unrestrained jane

digital holding tank for memories that hijack my thoughts

Month: March, 2015

Big Eyes

The true story of Margaret Keane was turned into a movie, last year, by Tim Burton. It is a true story about a single mom artist who marries a perfect seeming guy within a ridiculously short time of meeting him. He seems like a dream come true until he takes credit for all of her work, holding her hostage, forcing her to produce. She uncovers more and more lies and it only gets worse.

Walter Keane has clearly got NPD or falls somewhere in the psycho/sociopathy scale. The court scene wherein he represents himself makes that clear.  But she’s strong and her story is another version of our story, the story you all know. He died lying, 30 years later, bitter and still living in a web of lies. And she thrives, still painting today

I recommend the movie.

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BUT I FEEL LIKE A FOOL !

This is one of my biggest healing stumbling blocks.

Why is it so hard to for people to support a DV victim?

Say no to DV

What is most shocking to me is how people who talk up reams on facebook on behalf of Nirbhaya and scores of other victims of rape and other heinous crimes still regard domestic violence as a softer issue.

Even if the suspect a woman is being abused, they would rather lean back than move forward to help. I guess it is all talk with such people. They would rather do their armchair activism than any real useful activity.

This ad by the salvation army uses the latest “black and blue” phenomenon on the Internet to highlight the issue to domestic violence:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/03/06/the-salvation-armys-powerful-new-ad-on-domestic-violence-puts-thedress-debate-in-a-new-light/

It is an awesome ad. I wish there were more such ads  to also highlight the other forms of domestic violence including emotional and sexual abuse. The scars that are not visible on the skin are still there.

The trauma is real. And why is it that you won’t…

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All sorts of effed up

Could you imagine, assembled in a room, all of the different people a sociopath or psychopath has kept so neatly segregated, so individually groomed with custom information that plays to their specific vanities and insecurities, so painstakingly compartmentalised? 

What would happen if they started talking to each other? What would happen if the sociopath/psychopath was not even there to do damage control? Not one bit. What if they were not talking about just anything, but had gathered for the express purpose of sharing their experiences and intimate feelings about the sociopath/psychopath? 

My husband (with whom I’d successfully maintained no contact with for one full year) died a few days ago. Since then I’ve had some of the most incredibly awkward conversations. People he’s known for 20 years have said to me that they are finally realizing that he was never who they thought he was and experiencing that eerie chill down their spine. It is the most surreal thing. 

His memorial and his funeral are going to be… interesting? I’m kind of afraid to attend, but that’s another post in itself. 

I’m starting to find out more and more about the insanity and ridiculousness he told people, not only about me, but about everything. Cleaning out his tiny apartment was intense. I cried, again, for the millionth time since I broke free last year. It’s over. It’s really over. Except it’s not, not quite yet. 

I just got the knock…

… police came to my door. My was-soon-to-be-ex husband died in his sleep last night. I’m in shock. It’s all over; he can’t hurt anyone anymore. I’m saddened by the tragedy that was his life and death. As next of kin, a widow, I have to make arrangements. I authorized the autopsy. I’m in shock. My emotions are all over.