In the late 1800's Spaths were referred to as being "Morally Insane." Able to see that certain specific behaviors were wrong, but unable to grasp the fact that the entire group of behaviors that the specific behavior belonged to was bad.
Morals are Concepts.
Spaths are Detail oriented. However they cannot "connect the dots" to be able to grasp a concept the details point to.
The only way I can explain this is to make an example...
Little Johnny goes down the street and steals a Light Bulb from someone.
Little Johnny gets caught and is punished. His parents think they have taught him that stealing is wrong. However, Little Johnny only learns that it is wrong to steal a Light Bulb.
Later, Little Johnny steals a bicycle, and gets caught and punished again.His parents try to explain that.taking anything that does not belong to you is stealing and is wrong. However all Little Johnny has learned is that stealing a Light Bulb or a Bicycle is wrong. He is unable to grasp the Concept that Stealing is wrong.
I talked to a friend of mine that is a first grade teacher and she say's she has a sure fire test (one for females and one for males). She said she has been using it for most of the 45 years she has been teaching. She states that every student that has been "marked" by the test and that she's been able to follow into adulthood has exhibited the same "Morally Insane" behavior. By the way her Husband is a Psych.
They are simple tests. In the absence of other learning disabilities, for females in grades 1 or 2 it's a simple word association test. For males in grade 1, it's a simple arithmetic test. 1+1=2 and 2+2=4, so 1+1+1+1=?. If they don't immediately grasp that concept, the first two (1+1=2 and 2+2=4) are reviewed. If they still have trouble they are "Marked." She say's it's only "Marked" 8 boys in her 45 years teaching, and she's been able to follow 4 into adulthood. All 4 have had problems in High School, and one bad relationship after another. Of the other 4, she is aware that two of them have served time in jail for domestic violence. I can't believe that it could be that simple, but then, if we could keep our eyes open, it probably is. I asked her and how fool proof she thought it was and her reply was something like...It may have missed some, but it didn't mark one incorrectly. She said it just points out that Spaths can't grasp concepts. They literally learn by rote memory, but are unable to think with what they know.
This is a personal Blog about a Sociopathic Brother and how he is tearing a Family apart, and the horrible, unconscionable, things he does. Maybe reading it will help someone else understand they are not ill and the only thing they can do is endure the pain and leave. The only cure for a Sociopath is for the Victims to have NO CONTACT! So the cure is really for the Victims.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
The Madam
It's Sunday and Barry is telling us that he met this girl at church and she is a "Registered Madam" in the State of Florida. {BIG GIANT FRANTICALLY WAVING RED FLAG}
EXCUSE ME! A REGISTERED MADAM IN FLORIDA? Where PROSTITUTION in ILLEGAL!!!! I don't think so.
She wants him to drive a limo for her. Yea right. The Bouncer rides in front with him. He'll make 1G a week, under the table. How he has to get some security licenses and she's going to pay for them. Then he say's that she can help me too. I said "No way. I will not have anything to do with an escort service. I won't risk my security clearance!"
Then he tells us she has to have a prescription for special condoms for the girls and how they have to be checked every 3 months for VD and AIDS. It's the law. BULL SHIT! Maybe in Nevada, but not here in Florida where all forms of Prostitution are illegal..
Then he comes in on Wednesday and tell us that he had dinner with the Madam and her girls and how he pulled the chair out for each of them. And how they said that is the politest man. I guess they didn't look at his chewed to the bone fingernails {gaging}. Oh, and how the Bouncer eats on the porch.
[What Movie is that From? The scene is so familiar. I don't think it was the Best Little Whore House in Texas, or Night Shift.]
Then he starts telling Mom how the Madam will be giving her a check weekly for her to deposit to Mom's account and Mom will give the cash to Barry. Can you say Money Laundering!!!! I warned Mom, ANY involvement with this will mean the instant vaporization of me in her life.
Oh, come to find out, she lives way out in the boonies. Barry's truck broke down Friday afternoon and he missed a chance to make 1G by taking a Girl to Tampa in the Limo and then Picking her Up in the morning. [What flipping movie is this from???!!!]
EXCUSE ME! A REGISTERED MADAM IN FLORIDA? Where PROSTITUTION in ILLEGAL!!!! I don't think so.
She wants him to drive a limo for her. Yea right. The Bouncer rides in front with him. He'll make 1G a week, under the table. How he has to get some security licenses and she's going to pay for them. Then he say's that she can help me too. I said "No way. I will not have anything to do with an escort service. I won't risk my security clearance!"
Then he tells us she has to have a prescription for special condoms for the girls and how they have to be checked every 3 months for VD and AIDS. It's the law. BULL SHIT! Maybe in Nevada, but not here in Florida where all forms of Prostitution are illegal..
Then he comes in on Wednesday and tell us that he had dinner with the Madam and her girls and how he pulled the chair out for each of them. And how they said that is the politest man. I guess they didn't look at his chewed to the bone fingernails {gaging}. Oh, and how the Bouncer eats on the porch.
[What Movie is that From? The scene is so familiar. I don't think it was the Best Little Whore House in Texas, or Night Shift.]
Then he starts telling Mom how the Madam will be giving her a check weekly for her to deposit to Mom's account and Mom will give the cash to Barry. Can you say Money Laundering!!!! I warned Mom, ANY involvement with this will mean the instant vaporization of me in her life.
Oh, come to find out, she lives way out in the boonies. Barry's truck broke down Friday afternoon and he missed a chance to make 1G by taking a Girl to Tampa in the Limo and then Picking her Up in the morning. [What flipping movie is this from???!!!]
Rudeness beyond Belief
Mom and I were having a conversation about some business matters and what we are going to do when Barry comes barging in and cuts her off mid sentence. He just goes right into [The subject of the next post I don't want to spill the beans yet.] ...How he's going to make all kinds of money. How he has to get these Security Credentials and how the owner is going to pay for it...I finally cut him off and tell him that Mother and I were in the middle of an important conversation when he rudely burst in and cut her off mid sentence. He just yells back, "I'm talking now. Don't you interrupt me." Mom tells him to shut up because she and I were discussing something and we were almost done. Barry shouts out, "You listen to me, I'm not Done!" Mom tries to say something to me and I just got up and walked away....His mouth didn't stop till Mom went to bed. Then she called me on the cell phone to sneak into her room so we could finish our conversation. Mom's bedroom door is next to the sliding doors to the Sun Room where Barry has been sleeping. I quietly go into Mom's room and we start to talk and Barry comes barging in without even knocking demanding to know what "T***'s (me) saying about him." Mom tells him "How dare you barge into my room uninvited without knocking. Get out, NOW. T*** and I are trying to finish our conversation you disrupted. This has nothing to do with you!" Barry yells, "You don't order me out when you're talking about me." I just said "Good Nite Mom and walked out."
I heard Mom and him arguing for a bit and then nothing. The next morning, Mom and I finished our conversation.
I heard Mom and him arguing for a bit and then nothing. The next morning, Mom and I finished our conversation.
The Moron and the Psychologist
This is a bit digested, but I'm sorry I've grown tired of relating all the facts and would rather get to the point!
Barry goes to the Harbor to see a Psychologist to maybe get some help. Then comes home and spews his bull shit... Oh , the Psychologist is working on her PhD. How if He said anything to anyone she could loose her license. How it's going to take at least 2 years to help him. How she has another client that went through the same thing (and all the gory details) and how he has to continue to talk about it and we have to listen. How he showed the video of the Yard Sale to her and she said he need s to get an attorney and she will help him out, and she'll get him an attorney. And how he has the proof that I was trying to get him committed back in 2008. I said, Produce It! He exploded and Mom did too, on his side, I just said, "I'll wait till court. Let me refine my statement. you both have 48 hours to produce the evidence...I'll be seeing you in court." and walked away and made a phone call.
They were both bugging me like crazy about the phone call and I wouldn't tell them a thing about it. It had nothing to do with them. It was NUNYA (None of Your Business). It had nothing to do with anything, I was just returning a call from a friend in California. But it was driving both of them crazy.
Needless to say a few weeks have passed and nothing further has been said about it.
Barry goes to the Harbor to see a Psychologist to maybe get some help. Then comes home and spews his bull shit... Oh , the Psychologist is working on her PhD. How if He said anything to anyone she could loose her license. How it's going to take at least 2 years to help him. How she has another client that went through the same thing (and all the gory details) and how he has to continue to talk about it and we have to listen. How he showed the video of the Yard Sale to her and she said he need s to get an attorney and she will help him out, and she'll get him an attorney. And how he has the proof that I was trying to get him committed back in 2008. I said, Produce It! He exploded and Mom did too, on his side, I just said, "I'll wait till court. Let me refine my statement. you both have 48 hours to produce the evidence...I'll be seeing you in court." and walked away and made a phone call.
They were both bugging me like crazy about the phone call and I wouldn't tell them a thing about it. It had nothing to do with them. It was NUNYA (None of Your Business). It had nothing to do with anything, I was just returning a call from a friend in California. But it was driving both of them crazy.
Needless to say a few weeks have passed and nothing further has been said about it.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Paranoia to the max - More Lies that people believe
I wasn't shocked to learn that back in May 2008 (When his girlfriend left him and married the guy across the street) That in 2010 Barry was saying that he called the Crises Center ("The Harbor") to get some counseling assistance and the lady said she couldn't help him because He was already in the system as an Inpatient and that I had been working with them to get him committed. That the lady had to take him out of the system to be able to help him.
He told my Mother that story and even provided a name and phone number to call....OK, first, if you are going to verify a story you don't listen to the story teller and call the number the story teller gives you. Right?. You call the Harbor from a published phone number in the phone book and ask for the person the story teller named. Mom didn't do that, but when I did it by pulling out the phone book and looking up the number to the Harbor and having Mom read and dial it on speakerphone and the Harbor denied even ever having a person by that name working for them, she accused me of being a liar and working with them.
I'm really beginning to believe that she is either deftly afraid of him or that she is as nutz as he is. She keeps using the term "I'm his Mother..." as a excuse to believe his lunacy.
He told my Mother that story and even provided a name and phone number to call....OK, first, if you are going to verify a story you don't listen to the story teller and call the number the story teller gives you. Right?. You call the Harbor from a published phone number in the phone book and ask for the person the story teller named. Mom didn't do that, but when I did it by pulling out the phone book and looking up the number to the Harbor and having Mom read and dial it on speakerphone and the Harbor denied even ever having a person by that name working for them, she accused me of being a liar and working with them.
I'm really beginning to believe that she is either deftly afraid of him or that she is as nutz as he is. She keeps using the term "I'm his Mother..." as a excuse to believe his lunacy.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
As much as I want to get rid of Him....
I think I have found a way to end my misery....Let my Mother keep cooking for him.....High Salt, High Fat. He'll be dead in weeks. You Go Mom! I honestly feel that she's really trying to kill him or herself (and take us with her.)
She's stopped cooking Heart Healthy, and doing all the Bad stuff. Oi! I've skipped meals because of what she is cooking.
She's stopped cooking Heart Healthy, and doing all the Bad stuff. Oi! I've skipped meals because of what she is cooking.
Paranoia + Stupidity + Pharmacutical Abuse = Plain Nutz!!!
Pre info: Barry had somehow hornswaggled a Dr. up north (who will remain nameless) to prescribe a pain killer that is instantly addicting and only given to terminal patients, in addition to getting other Dr.s to give him muscle relaxers, and other stuff. Barry was abusing all this stuff.
Now, here are two good pointers as to how he lies by omission. First, the Dr. that was prescribing him the pain killer did not know that the other Dr. was prescribing the Muscle relaxers. If either Dr. knew about the other and what they were prescribing, Barry would have been made to choose which one he wanted because the two of them did not go together. Second, if you asked Barry he would say "I'm only supposed to take 4 a day," and the "twisted evidence" showed that. However, what he omitted was that he was taking 4 a day of each all at once! And he was mixing the medications, which he was not supposed to do. Oh, and by the way, just about every prescription he had filled was missing 5 to 10 tablets. I've been counting mine for nearly 30 years now and only once did one ever come up short and that was by 1. Before I had a chance to call the Pharmacy, they called me and told me about it. The short on pills thing with him continues to this day.
OK, here's about the subject of this Post...,
Nearly 20 years ago now. Two years after my Mother called me and pleaded with me to "Get Him Out of My House." I finally got him out of the house. "How," you ask? Well Barry did it Himself...
