Chapter 20

As usual, Chuck just keeps on spouting his venom. He knows I can see these.

July 04

That's my landlady, an illegal in my country, town and life . .

Took her 2 years to finally get me to live on her property, now kicking me out because I refuse to marry her to maker "legal"

Four years it took me to figure out her lack of empathy for the rest of her species

Uses people, then throws them away.

In five years that I have known her, I've seen no communication from her family and friends

She "charmed" me with promises of employment and a place to stay "forever"

"Forever" lasted about 8 months, and she has thwarted my attempts to even move away by increasing my living costs - interfering with friendships of decades, and disconnecting power- hard to even have a proper diet without a fridge/freezer.

In my 58 years of living, I have been taken advantage of many times, as I tend to treat every person on "face" value - not judge them by their sex, race, religion, work history, whatever.

She is definitely the worst human I have known in my whole life.

One thing though, she has guaranteed that she will be forever remembered.

Right up there with Gee Dubya

ponder that

July 10

Long story short -

I'm now living in a trailer on the same property - no electricity, no running water - and she either poaches my friends, or scares them away.

I remember MANY times in our initial conversations, on the web, and on the phone of disconnecting with her for my perception of inconsideration -

that's a polite word

insanity would be a better one.

I should have trusted my instincts 5 years ago -

heck I'm 59 years old

I never hung up or disconnected on ANYBODY before her

but sociopaths are masters of deception.

I remember a young girl of 14 that I was dating when I was 15 years old.

She said "Chuck- you're gonna have a hard life You're too gullible"

I wonder if she had any idea how right she was

Sociopath's are very good at making problems seem "Your fault"

At 59 - I'm surprised I got fooled - well,. I was 54 at the time - the people I introduced her to to try to make her a part of the community are no longer MY friends.

"possession" is part of a sociopath's personality

they don't like to "share"

By this time I had leaned all about a condition called narcissistic personality disorder, npd for short. Now, there are many websites about this horrible disorder and all the things that have happened to people who get in relationships with these types, so I'm not going to try to reinvent the wheel. My hope here is that someone will read this and recognize the behavior, then take appropriate steps to protect themselves. Or maybe someone has already been devastated by such a relationship and will find some helpful information about how to survive afterward.

I'll just offer some of the basic descriptions of the disorder. Goodness knows these red flags waved at me from the very beginning of our relationship, but I had no idea that they were warning signs of such serious danger.  

• An exaggerated sense of self-importance and belief there is nothing they cannot do. Believe they are special, unique, and therefore misunderstood.
• They require excessive admiration. If you don't give it to them, you are not worth their time.
• A sense of entitlement. They think, “I know I'm right, I don't care what anyone else thinks!”
• Selfishly take advantage of others to achieve their own ends. “You’re just lucky I chose you.”
• Lack empathy.
• Often envious of others or believe that others are envious of them.
• Show arrogant, haughty, patronizing, or contemptuous behaviors or attitudes.
  

Many people describe the eyes of a narcissist when he is in a rage, swearing they seem to turn black. Other times, they just seem to be flat and empty, like there is not actually a living being behind them.

 

They frequently employ a type of control called gaslighting. They deny having conversations you know occurred. They turn conversations into never-ending arguments that seem to go around in circles, until you finally just give up. Nothing is resolved and the arguments become more and more frequent, and more and more confusing.

I had some problems with my well pump one time and I asked him for help. He had installed it for me a few years prior. He spent about 5 minutes and got it working again and asked me for $20. He took it and went home, then came back 10 minutes later and started yelling and accusing me of stealing plumbing parts from him. I had no idea what he was talking about. I don't “do” plumbing and hadn't been down in the basement since the pump installation. Evidently he left some things there at the time. I tried to explain that and told him to take whatever he thought was his. But he just told me I was delusional and then he stormed away.

Narcissistic personality disorder is believed to be brought about by parents who do not value their children, so the children have to create their own reality in order to cope; then they never grow out of it. It's very sad, really. Once they grow up there is no pill or therapy available to make this go away. Plus there's the fact that since they think they are perfect, there's no way they will ever admit that they need help. They might admit they are a little depressed or something and get a bit of therapy, but in no time at all they are cured and back to being their perfect selves.

