years old. I didn’t have much of a relationship with her. So, as you might realize, Granny was very important to me– more so than she would have been in any case.

When my sister made that declaration to me, I will admit there was a part of me that wondered if what she was saying could have been true. My dad and I fought a lot. I don’t look much like him. Instead, I really favor my mom’s side of the family. But I only wondered about it for a moment…

My sister was telling me about how she formed this idea that maybe I was a “bastard” child. She said our mom was friendly with a neighbor in Hampton, Virginia, where I was born. She said he had blond hair and blue eyes, like mine. My dad had black hair and brown eyes.

I decided to gently challenge my sister. I say “gently”, because I didn’t want to fight with her, especially at Granny’s funeral. I asked her how it was possible that our mom could have had an affair. At the time, our dad was away on Air Force missions a lot. They had three children– my sisters are 13, 11, and 8 years older than I am. How would our mom have the time for adultery?

Also, our mom is painfully honest. I mean, she’s honest to a fault. I just couldn’t see her cheating on our dad. She isn’t the most demonstrative person, although she’s definitely friendlier and more demonstrative now, than she was when our dad was alive. There are a lot of things a person might say about my mom’s rather laid back mothering skills. The truth is, she was kind of neglectful to me– and she’d probably be among the first to admit it. I think she would have been better at mothering had she not been married to an alcoholic during the Vietnam War era, and had she not had four kids. But she has a strong moral compass and a very deep sense of loyalty and duty. She took excellent care of my dad until the bitter end of his life. I know she truly loved him, too, even when he wasn’t very lovable.

Finally, I suggested asking our mom point blank about it. My sister very quickly backpedaled, and said she had a wild imagination. It was clear she didn’t like that idea. Uh huh…

Still, for a long time, I wondered if there was any truth to my sister’s theory, because it was true that my dad and I had a rather contentious relationship. I didn’t know the people who were our neighbors in Hampton. I was a baby, and we left Hampton when I was about six months old, and moved to Dayton, Ohio, where my dad took a job at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. I only have the barest memories of Ohio. It’s probably a blessing. 😉 Dad and I didn’t share very much in terms of physical similarities. Now that I’m older, I think bone structure in my face looks like his, somewhat. Actually, I think I look a little like this particular sister, in terms of facial bone structure. She looks more like our dad, though, while I am very obviously my mom’s daughter.

Years later, I submitted my DNA to both 23&Me and Ancestry.com. I saw that a number of my DNA matches came from my dad’s side of the family. Obviously, I am his daughter.

Which brings me to last night’s chat with my mother. We’d been talking for about an hour and were about to ring off. Mom said the surgery and the drugs she was taking were causing her to need the toilet more frequently than usual. Before we finished our conversation, I asked her if she’d watched the coronation of King Charles III. Mom loves watching British ceremonies. She said she had, and that led to another rabbit hole of discussion.

The topic turned to Prince Harry and Meghan, and she brought up their children, Archie and Lilibet. I said that some people were speculating that perhaps the kids weren’t actually conceived between them (not that I believe that myself– it’s not really my business). I added that since everybody is getting their DNA tested these days, it would be hard to lie about something like that.

My mom said, “Well I want you to know that your dad and I are your parents.”

I thought that was kind of a weird thing to say, and before I knew it, I said “Well, thank you for that. There was some doubt at one point. But then I got my DNA tested.”

Naturally, Mom wanted to know what I meant. So I told her about that toxic conversation I’d had with my sister back in 2007… right after Granny’s funeral. I didn’t mention her name… but Mom quickly guessed who had said that to me. It turns out my sister had directly accused our mom of having had an affair. Mom thought maybe she was talking about the young Black male nurse who had been helping to take care of Dad in his last years. At the time, the nurse was an 18 year old nurse’s aid, and our mom was in her 70s. Dad had accused them of having an affair; he had severe dementia at the time. The idea of Mom having an affair with a teenager was ridiculous and laughable, and she did laugh about it. But no… my sister said Mom would have had an affair with a white person.

For sixteen years, I never mentioned to my mom that conversation my sister and I had. I hadn’t meant to mention it last night. To my mom’s credit, she was pretty cool about it and even apologized to me that my sister had said that. It was pretty hurtful.