Backup about a month::: My Mother was away, so I came up from Tampa to stay there at her urging. It was a cold January and I was in the Garage tinkering with my favorite toys - Lighted Christmas Decorations of Ole. The clear Windowed Garage door was down. Barry was going through getting disability and was convinced people were watching him. At the time Barry didn't have the house down the cross street from my Mother. But, so you know, Mother's house sits at the top center of a giant "T" The vertical bar ends in a cul de sac. If you miss the stop sign, you'll run right up her driveway...Anyhow, Barry was sticking his head up to look out the window and suddenly dropping down below the window. He did that 3 or 4 times till I asked him what was going on. He insisted that someone was down the street, in the center of the driveway with a camera looking at the house. So I said, "I'll Bite" with a grin and took a look. There was nobody there. The nearest bush the person could hide behind was at least 20 feet to the side and 10 feet behind the person. So I ducked and Barry looked, I popped up and Barry said he just jumped into the bushes from the center of the driveway. Excuse me, the person would still be in mid-flight if he was in the center of the driveway nearly 25 feet from any cover in the tenth of a second it took me to focus. Barry Insisted. Here's the really funny part. Barry goes outside with a 4 legged cane and limp-ing-ly parades back and forth in front of Mother's house, moaning (like the little guy on the old TV program Laugh In), for just under an hour. Then, promptly at 17:00 comes back in, puts the cane away, grabs his keys, and bounds effortlessly into his car and drives off as if someone taping him stops working at 17:00! Oh, His car was actually Mom's old car at the time. It was originally Gray, but had been waxed and buffed by Barry to the point that it was down to bare metal in most places.
Two weeks later, and my Mother failing to believe me; I stayed for the weekend. My Niece (Barry's Daughter) wakes me up at 06:30 Monday pleading with me to take her to school. I do because I love the child. Just as we are leaving Barry is up and running around in circle screaming that he has a cramp and needs to go to the Hospital, "I need a shot of Toroidal," he exclaims. His daughter just say's "come on, he'll be asleep when you get back" and pulls me out the door. J*** was right. when I got home from dropping her off at school, he was sound asleep. Then the phone rings and it was J*** saying she forgot something important and wanting me to bring it to her, so I do... When I come back to Mom's, I can hear all this yelling and screaming going on before I open the door. As I open the door I hear Barry say "You old Bitch, when I get off this floor I'm going to Kill you." Mom was in her Bedroom and Barry was on the Porch. Next thing Barry is up and running circles again complaining about a leg cramp. [Here's where he did himself in] I didn't know what to do, so I call his Dr. and while I'm asking his Dr. what to do Barry picks up an extension phone and starts yelling and screaming at me that I am interfering in his life. The Dr. clams him down and tells him to hang up. Barry complies and as the Dr. is telling me what to do for him, Barry comes over and say's quietly "I have my gun and when you hang up you are dead." The Dr. Heard It!!! I told the Dr. it's OK he's really a Pussy, all talk and no action. The Dr. Chuckled and told me to take him to the nearest emergency room and asked which it was going to be. I told him, and then Barry shouted "You better watch it Bitch or I'll kill you next." The Dr., hearing that, immediately told me to take him to the emergency room and go to a phone where I could talk to him in private. I got to the emergency room and they took him straight in. Apparently the Dr. called ahead. Apparently the Dr. had already called ahead. They told me to go home (It was all of 5 minutes to get back). So I did and called the Dr. We talked for a moment and I said "Dr. Please help my Brother." He responded with "Go back to the Hospital." I went back to the hospital to checked on Barry. They brought me back straight away. The Guard/Nurse told me he was a bit tense. When they opened the door and I stepped in, there was someone in a white coat standing next to me and holding the door. Barry saw me and immediately said "You little Bastard, you did this to me." The Man in the white coat swept his arm across the front of me and guided me out of the room as he closed the door behind him. It took me a moment to process all I had seen, but Barry was shackled. I was left in the hall, looking at two glass doors leading to the outside. I saw Barry being led to a Police Cruiser. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I asked, "Did you really have to do that to him?" They responded, "Yes, the way he's acting, it's for his own good." They took me to a Nurses Station where I signed papers that stated that "I Believed that he would NOT do Bodily Harm to either My Mother or to Me." [I question that decision now. If only it had said "I believed he would not do Mental Harm..."]
I really had no idea what was going on, and when asked where they were taking him, the response was that his Dr. ordered them to take him to the crises center. Then they shooed me out. In the waiting room, as I was leaving, a nurse approached me and asked why they were taking him to the crises center when that hospital had a great psychiatric center. I just shrugged my shoulders and told her I have no idea why his Dr. wants him to go there.
Now, here are two good pointers as to how he lies by omission. First, the Dr. that was prescribing him the pain killer did not know that the other Dr. was prescribing the Muscle relaxers. If either Dr. knew about the other and what they were prescribing, Barry would have been made to choose which one he wanted because the two of them did not go together. Second, if you asked Barry he would say "I'm only supposed to take 4 a day," and the "twisted evidence" showed that. However, what he omitted was that he was taking 4 a day of each all at once! And he was mixing the medications, which he was not supposed to do. Oh, and by the way, just about every prescription he had filled was missing 5 to 10 tablets. I've been counting mine for nearly 30 years now and only once did one ever come up short and that was by 1. Before I had a chance to call the Pharmacy, they called me and told me about it. The short on pills thing with him continues to this day.
OK, here's about the subject of this Post...,
Nearly 20 years ago now. Two years after my Mother called me and pleaded with me to "Get Him Out of My House." I finally got him out of the house. "How," you ask? Well Barry did it Himself...
Backup about a month::: My Mother was away, so I came up from Tampa to stay there at her urging. It was a cold January and I was in the Garage tinkering with my favorite toys - Lighted Christmas Decorations of Ole. The clear Windowed Garage door was down. Barry was going through getting disability and was convinced people were watching him. At the time Barry didn't have the house down the cross street from my Mother. But, so you know, Mother's house sits at the top center of a giant "T" The vertical bar ends in a cul de sac. If you miss the stop sign, you'll run right up her driveway...Anyhow, Barry was sticking his head up to look out the window and suddenly dropping down below the window. He did that 3 or 4 times till I asked him what was going on. He insisted that someone was down the street, in the center of the driveway with a camera looking at the house. So I said, "I'll Bite" with a grin and took a look. There was nobody there. The nearest bush the person could hide behind was at least 20 feet to the side and 10 feet behind the person. So I ducked and Barry looked, I popped up and Barry said he just jumped into the bushes from the center of the driveway. Excuse me, the person would still be in mid-flight if he was in the center of the driveway nearly 25 feet from any cover in the tenth of a second it took me to focus. Barry Insisted. Here's the really funny part. Barry goes outside with a 4 legged cane and limp-ing-ly parades back and forth in front of Mother's house, moaning (like the little guy on the old TV program Laugh In), for just under an hour. Then, promptly at 17:00 comes back in, puts the cane away, grabs his keys, and bounds effortlessly into his car and drives off as if someone taping him stops working at 17:00! Oh, His car was actually Mom's old car at the time. It was originally Gray, but had been waxed and buffed by Barry to the point that it was down to bare metal in most places.
Two weeks later, and my Mother failing to believe me; I stayed for the weekend. My Niece (Barry's Daughter) wakes me up at 06:30 Monday pleading with me to take her to school. I do because I love the child. Just as we are leaving Barry is up and running around in circle screaming that he has a cramp and needs to go to the Hospital, "I need a shot of Toroidal," he exclaims. His daughter just say's "come on, he'll be asleep when you get back" and pulls me out the door. J*** was right. when I got home from dropping her off at school, he was sound asleep. Then the phone rings and it was J*** saying she forgot something important and wanting me to bring it to her, so I do... When I come back to Mom's, I can hear all this yelling and screaming going on before I open the door. As I open the door I hear Barry say "You old Bitch, when I get off this floor I'm going to Kill you." Mom was in her Bedroom and Barry was on the Porch. Next thing Barry is up and running circles again complaining about a leg cramp. [Here's where he did himself in] I didn't know what to do, so I call his Dr. and while I'm asking his Dr. what to do Barry picks up an extension phone and starts yelling and screaming at me that I am interfering in his life. The Dr. clams him down and tells him to hang up. Barry complies and as the Dr. is telling me what to do for him, Barry comes over and say's quietly "I have my gun and when you hang up you are dead." The Dr. Heard It!!! I told the Dr. it's OK he's really a Pussy, all talk and no action. The Dr. Chuckled and told me to take him to the nearest emergency room and asked which it was going to be. I told him, and then Barry shouted "You better watch it Bitch or I'll kill you next." The Dr., hearing that, immediately told me to take him to the emergency room and go to a phone where I could talk to him in private. I got to the emergency room and they took him straight in. Apparently the Dr. called ahead. Apparently the Dr. had already called ahead. They told me to go home (It was all of 5 minutes to get back). So I did and called the Dr. We talked for a moment and I said "Dr. Please help my Brother." He responded with "Go back to the Hospital." I went back to the hospital to checked on Barry. They brought me back straight away. The Guard/Nurse told me he was a bit tense. When they opened the door and I stepped in, there was someone in a white coat standing next to me and holding the door. Barry saw me and immediately said "You little Bastard, you did this to me." The Man in the white coat swept his arm across the front of me and guided me out of the room as he closed the door behind him. It took me a moment to process all I had seen, but Barry was shackled. I was left in the hall, looking at two glass doors leading to the outside. I saw Barry being led to a Police Cruiser. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me away. I asked, "Did you really have to do that to him?" They responded, "Yes, the way he's acting, it's for his own good." They took me to a Nurses Station where I signed papers that stated that "I Believed that he would NOT do Bodily Harm to either My Mother or to Me." [I question that decision now. If only it had said "I believed he would not do Mental Harm..."]
I really had no idea what was going on, and when asked where they were taking him, the response was that his Dr. ordered them to take him to the crises center. Then they shooed me out. In the waiting room, as I was leaving, a nurse approached me and asked why they were taking him to the crises center when that hospital had a great psychiatric center. I just shrugged my shoulders and told her I have no idea why his Dr. wants him to go there.
More on the Hooters thing
This is what I posted on MDJunction-How does the family of A Sociopath Survive.
http://www.mdjunction.com/forums/antisocial-personality-discussions/general-support/1458071-how-does-the-family-of-a-sociopath-survive/limitstart/10
They don't unless they can exorcise the Sociopath from their Family; which is nearly impossible
.
Long story short (still quite long), My older brother is a documented Sociopath and I am his current Target and My Mother is his current Victim. Unfortunately, My Mother is drawn in to his Faux life so much that when she is shown incontrovertible proof he is lying, she will deny it. She even lies for him, big time. One time she said she went to the Dr. with him and the Dr. said all kinds of stuff about me. While she was doing that, I pulled up the GPS tracking for her car and her credit card account and asked her how it was possible to be at the Dr. Office 40 miles away from where her car was and who made the three charges on her Credit card during that time, and where did the new small kitchen appliance and other stuff come from? She just got mad at me, yet she still sticks to her lie that she was at the Dr. with my Brother.
Most recently, we were out for wings and my brother was making snide comments about me. I just said, while waving my hand, "you know you really need to stop doing that." He grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard he drew blood at the fingernails. I told him if he didn't let go I was going to slap him. He squeezed harder, so I slapped him. He jumps up and yells "He hit me, did you see that?" and runs outside and acts like he got on his cell phone. He comes back in in about 10 seconds and say's "You're lucky, they were busy right now and they can't come and get you." I said, "whatever" and my Mother whom had just gotten done saying "I don't blame you he wouldn't let go," turn around and said "you hit him first, that's why he grabbed your hand." I said just go home, and went to go hang out with my friends and got a ride home from them.
I got smart and called the police after they left and had them pull the surveillance video which clearly showed him grabbing my hand, me saying something to him, and him not letting go till I slapped him...
My brother goes home and hits himself with something in the head to give himself a lump and, then gets my Mother to go to the police with him in the morning and get's her to file a false police report - which, thank God she didn't sign because she'd be in jail now.
Then She calls all the family and tells everyone the lie, and goes around and tells neighbors and friends the lie also...
After the police tell her of the video and that I slapped him in self defense and not anywhere near where his lump is, she refuses to tell any of the people she told the lie to what the truth is.
Now Note: He got Mom to file a report noting that when his lie is uncovered He won't get in trouble, but Mom would.
Beware of these people. He has torn our family apart. My Father passed away over 20 years ago. So I can't break the promise I had made to him to keep our Mother protected from my Brother. Well after this and several visits to the cemetery, I think my Dad understands that I have to break the promise, otherwise I'm going to loose it. Well I almost did because I took to Liquor for a little bit and after calling for help because I wanted to kill myself - out of total frustration - and being taken to the hospital by the police, because I scared the hell out of the person I was talking to and getting let go an hour later when they realized I wouldn't do it.
My Mother is a rocking 84. She still works, now she has to because she can't stop spending. She has a sharp mind, but she is so sucked into my Brother's lies and manipulation that she denies even the medical community.