A personality disorder is not the same as a mental illness. A mental illness (schizophrenia, for instance) can be treated, with varying degrees of success, with medications and/or therapy. Most mental illnesses are caused by brain cell synaptic disruptions, which are believed to be genetic in origin. I've read about many people who are bipolar and as long as they take their meds, their symptoms subside and they feel and act relatively normal.

A personality disorder, on the other hand, is all pervasive. The DSM-IV describes a personality disorder as “an enduring pattern of inner experience and behavior that deviates markedly from the expectation of the individual’s culture, is pervasive and inflexible, has an onset in adolescence or early adulthood, is stable over time, and leads to distress or impairment.”

Having a relationship with a narcissist eventually starts to feel like you have been hit by an emotional truck. You find yourself flat on the ground with tire tracks across your heart and shattered glass in your finger tips. The hardest part is realizing you saw the driver of that truck; it was someone you thought you could trust with your life. And he never even gave you a backward glance as he drove away.

The only way to get your wheels back on the track now after being derailed is to stop ALL contact with him. Unfortunately, if you still have to live on the same property, or share child support, you're going to have to do a whole lot of inner work.

The first thing I found that really helped was to learn to have an attitude of gratitude. Initially, you just have to just start saying this to yourself first thing every morning and repeat it throughout the day: “I have an attitude of gratitude.” Then you will find you actually start practicing it. I was grateful for my friends, I was grateful for the food on my plate, I was grateful to be living in such a beautiful place.

Slowly but surely the brain fog will start to clear and you will feel a little better. When you start to feel better, you see that things really are better. From the Love Fraud website (Thanks for telling me about it, Chuck. I got a lot of good advice there.): “What happens when you focus on peace and joy? It reduces your stress, which deactivates your fight or flight response, which allows your body’s natural healing capacity to do its job."

So, I find joy in looking at the sun shining on my frosty windows, making them glint with red and blue. I find joy in looking at the pristine snow outside, sparkling in the sunlight. I find great joy in gardening. I find joy in opening my eyes at night and seeing stars out my window. I have volunteered several times to work at the nursing home when Ellen needed help with some special project. That always gives me joy. I even enjoy chopping and carrying wood. My life is full and it is good.

Another thing I learned is to stop "thinking" i. e., employing logic. Logic just doesn't apply when dealing with a narcissist. Thinking about what's happened will just tie your brain in knots.

Instead, I started meditating. This is what I do: I wake up very early and can see the sky out the window at the head of my bed. I confront the proposition that I can now either lie here and let thoughts about my situation nag at me, or I can choose what to think. I choose to think about my breath, going in, going out. If my thoughts start to wander, I look out at the sky again and concentrate on my breathing. Next, I consciously ask my guardian angels, whoever or whatever they might be, to guide me on my path. Then I get up and go about my day, chopping wood, carrying water.

When the work day is done, I meditate again. People use different body positions for meditation; one of my favorites is the walking position. I walk from window to window, filling my eyes with the glory of nature. Or I go out and walk among the trees. I do not think about things past or future, I consider only where I am right now and what that feels like.

At long last, I feel at peace with myself. I even manage to feel compassion for Chuck. I know he cannot help being what he is. Thankfully, now I also know WHAT he is and that he is to be avoided, forever.

Chapter 21

One day I was over at Phil's and heard a cat crying outside, and I do mean crying. After a while I said, “Whose kitty is that?”

“Oh, the people next door. Cat used to live inside but they have a new baby now and I guess it was always getting in the crib with the baby and they were afraid the cat would smother it or something. So they threw it out. I let it come in here a couple of times but I can't stand the cat hair. So now it just sits out on the porch and cries all the time.”

“Oh, for God's sake.”

I went out and the little guy came running right up to me. I picked him up and his ears and little de-clawed feet were ice cold. It was November, after all. He shivered and snuggled up under my chin. I fell in love.

I said, “That's it, Phil. We're gonna have us a catnapping. Take me home now so I can call Ellen and make sure she's okay with the idea, since I already have Belle. Then come get me in the morning and we'll bring the little guy to my house.”

