Stories 16 and 17: Patricia and Quinn #survivorstories @commdiginews


BETHESDA, Maryland, October 16, 2014 — Patricia* is a survivor of domestic violence and pathological abuse living and recovering in The United States.

Before the relationship, I was happy and full of life, looking for my one and only to share a happy life. During my relationship, I became sick and mentally ill. I had a nervous breakdown. I started blaming myself for everything and hating myself. Now that the relationship is over, I am starting to recover and heal. My therapist is saving me; that’s for sure. Read more… 

BETHESDA, Maryland, October 17, 2014 — Quinn* is a survivor of domestic violence who is now enjoying living a fulfilled life in The United States.

Unfortunately, I had several relationships that were abusive; I just did not know it and/or could not stop myself from repeating the same behavior with the same type of partners. It took many years of repeated circumstances before I was able to be strong enough to say ‘never again’. Read more… 

Each day during the month of October, column author Paula Carrasquillo will feature a story written by a survivor of domestic violence. At the end of October, a compilation of all stories will be available for free as an e-book.

*All names have been changed to protect the survivor and the survivor’s family and friends.

We Can’t Break the Sociopath’s Cycle, but We Can Break Our Own


Many of us were pushed by the sociopath into believing we were the one with the serious mental defect. The sociopath would go as far as telling us that we were bi-polar or suffered from borderline personality disorder.

The boy in my story went as far as visiting a counselor, not to figure out himself, but to figure out ME! Here is an actual excerpt from an e-mail the boy sent to me after I left the relationship the second time:

“When was the last time someone went to therapy in order to better understand you, what is happening to you? When is the last time someone in your life went to therapy to Better understand depression and alcoholism to better understand you? Paula, why would anyone want a relationship with someone that has said the things you have? Done the things you have done? Love? Because I want to be in your life? Help you in all this? Be a friend to lean on?”

Keep in mind that this message came to me after I had left the relationship…for the second time…and had not asked for his help on my way out.

Like most sociopaths, the boy was a King at pointing out all of my failings and weakness (some justly so), but most of his finger-pointing tantrums were cowardice displays of his own projections and insecurities.

Not once did I begin arguments by calling him names, telling him he was a loser, telling him he needed counseling or telling him he was not a good person.

All I ever asked from him (and justly deserved) was for my feelings and opinions to be fully considered, not just brushed aside as the ramblings of some “mentally ill” woman who was confused, as he liked to call me.


I am convinced that only someone who is disordered and without a conscience or ability to empathize could ever project so much onto a supposed ‘loved one’ as to accuse that ‘loved one’ of being disordered.

Accusing us of being disordered is how the sociopath continues to successfully deflect his/her blame and accountability for the relationship’s high toxicity levels.

The sociopath repeats to him/herself:

“If I can prove to her that she’s sick, I can prove my actions are justified and were only taken to help her come to her senses. My senses are completely and utterly intact and 100% healthy. I do not need to change a thing about myself. She’s the one with the issues. I can convince her of that. Just watch me!”

And in partial defense of the sociopath, I believe we absolutely and without question appear bi-polar or borderline to the sociopath.

The sociopath is a victim, a victim of our desire to remain free and independent in our thoughts and actions.

The sociopath expects us to be his/her puppet, and when we refuse to be manipulated, we are viewed as out-of-control and sick.

We do not think as the sociopath wants us to think so the sociopath concludes: “She MUST be crazy!!”

But there was/is nothing crazy or disordered about us. Most of us never stepped foot into a counselor’s office prior to our dalliances with a sociopath. Before these fools entered our lives, the majority of us had manageable issues. Issues, yes. But relatively minor ones.

The sociopath interpreted us as behaving out-of-control and crazy-like when we were simply reacting normally to the prospect of being caged and enslaved by the sociopath.

Who doesn’t react with passion, emotions, refusal and legs kicking when being pushed, shackled and dragged down a rabbit hole?

Sociopaths can not be bothered with the unpredictability of another’s independence. It’s too messy and complicated for them, and it interferes with their free will and plans.

We must be contained…somehow.

One way is by the sociopath proving to us that we are ill and that the sociopath is the only person who can save us from ourselves. Once convinced, we lose our independence and rely on the sociopath to fix us.

And what does fixing us look like?

>> Punishing us for having independent thoughts.

>> Alienating us from our friends and family.