My Mother twists things so badly now that if she asks me for an opinion, I won't give it to her. i.e. If she asks me if she should buy something and I say Do you need it or can you afford it, she'll tell people I'm controlling her and won't let her buy it. For God's sake, it's her money, she can do with it what she wants. But If I tell her buy it, she'll blame me for her bills! She's so caught up in it, I feel sorry for her.
I firmly feel that the only thing a Sociopath like my brother understands is a physical Beating. Several times in his life my Brother has been beaten. He drives people to it. Then he finally leaves them alone.
Well, he's here now and I can hear him. I have to put my Ear buds in, or my waders on because the crap is flowing....
http://www.mdjunction.com/forums/antisocial-personality-discussions/general-support/1458071-how-does-the-family-of-a-sociopath-survive/limitstart/10
They don't unless they can exorcise the Sociopath from their Family; which is nearly impossible
.
Long story short (still quite long), My older brother is a documented Sociopath and I am his current Target and My Mother is his current Victim. Unfortunately, My Mother is drawn in to his Faux life so much that when she is shown incontrovertible proof he is lying, she will deny it. She even lies for him, big time. One time she said she went to the Dr. with him and the Dr. said all kinds of stuff about me. While she was doing that, I pulled up the GPS tracking for her car and her credit card account and asked her how it was possible to be at the Dr. Office 40 miles away from where her car was and who made the three charges on her Credit card during that time, and where did the new small kitchen appliance and other stuff come from? She just got mad at me, yet she still sticks to her lie that she was at the Dr. with my Brother.
Most recently, we were out for wings and my brother was making snide comments about me. I just said, while waving my hand, "you know you really need to stop doing that." He grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard he drew blood at the fingernails. I told him if he didn't let go I was going to slap him. He squeezed harder, so I slapped him. He jumps up and yells "He hit me, did you see that?" and runs outside and acts like he got on his cell phone. He comes back in in about 10 seconds and say's "You're lucky, they were busy right now and they can't come and get you." I said, "whatever" and my Mother whom had just gotten done saying "I don't blame you he wouldn't let go," turn around and said "you hit him first, that's why he grabbed your hand." I said just go home, and went to go hang out with my friends and got a ride home from them.
I got smart and called the police after they left and had them pull the surveillance video which clearly showed him grabbing my hand, me saying something to him, and him not letting go till I slapped him...
My brother goes home and hits himself with something in the head to give himself a lump and, then gets my Mother to go to the police with him in the morning and get's her to file a false police report - which, thank God she didn't sign because she'd be in jail now.
Then She calls all the family and tells everyone the lie, and goes around and tells neighbors and friends the lie also...
After the police tell her of the video and that I slapped him in self defense and not anywhere near where his lump is, she refuses to tell any of the people she told the lie to what the truth is.
Now Note: He got Mom to file a report noting that when his lie is uncovered He won't get in trouble, but Mom would.
Beware of these people. He has torn our family apart. My Father passed away over 20 years ago. So I can't break the promise I had made to him to keep our Mother protected from my Brother. Well after this and several visits to the cemetery, I think my Dad understands that I have to break the promise, otherwise I'm going to loose it. Well I almost did because I took to Liquor for a little bit and after calling for help because I wanted to kill myself - out of total frustration - and being taken to the hospital by the police, because I scared the hell out of the person I was talking to and getting let go an hour later when they realized I wouldn't do it.
My Mother is a rocking 84. She still works, now she has to because she can't stop spending. She has a sharp mind, but she is so sucked into my Brother's lies and manipulation that she denies even the medical community.
My Mother twists things so badly now that if she asks me for an opinion, I won't give it to her. i.e. If she asks me if she should buy something and I say Do you need it or can you afford it, she'll tell people I'm controlling her and won't let her buy it. For God's sake, it's her money, she can do with it what she wants. But If I tell her buy it, she'll blame me for her bills! She's so caught up in it, I feel sorry for her.
I firmly feel that the only thing a Sociopath like my brother understands is a physical Beating. Several times in his life my Brother has been beaten. He drives people to it. Then he finally leaves them alone.
Well, he's here now and I can hear him. I have to put my Ear buds in, or my waders on because the crap is flowing....
Friday, August 27, 2010
Manipulation at it's Best - Hooters and after
Tell me our Mother isn't sucked into him....
Saturday before July 4th I went to Pride Celebration in St. Pete because some of my friends are Gay and one of my clients that I maintain their web page for did all the parade floats. We had a good time riding underneath one of the floats and then after at the arts and crafts fair. It was hot and I won't drink alcohol when I'm out in the Sun and it's hot. It dehydrates you, among other things. About 20:00 my Mother calls me and wants to go to Hooters for wings after work and say's she can't take one without the other. I told her I was still in St. Pete but on the way home and to just take Barry because I was worn out. She insisted when she got home and I said OK.
Side note: Because of what Barry was saying and doing the previous week I knew exactly what he was going to do. So I decided to go and to trip him up, hoping that the end result would be that Mom would finally see what was going on and maybe help him or that he would go over the edge and be forced by the courts into getting some help. So...
I have a couple of empty Mickey's little Barrel bottles that I saved to fill with water so some people will feel Ok having a beer in front of me if I don't feel like drinking.
When Mom came home I was drinking one of them and purposely slammed the balance when Barry came over. In the car on the way to Hooters Barry started the litany about B*** and T*** and what who was doing to who, so I popped in my ear buds and cranked up my 1"x.1"x.3" MP3 player. I could still hear him yacking about who did what to who and yaddy yaddy ya! When we got to Hooters I left my video player and MP3 player and Keys, etc in the car. Getting out of the car Barry asked me why I was being so rude and not listening to him. I told him that it was because I had had a great day and I wasn't about to be brought down hearing about others bullshit problems that don't affect me and I didn't want to get Mom upset by telling him off. He just said that I was drunk. I chuckled.
Inside I chose a table directly across from the Waitress station where a camera would see the entire table. As soon as the waitress came along Barry started with snide comments directed at me. Things like "If I can't eat it, my glutton Brother will finish it. [look back to a different post about the linguine incident], just nasty comments. When the waitress left I just said to him while waving my hand, "You know you really have to stop this crap of cutting me down." and he grabbed my finger and squeezed real hard. I had a blood spot under the nail for weeks till it grew out. I told him to let go or I would slap him. He squeezed even harder. I said let go. He tugged and I reached across the table and slapped him.
He Jumps up and shout's "Did you See That, He Hit me!" and he runs out. He stands right outside the glass doors and pulls his phone out and acts like he's calling somebody. My Mother say's "I don't blame you, he wouldn't let go." (remember that because here comes the switch over.) Barry's outside no more than 20 Seconds. He comes back in and say's, now get this for a good laugh, "You're lucky little Man; They're busy right now and can't come and get you." - Really, Come on, give me a break already.
So Mom get's mad at me and they leave. I go out to the car and say just give my stuff and I get my video player, mp3 player, and keys. I go back in and hang out with some friends who saw the whole thing. While we are talking the other some other people come over and give me their names and numbers saying "just in case he causes trouble for you; we saw it, he was grabbing you." My friends then insisted I call the police and get the video, which I had already called the police.I found out afterward the waitress saw the whole thing too. I take a taxi home.
Ok, here goes the good stuff. Barry, not knowing about the video or the witnesses, goes home and clunks himself on the head giving himself a good lump. As the story goes he went to the hospital but the police can find no record. Then he calls the police and tries to get our Mother to file a report, notice he won't file it himself. She does but won't sign it.Problem is it happened in a city not the county so the Sheriff has nothing to do with it, but after hearing from the city cops, they investigate and rule it self defense.They also said the video showed I could not have possibly caused the lump on his head because it was an open handed slap just below the eye.
He just can't deal with the truth. Recently he brought it up and I calmly said "Let's go down to the police and see the video." He get's all explosive 'cause he knows he's lying.
Saturday before July 4th I went to Pride Celebration in St. Pete because some of my friends are Gay and one of my clients that I maintain their web page for did all the parade floats. We had a good time riding underneath one of the floats and then after at the arts and crafts fair. It was hot and I won't drink alcohol when I'm out in the Sun and it's hot. It dehydrates you, among other things. About 20:00 my Mother calls me and wants to go to Hooters for wings after work and say's she can't take one without the other. I told her I was still in St. Pete but on the way home and to just take Barry because I was worn out. She insisted when she got home and I said OK.
Side note: Because of what Barry was saying and doing the previous week I knew exactly what he was going to do. So I decided to go and to trip him up, hoping that the end result would be that Mom would finally see what was going on and maybe help him or that he would go over the edge and be forced by the courts into getting some help. So...
I have a couple of empty Mickey's little Barrel bottles that I saved to fill with water so some people will feel Ok having a beer in front of me if I don't feel like drinking.
When Mom came home I was drinking one of them and purposely slammed the balance when Barry came over. In the car on the way to Hooters Barry started the litany about B*** and T*** and what who was doing to who, so I popped in my ear buds and cranked up my 1"x.1"x.3" MP3 player. I could still hear him yacking about who did what to who and yaddy yaddy ya! When we got to Hooters I left my video player and MP3 player and Keys, etc in the car. Getting out of the car Barry asked me why I was being so rude and not listening to him. I told him that it was because I had had a great day and I wasn't about to be brought down hearing about others bullshit problems that don't affect me and I didn't want to get Mom upset by telling him off. He just said that I was drunk. I chuckled.
Inside I chose a table directly across from the Waitress station where a camera would see the entire table. As soon as the waitress came along Barry started with snide comments directed at me. Things like "If I can't eat it, my glutton Brother will finish it. [look back to a different post about the linguine incident], just nasty comments. When the waitress left I just said to him while waving my hand, "You know you really have to stop this crap of cutting me down." and he grabbed my finger and squeezed real hard. I had a blood spot under the nail for weeks till it grew out. I told him to let go or I would slap him. He squeezed even harder. I said let go. He tugged and I reached across the table and slapped him.
He Jumps up and shout's "Did you See That, He Hit me!" and he runs out. He stands right outside the glass doors and pulls his phone out and acts like he's calling somebody. My Mother say's "I don't blame you, he wouldn't let go." (remember that because here comes the switch over.) Barry's outside no more than 20 Seconds. He comes back in and say's, now get this for a good laugh, "You're lucky little Man; They're busy right now and can't come and get you." - Really, Come on, give me a break already.
So Mom get's mad at me and they leave. I go out to the car and say just give my stuff and I get my video player, mp3 player, and keys. I go back in and hang out with some friends who saw the whole thing. While we are talking the other some other people come over and give me their names and numbers saying "just in case he causes trouble for you; we saw it, he was grabbing you." My friends then insisted I call the police and get the video, which I had already called the police.I found out afterward the waitress saw the whole thing too. I take a taxi home.
Ok, here goes the good stuff. Barry, not knowing about the video or the witnesses, goes home and clunks himself on the head giving himself a good lump. As the story goes he went to the hospital but the police can find no record. Then he calls the police and tries to get our Mother to file a report, notice he won't file it himself. She does but won't sign it.Problem is it happened in a city not the county so the Sheriff has nothing to do with it, but after hearing from the city cops, they investigate and rule it self defense.They also said the video showed I could not have possibly caused the lump on his head because it was an open handed slap just below the eye.
He just can't deal with the truth. Recently he brought it up and I calmly said "Let's go down to the police and see the video." He get's all explosive 'cause he knows he's lying.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
And another thing - That Dog of His
UPDATE:
Barry is an emotional mess, or rather an emotional Train Wreck. I feel sorry for him in a way, he's lost everything and now he had to put his dog down. However; he has been abusing the dog, in a way, for weeks. He really didn't care about the dog, he only cared about himself. He'd come over here and leave the dog in the hot garage because Mom didn't want the dog in the house; instead of leaving him home in a cool house. For the last several weeks he had to lift the dog by his harness to get him on his feet to walk home. Poor thing couldn't even eat standing up. You had to put a plate in front of him and turn it for the food he couldn't reach.
And then what does Barry do? After getting food from Mom and me for his dog countless times, he gives all the leftover food from his dog to someone else!!! Oh and the K9-Advantage that our dog is on too. What an F'ing Bastard.
[Original post]
My Mother has countless times told him that she does not want his dog here. The Dog is just like him. It's a glutton. It's rude. It's obstinate. It does not follow orders. As old as it is, it still runs away.
Mom gets him to stop bringing the dog and that lasts about a week. Then he sneaks the dog back sometime, and then she has to get on him all over again.
It's a small dog but it's bad as far as we are concerned. It comes in and invariably spills our dog's water. If we don't pick it up, he'll eat a whole bowl of food that takes our dog four days to eat. The dog has no teeth left because it eats rocks. It hasn't had teeth for years. Well there's nubs there.
