All posts by celia

Daring not so greatly

Daring Greatly

Maybe we don’t realise how daring we are being when we write.

We just sit down and write words, don’t we? We write them in such a way as to make an entertaining story for our readers. We have a market in mind. There’s a particular women’s magazine that likes to see short stories about ordinary people with problems to face and how they overcome them. Another magazine prefers stories with a hopeful ending.

Blog readers want to read about the subject we’re known for. So we write blogs on topic and perhaps we do it with some humour and we add photos and memes and illustrations to make the whole thing attractive to the eye.

We want to connect

With our readers. With the world. We give of ourselves in our writing, not in a conscious way, I believe, but without deliberation. We are who we are and we give it. Give ourselves.  And by doing this we are exposing our vulnerabilities.

daring to be
daring to be

We give our opinions. We can’t help doing that. We don’t want to lecture but it’s almost impossible to write without giving opinions. They’re there in our writing whether we like it or not. Even when we don’t realise it, our opinions are hiding in the spaces between the words, between the lines.

My subtitle under the name of my website is ‘write from the heart’. It used to be ‘writer in Languedoc’ because I’d fallen in love with that part of France and couldn’t wait to write about it. I’d given my heart to a man and his son and moved there with them. After ten years he replaced me with another woman.

But I still love Languedoc and want to continue writing about it. I’m not strong enough to do that yet. Imagining the places I loved visiting or looking through my photographs still hurts me so I avoid it. I can’t write my Wicked Stepmother Chronicles now either because as well as losing my partner and my home, I’ve lost my stepson as well. Only insofar as I don’t get to see him everyday, though. When he comes to visit family in England he comes to see me too. So, you see, I wasn’t really Wicked. I made jokes about our differences. I gave my opinions on too many hours spent online gaming and the harm I thought it was doing. And my stepson understands this. He knows I was doing my best to help him make healthy choices. But it hurts that I can’t write either my Wednesday Vine Report or my Wicked Stepmother Chronicles because I’m somewhere else.

So today I’m writing something that isn’t hurting me.

daring courage
daring to be courageous

But it’s still from the heart. According to Brené Brown writing from the heart makes me courageous in the original sense of the word. I feel the things I write. And that makes me vulnerable. Here’s what Brené says:

She is FABULOUS. Watch all her videos. We can all learn from them. We can learn that it’s okay to be vulnerable. That it’s a necessary part of being human to feel our emotions. It saddens me that there are people who don’t have the opportunity to feel; people who are not only wearing shields or armour to protect them from their emotions but simply do not feel them in the first place. Or they experience emotions only in a shallow and fleeting way and to them vulnerability is the greatest weakness of all.

When I’m not writing posts for my website I’m writing about the people I’ve just described. I’ve known one intimately. He almost destroyed me. I thought I was weak, faulty, deficient in many ways. I was not enough of the things he wanted and too much of the things he came to despise. I know different now.

daring vulnerability
daring to be vulnerable

But I’m keeping my silence on the subject here on my website. For now. The book is coming along nicely and one day I’ll publish. Writing the book is giving me an inner strength and, encouraged by Brené Brown’s research, I know I’m doing the right thing.

daring strength
daring to be strong

It takes nerve to be vulnerable. It makes you nervous. You’re taking such risks in being human. Opening yourself to all manner of manipulation by deceitful people. But I have always been one who could cope with whatever life throws at me. I just wish it wouldn’t throw so much my way. Well, I’m still here. I’m still writing.

And now I can stop beating myself up. I’ve made my decision. I’m more informed. I’m not walking away from all the things that ‘give purpose and meaning to living’. I give of myself. It’s who I am. I want to continue loving life. I want to continue loving people.

daring to love
keep on loving

And keep on daring to be vulnerable.

FOLLOW CELIA for updates on new posts. Don’t be shy, leave a comment. Thank you for visiting. Hope to see you again soon.

Is a fairy tale your life script?

Bedtime Stories

fairy tale
the fairy tale I remember above all others

Have I been living out a fairy tale all these years? It’s possible. There’s more to these old stories than you might imagine.  You think you’re just reading an innocent, traditional tale to your youngsters? Think again. You might be inadvertently setting them on their life’s path.

The fairy tale that made me angry

I wasn’t interested in the princess in the tower, or the downtrodden kitchen girl who went to the ball.

fairy tale
wannabee princess
rapunzel fairy tale
so pretty

 

 

 

 

I wasn’t motivated by the one with seven little people or three bears or three pigs or magic porridge pots.

snow white fairy tale
someday my prince will come?

 

goldilocks fairy tale
watch out!

 

 

Not for me the fairy tale about a brother and a sister and a nasty witch in the woods, or the one about the sky falling down, or a gingerbread man, a girl only as big as your thumb or magic shoes or spinning straw into gold.

I had no hankering to be a princess. Wasn’t interested in hanging around for some prince to turn up and save me from a life of . . .whatever. Come on, I was a working class girl who had about as much chance of meeting a prince as  a Yorkshire heatwave in January. (Yorkshire girls tell it like it is. January girls know it before it happens. I’m both.)

So, the fairy tale that made me angry was Red Riding Hood.

A lesson in life kind of fairy tale

I mean, what a dirty trick! There she is, with her little basket of goodies for grandma setting off on her own through the wood. This is a good lesson in life, I suppose. After all, when it comes down to it we’re all on our own following our paths. The journey can be a bit dark and scary in places.