He called in the morning and told me he had talked to the people and they were more than happy to give him away. They had given Phil his food, some toys, and a cat box, and he would bring them all over, if the cat didn't have some sort of panic attack in his truck. About half an hour later they drove up. The cat was sitting happily on the seat, obviously enjoying the ride.

“His name is Mick, and he sure seems to like riding, just like a dog.”

Thus came a new love into my life. My little Mick, who absolutely adores me. Turns out he's a Manx, I hadn't realized that; I had never met one before. Are they always this smart? He seems totally capable of reading my mind.

He has to be wherever I am. He sits in my lap when I am at the computer and stares up at me with eyes full of love. Sometimes when he's doing that he seems to swoon and falls over against my chest. He sleeps all cuddled up next to me. Belle has always preferred sleeping in a box in a separate room. They get along pretty well. There is the occasional “Hisss, fffft,” and they bat at each other with their clawless pads, but I separate them and all is well again. 

I made another new friend around that time, too. The house right across the street from

me had been for sale for a good while. Then I found out a single woman from out of town had bought it. One day after the movers had evidently finished bringing everything, I went over and introduced myself. I gave her a Welcome to the Neighborhood card with my phone number in it and told her to call if she needed any help at all. About a week later she called and asked if I'd like to come over and have a glass of wine.

Dee Dee was still living amidst piles of boxes but she uncovered two chairs and a small table and we plunked ourselves down for a good, long chat. She had left an abusive relationship down in the city and decided she needed to live the wilderness experience for her mental health. For her physical health, as well.

I told her about the situation at my place and that she should be very wary if Chuck were to come over and offer to help her out with anything. She told me that the realtor, a life-long Whispering Springs resident, had already warned her about him. This was the same realtor that sold me my house. Why didn't he warn me?

Anyway, we became fast friends and I eventually introduced her to everyone I know. The winter went by pretty quickly having so many friends to pass the time with. I could go into town whenever I needed to. Phil and his son are both avid fishermen and hunters so I was always on the receiving end for fresh fish and venison.

We had very little snow that winter so I was able to keep it shoveled out by myself except for a couple of times. Then spring came early with some really strong winds, which blew my greenhouse over. I built a frame inside it with 2x4s and stood it back up. 

Dee Dee bought a rototiller so she could put in a garden in her yard. Then she brought it over and made my garden plot bigger. Spending so much time working out in the yard, I decided to let the cats come out with me. Oh, were they ever happy with that decision.

They love exploring all around the yard. Mick has to always be where I am. When I dig in the garden, he digs in the garden. When I mow the yard, the cats run into the house because they don't like the noise. But as soon as I'm done, Mick comes out and climbs up onto the tractor seat, looking around with great satisfaction. 

 

Eventually the cats became more independent, sometimes wandering over to Chuck's. This worries me. Chuck is fanatical about feeding the birds. He has half a dozen bird feeders set up over there. Since they're the only friends he seems to have left, I certainly don't begrudge him. But cats do kill birds, although I do my best to discourage them whenever I see them stalking one. I even took down all my bird feeders.

Cats kill a lot of other things, too. Mick is my mole getter. He'll crouch down by a hole and just wait. Then, bang, he gets one. I am happy for the sake of my garden. Belle, on the other hand, likes snakes.

One day I was outside and see her come trotting across the yard, something in her mouth. As she gets closer I see it is a snake, about two feet long, and she wants to bring it in the house. Ah, geeze. I run and close the back door and then beg her to please put it down. She finally does and I get a shovel and pick it up and take it over to where the land drops down towards the creek, and toss it.

Another time she actually did get into the house with one and dropped it on the kitchen floor. It was still quite alive. I was freaking out and jumping up and down yelling, “Ah, Ah!” It quickly slithered away under the pantry door and I never saw it again. I'm guessing it found its way down to the basement and then out from there. They're just garter snakes and I'm not really afraid of them. I just didn't want to find one in my bed.

Once she brought in a chipmunk. It, too, was still alive. When she dropped it, it jumped into the cupboard under the sink. I don't have a door there so it stays warm and not likely to freeze the pipes in winter. Belle went in after it and suddenly containers of dish washing soap, laundry soap, paper towels came flying out, followed by the chipmunk and Belle. I had opened the kitchen door so after a couple of laps around the kitchen, chipmunk and cat were out the door again. I don't know how that event ended and it's better that way, I'm sure.