It has in the past crapped in my Mother's bedroom, it's pissed all over the carpet in my room so bad that I can't get the stains out. It's lifted it's leg on my Mother's furniture and her fake ficus tree. And Barry thinks it's funny.
If that dog gets off the leash in the house it either heads straight for my bedroom or my Mother's, and if we don't catch him on the way we have a mess to clean up. And he will try to take over my Dog's bed, etc. Just like Barry.
It even barks at our dog if she tries to get a drink from her water dish. Barry just say's with a grin "he does that everywhere he goes." Well he doesn't need to be bring that dog with him upsetting others lives.
Mom has told him that she does not want his dog here because he's a pain in the ass, But Barry couldn't care less.
Our dog, on the other hand, is good. We can leave her all day, and she'll just stay in her bed and wait for us. Never had an accident yet. I can get up in the morning, open the door for her and go make coffee. When I turn around she'll be sitting there, having gone potty and come back in, waiting for her cookie. Although I haven't gotten her to bring in the paper yet. Guess I'll have to still risk scaring the neighbors by running out in my skivvies to grab it.
And our dog is welcome everywhere she goes. I even have friends that tell me to bring her over because she is such a delight. I recently went to visit a cousin I haven't seen in many years and by happen stance I had to bring the dog. He was very apprehensive. But when I was leaving after a couple of days, he said, you're welcome any time, and bring the dog too. They couldn't believe it. We had gone out for dinner one night and they set the alarm forgetting the dog was in the house. My dog never set it off.
....
Barry's little dog is 15, deaf, and nearly completely blind. Barry has no real concern for the dog. He even has made up a story that some Veterinarian told him small dogs live to be 26 years old or more. He's just torturing the poor animal. It can barely walk. It hasn't any teeth - as stated above. It's Deaf and nearly completely blind.
Barry is an emotional mess, or rather an emotional Train Wreck. I feel sorry for him in a way, he's lost everything and now he had to put his dog down. However; he has been abusing the dog, in a way, for weeks. He really didn't care about the dog, he only cared about himself. He'd come over here and leave the dog in the hot garage because Mom didn't want the dog in the house; instead of leaving him home in a cool house. For the last several weeks he had to lift the dog by his harness to get him on his feet to walk home. Poor thing couldn't even eat standing up. You had to put a plate in front of him and turn it for the food he couldn't reach.
And then what does Barry do? After getting food from Mom and me for his dog countless times, he gives all the leftover food from his dog to someone else!!! Oh and the K9-Advantage that our dog is on too. What an F'ing Bastard.
[Original post]
My Mother has countless times told him that she does not want his dog here. The Dog is just like him. It's a glutton. It's rude. It's obstinate. It does not follow orders. As old as it is, it still runs away.
Mom gets him to stop bringing the dog and that lasts about a week. Then he sneaks the dog back sometime, and then she has to get on him all over again.
It's a small dog but it's bad as far as we are concerned. It comes in and invariably spills our dog's water. If we don't pick it up, he'll eat a whole bowl of food that takes our dog four days to eat. The dog has no teeth left because it eats rocks. It hasn't had teeth for years. Well there's nubs there.
It has in the past crapped in my Mother's bedroom, it's pissed all over the carpet in my room so bad that I can't get the stains out. It's lifted it's leg on my Mother's furniture and her fake ficus tree. And Barry thinks it's funny.
If that dog gets off the leash in the house it either heads straight for my bedroom or my Mother's, and if we don't catch him on the way we have a mess to clean up. And he will try to take over my Dog's bed, etc. Just like Barry.
It even barks at our dog if she tries to get a drink from her water dish. Barry just say's with a grin "he does that everywhere he goes." Well he doesn't need to be bring that dog with him upsetting others lives.
Mom has told him that she does not want his dog here because he's a pain in the ass, But Barry couldn't care less.
Our dog, on the other hand, is good. We can leave her all day, and she'll just stay in her bed and wait for us. Never had an accident yet. I can get up in the morning, open the door for her and go make coffee. When I turn around she'll be sitting there, having gone potty and come back in, waiting for her cookie. Although I haven't gotten her to bring in the paper yet. Guess I'll have to still risk scaring the neighbors by running out in my skivvies to grab it.
And our dog is welcome everywhere she goes. I even have friends that tell me to bring her over because she is such a delight. I recently went to visit a cousin I haven't seen in many years and by happen stance I had to bring the dog. He was very apprehensive. But when I was leaving after a couple of days, he said, you're welcome any time, and bring the dog too. They couldn't believe it. We had gone out for dinner one night and they set the alarm forgetting the dog was in the house. My dog never set it off.
....
Barry's little dog is 15, deaf, and nearly completely blind. Barry has no real concern for the dog. He even has made up a story that some Veterinarian told him small dogs live to be 26 years old or more. He's just torturing the poor animal. It can barely walk. It hasn't any teeth - as stated above. It's Deaf and nearly completely blind.
Monday, May 31, 2010
What a Hog...Or He'll never get the chance to do that again
Barry is such a Hog.
I can't believe what he did the other night, and he had that devilish grin on his face too. The grin that I just want to SMACK off of him!
In the end, it made my Mother understand that whenever he comes here for dinner, he will NEVER get the chance to serve himself again, and if he arrives AFTER we have eaten, he won't eat! Period. He will be served and he will have NO CHOICE in the matter. No matter his complaints.
Anyhow, here's what happened...My Mother wanted Linguine in clam sauce for dinner. I make my White Clam sauce from scratch, but she pulled out a can of Progresso White Clam Sauce, and 4 cans of Chopped clams - some off brand clams. Well I don't like the Progresso anymore because they changed their recipe and use soy bean oil now. The can was enough for 6 people. So I made the Can in one pot and even added 1 can of clams to it for my Brother; and made mine and Mom's from scratch, and cooked a whole box of Linguine - enough for 8 people.
Mom called him for dinner and after an hour waiting we decided to sit down and eat. Mom and I had about a half a serving each from my clam sauce. There were still a lot of clams left in my sauce plus all of the Progresso Sauce - with the extra clams.
As Mom and I are finishing, Barry shows up and Mom tells him to help himself. I tell him about the two sauces and that Mine was not up to par because of funny white, and they were white, clams. Anticipating his glutenous behavior, I also told him to make sure he saved some for Janet.
A couple minutes later, Barry comes out of the kitchen with this big heaping/overflowing plate of Pasta. Mom just saw it and rolled her eyes.
Mind you, I cooked enough sauce for 12 and Pasta for 8, and Mom and I had had only a bit more than a single serving between us.
Then I decided I wanted a bit more so I get up and go into the kitchen to get some. Mom follows right behind me. She refilled her water and looked at the stove noting the smidgen of pasta left (about 1/8 serving). The Progresso Sauce was gone and someone had fished out all the clams from the other sauce and there was barely any of the liquid left either.
There is no way he could have used all the sauce because just pouring the can of sauce on an empty plate; it would overflow. He had to have freaking drank the Progresso sauce, and then took all the clams from Mom's and My sauce. I didn't say a word.
I come back to the table and put my plate down and he is looking at me with this big evil grin. I really hate to say this, but I just can't wait for my Mother to pass away. 'Cause when she does, I'm gonna smack him so hard his lips will land in Georgia!
Picking up on my earlier Faux Pas, Mom say's "Did you put Janet's plate together?" I said this is it. Before Mom could say anything Barry immediately started spinning his lies about how he could see me through the window...He forgot that Mom went into the kitchen with me and he didn't know that I was served first and hadn't left the table since Mom served herself, so she knew how much was there.
Mom just shut him up and called him the hog that he is.
After he left and I was cleaning up, I told Mom that he will never get the chance to do that again. Whether or not she liked it. He's getting free food and free service. He will eat when we do, what we do, how we do, or he can go to McDonald's.
I can't believe what he did the other night, and he had that devilish grin on his face too. The grin that I just want to SMACK off of him!
In the end, it made my Mother understand that whenever he comes here for dinner, he will NEVER get the chance to serve himself again, and if he arrives AFTER we have eaten, he won't eat! Period. He will be served and he will have NO CHOICE in the matter. No matter his complaints.
Anyhow, here's what happened...My Mother wanted Linguine in clam sauce for dinner. I make my White Clam sauce from scratch, but she pulled out a can of Progresso White Clam Sauce, and 4 cans of Chopped clams - some off brand clams. Well I don't like the Progresso anymore because they changed their recipe and use soy bean oil now. The can was enough for 6 people. So I made the Can in one pot and even added 1 can of clams to it for my Brother; and made mine and Mom's from scratch, and cooked a whole box of Linguine - enough for 8 people.
Mom called him for dinner and after an hour waiting we decided to sit down and eat. Mom and I had about a half a serving each from my clam sauce. There were still a lot of clams left in my sauce plus all of the Progresso Sauce - with the extra clams.
As Mom and I are finishing, Barry shows up and Mom tells him to help himself. I tell him about the two sauces and that Mine was not up to par because of funny white, and they were white, clams. Anticipating his glutenous behavior, I also told him to make sure he saved some for Janet.
A couple minutes later, Barry comes out of the kitchen with this big heaping/overflowing plate of Pasta. Mom just saw it and rolled her eyes.
Mind you, I cooked enough sauce for 12 and Pasta for 8, and Mom and I had had only a bit more than a single serving between us.
Then I decided I wanted a bit more so I get up and go into the kitchen to get some. Mom follows right behind me. She refilled her water and looked at the stove noting the smidgen of pasta left (about 1/8 serving). The Progresso Sauce was gone and someone had fished out all the clams from the other sauce and there was barely any of the liquid left either.
There is no way he could have used all the sauce because just pouring the can of sauce on an empty plate; it would overflow. He had to have freaking drank the Progresso sauce, and then took all the clams from Mom's and My sauce. I didn't say a word.
I come back to the table and put my plate down and he is looking at me with this big evil grin. I really hate to say this, but I just can't wait for my Mother to pass away. 'Cause when she does, I'm gonna smack him so hard his lips will land in Georgia!
Picking up on my earlier Faux Pas, Mom say's "Did you put Janet's plate together?" I said this is it. Before Mom could say anything Barry immediately started spinning his lies about how he could see me through the window...He forgot that Mom went into the kitchen with me and he didn't know that I was served first and hadn't left the table since Mom served herself, so she knew how much was there.
Mom just shut him up and called him the hog that he is.
After he left and I was cleaning up, I told Mom that he will never get the chance to do that again. Whether or not she liked it. He's getting free food and free service. He will eat when we do, what we do, how we do, or he can go to McDonald's.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Living with a Sociopath aka My Book
THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS THERE ARE MANY HOLES AND NOTES
[Maybe I should name my book Living with the Devil]
Fore-note: I feel very sorry for Barry. I pity him. There is nothing anyone can do for him....
And, most importantly, All Things are Never as They Appear when it comes to Barry.
Also, I didn't realize when I was growing up that the "Fun and Games injuries" were really Sick and Demented. If you ever see a child treating another that way, Please BEAT The Living HELL Out of Them! I Firmly feel that the only way to fight this kind of abuse is to use Brute Force! Dr. Spock is WRONG!
Well where do I start? I guess I'll start at Barry's Birth. I should note that everything I say here up until the time I am old enough to remember things is based upon and repeated from what my Mother has told me with minor bits from my Dad and other family members and family friends.
But first, because this a convoluted story there is an out of place thing you need to know before I start.
I was born with congenital Heart, Pulmonary, and Excretion defects which could not be repaired while I was a child because medical science was not advanced enough. In fact the Heart and Pulmonary defect repairs were an experiment, a best guess repair at the age of 23. I wasn't expected to live past 5 years old. Here I am 50+!
Barry's birth was rough and he was born at a time when they didn't do C-sections. My Mother say's the whole pregnancy was rough. He was coming breech and they had to turn him around inside her with metal instruments. My Mother say's Barry was ugly when he came out. His head was all bruised and swollen. So maybe he suffered some brain trauma when he was born. He does act like someone that had a head injury when they were young, and to this day, his head is a bit misshapen. But I can't forget about what I said in another post about it being genetic and my cousin's on my Mother's side of the family either.
My mother say's Barry was a daemon from the get go. His infancy was rough. Not sleeping through the night. [Different story from Mom. They forced Barry off the bottle too soon. So I don't know which story, Dad's or Mom's is true or maybe they both are in a sense.] He wouldn't give up the bottle till Dad took them to work and got rid of them. At 4 years old he was already an intelligent sneak. The first time Dad got rid of the bottles he did it while Barry was asleep and just threw them in the trash. Sometime in the middle of the night Barry got up, searched, and pulled the bottles out of the trash can at the curb. Remember, he was 4 years old. A couple days later Mom caught him with one. This time she didn't say a thing but got him to stay with a neighbor so she could search his room. She say's she finally had to search the entire house and it took over a week to find where all 7 bottles were hidden. Even at 4 Barry was exhibiting highly deviant intelligence. Mom say's most of the hiding places were where one would not expect a child to choose. One was hidden in the arm rest end of a bolster on the sofa in our game room and he even pulled out some of the foam so you couldn't tell it was there. That one was the last one found and she found it by accident when she took the cover off to wash it. What's worse, she can't figure out when he hid them. But Barry received no punishment or reprimand or education that what he had done was wrong. Instead, the bottles just disappeared when Dad took them to work and trashed them there. A week later he was caught with one he had stolen from the neighbor. He was punished for that. But as Dad said at one time when I was 40 something; the only thing Barry learned was that if he stole a baby bottle he would get punished. He didn't learn that stealing was bad.
