Soooo….

I wake up to find a text on my phone.  From the Toxic Parent, who simply adores tossing me under the bus and has done so since the second grade when she stole me.  Yes, you read that right.  She kidnapped me from the safety of my father.  Why?  SHE says “you said you LOVED me!” and “you said you MISSED ME!”  Uh, I was in the second grade.

The second grade.

Now, with the clarity of hindsight I realize the reason she did this was because, as she says, “I’LL DO ANYTHING TO KEEP A ROOF OVER MY HEAD!”  What that meant was kidnapping me, so she could leverage “child support” from my father–did I ever mention that I was so hungry that I would sometimes palm kibble from the dog kennel two streets away to eat during the day–and to feed the pedophile’s pathology.  See, if he stayed in the house then he’s pay into the mortgage/rent.  And, heck, they’re just pictures.  They don’t hurt her.  Just ignore the bruises and the way I tear at my eyelashes….

But back on track.  In June, again she tossed me under the bus to feed her pathology.  There I am, overnight at two airports, with no way to feed myself.  You see, she’d stopped a check she told me to deposit.  Before I left, I told her I couldn’t just run down to a bank that a) I had no account with to cash it and b) it wasn’t written from that bank.  I said I’d put it back onto her cc when I got back in town.  (required school journey.)  She said “Okay” and “we’ll handle it when you get home.”  Then, suddenly, on my way back from the trip and my bank account is overdraft because I’d used a few dollars to buy a bottle of water and snacks during my overnight stay at the airports.  (My sin, apparently, was that I hadn’t BEGGED before using it.)  So, I had no money to ride the train back home from the airport.  Oh, and I hadn’t shopped before I left town.  So, no food at home and, now, no way to get any since I was suddenly overdraft by $75.00.  Yeah, you read it right.

Her reasoning?  It ran the gambit from “You already had food money from your uncle” to “I never said to deposit it” to “and what about what YOU did?”  So, yeah, suddenly I’m a liar and a thief and, unsurprisingly, hungry for three days before my friends heard about it and took me to the grocery store.  Yeah, you heard right.

Pissed, I vented on my facebook page.  MY FACEBOOK PAGE.  And true to form, just as I said, here came her hens to peck at me.  (HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE ME!)  Basically, the blasphemous AntiChrist who torments the pure and perfect saint.  I lost it.  I severed ALL contact.  ALL CONTACT and found myself back in therapy.  SHE and her hens will not beat me down.  “It’s better to reign in Hell than to serve in Heaven,” no?

I sent her a text message July 4th and told her that my friends have taken me shopping and I now had food.  Nothing back.  Was I surprised?  No.  I’m sure she enjoyed her trip to Catalina Island with Queen Enabler, ol’ Rev Cribbs, and had a grand old time with the $125.00 check she stopped, not to mention the (I’m guessing) laughter knowing that I was now $75.00 in the hole for DARING to use money in my account WITHOUT BEGGING to use it.

My therapist called it “financial abuse.”

These days, I’m determined to move on with my life.  It’s the year 2014, it’s last days, and things are going well for me.  With the help of good friends I recovered from the financial abuse games as well as am, now, a year from graduating with my M.F.A.  More, my Seton Hill thesis sold and is now on the shelves.  (B. Thatcher Futuristic Romance wordpress, “Catching Her Balance.)  All is good.  I won’t go back there again.  All contact severed and my life in reparation, and successfully so.

Then today, a text on my phone.  From That Person.  Just a line or two.  “My surgery went okay.  Recovery is about an hour.”  Wait…what?  Christ on the Cross, that person is a narcissistic ass.  Was I supposed to blow the past off and come flocking back to kiss her toes and cry “PRAISE GOD!” that her kidney stone treatment was successful?  Yeah, you read right.  That’s the lunatic pathology I lived with since the second grade.  No more.

“I’m DONE!” she shouted via text when I called her on her crap in June while stuck at the airport.  Yep, she is.  If I knew how to sever the genetic link I would.  If I could erase myself from her awareness I would.  Sadly that’s not the case.  But what I am is Taking Me Back.

She stole my future when she abducted me.  I’m taking my future back.  I’m taking ME back.  Pat Benatar said it well.  Enjoy.

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