There doesn’t seem to be a father present in this story. It’s just the girl and her mother and mother obviously sees nothing wrong in sending the child off to grandma’s house. I can’t remember whether there’s a warning about not going into the woods, but, anyway, little Red Riding Hood is a good girl. She’s doing grandma a good turn by bringing the things in the basket. What a caring little soul she is.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing

Well, actually in this fairy tale, it’s grandma’s clothing. Now, see, this is a great lesson in life. And don’t I know it. This stuff really happens. The person you are doing your best to help isn’t the person you thought they were.

You get that?

The person you are doing your best to help is a FAKE.

Pretending to be sweet and charming. FAKE. Pretending to be needy and helpless. FAKE. Pretending to be harmless. FAKE.

Pretending to be human.

The wolf has only one thing on his mind and doesn’t care what happens to anybody else in the story. So what is little Red Hiding Hood going to do? She’s in danger. She notices that things are not quite right about grandma and tries to find out. She asks questions. The wolf deflects the child’s doubts by a stream of psychopathic word salad, all the while drawing the victim closer and closer, until . .

The Woodcutter

shows up. OH NO!

woodcutter fairy tale
to the rescue

Not a prince this time. But still, a reliable, strong male figure.

And now I’m really angry. I wanted Little Red Hiding Hood to outwit the wolf herself. Couldn’t she have choked it with the ribbons on grandma’s bonnet? Couldn’t she have smothered it with grandma’s pillow?

No. Because she is a good girl and good girls don’t do things like that. Anyway, she’s a small female and wouldn’t be strong enough. And the wolf knows this. He knows he has an easy target. Little Red Hiding Hood has to be rescued.

woodcutter fairy tale
safe at last
Applying the fairy tale to real life

Fake people exist. There are more of them than you know. Empathetic people care about other’s feelings. Fakes don’t. I believe we need these lessons in life but where do we teach them? Unless you’ve come across one of these people yourself how would you know how to recognise one? Should we have to wait until it happens before we learn what to do about it?

The sad truth is there isn’t a woodcutter out there waiting to rescue you. You have to be your own saviour.

woodcuttergirl
be your own woodcutter

Hand me my axe!

 

(This post is in response to the WordPress daily challenge)

Which fairy tale is your life story? Don’t be shy. Leave a comment.

Don’t forget to FOLLOW CELIA. You’ll get an email telling you when there’s another new post. Your email address remains private.)

Silence is a dirty Yellow

Silence is supposed to be golden. Golden implies something of worth: a treasure. And I do think of silence like that, sometimes. I appreciate the quiet of a shady forest and a few snatched silent moments with a cup of tea at home after a busy, noisy day.

But there’s a place for everything. Staying silent when you ought to speak out against a wrong is cowardly in my opinion.

silence is dirty yellow
should you always keep quiet?

I don’t like having to keep my silence. But at the moment it’s probably the best way to go. I’ve taken down some of my previous posts in an effort to do what I hope is the right thing. At this moment.

silence is the best answer
keeping it simple

Words are powerful things. And you never know how somebody else might twist your intent. Words taken out of context are tricky. It’s quite possible that someone could make it look as if you said exactly the opposite from what you intended.

It’s so hard to stay silent when you’ve so much to say.

But needs must.

silence
Oh, I have plenty to say . . .

I have to carefully consider my options. Things are afoot. The very thought of those things makes my throat tighten. My stomach churns. My guts are all in a twist. I want to shout stuff from the top of the world. I want everybody to take notice and hear me. I want them to understand.

But I have to stay silent.

silence scream
I’m screaming, I’m screaming . . .

Please know that I’m not a coward. There is a very good reason for my silence at this time. I’m taking informed advice. I have to admit, it’s good advice. I can’t have things my way. I must do what’s sensible under the circumstances.

silence not a weakness
be patient

I’m exercising more strength in remaining silent than climbing to the top of the world and screaming my head off. You cannot begin to imagine what a hardship this is for me.

But I’m trying to find the positives in my new stance.

silence instead of rage
enigmatic silence?

I’m going to be very beautiful indeed, in that case.

There are a lot of lies being bandied about. My immediate reaction is to put people straight. Why should I have to suffer in silence? Don’t I have the right to tell the truth?

Yes. But not now. And not here.

silence and lies
the silent lie

I would rather have the freedom to tell my truth. Writing, as you know, is what I do when I feel well enough. I need the cathartic effect of writing my truth and it’s been taken from me. For now.

silence and struggle
writing as catharsis

My day will dawn. This I know.

I’m good at waiting. I’ve had a lifetime’s practice.

And when that day comes I’ll break this enforced silence on the subject at the heart of all these vague references. Friends and followers, bear with me, please.

I will not be silenced forever.

(Don’t forget to FOLLOW CELIA to receive emails of new posts. Leave a comment at top of page. I’ll get back to to you.)

The Other Woman. My change of heart.

The other woman. Who is she?

Everybody knows the phrase ‘the other woman’. Those three words immediately conjure up an image in our minds. The other woman is somebody to make you jealous, isn’t she? She’s stealing your man.  When you first heard about her your insides sank. Your mouth dried. Your whole body went into shock.

other woman
how is he treating both of you?

This has to be one of the worst moments in your life. You might dissolve in tears or maybe tempted to beg. Your insides are screaming at you to get this sorted to make it go away and your head is in such a muddle you can’t remember what you’ve said.

And then you get to thinking. She must be beautiful. Surely she must be everything he wants or he wouldn’t want to be with her. You wonder how long this has been going on? Has he been lying to you for weeks, months or years? Is he also lying to her?