And maybe I shouldn’t write about this here… Some people would find it inappropriate and too personal. On the other hand, abusers thrive on secrecy. They say and do mean things, counting on their victims remaining silent. In spite of what some people might think, I’ve been silent about a lot of things. It’s not really my nature to be silent, either. One of the gifts I inherited from my mom were, after all, the gifts of music and communication. Actually, I inherited both of those from my dad, too… Music and writing are a couple of a few things I got from him, even if I don’t resemble him physically.

I’m not angry with my sister. I don’t know why she has these issues with our mother. Some of the things she says seem rather fictitious to me… and in fact, she often reminds me of other people in my life with whom I’ve had to do battle. Perhaps dealing with her is one reason why I am so “saturated” when it comes to narcissistic types, like former landlady and Ex. My sister, by the way, thinks she’s an empath. Personally, I don’t really see it. Bill is an empath. I am not, and neither are any of my sisters.

I’m not sorry Mom and I had that talk. Thanks to DNA tests, I already knew that my sister’s conspiracy theory was utter bullshit. I never really believed her theory, even before I had my DNA tested. However, it was good to hear it from my mom, who even told me about the time I was conceived. Apparently, it happened after my dad had taken a “round the world” trip in the fall of 1971, escorting generals to different embassies. Mom said they used to joke that they were going to name me “Ethiopia”. She said she’d told me about that once, and I thought it was “terrible”. I swear, though, I don’t remember the story. She also said the person my sister thought she’d been messing around with was just a neighbor who, along with his wife, had kids the same age. They were just neighborhood friends. In fact, the wife of the couple recently sent Mom a letter. She’d tracked her down in Hampton.

We ended our conversation on a really lovely note. Mom said she loved me, and reminded me that I’d been a good kid who never got into trouble. I guess buying me a horse worked… (and my sister tried to take credit for that decision, too). I wished Mom a happy Mother’s Day, and said I’d call her before we go on vacation next month. It’s a gift to me that she and I can be friends now. She might be one of the few people in my family with whom I would probably choose to be friends, even if we weren’t related.

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blog news, communication, Military, musings, narcissists, YouTube

Yesterday, I was reminded once again of what’s important…

The featured photo is of a beautiful loaf of bread Bill made yesterday. He’s become very accomplished at baking bread. It’s a skill he’s learned, and shares with younger daughter… It reminds me somewhat of my writing “career”. If you’re a regular reader, you might want to skip to the subheading.

Lately, when it comes to blogging, I’ve been kind of losing my mojo. I look at the number of posts that actually get read by more than a few people, and I wonder why I keep writing. I have some posts that are very popular and get read by hundreds, or even thousands, of people. And I have some posts that get read by just one person. I’ve been wondering if maybe it’s time to quit blogging and do something else. What’s the point of writing if people aren’t interested?

Granted, it’s not that often that I only get one hit on a post. I also genuinely enjoy writing, especially when I’ve found an especially interesting or “juicy” topic. My blogs have also been useful in unusual capacities. (and apologies in advance to those who already know about the story I’m, once again, relating…)

Like, for instance, when we lived in our former house, and our ex landlady tried to accuse us of committing theft of a refrigerator. Thanks to my blogging and propensity to take lots of photos, I was able to prove that her allegations were false.

Ex landlady had claimed we dumped the fridge on her, and “stole” her nice one… which I had documented was one I purchased several days after we moved in on September 1, 2014. I had a receipt for it, because I bought it on Amazon.de. I had also blogged about that situation, back in 2014, before I realized what a mistake it was to rent that house. Former tenant had been following my writings and commented. Unlike later, when she’d leave comments and delete them, former tenant didn’t remove those early comments… which were much more conciliatory toward us. They came in handy years later, when ex landlady was trying to force us to fund her upgrades. If I hadn’t been a blogger, she wouldn’t have left those comments, and I probably wouldn’t have those photos.

