Friday, 26 October 2012

The Mystery of the Disappearing Bedroom Suite

The office I worked at with my mother, LRP Biz, was owned by a big corporation named XYZ Company. XYZ Company also owned a handful of construction companies. In around 1995, there was a big construction boom in our area. New condominiums were going up everywhere. Many of them were being built by XYZ Company.

XYZ Company didn’t have an office close by, and it just so happened that we had some empty space at LRP Biz. XYZ Company moved into our office, and it became a very busy place. The man who was leading the construction projects, Tim Loughlin, was also the Vice President of XYZ Company. He was one of the big bosses and he exuded self-confidence and charisma. I really liked that man a lot. He was always impeccably dressed in suits and his personality just took over a room the minute he walked into it. The general manager of LRP Biz, Rob, got along great with Tim as well, so everything seemed great.

Thursday, 25 October 2012

My Mother's Never Ending Antics

My mother’s head games will be the death of me, I swear. They are an ongoing part of my life. You barely get over her last low blow, and the next one is upon you. Of course, it’s always in a way that leaves it up for “interpretation.” She is very clever in that regard. She’s very smart in a lot of ways, but unfortunately when it comes to her close family relationships, she uses her good for evil.

I don’t ask her for anything, and never really have. My kids don’t ask her for anything either.

To hear her talk, all she ever does is give, give, give to us. She sends gifts on the appropriate holidays, which we reciprocate. We live half way across the country, so she blesses us with her presence once or twice a year, whether we like it or not. I usually don’t mind the visits, even if a lot of the time she rubs me the wrong way with her passive aggressive comments and behaviors. Most of the time, I let it roll off me like water off a duck’s back.

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

My Dad - Mr. Hyde

Unfortunately, I have some brutal memories of my father.  It would be impossible to include them all in a single blog post.

I know there are kids who’ve had it worse than me. At the same time, when you’re living in an environment like I was, it’s your own little version of hell.

My dad was pretty free-wheeling with his slaps to the head. He also had a fondness for throwing fake punches at your face. They would come so close, that you could feel the breeze on your nose. I’m amazed that I don’t have a permanent eye twitch. The fake punches were usually a prelude to a beating, or at the very least, he was going to rough you up a bit. He would steadily get madder, as he ranted and raved. I probably drove him to the brink with some of the things I did, but he didn’t just lose his marbles when it made sense. Most of the time, it was over diddle-squat.

Sunday, 21 October 2012

My Dad - Dr. Jekyll

My dad stopped talking to me about ten years ago, when I was 35 years old.

Uggghhhh, I don’t even know where to start with the topic of my dad.

To be fair and impartial, I’d like to start by saying something positive about him.

My dad always worked very hard to provide for his family. He didn’t slack off when it came to his job, and we always had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. The luxuries of life were mostly reserved for themselves, but my sister and I didn’t go without the necessities. It was impossible to get someone to buy you deodorant or a pair of decent underwear, but we lived in the biggest, most beautiful house in the neighborhood. Anyways, the deodorant and underwear thing wasn’t my father’s fault. I honestly don't think he would have done us girls out of something like that.  That is all on my mother. She managed the money, and was cheap to the point of it being criminal.

I’ve heard through the grapevine, that my dad was a major party animal in his younger days. As the story goes, he got pretty serious about life after I was born. I’ve have this idea in my head, for years, about why he went from “rebel without a cause” to “upstanding citizen”, almost overnight.

Saturday, 20 October 2012

Identity Crisis - Part 2

Trixie Today

So who is Trixie now – in the present day?

Well, I’m not perfect, that’s for sure. I am just a person. Somewhat damaged and a bit broken, but I’m just a regular person. Truth be told, I don’t really know who I am. I know for sure that I USED TO BE a co-narcissist. Not being a co-narcissist is something that I struggle with every, single day. It gets easier and easier. I kid you not, when you get out from under those control freaks, it’s like getting out of prison. It’s like you’ve been reborn. The flowers smell prettier and the sky looks bluer.

I don’t believe that you necessarily have to cut a narcissist out of your life. I’ve got it both ways. My father kicked me to the curb a decade ago. My mother is an ongoing pain in my ass. She lies and tries to manipulate me all the time. Whenever I nail her for outright lying, or lying “by omission”, she has this thing she does. She starts clearing her throat a lot. When I think about it, it makes me chuckle. My dad does it too. Maybe they learned it from each other. They are so transparent.

Friday, 19 October 2012

Identity Crisis - Part 1

The Ghost of Trixie Past

Seriously, what identity?

Growing up in our house, you weren’t allowed to have one. You couldn’t have a secret, and you definitely were not entitled to privacy. My parents wanted to live inside your head at all times. According to them, they knew you better than you knew yourself. On the flip side, if you needed them for something, they wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. I’m talking about the emotional stuff. They didn’t do much for you in general, but what really affected me the most was the emotional deprivation…

…and they always made everything seem so dirty.

If I liked a boy, I was instantly branded a slut because I just had to have some sleazy reason for liking him. No one ever taught me anything about sex, and there was a period in my younger days when I didn’t even understand what a slut was. I just liked a boy. There was no ulterior motive behind it.

Thursday, 18 October 2012

Who Is Trixie and Why Is She So Neurotic?


Welcome to my blog and thanks so much for stopping by! My name is Trixie.


I am someone’s wife. I am someone’s mother. I am someone’s grandmother.
Sadly, as a result of narcissism, I am nobody’s daughter.

I am 45 years old and happily married to a pretty great guy. I have two daughters, who are 15 years apart in age. They are the best daughters any mom could ever ask for. I have two granddaughters, who are little angels. They make me smile every time I think of them or see their tiny faces. I am also the adult child of not one, but two, narcissistic parents.

What is a narcissist, you ask?

Simply put, a narcissist is someone who really loves themselves ALOT. They think the sun rises and sets out of their own arse, and they don’t care who they hurt to fulfill their own needs. They lie, confuse and twist everything! Living with a narcissist is like living in a heavy fog of bewilderment and confusion.