A pattern of psychopathy

You see a pattern in his behaviour. He has changed overnight from a seemingly caring partner to a callous, heartless creature who is enjoying inflicting this pain on you. You do some research. You discover there are people who have no conscience, no sense of what it feels like to be on the receiving end of their cruelty. They feel no remorse. No empathy. Simply speaking, their brains are not wired for emotions.

psycho brain
no connections for emotions

The front part of a psychopathic brain shows a lack of response in the area which deals with emotions. People with this brain structure cannot feel the things we feel. Much research into this field has concentrated on the violent criminal type of psychopath. But what about the ‘ordinary’ men and women who have this same brain structure? How will their psychopathy affect the people with whom they have relationships? Have children?

In a Huffington Post article from April 2013 there is more information about this surprising phenomenon.

Can this knowledge help you?

So now you have your suspicions. You always felt that something wasn’t quite right but could never put your finger on what it was. Now that you are beginning to understand, how is this knowledge going to help you in your frightening situation?

He has another woman. You know he is planning to discard you and be with her. The other woman is now a fact. You realise that if he has psychopathic traits he is most definitely lying to both of you. It’s pathological with them. It’s who they are and what they do. They manipulate, manipulate, manipulate with lies and deceit until they get what they want.

At times you find a measure of comfort in common sense. You know, maybe from past experience, what the patterns are for somebody who is a cheater. The other woman will surely, at some point, find herself in the same situation as the one you’re facing now.

other woman

You feel angry

Anger kicks in. You feel you want to strike back. He has manipulated you for years, taking what he wants, doing only what he wants, using you until he became bored with you and looked for your replacement. You try to cope with your loss. You wonder if you were more like him you wouldn’t be in so much pain. You could be cold like him. You could be heartless like him. If you were more like him you could give as good as you got.

other woman
would it help to think like this?

It doesn’t help. You are not like him. You have deeply felt emotions. You cannot switch from one to another like turning off a tap. Human beings with empathy have real, physical responses to their emotions. Their stomachs react. Their muscles react. Their chemistry reacts. People with empathy can describe these reactions. They know how it FEELS. Psychopaths/Sociopaths/Narcissists don’t. They cannot describe what they’ve never experienced.

The other woman’s feelings

So how is the other woman feeling? She must be feeling how you felt in the beginning. She is in the glow of that wonderful ecstasy of being in love. Enamoured of him. She can’t believe how so right he is for her. Like you did, she is becoming hooked on her own bodily chemical reactions. Addicted to love. She had better beware.

other woman
at some point her doubts will begin

In the light of what you’ve learned about psychopathy you may begin to feel sorry for the other woman. She has yet to find out that she’s been chosen only because of what he can get out of her. When her usefulness has been exhausted she will be devalued and discarded in a similar manner to the one you are going through now. You torture yourself with thoughts that maybe they make a better match. Maybe it really is love this time for him.

He cannot love

No it isn’t. Not in the way you think of love. He’s happy he’s getting what he wants. That’s it. That’s all there is. And then he will be bored again. He might even be casting his net already.

I did feel sorry for the other woman. For a short time. I know her. I’ve been to her house. Remember, in an earlier post I explained how I guessed right first time who she was.

She isn’t beautiful. She is novel. And bearing in mind how my ex used to complain about the standards of my housekeeping she is a surprising choice. I need say no more. She was lonely. Vulnerable. An easy target.

other woman
the facts speak for themselves

So was I. He came into my life promising all the things I longed for. Now he’s doing it to her. She can’t believe her luck in finding such a terrific guy who actually loves her!

Poor thing.

Hang on. Wait a minute. There’s something else to take into consideration here.

Warnings

People have warned me about writing my story. Friends have suggested I need to be careful how much information I make public. It could ricochet, they say. It could cause me further harm somewhere down the line. He might be able to use it against me. Etc.

I will not be silenced. Keeping quiet about it is how abusers get away with their actions. I intend to keep on writing about my experiences in the hope that others may find comfort. When you feel like a victim you also feel alone. You need the support of others who understand to help you feel like a survivor instead.

other womanThere is an excellent website with tons of support round the clock from members who know exactly what you are going through. It’s called psychopath free and it’s a global community. There will always be somebody at the other end to listen to your problems. (Edit: this website is now closed to new members but articles are still available to read)

There are more websites and blogs on the subject and I am taking my place amongst them. If people want to unfriend me on social media they must do whatever is right for them. Writing is right for ME.

A change of heart

Here is my change of heart about the other woman in my story. Do I feel sorry for her now? Not any more. I’ve had plenty of time to think.

She KNEW I was ill last year. (Edit: 2014)  She KNEW I could hardly walk when she invited me to her house. She WATCHED me struggle with the pain of my CRPS. She SAW how I needed an arm to help me negotiate steep steps.

What kind of a woman makes herself available to a man whose long-term partner is so unwell?

Lonely and desperate are no excuse.

Her behaviour is as unforgivable as his regardless of how many lies he told her. They deserve one another.

And I WILL keep on writing about it.

other woman

Feel free to share my posts with friends. FOLLOW CELIA for updates on new posts. Your email is private. Scroll to top of page to  leave  a comment and I’ll get back to you.

(Edited. Removed from public view in May 2015. Restored November 2017)

Sign up for news of my next book People Who Hurt. Publication early 2018.

Creativity block.Emotional abuse

Where’s my creativity?