I don’t know if ex landlady really believed that we stole her refrigerator and dumped an old American one on her. But, because on September 1, 2014, I had taken a photo of the crappy little refrigerator in the kitchen on the day we moved into her house, I could show that the old fridge she’d claimed we “dumped” on her was there the day we moved in. We could also prove the fridge wasn’t American, as it was plugged directly into the wall. American appliances have different plugs and use 110 voltage as opposed to 220.

Even though that whole situation was ludicrous, it was still very unpleasant to have to go through it. We were just looking for a place to live, and expecting our landlady to leave us in peace. Apparently, she had different ideas about what was reasonable and appropriate behavior on her part, and she expected us to simply give in to her accusations and demands.

Later, when things really started going south, former tenant was acting more like a flying monkey. I was not as aware as I should have been, and former tenant would leave comments and erase them. I’m not totally sure, but I assume she was stoking the situation– making it much worse than it needed to be. I don’t know what her motive was. Maybe she was simply getting her kicks, enjoying causing problems for us. Maybe she was jealous that we lived in Germany… or maybe she just didn’t like me, personally, or didn’t appreciate that I was a blogger instead of working at AAFES. She might have simply hated the name of my blog, assuming that I’m a narcissistic asshole just based on that. Who knows? I can’t ask her now, because she’s no longer among the living.

What I do know is that former tenant’s interference, coupled with ex landlady’s abuse, did some real damage to me. For a long time, I wondered if I should quit blogging, because she was using my blogs to stir up shit. I had legitimate trouble writing for awhile. I was feeling paranoid, and was, for a time, literally afraid to share my thoughts. It also took me months to feel comfortable in my current home, thanks to that situation with former tenant and ex landlady. I almost quit blogging back in 2019, when things got very intense and Bill decided to pursue legal action against ex landlady.

In the end, I forced myself to keep writing, even though my writing felt kind of “constipated” for awhile. I didn’t want to give those people the satisfaction of forcing me to quit what I enjoy doing. I especially wanted to send a hearty “fuck you” to former tenant, as I hadn’t planned on having an unofficial “minder” included in our rental contract when Bill signed the lease in 2014. Seriously… I don’t know why she was so determined to be involved in our business, but it was truly a bizarre situation. Maybe someday, I’ll even write a book about it. 😉

Things gradually got easier, and I eventually relaxed… I stopped engaging so much with the local military population, which made things much better. Although there are people from all walks of life in the U.S. military community, I’ve found that most of them seem to think I’m weird, annoying, or obnoxious. I am occasionally all of those things, but I don’t go out of my way to bother people. Some people want to assume that I do, though, and stir up drama, and as of 2019, I simply didn’t have the time for it anymore. I left high school in 1990, but some military folks are apparently still there, years after their graduation days.

I’ve since found that it’s much better to simply let readers find their way to me, rather than trying to promote the blog. Contrary to what people might believe, I don’t do this for “fame” or money. But I do sometimes get a little burned out… and I do worry, sometimes, that someone will get angry or upset about something and cause problems I don’t need. Dealing with former tenant reminded me that some people have alternative agendas… or are simply unhinged. So now, I’m much more cautious… and yes, sometimes I do consider whether or not writing is still worth my while.

Which brings me to today’s title…

I used to keep a Facebook page for the blog, which worked okay most of the time, but occasionally resulted in unpleasant and uninvited interactions with people who didn’t agree with my opinions and lacked the courage to comment publicly. I’d usually get those messages first thing in the morning, which would get my days off to a bad start.

Last year, when I got one too many wacko private messages from someone who didn’t even follow the blog or read what she was commenting on, I decided to delete the page. I had already deleted the blog’s contact page ages ago, mainly because people were leaving comments on things, but not including information about the content they were commenting on, which would leave me confused. A few people were also being insulting and chastising me– which, sorry, I don’t have to tolerate. If you want to leave a comment like that, you can do so publicly, so everyone can respond. And that’s only if I deign to approve the comment.

Yesterday afternoon, I received a really nice email from someone who must have been very determined to find my email address. I purposely don’t provide direct contact information on my blogs anymore, mainly because I don’t want to deal with crazies, like former tenant. Not everyone likes what I do, but some people have the wrong idea about me, and my motivations. I try to present truth as I see it, which doesn’t always make people happy. I still have the right to express myself without harassment, so long as what I write isn’t defamatory or libelous.