I did learn, though, to always look out the window before opening the door for the cats because you just never know what prize they might be bringing home to Mom.

Chapter 22

Still, Chuck continues to post, though no one responds anymore:

June

 I am living on propane and a generator in an 18 foot trailer

100 feet away from a 3-bedroom house occupied by a single person on the same property.

Have not talked with them for over a year, almost a year since they cut the power to my       trailer.

Our social assistance network has not found me other accommodation, despite my efforts to rent another dwelling.

59 years old, worked since I was 19, but now on welfare.

living in a trailer in a field, no electric (unless I'm running my generator) - no running water - and yeah - no bath or shower . . .

and FOOD! - how the hell do you eat half decent without a refrigerator??

Poor Chuck, still hasn't come to grips with the fact that he did this to himself. He continues to believe that someone else is responsible for his problems and now he's waiting for someone else to solve them.

Besides, he thinks he's got problems. My creek quit running in July which was rather alarming. So me and Dee Dee hiked up one day to the source, to see if something was blocking it. She insisted on going with me because she doesn't want me hiking out on the property by myself. Some water was still trickling out from the spring but only enough to go down a little way, then it just dried up. I guess this is what happens after a really dry winter.

My well, too, seemed to be running low and I often had very little pressure After a few minutes it would quit running entirely and I'd have to wait about half an hour to get more water. Filling my outside tank took hours, where it used to fill in just 20 minutes. Fortunately, Dee Dee's water was fine so I started getting jugs of water from her.

We had frequent rain showers and my rain barrels collected enough water to keep my garden going. I grew tons of tomatoes and zucchini which I would roast in my solar oven and then freeze. My potato yield this time was 48. The turnips didn't do too well, I only got a few. I grew three nice, big winter squash.

I had bought 12 face cords of wood and spent hours stacking it outside to dry, then moving it onto my porch or into my wood shed. I had about 20 gallons of water stored in the house. Dee Dee and Ellen both took me to Northview to stock up on groceries before winter. So my pantry was full. I found a nifty little single burner stove for $10 that I felt would be handy to have. I had heard predictions that it was going to be a very harsh winter, in more ways than one. I wanted to be prepared.

One preparation was to store a lot of stuff in my barn that had been taking up room in the house. I was tired of having to stack everything on one side of the barn because of all Chuck's stuff on the other side. So one day when he was away I pulled all his crap out and piled it over by his camper. In spite of the fact that he has a shed that he built that is mostly empty, he just let the stuff lay there in the dirt.

The first snowfall came in December and dumped about two feet of heavy, wet snow. I worked at trying to clear it away for a couple of days but my progress was slow. I had to spend a lot of time working in the back so I could get to the woodshed and so the cats would have some place they could go out to. I only managed to open a foot path down to the road in the front.

As much as I hate to ask for help, I finally called Phil to see if he would be coming over with his plow. Turns out the heater in his truck had gone out so he couldn't drive it with no way to defrost the windows. On top of that, the 4-wheel drive on his ATV was also gone and he was waiting on a part. He didn't know when he'd be back on the road again.

The next morning I was at my computer and I heard a truck outside in my driveway. I thought Phil must have worked things out. But I looked out and saw the guy driving the plow truck was someone I had never seen before. I quickly called Phil and asked if he had sent someone over to help me. Nope.

Well, good grief. I got into all my outside clothes and managed to get out there just as the guy was finishing up. I caught up with him at the road and thanked him about 10 times and told him he was an angel. He told me he didn't usually just go in and plow without being asked, but he had seen me trying to cope with that mess for a couple of days and he decided he was just going to go ahead and do it. Merry Christmas!

I got to thinking about this. I had never seen the guy before. He was wearing a red jacket and had long white hair and a white beard. Oh my. It was Santa!

On Christmas day Dee Dee and I went to the nursing home where Ellen works and helped to hand out gifts. We would take the gifts to the folks and read the card and then help them to unwrap their presents. It was lots of fun, very poignant, and three hours passed by very quickly. Then we all headed over to Phil's for some snacks and Christmas cheer. It was quite a lovely day.