(Edited) I removed this post from public view in May 2015. Now I’m in the right place to re-release it)

I have a creativity block. I’ve posted on creativity before. In the early stages of my CRPS I was in so much pain I had no energy to write fiction. Constant pain and exhaustion, not to mention medication-induced nausea, put paid to creating new short stories or plot ideas for novels. I know about physical pain.  At the time I wrote that post I didn’t know a lot about the other kind of pain.

creativity block
saps your creativity

It’s been nearly two months since the cruel discard. In that time I’m learning to cope with losing my relationship, my home, my life in my adopted country and all the friends I made there. I miss my home and my friends. I want to have my own furniture around me. (I’m still staying with friends in their home) I long for the warmth of the climate in southern France. Cool breezes in the east of England don’t help the pain of CRPS. I miss distant mountains and blue skies, Languedoc vineyards and villages. I miss writing my Wednesday Vine Report here on my website. I miss choir rehearsals on Monday afternoons with wine and gossip at the bar in Capestang afterwards.

But I don’t miss him.

His verbal cruelty killed that. His cruelly callous treatment of me has ensured I never want to set eyes on him again. I don’t miss his face. I don’t miss his voice. Both were impostors. Both were lies.

I still yearn for the way I thought it used to be even though I now know it was all a pretence on his part. I still grieve for the lost dream.

But I don’t long for him.

My personal creativity block

I long for ME. The person I used to be. The one who was excited about her writing. The one who was full of ideas and couldn’t wait to get them down.

But my brain is crammed full of unpleasantness.

writefromtheheart1
what if it’s broken?

My heart isn’t in the right place. I want rid of the nastiness so I can concentrate on healing. I think it’s going to take a long time to break the creativity block. I’m going to have to get it out of my system before I’m free. Whenever I try to free my thinking from this frustrating situation, I’m disappointed. Free thinking doesn’t last long. I keep coming back to the same old, same old that’s troubling me. It’s like banging my head against a brick wall.

creativity brick wall
if I bang my head on it enough will I break through?

Creativity needs space. Space in your mind. And in your heart. Space in your intelligence. The right side of my brain where creativity comes from is all tied up with thoughts of what am I going to do? Where am I going to live? How am I going to be able to manage on my own? Do I stay in England or go back to France? What if he continues being awkward and refuses to pay me for my half of the house in France we furnished together?

creativity
my brain is overloaded

There’s no room left for creativity. Right now all I can write about is pure non-fiction: the stranger than fiction facts that have brought me to this place in my life. Until I’ve dealt with it and feel confident I can settle into a new life I’m stuck in this dark place. Fictionless. I can’t even read any.

On the website Insights on making ideas happen by Mark McGuinness there’s a list of things to help overcome creativity block. I’m concentrating on number four.

4. Personal problems.

Creativity demands focus — and it’s hard to concentrate if you’re getting divorced/ dealing with toddlers/battling an addiction/falling out with your best friend/grieving someone special/moving house/locked in a dispute with a neighbor. If you’re lucky, you’ll only have to deal with this kind of thing one at a time — but troubles often come in twos or threes.

Solution: There are basically two ways to approach a personal problem that is interfering with your creative work — either solve the problem or find ways of coping until it passes.

For the first option you may need some specialist help, or support from friends or family. And it may be worth taking a short-term break from work in order to resolve the issue and free yourself up for the future.

In both cases, it helps if you can treat your work as a refuge — an oasis of control and creative satisfaction in the midst of the bad stuff. Use your creative rituals to set your problems aside and focus for an hour, or a few, each day. When your work is done, you may even find you see your personal situation with a fresh eye.

I can’t comply with Mark’s first suggestion. I’m unable to solve the problem. As I write, I continue to depend on the goodwill of friends to put their roof over my head. Himself simply does not care about the situation he has deliberately caused.

And so I’m going to keep on writing about it. Maybe this will help break through the creativity block.

surviving the discard
writing as catharsis

I’ve already made a tentative start to a new non-fiction book. FOLLOW CELIA to see how I progress.

Don’t be shy. Leave a comment. I’ll get back to you. Your email remains private.

Edited: Password protected since May 2015. Password removed October 2017

Creativity restored and third novel: The Sandman and Mrs Carter published on Amazon.

Sign up for news of my next book People Who Hurt. Publication early 2018

Passive aggression. Is it psychopathic?

What is passive aggression?

passive aggression
smile to your face; dagger in your back

Passive aggression is nasty. It’s what manipulative people do to hide behind. You can’t call them out on being openly objectionable. They’ll say you’re being silly; you’re looking to create bad feeling where none was intended. There you go again, over-analysing everything.

You can’t point out that they said they would do A and actually what they’ve presented you with is B because they’ll just deny saying it in the first place. You didn’t hear them properly. You misunderstood.

When they say they’ll be an hour, they’ll be all day. When they say they lost all track of the time, they’re covering up what they were really doing: being passive aggressive.

I’m no expert on psychopathy/sociopathy/narcissism. I can only speak from my own experience of being on the receiving end of confusing behaviours. I’ve still a lot to learn and, as I’m going along, I’m also learning more about myself. You’d think I’d know what was what at my age. It’s embarrassing to have to admit I’ve been duped into putting up with unacceptable behaviours for 10 years. I guess the old saying rings true: there’s no fool like an old fool.