Making it harder to contact me directly also means that I miss out on positive feedback, like the email I got yesterday. The person wrote that she was very grateful that I had written about British gymnastics coach, Monica Phelps, and her sex offender husband, Brian Phelps. Apparently, the emailer was someone who had experience with the Phelpses, and she and others had read my post(s). And, although I don’t think I was nearly as negative about the Phelpses as I should have been in that first post, they were apparently glad someone had written something.

The crazy thing is, I wrote that first post about the Phelpses in December 2020, during the height of the pandemic. I was just bored one day, and ran across some “funny” YouTube videos someone had made about Monica Phelps and her oddly “verbal diarrhea” style of gymnastics commentating. Phelps made all kinds of appalling, shaming comments about gymnasts’ bodies. These weren’t gymnasts she was coaching, either– not that that would have been appropriate. They were simply girls and young women who were competing in the sport. Monica Phelps was comparing them to stick insects and making very belittling and insulting statements about them as they were performing very dangerous and physically demanding routines on television.

I am a singer, and I have sung in public. I know how nerve wracking that is. Adrenaline courses through the body as you face the audience, hoping you don’t forget words or your voice doesn’t crack… And yes, those things have happened to me before, and when they happen, they are mortifying. But… when you mess up as a singer, it generally doesn’t mean that you could be permanently injured or killed. Gymnasts, especially at the elite level shown on television, can really hurt themselves if they mess up. In many cases, what they’re doing is physically incredible, even if they aren’t at the level of Simone Biles or Sunisa Lee.

It was shocking to me to listen to Monica Phelps talk about what the gymnasts look like, and say some of the insulting things she said. I must admit, when I wrote that first post, I hadn’t really stopped to think about how very damaging it must have been to gymnasts who later listened to her comments. My initial reaction was laughter at the funny videos, but I admit that it should have been more like horror.

As I was completely unfamiliar with Monica Phelps in December 2020, I had no idea whatsoever that she had coached gymnasts, and that there were allegedly a lot of abuses in her facility. It wasn’t until February 2022, when I noticed a lot of hits on that first post, that I read more about Monica and Brian Phelps, and the terrible things that were alleged to have happened in their gym. I suspect that soon, there may be another huge women’s gymnastics scandal, this time originating in Britain, instead of the United States.

Yesterday, when I had “writer’s block”, I sort of took the day off of this blog, and just wrote on the travel blog. Sometimes, I need to do that, to give my brain a chance to recharge. But, as I was looking at the interaction for my latest posts, I wondered why I keep doing this… and making my writing public. Then I realized that sometimes, posts take off later, when they get tracked on Google. And I also realized that a lot of people do read and like what I do. They just don’t always take the time to say so… and there have been times when people have appreciated my efforts. I would say there are more readers like the one who contacted me yesterday than people like former tenant.

And anyway… I have always liked to write. I’ve been doing it since I was a child and had terrible handwriting that no one could read. I’ve always loved writing stories. It’s something I’m good at, and do well. It’s also easier for me to write original stuff for reading, than sing original stuff, although once my guitar skills are better, that could change.

So, I’ll keep blogging… and be grateful when anyone reads my posts, especially when they comment. I don’t even mind criticism, as long as it’s delivered in a civil manner. And thanks again to the ladies who appreciate my posts about Monica Phelps. I’ll be looking for more developments on that story, and probably writing about them.

Hopefully, some will find my efforts interesting… but I think it’s most important that I still find the work worth doing. And right now, I still do… whether you choose to read it, or not.

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family, narcissists, religion

‘Tis often a good thing to be childfree…

The featured photo is another I took of a very fragrant bush in our neighborhood, as I walked my “furkid”, Noyzi. Just so you know, it pains me to write “furkid”. He’s my baby, but I don’t think of him in that way. Guess it’s my pragmatic side.

This morning, I decided to write a travel post about our progress in booking our summer vacation. It’s not surprising to me, but traveling in Scandinavia and the surrounding areas is EXPENSIVE. And that’s pretty much what the post is about, along with the hassles of using an American credit card in Europe. I’m not trying to complain, though… I knew it was going to be expensive. We’ve been to Norway, Denmark, and Sweden before. This trip is going to be especially luxe, and it’s going to last for about sixteen days. So yeah, we’re shelling out lots of money, although I found out this morning I could have shelled out a lot less. The price of the cruise we booked last week dropped significantly this week. Such is life.