It snowed and snowed throughout January, but I managed to keep it shoveled out all by myself. I kept my fire going and my house toasty warm. I cook most of my meals on the wood stove, plus I always keep several gallons of water heated on top of the stove. Towards the end of the month I saw the weather forecast on the internet said it was going to clear up for a few days, and get very, very cold. Twenty below zero cold.

I got up one morning, the fire had gone out and it was minus 22 outside. I got the fire started again then went to fill the cats' water dish, and nothing came out of the faucet. Damn. I turned on the electric heaters to try to help things thaw, wherever it was they were frozen. With the sun shining outside and all the heaters and wood stove going inside, I got it up to 80 degrees inside by afternoon. But still no water.
 

Fortunately I had all that stored water, so life went on pretty much as usual for a few days. Then I used the water all up and still had nothing coming from my taps. So I decided I had to make that dreaded trip to the basement to see if I could figure out what was going on.

When you're on a well you have to have a pressure tank to push the water up into your pipes. My pressure tank was only a few years old now. Chuck's supposed plumbing supplies were STILL all in the same place.

I looked at the gauge on the tank and it said 100 pounds, the maximum. Uh oh, not good. It should be about 40 pounds. What to do? Get on the internet. Soon enough I found someone to tell me where the pressure relief valve was and things I might try. So I did all that plus put down a space heater to blow on the intake pipe in case it was frozen there. Still nothing. Every other day I would fill my toboggan with jugs and pull them across the road to Dee Dee's and get more water.

One afternoon there was a knock on my door and I was surprised to see Lisa. She invited me to come over and meet Ian, a good friend of theirs who had moved from town here long ago but always came back to visit over the holidays. He knew all about Chuck and had long wanted to meet me.

“Well, I'd sure like to meet him, too, but he's going to see me at my absolute worse. I haven't had running water here for weeks so I'm kind of funky.”

“Oh, don't worry about that. Heck, he can probably even help you with whatever is wrong.”

“Sounds good to me. Give me a few minutes to brush my teeth and change and I'll be right over.”

  

So I met dear, sweet, cute Ian. Same age as me, divorced for many years, he now lived way over on the west coast. But he always wanted to come back to Whispering Springs, where he was born and raised. He and Jack had been best friends since childhood. I explained my water problem and he said he'd come over in the morning and look into it for me. We ate Christmas cookies and had a few drinks. Then he walked me home and we shared a big hug in the moonlight.

He came over the next day and we spent hours draining pipes, turning things off and on again, blasting the heater here and there. Finally I had running water again. Not only that, I had more water pressure than I'd had for a long, long time. I was very happy.

He told me, “No charge, this time.”

I told him that when he returned in the summer, which he said he planned to do, I would fix him a big picnic lunch. He agreed, then we went back up to Jack and Lisa's and talked and drank beer and had a pleasant afternoon. He walked me home again with one more big hug; he left the next day. I do hope I see him again.

 

Chapter 23

A couple of days later the temperature was just below freezing; I turned on the water and once again nothing came out. Sigh. I'll survive, but now I will also call a plumber. People had recently told me about a new plumber in town. Our other plumber was a guy who decided he'd rather drink than plumb, so I was happy to know we now had a new option.

This month I have spent more time in my basement than I have in all the years previous. The ceiling down there is low, so you always have to crouch if you're over five feet tall. It's hard on the back. My new plumber is short, like me, and he knows what he's doing. He determined that the switch and gauge were both fried, due to how they had been set up all those years ago. He had his helper run to town to the hardware store for new parts. Within an hour I had real running water throughout my house, just like it was long ago. I am really feeling buyer's remorse now, Chuck.

I'm not the only one having problems these days. Dee Dee is having some health issues so she doesn't get out much. Ellen is having problems at work and is highly stressed. Phil still has problems with his truck. So I was homebound for a while .

Chuck seems to have lost his computer. I noticed in November the few times that I saw him post something online, it was at a time when he was definitely not out here. So I would guess he was going to the library to use the computers there.

February's end, I am finally able to get to the grocery and then over to Phil's for a visit and some supper. Phil has got the heater working in the truck again, though the ATV is still no go. It was a good time and I came home with leftovers.