So Barry replaced the bottle with Thumb Sucking, Chewing finger nails, and chewing on - this is gross - snot ridden handkerchiefs. He stopped the handkerchief chewing in his 40's, but he bites his nails so bad, there is no nail. (I just want to puke!)
Some of Barry's problems come from being spoiled, not from our parents, but from neighbors and Grand Parents. The Sociopathy was already showing itself. Mom says she couldn't leave him in the back yard and turn her back for a moment. He would be gone. To any one of the Neighbor's even when he was told not to do so. After a few panic stricken times, Mom realized he was going to neighbors. He would always say they called him over, but the neighbors denied it. Mom finally had the neighbors call her when he showed up, but they spoiled him and let him stay and they would bring him home. He never got punished for doing that.
Mom said she couldn't take her eyes off of him for an instant, or he would be doing something wrong. He was always getting into trouble and telling falsehoods. She knew it, but she didn't do anything about it. Well maybe she couldn't do anything about it. I remember her saying she talked to Dr.s but - at the time were Old School - told her he would grow out of it. But seeing how my Mom interacts with people, she keeps talking to different people till someone say's what she wants to hear; then it's fact. Even if 99 out of 100 Experts say the same thing, that 1 person that say's what she wants to hear is the right one.
Somewhere between Barry being 3 or 4 Mom had a miscarriage and was told, because of the damage to her uterus with Barry's birth, she wouldn't be able to carry another baby. She never say's anything about that and I can understand and respect her feelings about it. But Dad told me Barry was very concerned about Mommy when she was sick. However when Barry was told he couldn't have a Brother or Sister, Dad said he seemed almost elated, and he didn't seem to care about Mommy's health anymore.
At about 4 Mom and Dad started taking him to church. Big Mistake! Mom say's she should have started taking him when he was a baby. He was rambunctious, noisy, wouldn't settle down, etc. Mom and Dad tried 2 or 3 times more after having serious talks with him. Didn't work. [It took till he was 7 before he started to do the right things in church and that was only after Nun's and Priests Beat him with rulers and the old Knobs.]
Then I came along. I was an accident. 'Accident' isn't the right word, "Unexpected" is probably correct. I'm called the "Swine Flu Baby." My parents were in Miami in 57 for a conference with my Dad's company - I think or were they on vacation?. My Mom got real sick. Dad took her to the Hospital and no one knew she was pregnant. The Doctor's didn't even see it; almost 3 months. So they treated her for swine flu. When they got back home to PA and not feeling any better, Mom went to her Dr. He said, "I'm surprised you're not feeling any life in there. You're Pregnant." Mom of course was over joyed and flummoxed at the same time. She tells me the pregnancy went fairly smooth after that, but after I was born she couldn't have another baby...And my birth was nasty. Mom had to have 20 something internal stitches to put the baby oven back in place. At one point they wanted to send me home and keep Mom in the hospital while she healed. Mom tells the story funny with Dad saying something like "I don't know what to do with a Baby. I just make the things...! She wanted it! ;-)" Mind you, Dad had to work and look after Barry. He wouldn't have known what to do with me. Nor would he have wanted to burden friends or neighbors.
I was born 5 years 1& 1/3 months (we'll say 6 years) younger than Barry. Something to interject, I'll never be able to understand why my Parents supported and allowed his misdeeds to continue, or correct any of his falsehoods.
From the get go, Barry adversely affected my life. My name wasn't supposed to be what it is. I don't know what it was supposed to be because Mom won't tell me. Sometimes she tells me they hadn't chosen one yet; others just that it was not supposed to be what it is. Even at 6 years old Barry had a big mouth. Well before our parents had a chance to announce my birth, Barry stole the glory and told everyone and when asked what my name was, he lied, he made it up. Why my parents didn't correct the situation I don't know, what they did was to have the name on my Birth Certificate changed to what Barry told people it was (I deduce that my name had already been chosen from this). They themselves lied and supported his lie. I didn't find out about this till I was 40. I'm not angry, I like my name, but to have to rationalize why I have it; is lying to myself. It wasn't chosen because it's a Saint's name, or family member's name, or any of the myriad of other ways names are chosen, it wasn't even chosen by Barry; it was assigned to me by a lie. No matter how someone can rationalize that, one cannot say Barry chose my name because he was not offered a choice. He merely Made It Up!
Then, of course, Barry wasn't getting all the attention anymore. He ran around bragging about his baby brother, but he wasn't ready for the responsibility, nor the reduction in attention from Mommy. He started to loath me.
Mom has said I was a perfect infant. I'd be asleep by 7 and didn't wake up till 5. Hardly ever woke up for a feeding at 2. Barry on the other hand was up all night. That's still the case!
My parents found out about my Heart defect when I was 18 months old, when Dr.s still made house calls. I think it was Mom and Barry were down with the flu and the Dr. decided to check me. He heard the murmur and told them to get me in to see a cardiologist. Further research by the cardiologist reveled that there was a note on the birth record by the Dr. of a murmur, but my parents weren't advised. Apparently this was considered something common and it goes away normally. But they missed the fact that I didn't even have a valve there and the heart muscle had made a sphincter in place of the valve. This and the fact that Barry was now in first grade took much wanted "Mommy Attention" away from Barry. His hatred for me escalated.
I have have sorted glimpse type memories of the first home I can remember. Basement (Finished and unfinished area's), Mom's Beauty Shop area, Kitchen, Living room, my Bedroom, bathroom, the dog chasing balloons, the neighbors on the left, and the little Christmas Tree with tiny screw in bulbs and Santa in the window, etc. I also remember being tickled till I passed out and the demonic look on Barry's face while he was doing it. Twice. And my parents not believing me.
I never watched, because they hadn't been made yet or televised, the psycho-terror-horror movies, and when I saw my first one as a teenager I was bored stiff. I did watch the fantasy ones like Dracula, Frankenstein, Wolfman, The Blob, Swamp Thing, The Mummy, etc. They never really scared me, but I was interested in them. Probably because I read the books first; approaching them with a scientific mind.
So. I'm having trouble justifying or understanding a quirk I have and an associated set of images. I don't know if it's my mind putting things together weird or if something happened when I was an infant to when I can start to remember things, but it's always the same images and same feeling, triggered by the same thing. It gives me problems camping on cold nights, or making love to a partner, or just sleeping sometimes... I just can't put a blanket or pillow over my face. Even if it gently covers my nose and mouth I suddenly feel as if I am being suffocated and can't fight back. And it's just sheets, blankets, or pillows that do it to me. And only when I'm lying down or thereby close to it. And even if I'm asleep. My first real Lover and my last one both told me the same thing. If they pulled the blankets up over our heads, within seconds I'd wake up gasping for air with a "very frightened" look on my face. When I first wake up I feel as if I'm tangled in the sheets and can't move my legs and only flail my arms. I feel-sense I'm in a small padded box. Then suddenly the black swipes down my face to a grayish white in the distance with a small figure glaring at me and I'm terrified of it. I can't quite make out the face, but the features don't seem to change. Ok, so what of it? I worked for a Mortician and played the taking a nap in a casket game - with the Head Lid closed. No Problem. I played a Mummy in a play and was wrapped up except for eyes, nose and mouth and sealed in a sarcophagus for 20 minutes. No Problem. My Lover pulls the covers over my head and I Freak Out! I'm not saying My Brother did anything, but I'm not saying he didn't either.
Even camping in sub-zero temperatures. I have to put an elevated fabric tarp over my face, airline blinders, and something over my cheeks, I just can't sleep with the bag zipped up over my face.
And I remember the silly things I did like popping the little space man's head on my toy wallet and then stuffing the button that was his face up my nose and the Dr. pulling it out. Eating Play Dough and pooping techno-color freaking my Mother Out! ;-)) Being physically abused by a neighbor that was a principal at a school. I remember the coke dispensing machine my Dad got us that disappeared when we moved when I was 6 and showed up again when Barry was 55. How he kept it hidden, in the original box, for that long (43 years), I'll never know. I really don't want it. What's funny is that I know he has it in his possession...I have the small coke bottles that the machine takes...But he won't even take them for fear he has to admit he has the machine. He is going to risk me throwing out the now irreplaceable bottles just so he won't have to admit he has the machine. By the way, when he snagged the machine back in the 60's he overlooked the bottles, and I have had them ever since. All he has to do is say to me, in the presence of several select people, that he has the machine and that he would like the bottles, and I will gladly give them to him, No Love Lost. However, unlike the huge box of Lionel train track I discarded because he wouldn't admit to having the Lionel Train in his possession, I won't throw the bottles out, but he'll never get them because he can't admit he has the machine.
At some point in time and I don't remember it, nor how old I was, my Father had a massive Heart attack (I think he was 35, I 2 or 3). From what I understand, he wasn't expected to make it. So when I was growing up there were not a lot of things he could do with me. As a result I bonded to other Father Figures which only made Barry more and more jealous.
Time for school....Barry didn't start Kindergarten till he was 6 in the summer so that he would be 6 when he started First grade and 7 when going to Second. One of my Mother's customers was a Second Grade teacher and encouraged her to let me go to Kindergarten at 5 in the summer and start school at in the fall. My parents complied. I started First Grade in an experimental and accelerated class at 5.
I was in first grade (and 5 years old.) when President Kennedy was assassinated. The school was at the top of the hill. You could see it out of our kitchen window. Six months prior I cried as I watched the school burn to the ground. It was shorter to walk to the school than to ride the bus or drive there. They announced the assassination on the speakers and dismissed school. I ran all the way home crying. I have glimpse memories of the TV. Then Barry came home LAUGHING because he got out of school early. Do the math, he was in 5th Grade - he should have been in 6th. I was too little to understand exactly what was going on, but I knew he was our President and someone killed him and Barry should not have been happy he got out of school early for that reason.
I don't remember much of first or second grade except that we were learning French. In second grade French was all that was spoken in the classroom. I still dream in it and I can vaguely understand a French Canadian. And my Teachers' name's Mrs. L***** and Mrs. R*****. I can still see Mrs. L*****'s aged, kind, and learned face. But I do remember Barry showing up on the playground and causing trouble. I remember vividly him showing up at a little league game and heckling me. Even at 6 I knew he was my brother and he was supposed to support me.
Then we moved to a new neighborhood and school district. 6 homes, no kids 'cept us. Well there was N***** and J*****. N*** was a Girl my age and J**** was a boy 3 years older than me and they never did much outside the home. So I was stuck with what I already had identified as a loon. Those 4 & 1/2 years were terrible, although I really didn't notice. Well I think I've done some real good blotting out.
I don't want to remember the countless nights watching out the window, praying that every car that turned off the highway was my parents because I knew the torture would end when they finally got home, often between 02:00- and 04:00. They wouldn't listen to me about the sick stuff he did, but at least the torture would end when they got home.
Later in life I was in a minor motorcycle accident where I dislocated my right shoulder. The Dr. had both X-Rayed and came and asked me if I was a "Fighter" because of the damage to my shoulders. I told him how when I was growing up my brother used to slug me as hard as he could with his knuckles out whenever I passed by him. They did more research and found that the injuries were caused while I was young. I have Bursitis in both of my shoulders because of it. And my complaints and even my Parents witnessing the behavior, fell on deaf ears.
Then we moved to another house in the same neighborhood. I was 10, Barry 16. He had already gotten a car at the other house. And screwed it up. A Pontiac Impala convertible with a center mounted back seat speaker. It was a hot car for the time. And the torture continued....
Rewind a bit:
While our new house was being built several bad things happened. One of them I have been blamed for...I remember Barry taking me to the new house that was just plastered and telling me that if we turned the heat on it would dry faster and we could get in the new house sooner. I ran away because at 10 years old I knew something was amiss and I didn't want to get in trouble. The next day the workers came in and found the house hot as hell with all the heat turned up to high (some of the controls were out of my reach). But I have been blamed for that because a neighbor saw me coming out of the house. Well, in the end, it didn't hurt. No cracks.
Either way I still get blamed for it, but I didn't do it.
