I figure if I’m civilized enough to leave them alone while they’re here they could be gracious enough to leave my stuff alone. I came out to get ice and saw 5 oil paintings on the floor!!!! They moved my paintings and got dirt all over them. They moved my paintings which were out of the way drying so they could put a treadmill where they were. I told Fife Senior in these exact terms, “If I’m kind enough to leave them the fuck alone while they’re here they should be kind enough to leave my shit the fuck alone.” Of course he lost eye contact while I cursed my head off but my goodness!!! Dirt on wet oil paintings. This is so wrong!!!!!!!!!! One of them was on paper not canvas. It was wrinkled up on the floor. In my opinion this is an act of war. She might as well have kicked me in the gut. This bitch will hear from me. Enough of being civilized and giving her space, enough trying to be nice and keep the peace. Nope. Do not fuck with my artwork! Who in the hell does she think she is?
I was trying so hard not to curse like this on my blog anymore but damn!!! Come on, this is total bullshit to the extreme. This is why I don’t own a gun. I’d be in prison! Had I been here when she did it she would have met the one of me that doesn’t shake or tremble when she’s around. I left because I didn’t feel like dealing with her. When I got back and saw my stuff I was livid. Fife Senior told me what happened. I told him I hope she has oil all up and down her fucking clothes. She has so crossed the line. Dirt everywhere? Wrinkled on the floor? Seriously? Really? War!
UPDATE:
Thank goodness I have therapy tomorrow.
A friend of mine is about to come over and take me out this house so I can calm down. I realized how unstable I am with anger and I seriously do not need to be here right now. I heard the front gate open and thought to myself, “Is it that bitch again?” I looked out the window in rage hoping it was her again. Birdie said, “OMG do I need to come over there?” Yup, lets go get a coke cause when I’m serious about beating someone’s ass then I need to get out of the house for a bit. I don’t hit but I’m telling you, I hoped it was her coming back. I’m not a violent person. I usually try and talk my way out of a fight but this girl has pushed me too far. I’m a 37 year old grown woman, not a high school kid who throws punches. This is not me, street fighting is not me. So when I thought it was her coming back and was willing to go out there and start smacking her around I realized two things: I need a time out and I need to move.
This isn’t about longevity anymore or about making a home here for myself. It’s not about who is the bigger person. It’s about who can stay out of jail the longest. I’m serious. I do not mean that with sarcasm. She’s pushed the last button. I’ve put up with enough, more than enough. The deliberate destruction of art is the last straw. Thankfully Birdie can be of assistance with helping me find an apartment that I can afford. I may not get two bedrooms but I’ll gain a clean kitchen and a Fife free home. I’ve had more than enough of this. It’s time for this to stop. No more yo-yo. No more war. I need a home, not a battle ground. I did 21 years of battle with a narcissist. I’ve fought as hard as I’m ever, ever going to fight. I will not do this again to prove to myself and her I can’t be beaten down emotionally. This fight is insane. I will not stay here.
As I said to two people tonight, the sewing machine that’s here is no longer hers. She traded it for 5 jacked up oil paintings. The destruction of 5 small oil paintings costs more than a sewing machine but I’m not going to see any cash for them. I can however lay claim to the machine. She no longer owns a sewing machine.
I hope you find something good. You deserve a place where you don’t have to put up with such unconscionable destruction. (And please stay out of jail the longest – and I know EXACTLY what you mean. She had no right to do such a terrible thing and that would push me pretty damn hard, too.)
I’ve never been to jail. I refuse to go over her.
I can certainly understand why you would be so irate. I hope you find another place quickly. It would be awful to live like that. You deserve peace.
I want to smack her for you. GRRR. My blood pressure rose just thinking about that. I hope you know I’ve got your (virtual) back. I hope you find somewhere else to live quickly.
I’d be moving too! You can’t live in a home where you fear that, if you leave for 20 minutes, there’s no telling what you’ll find upon your return.
I can’t fathom the mindset of someone who is capable of such deliberate destruction. It’s cowardly to the extreme.
I’m so glad you managed to avoid the whole prison scene. Austin wearing jail house blues (or is it orange these days?) Huh uh, I just don’t see it. You’d be writing me these whiny letters, begging me to deposit money into your account so you could buy art supplies and cigars–oops, don’t think you’re allow cigars in the pen!
I told you in confidence, at a very weak moment, that I turned to cigar smoking. Did you spill my secret to the world because I told everyone you blog naked, al-natur-al? I’m okay that you refer to yourself as “Beauty in the Buff” while in Garden of Eden attire. I thought I was being supportive by not judging you for having leather chair lines on your rump after a long day of blogging. Does my support mean nothing? Little did I know you had something in mind for me. You planned to expose my cigar smoking to the world. That’s okay Beauty, that’s o-kay.
And no, I will not paint a picture of me smoking a cigar. I don’t care how funny you think that would be. You had this image in mind didn’t you? You are wrong, so, so wrong. And another thing…. I’ll have you know I’d look good in jail house orange. I so could sport that if I had to.
Even though you, Miss Thang, outed me I do appreciate your offer to smuggle cigar contraband (by any means necessary) if I serve a life sentence in Federal prison. You’re such a good friend.
The photo shows 3 smokes. The very first is a little cigar which is what I was (past tense) smoking. At no time did I ever light up the big thing at the bottom. Had I done so I would have sported it like this woman here. I hope my hands never get as large has hers and I hope I never have hair on my chest like she does. At this point I’m using the word “she” very lightly.
Austin <— ex – little cigar smoker
I said she got dirt on my paintings. I should be more specific. I didn’t mean dust or fingerprint smudges. I meant soil, stuff from the ground outside after she dragged in her treadmill. There were other places for her to dump her stuff but she chose to move my paintings so she could put her stuff in that exact spot.
This is the thing, a folded treadmill takes up a lot of room but there was more room in the dining room where her other stuff is being stored. She could have put it there. Her narcissistic view is this, she wanted that space so she took it and it doesn’t matter how it affects other people. It simply didn’t matter that my things were there. She wants what she wants and no one else really matters. She’s the dangerous type of narcissist, the type that flips out when people around her don’t serve her properly. When I say these things about her I don’t mean them in the normal way of “everything is about her.” I truly mean the exact defintion of a narcassist. Since I am the exact definition of PTSD with severe abuse issues she and I will end up clashing physically. The reason I need to move is to prevent that from happening. Eventually someone will hurt this woman. I refuse to keep myself in a position where it’s me.
I also refuse to just jump up and move out of anger. I need to find a place I can afford and a place is that relatively safe. I won’t cut my nose off to spite my face or put myself in a situation worse than this one here. The move is necessary but it won’t happen over night in the heat of the moment.
Austin
AUUUUGH *incoherent fury*
Can’t even think straight. I admire your restraint, I think I would have taken apart everything in the damn room.
!!!!!
I love that first picture. It cracks me up!!!
Wow, who did you get to take your picture first thing in the morning? (hehe, just kidding, just kidding.)
I firmly deny all allegations that I ‘outed’ you in retaliation for your smear campaign against moi. If you choose to continue believing that I blog in the nude, I can’t stop you. But really now, have you nothing better to do with your time? Must you indulge in this sick line of thought? (If you saw me in my birthday suit you’d better understand my use of the word ‘sick.’)