But when you’re targeted at my age chances are you’ve been selected by a dysfunctional person who has had a lot of practice in duping partners. He’s a master. He’s learned which buttons to press. He has all his answers and excuses on the tip of his tongue. He knows which ones will work with you. For him, it’s a power game. He’s letting you know who is in charge here. He’s only ever going to do only what he wants to do. Don’t try to insist he does something that isn’t on his agenda. He’ll find enough displacement activities to last till this time next year. And don’t ever try to stop him from doing something he’s decided to do. Or you’ll be punished. But not in ways you’d expect.

passive aggration
you have to know how to recognise it

Always being late is a classic passive aggressive behaviour. Procrastination is his middle name. Promises? Forget ’em. He’ll dodge those promises and keep on ducking and diving all the while making it look as though you’re the one being unreasonable. And all the time he’s doing this he’s making it look to everybody else as if he’s the ideal partner, loving and kind. In reality, he is unable to form an emotional connection with you. He cannot deal with any problems in your relationship. He would rather simply walk away.

He forgets things ‘by mistake’. There might be a half-hearted apology but it won’t be sincere. Your personal belongings may go missing or even be broken and it’s such a small thing, isn’t it, why should you make a fuss over it? It’s just a glass candlestick – he didn’t see it there on the shelf. It’s only an ornament; you could always get another.passive aggression

If he feels slighted by you he will hold a grudge forever. Again, you will be punished. You might get the silent treatment. Either he completely ignores you or gives a one word answer. He will withdraw all intimacy between you. He is a sulking child who doesn’t know how to deal with adult differences in a grown-up way. Maybe he can’t cope with a real woman like you. Maybe he really needs a mother.passiveaggro5

 

Personal examples

In my previous post I wrote about the watering system that went into someone else’s garden rather than our own. I’d waited years for that to go into our own garden. He won a triple-dupe on that one by scoring ‘nice-guy’ points with a neighbour and being paid for the work at the same time as letting me down.

There’s a pretty resort I’d always wanted to visit just down the coast from where we lived. Every time we made arrangements to go something else would come up. There was always something he had to do first. That something would take the whole morning and then it would be too late to make the journey and be back in time for my stepson coming home from school. I never got to visit that place.

When he broke anything it was always just an ‘accident’. Except that it wasn’t. The things he broke were always items important to me. The glass candlestick was the one I’d bought to have on the table at the gathering after my mother’s funeral. If I had a favourite coffee cup it would be knocked against something and chipped. Another glass candle holder was the one my sister bought for me. He’d ‘accidentally’ spill chemicals on new bed linens I had bought. Drop china dishes and so on.

I had a Fire Dragon.

Duncan the Dragon
Duncan the Dragon

He sat on top of the log burner breathing his scented smoke. My sister bought him for me.

Nobody knows how he got broken. N said perhaps his son had knocked him over with his school bag. I don’t think so. What did I do? I wrote a short story featuring a broken ornament and how the ensuing ‘fix’ helped glue a troubled family back together. I sold the story to a UK women’s magazine.

Magazine artwork by Jane Stone
Magazine artwork by Jane Stone

When I look back at the time I was writing those words, I know now how much wishful thinking was going into it. The broken ornament was real: the hopeful ending was what I wish could have happened in my own life.

Why didn’t I act on my feelings? Why didn’t I read him the story and then tell him this was how I wished it could be for us?

Because he wouldn’t have cared. Actually, he wouldn’t have understood. There would have been another of those confusing conversations where I felt I had to explain human emotions to him. I knew there was no point. I was already conditioned to accept the way things were. His way.

I bet he was pissed off I’d turned a negative event into a positive and earned myself some money by selling the story. He wasn’t proud of my writing achievements. Never said so. He liked to tell me how well other people were doing instead.

Passive aggression is covert bullying

passive aggression
covert bullying

Look at the words in the illustration:

I could go through each one and give examples of how I tried to cope with all of them. N deployed each and every one, always shifting the goal posts so I never knew how I was supposed to react. I must have done the right thing most of the time: we were together 10 years. But as my usefulness wore out, particularly after my accident, communication became even more strained.

I changed tactics. I didn’t engage at all. I agreed with everything he said and walked away. Of course, I didn’t know he had his eye on his new woman to replace me so it wouldn’t have mattered what I did. There was only ever going to be one ending: the full discard with all its cruelty and callous tormenting.

passiveaggro1

The strange thing is I hardly care about the other woman. I guessed who it was straight away. I’d seen how she looked at him; knew she was available to him. In some ways I feel sorry for her. She has just what he needs next: someone to help him through his poor language skills. She’ll be able to get him into the foreign social security system. Maybe she has some money. She’d better be careful with that. When he has got from her what he wants the devalue stage will begin.  I hope she doesn’t persevere for 10 years like I did.

I wouldn’t want him touching me ever again now I know what he’s capable of.

But I do care about my stepson. I wouldn’t have walked out on him had I not been forced. The most terrible thing that can happen to a young child had already happened: his mother had died when he was only three years old. Now he’s sixteen and he knows the truth of what his father has done. And he knows it isn’t my doing that I had to leave. I hope to continue a relationship with him but it won’t be easy hearing about what his father is doing.

So is this passive aggression linked with psychopathy? Not all passive aggressive people are psychopathic but I think passive aggressive behaviours are one of a psychopath’s tools to manipulate their victims.

I should have made a stand right at the beginning. I should not have tolerated it. I deserve better.

disrespect(to be continued)

Don’t be shy. Leave a comment. Share your thoughts. FOLLOW CELIA for an email telling you when I post again. Your email address remains private.

(Edited. Removed from public display in May 2015. Restored November 2017)

Sign in for news of my next book People Who Hurt. Publication early 2018.

After the discard. How to get beyond it.