In the new house...We had some bad kids in the area. And yes they were bad, but they were not responsible for everything that happened in the neighborhood. Barry was responsible too. I know of two brush fires he started that he effectively blamed on others. But I also know he didn't mean to, he just didn't know what to do when what he was doing got out of control. He is a pussy. He had already learned from an early age it was better to run and hide and blame others because the punishment had a great chance of being avoided if even by an small amount. I had to fight all his battles in school. Everybody hated me because of my unique last name. They all knew who Barry was. The only C***** in the phone book.
It was weird, but growing up, my friends were almost always a year or two older than me; Barry's were almost always younger than him. He constantly caused problems with my Friends. He would try and be friends with mine that were 3 to 5 years younger than him. Many of my friends wouldn't come to my house, and I couldn't figure out why till about the eighth grade when some friends got together and told me that my brother was weird and they wouldn't come over if he was there. I remember telling my parents about it, and they supposedly talked to my Friends parents. In the end I was punished for lying. I asked my friends and they all denied ever saying anything to my parents. One of them actually told my Mother after she asked, in my presence, that the reason he would not come over was because Barry was weird. My Mother even had the gauche to reprimand me after my Friend left that I had set it up!
NOTES:
Barry stated at one time "From the day you were born you messed up my life"
...When Barry was 4 (four), our dear departed Uncle Pete bought him a Cowboy suit complete with chaps, rubber dart guns and a whip...I was 42 when I found out about that. I was just awarded my Doctorate in CIS and came to Mom's to go through some old trunks with memorabilia. Yearbooks, Caps & Gowns, Honors Cords, Pictures, etc. When I opened one of the trunks, on top was a Whip and Chaps my Mother had bought/made for me when I was 22 and working in a bank for a Halloween costume. Barry instantly seized on the whip and proclaimed it was the whip from the cowboy suit uncle Pete bought him when he was 4. Mom told him it wasn't and that she had bought it for me, and because of the size, a 4 year old would not even be able to handle it...We packed my Diploma's, year books, and Cap and Gown's in a box and Mom added the whip....A couple of years go by and I want to frame my Diplomas but the box is no where to be found. OK, big deal, we'll find them. A couple more years go by and Mom calls me for some help getting Barry's stuff into his storage bin and she can't find him anywhere. So I drive up and the owner of the storage company say's he has an inside bin and Barry has a lot of nice stuff. We can't find Barry anywhere so we decide to move his stuff inside....
...Before I go on with the above...we have this Lionel Train issue. When I was 2-3 some relative gave us (me and Barry) a Lionel train set. Barry made it his. Sometime around 8 for me Dad bought me a Lionel train (plastic crap). Barry pitched such a fit and bugged Dad for an HO train set. Dad bought it for him on the condition that Barry give up forever the Lionel train that was given to us. It took until I was 14 for me to get that train set - by the Force of Dad...
I got this funny tidbit when I was in my 40's. Being that Barry was older than me, I didn't know anything about Barry's early childhood, but he knew everything about me and exploited it. Because of the excretion defect I had to wear 'diapers' till I was nearly 14 when it was surgically corrected. As a result I would wet the bed. Barry would exploit this and call me "Pee Boy" and maliciously tell my friends and other people. He is mean and ruthless. Then one day in my 40's I asked Mom, because Barry was still doing it, tell me about Barry's early childhood, he has all the ammunition about me, but I don't know anything about him when he was young. She told me that he would routinely poop his pants. That she had to call him in on a schedule to go to the potty. Sometimes she would find him peering around a corner struggling to hold it in. I smiled. The next time he called me Pee Boy, I spun around and said "Mom told me all about you Shit Ass!" He hasn't called me Pee Boy since. But to this day, he routinely plugs up toilets or shits himself because he just can't stop hording crap!
I graduated high school 2 years early and my parents would not let me go to college till I was at least 18. So I stayed in school and took advanced classes. I packed the train in 1976 newspaper in a couple of boxes and went off to college. When I came home for Christmas my Mother suggested that I set up the Lionel train under the tree. I went for it and it was gone. Just one big box of track was left behind. We asked Barry and he said Aunt M**** must have taken it (after all she had been laying claim to it). My parents believed him. At my Dad's funeral he had a different story as to what happened to it...
...Back to moving Barry's stuff in storage...Mom and I are unloading the storage bin and what do we find - mind you he has been denying to Mom that he has the Lionel Train - The Lionel train still packed exactly the way I packed it 20 years prior. Later, on the bottom in the back, all water damaged do we find my box of memorabilia and diplomas all water damaged, torn open with the whip missing.
...Torturing Buttons with squire gun at Aunt B***'s when they lived in an upstairs apartment.
...By the way, Barry doesn't tell the whole truth. He 'Lettered' in Basket ball in High school, but what he doesn't tell you is that he never played, he never got above towel boy. He does the Least amount of work he can do to get the maximum benefit.
[Maybe I should name my book Living with the Devil]
Fore-note: I feel very sorry for Barry. I pity him. There is nothing anyone can do for him....
And, most importantly, All Things are Never as They Appear when it comes to Barry.
Also, I didn't realize when I was growing up that the "Fun and Games injuries" were really Sick and Demented. If you ever see a child treating another that way, Please BEAT The Living HELL Out of Them! I Firmly feel that the only way to fight this kind of abuse is to use Brute Force! Dr. Spock is WRONG!
Well where do I start? I guess I'll start at Barry's Birth. I should note that everything I say here up until the time I am old enough to remember things is based upon and repeated from what my Mother has told me with minor bits from my Dad and other family members and family friends.
But first, because this a convoluted story there is an out of place thing you need to know before I start.
I was born with congenital Heart, Pulmonary, and Excretion defects which could not be repaired while I was a child because medical science was not advanced enough. In fact the Heart and Pulmonary defect repairs were an experiment, a best guess repair at the age of 23. I wasn't expected to live past 5 years old. Here I am 50+!
Barry's birth was rough and he was born at a time when they didn't do C-sections. My Mother say's the whole pregnancy was rough. He was coming breech and they had to turn him around inside her with metal instruments. My Mother say's Barry was ugly when he came out. His head was all bruised and swollen. So maybe he suffered some brain trauma when he was born. He does act like someone that had a head injury when they were young, and to this day, his head is a bit misshapen. But I can't forget about what I said in another post about it being genetic and my cousin's on my Mother's side of the family either.
My mother say's Barry was a daemon from the get go. His infancy was rough. Not sleeping through the night. [Different story from Mom. They forced Barry off the bottle too soon. So I don't know which story, Dad's or Mom's is true or maybe they both are in a sense.] He wouldn't give up the bottle till Dad took them to work and got rid of them. At 4 years old he was already an intelligent sneak. The first time Dad got rid of the bottles he did it while Barry was asleep and just threw them in the trash. Sometime in the middle of the night Barry got up, searched, and pulled the bottles out of the trash can at the curb. Remember, he was 4 years old. A couple days later Mom caught him with one. This time she didn't say a thing but got him to stay with a neighbor so she could search his room. She say's she finally had to search the entire house and it took over a week to find where all 7 bottles were hidden. Even at 4 Barry was exhibiting highly deviant intelligence. Mom say's most of the hiding places were where one would not expect a child to choose. One was hidden in the arm rest end of a bolster on the sofa in our game room and he even pulled out some of the foam so you couldn't tell it was there. That one was the last one found and she found it by accident when she took the cover off to wash it. What's worse, she can't figure out when he hid them. But Barry received no punishment or reprimand or education that what he had done was wrong. Instead, the bottles just disappeared when Dad took them to work and trashed them there. A week later he was caught with one he had stolen from the neighbor. He was punished for that. But as Dad said at one time when I was 40 something; the only thing Barry learned was that if he stole a baby bottle he would get punished. He didn't learn that stealing was bad.
So Barry replaced the bottle with Thumb Sucking, Chewing finger nails, and chewing on - this is gross - snot ridden handkerchiefs. He stopped the handkerchief chewing in his 40's, but he bites his nails so bad, there is no nail. (I just want to puke!)
Some of Barry's problems come from being spoiled, not from our parents, but from neighbors and Grand Parents. The Sociopathy was already showing itself. Mom says she couldn't leave him in the back yard and turn her back for a moment. He would be gone. To any one of the Neighbor's even when he was told not to do so. After a few panic stricken times, Mom realized he was going to neighbors. He would always say they called him over, but the neighbors denied it. Mom finally had the neighbors call her when he showed up, but they spoiled him and let him stay and they would bring him home. He never got punished for doing that.
Mom said she couldn't take her eyes off of him for an instant, or he would be doing something wrong. He was always getting into trouble and telling falsehoods. She knew it, but she didn't do anything about it. Well maybe she couldn't do anything about it. I remember her saying she talked to Dr.s but - at the time were Old School - told her he would grow out of it. But seeing how my Mom interacts with people, she keeps talking to different people till someone say's what she wants to hear; then it's fact. Even if 99 out of 100 Experts say the same thing, that 1 person that say's what she wants to hear is the right one.
Somewhere between Barry being 3 or 4 Mom had a miscarriage and was told, because of the damage to her uterus with Barry's birth, she wouldn't be able to carry another baby. She never say's anything about that and I can understand and respect her feelings about it. But Dad told me Barry was very concerned about Mommy when she was sick. However when Barry was told he couldn't have a Brother or Sister, Dad said he seemed almost elated, and he didn't seem to care about Mommy's health anymore.
At about 4 Mom and Dad started taking him to church. Big Mistake! Mom say's she should have started taking him when he was a baby. He was rambunctious, noisy, wouldn't settle down, etc. Mom and Dad tried 2 or 3 times more after having serious talks with him. Didn't work. [It took till he was 7 before he started to do the right things in church and that was only after Nun's and Priests Beat him with rulers and the old Knobs.]
Then I came along. I was an accident. 'Accident' isn't the right word, "Unexpected" is probably correct. I'm called the "Swine Flu Baby." My parents were in Miami in 57 for a conference with my Dad's company - I think or were they on vacation?. My Mom got real sick. Dad took her to the Hospital and no one knew she was pregnant. The Doctor's didn't even see it; almost 3 months. So they treated her for swine flu. When they got back home to PA and not feeling any better, Mom went to her Dr. He said, "I'm surprised you're not feeling any life in there. You're Pregnant." Mom of course was over joyed and flummoxed at the same time. She tells me the pregnancy went fairly smooth after that, but after I was born she couldn't have another baby...And my birth was nasty. Mom had to have 20 something internal stitches to put the baby oven back in place. At one point they wanted to send me home and keep Mom in the hospital while she healed. Mom tells the story funny with Dad saying something like "I don't know what to do with a Baby. I just make the things...! She wanted it! ;-)" Mind you, Dad had to work and look after Barry. He wouldn't have known what to do with me. Nor would he have wanted to burden friends or neighbors.
I was born 5 years 1& 1/3 months (we'll say 6 years) younger than Barry. Something to interject, I'll never be able to understand why my Parents supported and allowed his misdeeds to continue, or correct any of his falsehoods.
From the get go, Barry adversely affected my life. My name wasn't supposed to be what it is. I don't know what it was supposed to be because Mom won't tell me. Sometimes she tells me they hadn't chosen one yet; others just that it was not supposed to be what it is. Even at 6 years old Barry had a big mouth. Well before our parents had a chance to announce my birth, Barry stole the glory and told everyone and when asked what my name was, he lied, he made it up. Why my parents didn't correct the situation I don't know, what they did was to have the name on my Birth Certificate changed to what Barry told people it was (I deduce that my name had already been chosen from this). They themselves lied and supported his lie. I didn't find out about this till I was 40. I'm not angry, I like my name, but to have to rationalize why I have it; is lying to myself. It wasn't chosen because it's a Saint's name, or family member's name, or any of the myriad of other ways names are chosen, it wasn't even chosen by Barry; it was assigned to me by a lie. No matter how someone can rationalize that, one cannot say Barry chose my name because he was not offered a choice. He merely Made It Up!
Then, of course, Barry wasn't getting all the attention anymore. He ran around bragging about his baby brother, but he wasn't ready for the responsibility, nor the reduction in attention from Mommy. He started to loath me.
Mom has said I was a perfect infant. I'd be asleep by 7 and didn't wake up till 5. Hardly ever woke up for a feeding at 2. Barry on the other hand was up all night. That's still the case!
My parents found out about my Heart defect when I was 18 months old, when Dr.s still made house calls. I think it was Mom and Barry were down with the flu and the Dr. decided to check me. He heard the murmur and told them to get me in to see a cardiologist. Further research by the cardiologist reveled that there was a note on the birth record by the Dr. of a murmur, but my parents weren't advised. Apparently this was considered something common and it goes away normally. But they missed the fact that I didn't even have a valve there and the heart muscle had made a sphincter in place of the valve. This and the fact that Barry was now in first grade took much wanted "Mommy Attention" away from Barry. His hatred for me escalated.
