Narcissistic Adoption Abuse Recovery
What Is Peculiar In Me, The Ungrateful Bastard Adoptee
I am plagued by Fear of Living. I am one of those that wasn't supposed to survive childhood, by their own hands as suicide has been the one-step-beyond answer. Unfortunately I began seeing spirits and ghosts at the time that I was nearing suicide's capability. The suffering spirits of death began to impress upon me the ultimate payment of my future evolution would stop and I would languish for lifetimes in the suicidal depression state in between lives. I have been in the presence of their misery telling me not to do it. The gift of seeing others and hearing their messages of stick it out, don't mess with the hierarchy of life of those past naturally before me has given my soul hope in this lifetime, but dealing with the living is a much more difficult than the whispers of the dead asking you to understand their memories, who they were in life and why they are now stuck communicating with not so stable individuals like me. I hold a world of hyperventilate awareness of suffering, in that I feel more pain for the suffering of any other form but my fellow human existence. I would give away my vehicle to a homeless dog or ca if he could use it. However I can't give love that I do not know myself, so I weep in my absence of their suffering.
Why I am this way is scientifically attributed to my owners treatment of me. Everything in life has been what my masters choose and when they throw me out of their lives I don't know how to live. So I attach temporarily to a surrogate (friend, sex interest or more and better abuser) to support my existence. I only know the abuse cycle and try to create it in all of my motivations. When the realities of life begin to normalize, I find it unsatisfactory and make a move to find the drama that sustains my dysfunction. Shockingly I have been married for fifteen years, the only reason it has continued is that I am too broken to change and my current keeper handler is too busy to deal. On occasion bones are thrown in to my cell to use as temporary satisfaction buying tools.
In critical situations I find comfort and purpose. But one such as I is not reliable and can't pass a medical exam to be insurable.
In the last 24 months I have received the gift of clinical death for 4 minutes, 30 seconds I was able to look and see in to what the other side of death is made of all that the spirits say is true.
The 20-40 seconds after my heart stopped was the most suffering and base of fear I have ever experienced in my life.
I realized I was going to die so I thanked god for the experience of raising two mentally normal children, then begged god's great mercy to stop my consciousness and I was dead. I made no cowardly deals, I did not beg god to fix me, I embraced death because I did not have to take my own life. Floating above my body in the ambulance and seeing the light and hearing the sound of singing of beautiful music was interrupted as I was slammed back in to my lifeless dead body. I emerged in consciousness when my eyes opened and I looked around the ambulance noticing the convulsing flailing arms and legs strapped into the gurney. I was in awe of my experience and decided no longer to live in acceptance of behaviors I had adapted from my handlers of gossip, lying, to act as if concerned and trash talk those whom I did and did not know. I became different as to not mentally perpetuate psychological manipulation on others. I lost all of my friends that did not have anything to say if not to engage in gossip and materialism. The epiphany occurred without warning in an unsuspecting way as
I saw my adoptive mother using me as a pawn between my siblings after out father's death, it was business as usual and stepped up a few notches. At that moment all my life has flashed revealing every hateful word, jealous paradoxes of lies, and greed based actions force on me in hopes of my ultimate failure, obscurity and my mother's favorite "Humiliating me" in public.
The 2 am calls from her telling me to do the exact opposite of my mapped out carefully considered plan, in hopes of my financial ruin. Of course I ignored her expert advice and succeeded in my plans but these emotional tortures always discount my own ability to act logically by planning and insight.
Any successes by my adoptive family was measured in dollars
which is against my own unique personality so I was always psychologically abused for relying on my true self and began to question who I am. I am not her although her tendrils are dug deep in to my psychological control, the only way to escape her narcissistic rage and deception is to escape her hatred of me once and for all. My Identity is not owned by her forever, isn't 18 years enough? She will never be satisfied until I am dead, then she can mourn the memory of her good 6 year old adopted child whom she saved me from my own life. The opposite day she will say good riddance to the ungrateful adopted child who never lived up to the dead baby she replaced. The mother's anger and bitterness make up most of her narcissistic personality to anyone that dare escape her web of deceit.
As I was her only a bad choice, she was forced to utilized in her best interest to be the award winning adoptive parent.
These are the persistent child abuse memories that plague me.
The more I learn about psychological, sociological behavior the
larger dynamics. I can identify in my quest for who I am, that who I was as a child was a personality made up of psychological defense mechanisms. I am at a crossroad of who I was forced to act as the grateful adopted child and the illegitimate bastard child that brought dishonor and humiliation on a family that did not accept me as their own, although they owned me and were stuck with the legal responsibility. If this adoption had taken place in the 1990's, I would have been drugged and labeled ADHD and would not be alive today to defend the plight of adopted children and to share my day to day existence in the attempted recovery from Narcissistic Adoption Abuse.