What can you do after the discard? Not a lot. It’s impossible to think straight let alone make any decisions. You are in a state of shock. You can hardly put a sentence together. How are you supposed to begin planning the rest of your life?

How the discard affects you

discard

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know why this is happening to you. You tell your closest friends and they look at you as though you’re the one telling lies. In your head you go over and over things said and done, looking for something, anything that might have made a difference to the way it’s turned out.

He’s always been so charming, hasn’t he? So affable. So helpful. Hasn’t he always been more than willing to drop everything and go rushing to someone else’s aid? In my case, N went to fix somebody else’s hot water problems when our own water was actually turned off waiting for him to finish the job he’d started at home. The garden watering system we’d bought to save me from lugging heavy watering cans went into somebody else’s garden – work that he was paid for – money that went into his own pocket.

But for me it’s not about the money. It’s about being relegated again. My own needs and desires were always pushed so far down his priority list they dropped off the bottom and were forgotten. It was much more important to him to impress somebody else, even a stranger, rather than complete his responsibilities at home.

And I allowed it to continue. I accepted that was how he chose to be. I put my own needs on the back burner rather than create a fuss. I didn’t know this was typical of the devalue stage of his planning.

His public face

This is so important to him. You’ve no idea the lengths he’ll go to protect it.

psycho

N did not give to charity. N did not drop a coin or two into a collection box. N had no sympathy for people who had fallen on hard times.

But he volunteered to  transport equipment to and from a local cancer support drop- in- centre once a month. Actually, not as a true volunteer – he was paid for it. Again, money that went into his own pocket.

But didn’t the ladies think he was wonderful! So helpful. So kind.

Now that I know what I know, I bet he was scouting for his next target, looking for a suitable and useful person to supply him with his own needs.

How he plans the discard

Make no mistake; he plans it. He might not have a long-term plan for the rest of his life in mind, but he plans your discard with precision. Especially when it comes to his precious finances.

This is from Linda Martinez-Lewi   Ph.D. clinical expert

Narcissistic spouses are irritated and disgusted with spouses who are ill, have injuries or chronic physical problems. This cramps their style and doesn’t suit their high flying energy. Besides, it’s dreadful for their grandiose image. In many instances they find another partner and quickly plan to replace the spouse who has psychological or emotional problems or is going through a painful illness. Narcissists are without mercy or empathy. It is not part of their psychological makeup. After the divorce the spouse in great need and crisis is quickly abandoned like a piece of paper flying in an errant wind. Often there are no warnings that this individual is going to be abandoned and left without financial resources that have been purposely depleted by the narcissistic spouse.’

Here’s a link to Linda’s  website: where you’ll find lots of information about this type of non-personality.

Remember when my son came to visit in January? In my previous post I wrote about N’s crocodile tears recalling the day I was knocked down by a car.

He had already put into place his plan to discard me.

He had already opened up a new bank account in his name only ready to transfer funds he was planning to remove from our joint account. As he sat there, lying to my son, he knew it was only going to be a matter of days before he dropped the bombshell.

So what were the sobs about? Who knows? Maybe he was feeling sorry for himself. He certainly wasn’t feeling sorry for me. Perhaps they were tears of relief that soon his ordeal would be over. He’d had to stand by me, hadn’t he, during my period of recovery? Had to keep that public face in place. There was no way he could have discarded me when I was in such a state. What would people have thought of him? No. He’d had to wait a whole year. Another whole year pretending to be the caring partner looking after someone who could give him no supply because she was so tied up with herself.

From April 2014 I attended a day clinic for my CRPS. During that time I tried to remain positive. I had 4 months of non-stop treatments for which I’m eternally grateful to the French health system. When I returned home at 4pm I’d be so exhausted I had to go to bed and sleep.

I believe he was lining up his new supply then. While I was recovering from my injuries he was worming his way into someone else’s heart. He didn’t need to do much persuading. She was lonely. She must have felt flattered that he was showing interest in her.

How he chooses his next supply

Rule 1: She must have something he needs.

Rule 2: There are no other rules.

It isn’t about what she looks like. It isn’t about her age. It’s all about him and what he needs next.

It might be her money if he’s used up all yours. It might be her connections if he’s isolated you from all yours. It might be her health and energy if you’re ill. Whatever the reason, it won’t be because of love. He doesn’t give love. He doesn’t know what it is.

One breath at a time

So much has happened to you in such a short time. You are still struggling to come to terms with the speed with which you were cast aside as though you never existed.

But people break up all the time, don’t they? Relationships do fail. These things happen. But not this way. Not with all those cruel remarks. Not with callous disregard of your feelings. Not waving his happy, new life under your nose while planning to take away your dignity, your home, your relationships with other members of his family and your friends. Not leaving you without adequate funds to organise your removal from his life and his bullying. This way is not normal.

Decent human beings show some compassion for the one they no longer love. It hurts them to hurt you. They feel a sense of loss too. Maybe they feel a little guilty if they’ve deceived you. Perhaps they have regret too for the dream that died.

Sociopaths/Psychopaths/Narcissists feel none of these things.

noemotionsTake one breath at a time. That’s how to get through the next minute, the next hour, the next day.

Recovery is a long way off yet. Give yourself time. Allow your feelings to have voice.wherehaveIgonewrong(to be continued)

If you FOLLOW CELIA you’ll get an email whenever I post a new article. Don’t worry, your email address remains private. Leave a comment if you wish. I hope by sharing what is currently happening to me, others may find some comfort.