I have have sorted glimpse type memories of the first home I can remember. Basement (Finished and unfinished area's), Mom's Beauty Shop area, Kitchen, Living room, my Bedroom, bathroom, the dog chasing balloons, the neighbors on the left, and the little Christmas Tree with tiny screw in bulbs and Santa in the window, etc. I also remember being tickled till I passed out and the demonic look on Barry's face while he was doing it. Twice. And my parents not believing me.
I never watched, because they hadn't been made yet or televised, the psycho-terror-horror movies, and when I saw my first one as a teenager I was bored stiff. I did watch the fantasy ones like Dracula, Frankenstein, Wolfman, The Blob, Swamp Thing, The Mummy, etc. They never really scared me, but I was interested in them. Probably because I read the books first; approaching them with a scientific mind.
So. I'm having trouble justifying or understanding a quirk I have and an associated set of images. I don't know if it's my mind putting things together weird or if something happened when I was an infant to when I can start to remember things, but it's always the same images and same feeling, triggered by the same thing. It gives me problems camping on cold nights, or making love to a partner, or just sleeping sometimes... I just can't put a blanket or pillow over my face. Even if it gently covers my nose and mouth I suddenly feel as if I am being suffocated and can't fight back. And it's just sheets, blankets, or pillows that do it to me. And only when I'm lying down or thereby close to it. And even if I'm asleep. My first real Lover and my last one both told me the same thing. If they pulled the blankets up over our heads, within seconds I'd wake up gasping for air with a "very frightened" look on my face. When I first wake up I feel as if I'm tangled in the sheets and can't move my legs and only flail my arms. I feel-sense I'm in a small padded box. Then suddenly the black swipes down my face to a grayish white in the distance with a small figure glaring at me and I'm terrified of it. I can't quite make out the face, but the features don't seem to change. Ok, so what of it? I worked for a Mortician and played the taking a nap in a casket game - with the Head Lid closed. No Problem. I played a Mummy in a play and was wrapped up except for eyes, nose and mouth and sealed in a sarcophagus for 20 minutes. No Problem. My Lover pulls the covers over my head and I Freak Out! I'm not saying My Brother did anything, but I'm not saying he didn't either.
Even camping in sub-zero temperatures. I have to put an elevated fabric tarp over my face, airline blinders, and something over my cheeks, I just can't sleep with the bag zipped up over my face.
And I remember the silly things I did like popping the little space man's head on my toy wallet and then stuffing the button that was his face up my nose and the Dr. pulling it out. Eating Play Dough and pooping techno-color freaking my Mother Out! ;-)) Being physically abused by a neighbor that was a principal at a school. I remember the coke dispensing machine my Dad got us that disappeared when we moved when I was 6 and showed up again when Barry was 55. How he kept it hidden, in the original box, for that long (43 years), I'll never know. I really don't want it. What's funny is that I know he has it in his possession...I have the small coke bottles that the machine takes...But he won't even take them for fear he has to admit he has the machine. He is going to risk me throwing out the now irreplaceable bottles just so he won't have to admit he has the machine. By the way, when he snagged the machine back in the 60's he overlooked the bottles, and I have had them ever since. All he has to do is say to me, in the presence of several select people, that he has the machine and that he would like the bottles, and I will gladly give them to him, No Love Lost. However, unlike the huge box of Lionel train track I discarded because he wouldn't admit to having the Lionel Train in his possession, I won't throw the bottles out, but he'll never get them because he can't admit he has the machine.
At some point in time and I don't remember it, nor how old I was, my Father had a massive Heart attack (I think he was 35, I 2 or 3). From what I understand, he wasn't expected to make it. So when I was growing up there were not a lot of things he could do with me. As a result I bonded to other Father Figures which only made Barry more and more jealous.
Time for school....Barry didn't start Kindergarten till he was 6 in the summer so that he would be 6 when he started First grade and 7 when going to Second. One of my Mother's customers was a Second Grade teacher and encouraged her to let me go to Kindergarten at 5 in the summer and start school at in the fall. My parents complied. I started First Grade in an experimental and accelerated class at 5.
I was in first grade (and 5 years old.) when President Kennedy was assassinated. The school was at the top of the hill. You could see it out of our kitchen window. Six months prior I cried as I watched the school burn to the ground. It was shorter to walk to the school than to ride the bus or drive there. They announced the assassination on the speakers and dismissed school. I ran all the way home crying. I have glimpse memories of the TV. Then Barry came home LAUGHING because he got out of school early. Do the math, he was in 5th Grade - he should have been in 6th. I was too little to understand exactly what was going on, but I knew he was our President and someone killed him and Barry should not have been happy he got out of school early for that reason.
I don't remember much of first or second grade except that we were learning French. In second grade French was all that was spoken in the classroom. I still dream in it and I can vaguely understand a French Canadian. And my Teachers' name's Mrs. L***** and Mrs. R*****. I can still see Mrs. L*****'s aged, kind, and learned face. But I do remember Barry showing up on the playground and causing trouble. I remember vividly him showing up at a little league game and heckling me. Even at 6 I knew he was my brother and he was supposed to support me.
Then we moved to a new neighborhood and school district. 6 homes, no kids 'cept us. Well there was N***** and J*****. N*** was a Girl my age and J**** was a boy 3 years older than me and they never did much outside the home. So I was stuck with what I already had identified as a loon. Those 4 & 1/2 years were terrible, although I really didn't notice. Well I think I've done some real good blotting out.
I don't want to remember the countless nights watching out the window, praying that every car that turned off the highway was my parents because I knew the torture would end when they finally got home, often between 02:00- and 04:00. They wouldn't listen to me about the sick stuff he did, but at least the torture would end when they got home.
Later in life I was in a minor motorcycle accident where I dislocated my right shoulder. The Dr. had both X-Rayed and came and asked me if I was a "Fighter" because of the damage to my shoulders. I told him how when I was growing up my brother used to slug me as hard as he could with his knuckles out whenever I passed by him. They did more research and found that the injuries were caused while I was young. I have Bursitis in both of my shoulders because of it. And my complaints and even my Parents witnessing the behavior, fell on deaf ears.
Then we moved to another house in the same neighborhood. I was 10, Barry 16. He had already gotten a car at the other house. And screwed it up. A Pontiac Impala convertible with a center mounted back seat speaker. It was a hot car for the time. And the torture continued....
Rewind a bit:
While our new house was being built several bad things happened. One of them I have been blamed for...I remember Barry taking me to the new house that was just plastered and telling me that if we turned the heat on it would dry faster and we could get in the new house sooner. I ran away because at 10 years old I knew something was amiss and I didn't want to get in trouble. The next day the workers came in and found the house hot as hell with all the heat turned up to high (some of the controls were out of my reach). But I have been blamed for that because a neighbor saw me coming out of the house. Well, in the end, it didn't hurt. No cracks.
Either way I still get blamed for it, but I didn't do it.
In the new house...We had some bad kids in the area. And yes they were bad, but they were not responsible for everything that happened in the neighborhood. Barry was responsible too. I know of two brush fires he started that he effectively blamed on others. But I also know he didn't mean to, he just didn't know what to do when what he was doing got out of control. He is a pussy. He had already learned from an early age it was better to run and hide and blame others because the punishment had a great chance of being avoided if even by an small amount. I had to fight all his battles in school. Everybody hated me because of my unique last name. They all knew who Barry was. The only C***** in the phone book.
It was weird, but growing up, my friends were almost always a year or two older than me; Barry's were almost always younger than him. He constantly caused problems with my Friends. He would try and be friends with mine that were 3 to 5 years younger than him. Many of my friends wouldn't come to my house, and I couldn't figure out why till about the eighth grade when some friends got together and told me that my brother was weird and they wouldn't come over if he was there. I remember telling my parents about it, and they supposedly talked to my Friends parents. In the end I was punished for lying. I asked my friends and they all denied ever saying anything to my parents. One of them actually told my Mother after she asked, in my presence, that the reason he would not come over was because Barry was weird. My Mother even had the gauche to reprimand me after my Friend left that I had set it up!
NOTES:
Barry stated at one time "From the day you were born you messed up my life"
...When Barry was 4 (four), our dear departed Uncle Pete bought him a Cowboy suit complete with chaps, rubber dart guns and a whip...I was 42 when I found out about that. I was just awarded my Doctorate in CIS and came to Mom's to go through some old trunks with memorabilia. Yearbooks, Caps & Gowns, Honors Cords, Pictures, etc. When I opened one of the trunks, on top was a Whip and Chaps my Mother had bought/made for me when I was 22 and working in a bank for a Halloween costume. Barry instantly seized on the whip and proclaimed it was the whip from the cowboy suit uncle Pete bought him when he was 4. Mom told him it wasn't and that she had bought it for me, and because of the size, a 4 year old would not even be able to handle it...We packed my Diploma's, year books, and Cap and Gown's in a box and Mom added the whip....A couple of years go by and I want to frame my Diplomas but the box is no where to be found. OK, big deal, we'll find them. A couple more years go by and Mom calls me for some help getting Barry's stuff into his storage bin and she can't find him anywhere. So I drive up and the owner of the storage company say's he has an inside bin and Barry has a lot of nice stuff. We can't find Barry anywhere so we decide to move his stuff inside....
...Before I go on with the above...we have this Lionel Train issue. When I was 2-3 some relative gave us (me and Barry) a Lionel train set. Barry made it his. Sometime around 8 for me Dad bought me a Lionel train (plastic crap). Barry pitched such a fit and bugged Dad for an HO train set. Dad bought it for him on the condition that Barry give up forever the Lionel train that was given to us. It took until I was 14 for me to get that train set - by the Force of Dad...
I got this funny tidbit when I was in my 40's. Being that Barry was older than me, I didn't know anything about Barry's early childhood, but he knew everything about me and exploited it. Because of the excretion defect I had to wear 'diapers' till I was nearly 14 when it was surgically corrected. As a result I would wet the bed. Barry would exploit this and call me "Pee Boy" and maliciously tell my friends and other people. He is mean and ruthless. Then one day in my 40's I asked Mom, because Barry was still doing it, tell me about Barry's early childhood, he has all the ammunition about me, but I don't know anything about him when he was young. She told me that he would routinely poop his pants. That she had to call him in on a schedule to go to the potty. Sometimes she would find him peering around a corner struggling to hold it in. I smiled. The next time he called me Pee Boy, I spun around and said "Mom told me all about you Shit Ass!" He hasn't called me Pee Boy since. But to this day, he routinely plugs up toilets or shits himself because he just can't stop hording crap!
I graduated high school 2 years early and my parents would not let me go to college till I was at least 18. So I stayed in school and took advanced classes. I packed the train in 1976 newspaper in a couple of boxes and went off to college. When I came home for Christmas my Mother suggested that I set up the Lionel train under the tree. I went for it and it was gone. Just one big box of track was left behind. We asked Barry and he said Aunt M**** must have taken it (after all she had been laying claim to it). My parents believed him. At my Dad's funeral he had a different story as to what happened to it...
...Back to moving Barry's stuff in storage...Mom and I are unloading the storage bin and what do we find - mind you he has been denying to Mom that he has the Lionel Train - The Lionel train still packed exactly the way I packed it 20 years prior. Later, on the bottom in the back, all water damaged do we find my box of memorabilia and diplomas all water damaged, torn open with the whip missing.
...Torturing Buttons with squire gun at Aunt B***'s when they lived in an upstairs apartment.
...By the way, Barry doesn't tell the whole truth. He 'Lettered' in Basket ball in High school, but what he doesn't tell you is that he never played, he never got above towel boy. He does the Least amount of work he can do to get the maximum benefit.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
I feel so much better now
Armed with a diagnosis this post started out to be a goodbye comment to Barry, but has changed to possibly help other victims of a person having Antisocial Personality Disorder: a Sociopath with Psychopathic Tendencies. It's unfortunate but they are just physically wired wrong, and the only way to deal with them is to not to deal with them. There is No Known Treatment that works, however there are some that may have recognized they have a problem and are working to get in the norm. But, as the "Shrinks" state, it may just be another ploy to get what they want.
I'll be working on this post over the next several days and have decided not to change or remove any of my previous posts hoping they can be read objectively and referred to. Also in hopes that some may identify with what I have been dealing with all of my life and be able to use that to get themselves some help.
Another reason for this post: Going through the research for assistance I found plenty of sites offering assistance for women, care givers, and how to identify an ADP person, but absolutely nothing for dealing with the situation of a Family Member with ADP. In my case, an elder sibling that just won't go away.