A hamburger! I haven't had a hamburger since last summer. They had grilled some a few days earlier and had put a few in the freezer, so I got one. I put some onion and canned tomatoes on it, and a slice of cheese. What a treat!

The morning after I was at Phil's I looked out my kitchen window to enjoy the view. Chuck's old camper is part of that view and I see this scrawled on the side of his camper, in black marker:

COONS'S

CAT

CRAPPER

BELLE -------------l

MICK --------- l     l

                   v    v

There are arrows pointing all over which I couldn't exactly replicate here. Wow. He must have had quite the stressful day to make him act out like a 12-year-old. Yes, dear, cats poop outside. And they have more right to be on this property than you do. Graffiti, at age 60? You know,  being young at heart and being immature are not the same thing. Now you're doing it wrong.

 

I'm not entirely sure what to make of that first word. Raccoons? One friend who saw it said that long ago it was a slang term for a lady's private parts. It's also a derogatory term for people with dark skin. I sure hope that nice, young black man who rides his horse up and down the road can't see it. I do think maybe it's a lame attempt to spell my birth name. The stupidity it reveals is rather stunning.

I'm happy to report, though, that this doesn't stress me out hardly at all. A few deep breathing exercises and I was actually able to laugh at it. Then I considered going over and writing on the side that he sees from his window, “Shit happens.” But I decided not to stoop to his level, and I've just let it be. 

It rained about a week later, and all the words got washed away. Then, a  few days after that, as I went out for the mail, I saw he had painted, with dark blue paint, the words, "Illegal Immigrant" on the end of the trailer which is visible from the road. There was an arrow pointing at my house.

Well, I had this bottle of blue nail polish, left over from an old art project, so I used it to cover the word "immigrant," and change it to occupant. Then I painted an arrow towards him.

Cherylann Thomas, in her book, Evil Eyes: A Daughter’s Memoir, says "Psychopaths are more impulsive than malignant narcissists and are less able to pretend to conform to society’s rules or portray a mask of normalcy."  She also states that she believes psychopaths hurt people on purpose for the sheer enjoyment of it, whereas malignant narcissists’ abuse is more a consequence of their selfishness. 

Chapter 24

I just found out that Chuck is in trouble with the police. A couple of months ago he quit driving his truck and started taking a bicycle to town. I have now learned from friends that he had thousands of dollars worth of traffic tickets outstanding and they finally caught up with him. He doesn't seem concerned about it though. Evidently he won't go to jail over it because there just isn't enough room in jails now. They will just let him pay it off however he can. So he wins again.

I have continued my online studies and believe that Chuck has now advanced from a personality disorder into full blow psychosis.

Martha Stout, a clinical psychology instructor at Harvard Medical School and author of The Sociopath Next Door, says psychopathy is an utter lack of conscience. Sociopaths have one, but it’s full of holes and works on their own set of rules. Narcissists have one, too, but are so self-interested it’s hard to tell. "What distinguishes [psychopaths] from the rest of us is an utterly empty hole in the psyche, where there should be the most evolved of all humanizing functions," she says.

 

In real life, psychopaths can only be diagnosed by professionals. But, say the experts, there are a few clues.

• Pity play: Psychopaths play on people's sympathy because we are compassionate and believe they deserve it. "Consistently bad or egregiously inadequate behaviour with frequent plays for your pity is as close to a warning mark on a conscienceless person’s forehead as you will ever be given," says Martha Stout, a clinical psychology instructor at Harvard Medical School.

• Manipulative: “Psychopaths love to make people jump, even if it’s not to their benefit," says Stout. "If you’re left wondering why, or thinking there was no sense in what happened, that’s a red flag."

• Parasitic: Whether they use charm and manipulation or the pity play to meet their needs, "they prefer living off the work of others rather than their own efforts," says Robert Hare in Vancouver, a world authority on psychopathy.

• Deceitful: Big or little, deception is a tool of their trade. "Their lies are always woven with a thread of truth," warns Hare, "which, if questioned, they indignantly point out in their own defense."

• Charming: Compelling and charismatic, psychopaths are mesmerizing, like predators before the kill.

• Conceited: Psychopaths "think they’re the next step in evolution," says Hare, and they let it show with arrogance, boasting and undermining those around them.