(Edited. Removed from public view in May 2015. Restored November 2017)

Sign up for news about my next book People Who Hurt. Publication early 2018

A green eggs and ham experience. Coincidence?

You remember green eggs and ham?  My kids loved Dr Seuss stories. So did I. Here’s a kids’ video clip to remind you.

 

Sam pestered so much for his friend to try green eggs and ham that in the end . . . what do you know? The lesson is this: you have to try things before you can say you don’t like them.

Green eggsand ham
sometimes you have to try things

My own green eggs and ham experience

I’m coming to it. What has this to do with writing fiction? And green eggs and ham? Yes. really, I’m coming to it.

Recently I met two new people.  When I learned what they used to do my jaw dropped. One was a consultant medical neuro-pathologist. One used to be a truck driver.

This is how the conversation went with the retired consultant.

She: There’s a lot of current research into mild brain injuries. Even one trauma can have repercussions.

Me: Really? What kind of repercussions?

She: A whole host of pain-related conditions.

Me: How about transient global amnesia?

She: You know about that?

Me: Yes. I had a bizarre episode last August when I forgot everything.

She: What had happened to you before?

Me: I was knocked down by a car and banged my head on the ground. I broke bones, too. Now I’ve got CRPS. They call it algodystrophy here.

Trust me. We’re getting to the green eggs and ham bit.

This fabulous woman explained to me what had been happening in my brain. Eight months later, at a time of stress, my brain said Enough. It shut me down. Made me sleep. Afterwards, I forgot the forgetting.

Her explanation in simple terms put me in a different place. I felt relieved. There was a reason this amnesia had happened to me. What a superb coincidence I met her.

I had a lovely conversation with the truck driver, too who I met while he was walking his dogs. He has loads of tales to tell. Adventures. Characters. Places. Unusual goods. I’m plotting Book Two of Trobairitz – my female truck driver. I’d been hoping to take myself up to the truck stop nearby on the motorway and eavesdrop snatches of conversation, even ask questions outright. But I have problems driving since my injuries. Now I have a trucker right on my own doorstep. What another superb coincidence.

How come these two people suddenly arrived in my life?

Coincidence?

Here we go. This is it. The green eggs and ham moment.

In fiction I cannot abide coincidence. It riles me no end. So much so, I was inspired to write my own little ditty. Apologies to Dr Seuss.

Coincidence

In future, past or present tense

We do not like coincidence.

We do not like it, Cee or Mick.

We think it is an author’s trick.

 

They do it when they’re in a spot.

They do it to support a plot.

They usually do it in the middle.

It is deceit. It is a fiddle.

 

The hero hides behind a door.

Hears facts he never knew before.

Clues she left upon the bed. Duh!

Something missing in the shed. Duh!

 

Coincidence along the street.

Convenient strangers characters meet.

Authors must know it is a ‘fou’.

But do not know what else to do.

 

It walks and quacks just like a duck.

We do not want it in a book.

We do not want it in our fiction.

It is a cop-out, causing friction.

 

It is not good. It is not clever.

We’d ban coincidence forever.

And yet, and yet, we do declare

Coincidence is everywhere.

 

We do not like it when we’re reading.

But it fills the life we’re leading.

No easy-outs in fiction stuff.

In Life, we like it well enough.

 

Plots and story lines that rely too much on coincidence annoy me. But the truth is, coincidence does happen in real life. Maybe it’s time for me to try it in my fiction. It’s my own, personal green eggs and ham.

But I think I’ll try it in a short story first.

What do you think about the use of coincidence in fiction?

                                                                                      

 

 

 

January Girl. Another year on . . .

I’m a January girl. Those who are also January girls will know it’s not easy. Maybe it’s different in the southern hemisphere. Perhaps January girls in Australia have barbecues or go to the beach or both. Write and tell me. I’d like to know. In my half of the world January birthdays slip by unnoticed. You get used to that. That January girl feeling inspired me to write a story about it.

January Girl is the title of one of my short stories.

I submitted this particular short story some time ago to a women’s magazine but they didn’t go for it. Too sad. Too quirky. Not their thing.

But I am a January girl so I didn’t give up on it. I made it sadder still and just a bit weirder and I liked it better than before. It still isn’t right for a women’s magazine but it has found its place. More about that later.

You see, January girls have a lot to put up with. For a start who actually enjoys January? (excepting southern hemisphere)

January blues
waiting for spring?

It’s cold. It’s probably wet. Nobody’s interested in the January girl’s birthday and, anyway, they haven’t got any money left after Christmas and New Year. Birthdays in the middle of the month before the next pay cheque comes in are a bummer. Too close to Christmas and people give you one package and say,

‘This is for Christmas AND your birthday.’ They deliver it with bright eyes and a smile that says I know you won’t mind and you’re too polite to tell them they’re a tight-wad and how would they like it if you did the same to them in May or August?

January is full of disappointments. But January girls are made of stern stuff. We inherit some of our steel backbone and the rest is picked up as we go along.

January girl
when the going gets tough . . .

The January child learns to wear layers, literally and metaphorically. No wonder it can take a long time to get to know the real person underneath. I got to thinking about whether there were January people who had overcome their years of disappointing Januaries and made it to the top.

What a surprise.

Famous January birthdays

Where do I begin?

I used to watch a television programme called Golden Girls. I loved it. It ran from 1985 to 1992. Remember the theme tune?

I was in my thirties at the time. Forties by the time it finished. Now I’m old enough to be one of them. Here are some clips.

 

 

I loved ditzy Rose.  I looked her up.