As Bill and I have gotten older, I’ve found that I have less interest in traveling on a shoestring budget. And though Bill is a lot more tolerant of being uncomfortable, he’s come aboard the luxury train with me. 😉 Seriously, though. No one can ever accuse us of not having the experience of traveling on the cheap. I once spent three days on an Armenian bus to Istanbul. Three days with no showers, no bed, and lots of outside pit stops made less painful with someone else’s vodka. I lived for two years with no hot water and, often, no electricity.

Bill has been to actual war zones. I probably don’t need to say much more about that.

So yes, although we travel more like royalty these days, we definitely punched our budget cards along the way to get to where we are. As long as we can actually afford the travel and aren’t going into debt to do it, I don’t think there’s a problem. One main reason why we can afford such travel is because we don’t own a house, nor do we pay college tuition, or for orthodontia.

And… although Bill has two daughters, they haven’t really been in our lives. That wasn’t our choice. That was a choice their mother made on their behalf, when they were still kids. Bill paid generous child support for years, and that was pretty much the only part of “parenthood” I’ve personally experienced. Since it wasn’t really my money, nor did I have anything to do with the marriage failing, or the ensuing parental alienation campaign, I can barely say it was my experience. Not having children in our lives was a byproduct of an unfortunate decision Bill made years ago, having kids with a very selfish person who loves power and revenge more than she loves her children.

Now… having stated that, I want to make it clear. Bill loves his daughters and certainly doesn’t regret having them. He just would have been better of having them with me, instead of Ex. Because if he’d had his daughters with me, they very likely would have had much better childhoods. At the very least, they’d know their father, and have a less toxic relationship with their mother. As it stands now, my husband’s older daughter is still estranged from him, and his younger daughter, who has chosen to reconnect, is getting to know us both.

My husband’s younger daughter is a very lovely young woman and a fantastic mother. I’m glad I’m getting to know her, especially since I had a very bad first impression. It turns out she’s very much Bill’s daughter, and has his kind disposition. I wish I knew her better. I wish she could have been my daughter. I would have been proud to be her mom. But she’s not my daughter, and I am not her mother.

I always wanted to have children, and expected that I would have them. But having children obviously wasn’t in the cards for me. I’m grateful that I chose not to force the issue by either having children with a person (or people) I didn’t love, or resorting to medical means to have them. I know other people have made different choices. I don’t judge them for their choices. They just weren’t choices that were good ones for me, personally.

Why am I writing about this today? It’s mainly because as I was putting the finishing touches on our vacation, I saw a couple of things on Facebook that set me to thinking. One was a rather offensive meme someone shared. She is someone from my past, who married a man with children. Their mom died a few years ago, so she’s taken over the motherhood role. Today, she shared the below photo, though the children were way beyond babyhood when she married their father.

On the surface, this seems kind of like a sweet, comforting message, until you consider that some mothers are pretty terrible people. And some people who don’t have children are pretty wonderful people. I don’t think it really has much to do with God’s choices. Instead, it has a lot to do with very human choices, some of which are good, and some of which are tragically bad.

Nothing against my friend, who has taken on quite a challenge that involved a big lifestyle adjustment. But I totally disagree with the sentiment shared in the above photo, and I find it kind of triggering. I don’t want to be offensive, though, so I’m writing about how that photo makes me feel here, instead of on Facebook. Maybe she’d be upset that I’m writing this post… but I think I’m showing her more consideration than she’s showing people like me. 😉

I consider Bill’s decision to have children with his ex wife a terrible tragedy, mainly because he’s a loving, warm, nurturing, caring, and generous man, who would have loved to have had the chance to raise his children. Instead, he was replaced by Ex’s third husband, with whom she had more kids. Today, his younger daughter is getting to know the man she was denied the chance to know when she needed him the most. That opportunity to know Bill is a saving grace, but it’s a small comfort. She should have had him in her life the whole time, whether or not I was the one “chosen by God” to be her mother.