• Not to blame: Not only do they never accept culpability, but psychopaths will also manufacture proof that puts others at fault.

• Reactionary: When it suits them, psychopaths can mask their anger, but will also "overreact in response to perceived personal insults or insufficient demonstration of respect for their authority," explains Hare.

If you know a psychopath you may think your love will cure him. Let it go. Psychopaths are untreatable. "People have a hard time getting their heads around that," says Donna Anderson, a U.S. journalist who launched www.lovefraud.com to educate the public after her husband lied and defrauded her of $227,000. I guess I should be glad I only lost a couple thousand.

Chapter 25

It's 2012 now, and we're still here. “Married.” Not legally or anything, but we're still in each others' lives. I can't get rid of him and he can't get rid of me. Dear readers, be careful what you wish for.

Here are last year's adventures with the psychopath.

One day in early spring, after most of the snow had gone down, I went out to the mailbox. Just as I approached it, it fell over on its face. That was unexpected. I'm glad it fell before I was in front of it, or while the mailman was in front of it. It was quite heavy and the 4x4 wood post had evidently rotted away at the bottom. I turned it over and retrieved my mail. There was something for Chuck in there so I just left it.

Later I saw him go over to it. He got his mail and then spent several minutes looking at the situation. Thinking he might have some interest in helping to get it set up again, I went out and said, “Bummer, eh?” He just looked at me and sneered, and walked away. So I dragged the remains into my back yard and contemplated what to do now.

I decided to go up to Jack's and ask if he had any spare 4x4s so I could build a new post, but he didn't. I called Phil but he didn't have anything, either. So I pulled out my catalog from the local hardware store and found they sell an entire post and box set for $75. Ouch. I called and was told they didn't have any in stock, but they ordered one for me. It would be in the following week and they would call me when it arrived.

Meanwhile, what to do? I needed a mailbox. I looked around at what I had, then gathered a wooden stool and a few boards. I pried the metal box from its perch of 30 years, maybe longer, secured it to the stool and set it up by the road. With the help of some stakes and bungie cords, it seemed quite sturdy.

The next day I went out to meet the mailman when he came by, to explain the situation and ask if this was acceptable, albeit a bit different. He checked it out and said yes, it would work, for a while. What a relief.

A week later I hadn't heard from the store, so I called. They looked it up and told me those were on backorder at the warehouse; one would be here in 2 months. So I got on the internet and found they had them in a Northview hardware store. I called Ellen, told her what was going on, and asked if we could maybe go for a bit of shopping. I would give her $12 for gas.

So, a few days later we went, and we did lots of shopping. We had a great time. The next day I unpacked it all and read the instructions. I still needed a 4x4 piece of wood and a deep hole.

Next day I went out with my little spade and started digging a hole. Jack came by while walking his dog. “Whatcha doing?” I updated him on my project and said what I still needed. Now that he had seen the situation, he said he was pretty sure he had something that would work in his storage shed. He'd be back.

He returned about an hour later with a post, a bucket of tar, and an auger. In no time at all he augered out a hole, poured some tar in it, and set up my new mailbox. I awaited the mailman the next morning to ask if this passed inspection. It did, of course.

A few days later I went to Jack and Lisa's with a six pack of beer. At first they said, no no, we weren't expecting any payment for that. We were just helping out a friend. I said okay then, we'll each drink two and this will just be a nice visit. Which it was.

All summer long, then, Chuck enjoyed the new mailbox, as much as I did. Although, he's never done anything to help maintain it.

My garden that summer was great. I had all sorts of things growing. One day I took a picture of it, in all its glory. The next day I was gone all day, spending the day at Phil's. The next day I went out to pull some weeds and it looked different. I saw missing branches off of some plants. So I took another picture, not sure what happened. Comparing the two pictures on my computer, it's quite obvious that entire branches have been removed. 

The next day, I saw Chuck on Face Book post pictures of my garden, calling it his. The pictures were taken with all the branches still on. The pictures were dated the day I was gone. The next day some branches were gone. Draw your own conclusions.