Betty White – birthday  January 17th. Day after mine. Well, what d’ya know? I liked her spacey humour.

January quote
words of wisdom

Were there any January writers? I wondered.

How about J.R.R. Tolkein – January 3rd. Isaac Asimov – January 2nd. Jack London – the 12th. Anne Brontë – the 17th. Wilbur Smith – January 9th. A.A.Milne -the 18th. Edgar Allan Poe – the 19th – master of dark and creepy tales.

I’m on a roll now. How about January people connected with music, my other love? I already knew about Elvis on January 8th. Who else?

Janis Joplin – 22nd January. Rod Stewart – 10th January. Eric Whitacre whose choral work I’ve performed with our choir -his birthday is January 2nd. ( now I know why he loves minor keys) and the composer and celebrated conductor Simon Rattle – January 19th.

While we’re on the subject of music, last year I was looking for a song to sing in French at a local gathering. I came across Les Chemins de l’amour by Francis Poulenc. I’d never heard of Poulenc but I loved the song immediately. There’s an inherent wistfulness in the melody that spoke to me on first hearing. Perfect for the occasion.

If only I sang as well as Ms Véronique Gens. Well, the audience liked my interpretation. And the composer Francis Poulenc? Birthday – January 7th. Ah, that accounts for why I was attracted to him then. He probably learned how to wear layers, too.

What other fields feature January babies?

How about Muhammed Ali January 17th, Lewis Hamilton -7th, Michael Schumacher -3rd, Jenson Button -19th, Jim Carrey -17th.

Other famous January battlers include Joan of Arc and Robert E Lee.

Stephen Hawking’s birthday is on the 8th January. Wow. How tough is that guy?

There’s Sir Isaac Newton and Louis Pasteur and Benjamin Franklin and Louis Braille and James Watt all who were January babies.

There was Al Capone and Rasputin as well but we won’t talk about them.

Jeff Bezos. Now there’s a name to conjure with. January 12th. How about selling some more of my books, Jeff? They are all on Amazon.

So how about my own birth date? January 16th. Who shares that?

James May -January birthday
Top Gear’s top man.

James May. Bless. I think he’s adorable. He doesn’t know he shares my birthday.

I’ll leave you with a few words from Martin Luther King born on January 15th .

January quote

Little by little. Step by step. Keep going.

January quote

And my short story January Girl? It’s going in my next collection of short stories Queer as Folk to be published in spring. You hear that, Jeff?

Thank you for reading my Random Thoughts blog page here on my website. Stay awhile and read some more. Drop me a line. I’d love to hear from you.

Keep warm and stay well . . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday Vine Report Languedoc January 2015

The Vine Report is back.

Serignan tornado damage
picture from local press of tornado damage

Regular readers of my Vine Reports will know I’ve been out of commission throughout 2014 since I was knocked down by a car. I’m walking better now and eager to get out there with my camera. I may not make the vine report every week but I should be able to manage at least one a month. Bear with!

A new year of vine reports begins.

Autumn rainstorms saw widespread flooding and a mini tornado in Serignan causing several fatalities. In Lamalou flash floods dashed cars against the famous arches at the entrance to town. They’re still clearing up.

Lamalou floods2014
picture from Getty images of Lamalou flood 2014

Im Montpellier the beautiful boulevards flooded and throughout the department of Hérault there was damage and destruction. It seemed the rain would never end.

Himself and I are lucky to live in a protected position but many of our neighbours had to pump out their cellars.

Montpellier floods 2014
flooded avenue in Montpellier

Vineyards were inundated as the earth became waterlogged. Many areas were completely inaccessible as water poured from the fields onto the lanes. Villages were completely cut off.

vine flooded
vines flooded and roads blocked

Winter arrived and brought with it clear skies and temperatures you’d be glad of on an English summer day. We’ve recorded 23 degrees in the shade recently on our terrace. The vineyards dried quickly.

Pruning is in progress

Wine growers are making the most of this temporary warm spell.  We all know the winter winds have yet to arrive – the ones that stab you in the back and make your eyes water. We need the cold spells. The vines need them. Too prolonged an unseasonal warm spell and there’s a danger the vines will wake from their winter rest. We don’t want the sap rising too soon. We want the vines’ energy kept in the roots. These sugars act as a kind of antifreeze against winter chills. We very rarely get prolonged extreme cold. Winters are short-lived here in our coastal hinterland vineyards.

So, how are the vines looking this week? I took a short walk to find out.

Vines January 2015
Mademoiselle Merlot’s vineyard

Remember Mademoiselle Merlot? Here she is with her companions resting under winter sun. Next door the vines are already pruned.

Vines January2015-2
all neat and tidy

It’s hard to believe these gnarled old sticks will produce my favourite Languedoc rubies.

Winter housekeeping gets vines ready for their new season’s growth and freshens up their sleeping quarters.

VinesJanuary2015-3
this is the way we want you to grow!

I enjoyed my brief venture into the vineyards. But I mustn’t overdo it. Little by little is the way forward. If these old girls can keep on coming back – so can I!

I’ll leave you with a picture of the vineyard nearest my home and one of the way we celebrated our new year here in Languedoc.

VinesJanuary2015-4
hillside vines
fish and chips
fish and chips from the van

A taste of Blighty! With lots of vinegar.

If you’d like to know when I post new vine reports don’t forget to FOLLOW CELIA. You’ll get an email to tell you. Your email address remains private.

Thank you for reading my Random Thoughts blog page here on my website. There’s a lot more to read.  Add a comment. You’re very welcome.

Cheers!