The second part of this post is inspired by an article I read on the God page. Lately, God has mostly been sharing “Am I The Asshole” posts, but today there was an article about a woman who went viral on Tik Tok for sharing about why she’s glad she’s “childfree”. I can personally attest to the fact that being “childfree” is a pretty good thing, especially in this era of random shootings. It wasn’t what I planned for myself, but it’s not a bad way to live at all. A lot of people have children so there’s someone to look after them when they’re elderly, but there’s no guarantee that a person’s children will do that for them. And, as I pointed out, in this era of random shootings and public health emergencies, there’s no guarantee that they’ll even be around for the job when the time comes. That’s also a pretty crappy reason to have kids. People should have children because they want to be parents, and wish to love and nurture children.

Although there will always be a twinge of regret, in my case, that I didn’t get to experience parenthood, I can also state that not having children also isn’t the end of the world. I’m grateful that I’m not a very religious person, because I think messages like the one in that photo can be extremely damaging and hurtful to people who buy into the idea that children are “gifts to the ‘worthy’ from God.” Life is hard enough without people feeling like they need to prove “God’s favor” by having a boatload of children… especially if they aren’t really suited for the task of raising them.

As for younger daughter, I continue to be amazed at what a kind, patient, loving mom she is to her three children. They are lucky to have her, and I know Bill is very proud of both of his daughters, even though one of them doesn’t deign to speak to him anymore. I guess, if God was involved in younger daughter’s being here, maybe it was so she could be a great mom to her own kids. But if God had anything to do with her birth, I also wonder what she did to “deserve” having an abusive, neglectful, narcissistic mother who has a habit of making her children divorce their fathers.

Younger daughter has said that talking to her mother gives her nightmares. Did God “choose” younger daughter to endure that kind of hell, as God supposedly “chose” Ex to be her mother because she was the “best” one for the job? And looking at that message again, how does it make younger daughter feel to know that God “decided” Ex was the “best” mother for her? See what I mean? That is a very TOXIC message for MANY people whose mothers weren’t loving and nurturing.

Go on YouTube and listen to videos about what it means to be raised by a narcissistic mother. It’s an experience I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Honestly, though… I think sharing a photo like the one above could be a sign of narcissism. Ex has often mentioned how God has “smiled” on her by giving her five children, whom she has no problem using to achieve her own aims.

Below is a video H.G. Tudor posted about the potential future for Archie and Lilibet. I’m not sharing this because I think Meghan Markle is a narcissist (because while I do suspect she is, I don’t know for sure). I just think H.G. Tudor did a good job explaining what life is like for the child(ren) of a narcissistic mother.

Tsk, tsk, tsk…

And another for good measure…

Yes, this rings pretty true, too. The children are used as pawns or weapons, as the need arises. Pitiful… and unfair to everyone involved, ESPECIALLY the children.

Now… it has been pointed out to me, more than once, that Bill’s daughters are my stepdaughters. Technically, yes, it’s true that they are… or they were, anyway, before their mother (allegedly) got them adopted as adults by #3. But the reality is, I have only met them in person once, and that was twenty years ago. And really, I haven’t had the chance to be a mom figure to them, so I don’t see how I can call myself a stepmother, as opposed to their biological father’s wife.

If the meme above is true, I would hope that God would have done a better job of choosing their mother. I think a loving and just God would have picked a mother who would not have saddled her children with a parent who deliberately complicates her children’s relationships in the way that Ex has, mainly due to her own insecurities and selfish aims. Ex’s three eldest children have all changed their original surnames at least once. Former stepson had his birth name changed when he was a toddler; then it was changed again when he became an adult. Bill’s daughters’ names were changed to #3’s when they were both over 18, and younger daughter changed hers again when she married.

Am I really to believe that Ex was chosen by a loving God to do the “best” job of raising her kids? Sorry, but common sense and my ability to think logically both refuse to allow me to believe that.

Anyway, I have chores to get to, including the dreaded Thursday vacuuming. It’s time to close this post. I’m not complaining… I have a good life, and I know it. I just wish people would think a little bit longer before they share some of the things they do on social media.

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