Not Sold In Stores: My Digital Drive By Collection

Lookback Period

As anyone who has ever gone through a rough emotional time will tell you, one of the first things a counselor or psychologist will tell you to do is journal.

It’s part of Counseling 101, and apparently all psych students have to take that course first. That’s where they teach them to tell us “Get all your feelings in writing—even if you burn the paper or delete the file immediately afterward.”

Well, the first time I went back (and it was years later) and reviewed the journals I’d written right after my husband left, I found myself shaking my head and musing, “Oh, my word! Did I actually come out and say that?!” I do have to admit that it was a very entertaining exercise.

So much time had passed since I wrote those first raw essays that I found it humorous that I’d even had such thoughts—let alone documented them in writing—and finally went on to totally forget all about them.

But, Oh The Humor Of Rewriting …

Once I sat dawn and started reviewing/editing those old notebooks, it was like another exorcism of latent demons. That process was extremely cathartic in that I freely vented so many bottled-up emotions.

I expounded on the framework I’d started way back then, but this time I unabashedly expressed my unfiltered points of view. Points of view not only about my ex, but also about all the flying monkeys that my abuser enlisted as vicarious minions over the years.

Naturally, my husband’s very public and humiliating ghosting of our marriage wounded my pride. For a few years I cared about what people thought of me, and therefore I hid like a good obedient narc target. Doing this allowed Casper & The She Devil to define the narrative unhindered.

Those days are gone. The naive little me that people think they once knew is long gone. She grew up and located her big girl britches that had been packed away with her sarcasm and humor in all those moving boxes.

Webster’s Dictionary defines a digital drive-by (aka driving past someone’s house) as:

  • When you’ve ‘got someone’s number’ and you lampoon them with sarcasm and satire in short quips and verbal barbs in digital media.
  • Synonyms: satirize; mock; parody; tease.

A Word Of Warning 

All I can say is “Bob and weave, don’t get hit’. But as a public service, I am issuing a blanket warning to all who may eventually read my blog.

WARNING:

If you’re a delicate hot-house plant and you do not have the ability to laugh at yourself and/or your past mistakes, then you probably need to exit this site—like, right now because I nail a bunch of things [and a lot of people] to the cross with merciless satire.

But you can relax a little because the person I parody most notably is myself—over my former ignorance and my plethora of mistakes.

Weapons Check

So the bottom line here boys and girls, is that you’re going to need to put your sensitivities up on the shelf and shove your defensiveness guns back into their holsters. No ‘please-do-not-to-offend-the-narc‘ political correctness will be found anywhere on this site.

Now before sweat beads pop out on your pretty little foreheads and your faces start to get red … take a chill pill. Everyone can kick back and relax; there’s no need to worry. My mother raised me the right way.

So, although the folks I write about here absolutelypositively deserve a whopping dose of public humiliation, I do use a whopping dose of restraint. [Sometimes.] Giggle. Giggle. And to that end, I have intentionally omitted using anyone’s real names.

So who am I writing about here in this blog, you might ask? Well, like the old southern American colloquialism says: “What’yall say we skip that chapter and make it a mystery?” LOL

Too Tired To Speak Up

In short, this blog is for my edification and entertainment. To date, I have not publicized all the details of the drama, but I am now starting to post links on my social media accounts as I edit things.

So if you happen across anything I write and get anonymously offended—sorry about your luck, pumpkin.

I was in pain for quite a long time and, regrettably, until I healed, that intractable pain of narcissistic abuse took center stage. In other words, I allowed my depression to sap my energy and creativity. I allowed it to rob me of my innate spit and vinegar. There were way too many times that I did not speak up for myself. In other words, I let way too many things slide. No more. The worm has turned.

Back At Ya  

In other words, just because I never said anything when all the piling on and smear campaigning was going on, did not mean that I was oblivious to what was being done and said.

Let me be even more clear on this matter so there is no misunderstanding. Know this: all the games, the posturing, and the orchestrated character assassination along the way did not go unnoticed.

What’s that old saying about laughing? He who laughs best, laughs what? … Yes … laughs last. Yes-sir-ee Bob! This whole ‘Ordeal’ has been a real knee-slapper for me and now it’s your turn. Sort of like that line from the the old classic scary movie:

‘I know who you are … and I saw what you did.’ 

But once again … I remind you: relax and breathe. I’ll reiterate that I don’t use anyone’s real names. I don’t even write under my own real name, so everyone’s safe. I’m going to  leave it up to you all to wonder who I’m talking about as you read my posts and watch my videos.

As Pooh said, “Think … Think …. Think …”

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