A couple words of warning; (1) if you have been entrapped by a person having APD, there is absolutely nothing you can do to help them or keep yourself safe from them except to run as far away from them as possible and don't let anyone know where you are at for a while - and then only close, un-compromised, trusted Friends/Family. (2) if it's a family member and they are attacking you and other family members are sucked into their falsehoods, I'm sorry but you have to suck it up and refer to (1). Your family is gone! You are on your own. GET OUT NOW! And YOU ARE NOT ILL! Although you'll probably need to seek some counseling to "Get them out of your Head."
A word of advice; APD people are resourceful. No matter how dumb you think they are. They have a way of finding out information you don't want them to know. Anyone that may know where you are - that the ADP person has even a twinkling of an idea about - is subject to being "questioned" by the person with ADP.
Case in point. G*** moved across the country to get away from K***. G*** made the mistake of telling someone G*** worked with, someone G*** only knew at work and never mentioned to K***, where G*** was moving to (and didn't think anything of it). Eleven months after G***'s move K*** showed up at G***'s door. G*** hadn't told anybody - even family - where G*** was. G*** did a little research and found out that K*** showed up at G***'s old office Christmas Party and was chatting with everyone, finally K*** hit upon G***'s office friend and they said something about G*** moving to ****. That was all K*** needed. K*** was gone from the party in minutes and in two months K*** showed up on G***'s doorstep. G*** immediately moved and had to start all over again. This time the right way. But, G*** forfeited her last paycheck, and had to deal with breaking a lease without giving out any information. It gave G*** a Black mark which K*** could not care less about. Three weeks after G***'s second move there was a wedding announcement in G***'s (second) old town's newspaper between K*** and S***. It took less than 3 weeks for K*** to find a new victim! Two months after that a nasty announcement of annulment between K*** and S***. Apparently S*** was a short term sucker and recognized K*** for what K*** was.
Three times my brother destroyed my Life, there will not be a fourth! I chose the furthest University away from Home that I could just to be away from him. Ten years later he was back in my life destroying it. I moved again, but it was too late for my Mother, she was already entrapped. Six years after that; A pleading phone call from my Mother to "Get him Out of my house." Which she denies to this day even though she's heard the tape of the conversation. She's still entrapped.
Take my advice, as soon as your gut tells you there is something wrong, RUN! If they are your neighbor, just keep it to "Hello, How ya doing?, Have a good Day." The very moment they start to tell you about their problems or their life achievements - usually out of the blue - you should see a giant red flag going up and your gut will probably wrench. You better pay attention to it. Keep yourself at "Hello. How Ya Doin?, have a good Day." and you'll be safe. They are just looking for a weakness and usually the "Pitty Pot" or "My life was Great back in the day...," is where they start.
In going through this I have met several people that have told me the same story as in warning (2) above. They all said the same things. Their family member drove them out, but they did it to protect themselves. It was painful, but it was the best thing they ever did for themselves. Sooner or later other family members "figured it out" and managed to find them. The ones that didn't, well they were just gone from the get go.
I think it's genetic, weirdly genetic. Every one of my Mother's Brother's and Sister's eldest sons exhibits the same behavior. From a Doctor down to the village idiot. Well I'm not too sure about the Doctor, but he exhibits the same arrogance. I can describe what Barry has done to my Cousins and they all say I'm talking about their eldest brother. That's weird!
My First post was two years ago, and having just re-read it, I discovered I was describing the things on the various checklists for recognizing a Sociopath. For myself my anger was caused by me not recognizing what Barry is, thinking I could change him, and the fact that our Mother was being sucked in and I couldn't make her understand / see what he was doing.
Yes they have a lot of 'friends,' but the funny thing is that they don't know each other or don't interact with one another. The sociopath will do all in their power to keep his friends separated. Most likely so they don't compare notes. I remember a Christmas Party my Mother had for all the people that had helped Barry. It was a select group of people in the neighborhood and two other couples (we'll call them Couple A and Couple B). Couple A knew Barry for a long time and interacted with him quite a bit. Couple B knew Barry even longer and had worked with him quite often. It was fun to watch how when the couples were in the same room together Barry was always there and every time one of the couples mentioned something Barry would immediately say or do something to get them off the subject. Even just rudely interrupting. That didn't last but a few minutes before Barry succeeded in separating the couples keeping one outside the house. When couple A came out Barry instantly said, well I 've kept you out here long enough why don't you go in and sit and talk to Mom." Silver tongued devil. He successfully kept Couple A & B apart. Why would he do this? Because Couple B knew the truth about certain aspects of Barry's life that he had lied about to Couple A. If couple A ever found out, that would call into question everything Barry had ever told them and his usury would be discovered.
Their minds work like the Tabloids. They take one piece of truth and then start twisting it. By the time the story is done "The sky is Blue because of Blue Particles," rather than because it is Blue because the Atmosphere is full of water vapor.
Many, and I wonder if not all, would give up their lives rather that admit they Lied or committed a criminal act. I was talking to a Clinical Pyschologist who was trying to figure a way of explaining this behavior to someone wired correctly. I pondered, during a Superbowl game, an APD person walks on the field and shoots a quarterback in the head, killing him. All Eyes were on him, on the Jumbo-Tron, and Broadcast all over the world. He was definitely guilty, but maintains his innocence. The final sentence is "Admit your guilt and live free for the remainder of your life in Prison or take a bullet to the head." The APD person would choose the latter. The Clinical Psychologist said "Exactly, but it's not that simple, it depends on what perceived benefit they would get with either choice, but if that sentence was immediate and they didn't have time to think about it, I think they'd take the bullet." The thing is, there is no figuring them out. Each one is mis-wired differently.
Maybe the mis-wiring results in that the head can't talk to the heart?
The turning point for me (from helping Barry to protecting Myself) was when my Mother Bold Face Lied to me. Even when presented with the absolute, unquestionable proof that something she said happened, did not and could not have happened, she exhibited the same tendencies as Barry - denying the facts, and shifting blame. Barry had gotten her to lie for him. I knew then I had to get away, from both of them. I remembered how B**** told me that she lied for Barry. I've always known why she did the things to Barry that she did and I don't condone her for it. But it was her own ignorance of his mental situation that kept her with him and caused her to do the horrible things she did. So, I can forgive her. It was Barry and her ignorance-entrapment that caused her to do the things she did. She didn't heed warning number (1)!
I'll be working on this post over the next several days and have decided not to change or remove any of my previous posts hoping they can be read objectively and referred to. Also in hopes that some may identify with what I have been dealing with all of my life and be able to use that to get themselves some help.
Another reason for this post: Going through the research for assistance I found plenty of sites offering assistance for women, care givers, and how to identify an ADP person, but absolutely nothing for dealing with the situation of a Family Member with ADP. In my case, an elder sibling that just won't go away.
A couple words of warning; (1) if you have been entrapped by a person having APD, there is absolutely nothing you can do to help them or keep yourself safe from them except to run as far away from them as possible and don't let anyone know where you are at for a while - and then only close, un-compromised, trusted Friends/Family. (2) if it's a family member and they are attacking you and other family members are sucked into their falsehoods, I'm sorry but you have to suck it up and refer to (1). Your family is gone! You are on your own. GET OUT NOW! And YOU ARE NOT ILL! Although you'll probably need to seek some counseling to "Get them out of your Head."
A word of advice; APD people are resourceful. No matter how dumb you think they are. They have a way of finding out information you don't want them to know. Anyone that may know where you are - that the ADP person has even a twinkling of an idea about - is subject to being "questioned" by the person with ADP.
Case in point. G*** moved across the country to get away from K***. G*** made the mistake of telling someone G*** worked with, someone G*** only knew at work and never mentioned to K***, where G*** was moving to (and didn't think anything of it). Eleven months after G***'s move K*** showed up at G***'s door. G*** hadn't told anybody - even family - where G*** was. G*** did a little research and found out that K*** showed up at G***'s old office Christmas Party and was chatting with everyone, finally K*** hit upon G***'s office friend and they said something about G*** moving to ****. That was all K*** needed. K*** was gone from the party in minutes and in two months K*** showed up on G***'s doorstep. G*** immediately moved and had to start all over again. This time the right way. But, G*** forfeited her last paycheck, and had to deal with breaking a lease without giving out any information. It gave G*** a Black mark which K*** could not care less about. Three weeks after G***'s second move there was a wedding announcement in G***'s (second) old town's newspaper between K*** and S***. It took less than 3 weeks for K*** to find a new victim! Two months after that a nasty announcement of annulment between K*** and S***. Apparently S*** was a short term sucker and recognized K*** for what K*** was.
Three times my brother destroyed my Life, there will not be a fourth! I chose the furthest University away from Home that I could just to be away from him. Ten years later he was back in my life destroying it. I moved again, but it was too late for my Mother, she was already entrapped. Six years after that; A pleading phone call from my Mother to "Get him Out of my house." Which she denies to this day even though she's heard the tape of the conversation. She's still entrapped.
Take my advice, as soon as your gut tells you there is something wrong, RUN! If they are your neighbor, just keep it to "Hello, How ya doing?, Have a good Day." The very moment they start to tell you about their problems or their life achievements - usually out of the blue - you should see a giant red flag going up and your gut will probably wrench. You better pay attention to it. Keep yourself at "Hello. How Ya Doin?, have a good Day." and you'll be safe. They are just looking for a weakness and usually the "Pitty Pot" or "My life was Great back in the day...," is where they start.
In going through this I have met several people that have told me the same story as in warning (2) above. They all said the same things. Their family member drove them out, but they did it to protect themselves. It was painful, but it was the best thing they ever did for themselves. Sooner or later other family members "figured it out" and managed to find them. The ones that didn't, well they were just gone from the get go.
I think it's genetic, weirdly genetic. Every one of my Mother's Brother's and Sister's eldest sons exhibits the same behavior. From a Doctor down to the village idiot. Well I'm not too sure about the Doctor, but he exhibits the same arrogance. I can describe what Barry has done to my Cousins and they all say I'm talking about their eldest brother. That's weird!
My First post was two years ago, and having just re-read it, I discovered I was describing the things on the various checklists for recognizing a Sociopath. For myself my anger was caused by me not recognizing what Barry is, thinking I could change him, and the fact that our Mother was being sucked in and I couldn't make her understand / see what he was doing.
Yes they have a lot of 'friends,' but the funny thing is that they don't know each other or don't interact with one another. The sociopath will do all in their power to keep his friends separated. Most likely so they don't compare notes. I remember a Christmas Party my Mother had for all the people that had helped Barry. It was a select group of people in the neighborhood and two other couples (we'll call them Couple A and Couple B). Couple A knew Barry for a long time and interacted with him quite a bit. Couple B knew Barry even longer and had worked with him quite often. It was fun to watch how when the couples were in the same room together Barry was always there and every time one of the couples mentioned something Barry would immediately say or do something to get them off the subject. Even just rudely interrupting. That didn't last but a few minutes before Barry succeeded in separating the couples keeping one outside the house. When couple A came out Barry instantly said, well I 've kept you out here long enough why don't you go in and sit and talk to Mom." Silver tongued devil. He successfully kept Couple A & B apart. Why would he do this? Because Couple B knew the truth about certain aspects of Barry's life that he had lied about to Couple A. If couple A ever found out, that would call into question everything Barry had ever told them and his usury would be discovered.
Their minds work like the Tabloids. They take one piece of truth and then start twisting it. By the time the story is done "The sky is Blue because of Blue Particles," rather than because it is Blue because the Atmosphere is full of water vapor.
Many, and I wonder if not all, would give up their lives rather that admit they Lied or committed a criminal act. I was talking to a Clinical Pyschologist who was trying to figure a way of explaining this behavior to someone wired correctly. I pondered, during a Superbowl game, an APD person walks on the field and shoots a quarterback in the head, killing him. All Eyes were on him, on the Jumbo-Tron, and Broadcast all over the world. He was definitely guilty, but maintains his innocence. The final sentence is "Admit your guilt and live free for the remainder of your life in Prison or take a bullet to the head." The APD person would choose the latter. The Clinical Psychologist said "Exactly, but it's not that simple, it depends on what perceived benefit they would get with either choice, but if that sentence was immediate and they didn't have time to think about it, I think they'd take the bullet." The thing is, there is no figuring them out. Each one is mis-wired differently.
Maybe the mis-wiring results in that the head can't talk to the heart?
The turning point for me (from helping Barry to protecting Myself) was when my Mother Bold Face Lied to me. Even when presented with the absolute, unquestionable proof that something she said happened, did not and could not have happened, she exhibited the same tendencies as Barry - denying the facts, and shifting blame. Barry had gotten her to lie for him. I knew then I had to get away, from both of them. I remembered how B**** told me that she lied for Barry. I've always known why she did the things to Barry that she did and I don't condone her for it. But it was her own ignorance of his mental situation that kept her with him and caused her to do the horrible things she did. So, I can forgive her. It was Barry and her ignorance-entrapment that caused her to do the things she did. She didn't heed warning number (1)!
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