It was coming on fall then. I decided I really wanted that old truck off my property, along with a whole lot of other scrap metal scattered here and there. I decided to sell it all to a scrap dealer. I went across the road to Jack's to ask if he could recommend someone and he informed me that his son did that.

So I arranged for a pick up. His son came and Jack came over, as well, to help. One thing I wanted removed was an old electric stove that Chuck had tossed over behind my barn 3 years ago. It had been laying there, on its side, untouched, and always in my way for all those years. We each grabbed a corner and the three of us carried it down to the driveway. Chuck was sitting outside as we walked by with it. He said, “That's mine, you know.” 

 

I told the guys to just ignore him as it had been abandoned for many years which legally made it mine now. So, we kept on and eventually lots of garbage got removed from my yard. I got a few dollars for it. 

A week later, Jack was walking his dog up the road and Chuck was out shoveling the new snow from the driveway he uses. Chuck looked over at Jack as he walked by and called him a thief. Now, Jack is a very mellow person, an artist, and this really upset him. So, later that day when his son stopped by to visit, he told him about it. His son doesn't like anyone messing with his dad, so he went over to Chuck's to explain the situation to him. Chuck saw him coming and called the police.

Now, I didn't know about any of this. I was upstairs doing laundry so I didn't hear anything. I came downstairs and looked out the window and saw a cop car in my driveway. WTF? I went to my entry door and saw Jack and his son talking to one cop at the end of my driveway. There was another officer over at the trailer talking to Chuck outside. Chuck was clearly agitated.

That one then walked towards my house and I braced myself for a visit from the police, for whatever reason. But he just said to the other officer, “That guy is a nut bar,” and they got in the car and drove away. 

 

A short while later, I saw Chuck walk through my driveway and he dropped a plastic bag there, close to my door. I thought it was one of the free newspapers we get. So I went out and picked it up.

Through the plastic I could read: “STUFF TO PONDER:

Even the most gentle creature will become vicious, when backed into a corner.”

There were several pages: a picture from the cover of the book, The Sociopath Next Door. This book has some sets of crazy eyes on the cover, and he Photoshopped a picture of my eyes onto there. Because, you know, I am the sociopath. Oy. There was a page from the Tenant's Association about reasonable enjoyment of property. He seems to have that one backwards. Then there was a page of personal information about me that he somehow gathered from different sources which I'm sure made him feel like quite the detective. 

I took it all up to Jack's to show him; that's when I learned about what had happened and why the cops were there. I told Jack about hearing the one say Chuck was a “nut bar.” Yes, we agreed, he sure is.  

Chapter 26

Well, I have certainly learned some huge life lessons here. Thoreau said, “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately.” I understand that now. Living deliberately puts you in deep touch with your soul and the universe.

Now, I certainly don't live exactly like Thoreau did, but since practically everything I do has to be done without the benefit of electricity or gas and with very little money, it all has to be done with great deliberation. Then getting it done gives me a sense of accomplishment like nothing I've ever had before.

Another lesson has been about forgiveness. "Forgiveness is the exercise of compassion. It is both a process and an attitude," claims Joan Borysenko, Ph.D., author of Guilt is the Teacher, Love is the Lesson. Borysenko suggests that the process toward forgiveness is to take personal responsibility for your role in a particular outcome. Accept the past as part of a learning experience. We all have weaknesses. The way we grow is to learn from our mistakes. Look for help from whatever source you respect and then share what you've learned with others. Compassion is contagious. 

 Forgiveness is not a lack of responsibility or action.  It does not mean that we are to be passive and perpetual victims.  To the contrary.  Forgiveness requires great courage, faith, and action.


Holding on to resentment is like drinking poison, and hoping the other person dies.  It is toxic both physically and mentally. This is a medical fact as well.  Many studies have been done on what resentment (or unforgiveness) does to our bodies, including raising one’s blood pressure. Let it go. Besides, if you develop more empathy and more compassion...that will drive them crazy!! Allow yourself to give it up to Karma.

In spite of all I have had to endure here, I know I am really am fortunate compared to others I've read about who have ended up stranded in a different country because of a psychopath. I have read some true horror stories. I know what it's like to live with the fear that you could lose everything you own at any given minute. I now have a real appreciation of what it feels like to be an illegal alien, even though I'm just an American, in Canada.