>> Hospitalizing us or calling the police on us for our “uncontrollable” outbursts.

>> Secretly calling our mothers/fathers/best friends and feigning concern.

>> Secretly calling our counselors or sponsors to “tell on us” or make sure we’re remaining in line.

>> Shaming and belittling us so we lose total and complete confidence to act independent of the sociopath.

>> Sabotaging even small independent efforts by refusing to relinquish control.

This type of “fixing” sends us into a deeper pit of despair and cognitive dissonance. We lose sight of ourselves. Become more depressed. Seek ways to self-medicate. Hide our real issues until those issues are bigger issues, bigger than elephants that could ever possibly find a corner in which to hide!

Suddenly, we find ourselves in real need of anti-depressants, hospitalization and interventions.

Suddenly we find ourselves saying, “OMG!!! The sociopath was right all along. I am crazy. I do need help. Thank goodness he was here to inform me. Thank goodness!”

Unbeknownst to you and at your lowest low, you fail to realize that all of the parts of yourself you sacrificed and shared with the sociopath, the sociopath exploited and used against you to lead you down the dark path you now find yourself. The path of complete dependence and complete despair.

And what happens in the moment that you find yourself in need of real help? The sociopath no longer wants to help you. You are nothing to the sociopath. You’re useless, used up and disposable. The sociopath wonders why he ever bothered caring about you in the first place. What a waste you became!

The sociopath’s only option is to toss you aside, refuse to acknowledge he ever had any type of association with you and to go off and discover someone else to be his host.

You truly become dead to him despite all you sacrificed and gave. The sociopath will even delete/burn/discard all remnants of your pathetic existence from his life, so the next host/victim/supply knows nothing of who you once were.

With each new partner, the sociopath’s slate is magically and effortlessly wiped clean. The next victim becomes the soul mate/the one like no one else the sociopath has ever met.

And the grooming begins. The charm is reset. The chameleon once again adapts and changes to match and mirror the lifestyle of his new target. And there will be the temporary envy from those in the sociopath’s new circle.

(But only temporarily. The rabbit hole follows alongside the sociopath, waiting quietly and patiently.)

Soon enough, the new victim will voice an opinion counter to the sociopath’s and the gaslighting and manipulation will commence.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

And the new victim will find herself torn between understanding what she had grown to believe about herself and her values and what the sociopath projects as being the fallacy in how she perceives herself and those values.

She’ll begin entrusting the sociopath with her everyday responsibilities, because the sociopath claims he wants to help her relieve artificial stress so she can focus on healing from her deep-seated issues.

(Let me tell you, this new victim is even more crazy that the last one!! Poor girl. It’s like the sociopath was born to help people or something, always finding the most sick among us to heal and help. What a saint that sociopath is!)

Out of the kindness of his heart, the sociopath allows his name to be added to her checking account, just in case deposits or payments need made and she’s not well enough to do it herself.

She’ll allow him to tell her what she should or shouldn’t be eating or where and when or how much exercise she should be doing.

She’ll add him to her emergency contact list and HIPAA release with her doctors and counselors.

(The sociopath does not deserve this much power and control over anyone’s life, but it’s given up freely!)

The sociopath is a con artist that continues to magnify his new victim’s known weaknesses by inflating her microscopic foibles, convincing her that she is one big messed up mass of humanity and only the sociopath understands, only the sociopath has the tools to fix her!

And fix her, he sure as hell will.

The sociopath will use every detail about her health and wellness to destroy her self-love, her self-respect and her independence.

Then she’ll find herself on a page like this trying to make sense of it all.

But you know what?

No matter how much was taken from her, no matter how lost she became, and no matter that she lost all dignity and grace, she will emerge stronger, more beautiful and more in love with life than ever before!

Just as you will. Just as you have.

Don’t take my word for it. Trust in your desire and determination to not be defeated by the most despicable creature that exists: The Sociopath.

When you rise from the ashes of your sociopath experience, you will discover life has limitless possibilities and your skills are too many to count.

Cherish your skills. Nurture your skills. Share your skills.

The one skill you will use and cherish the most is your skill to remain graceful under the pressure from those pesky sociopaths and their pushy determination to convince you that you have no skills.

What a bunch of kooks those silly sociopaths are! The joke is on them, because we’re aware of the one-sided games they play, and we aren’t interested in being duped anymore. ❤


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Shifting gears and getting down to more awareness business


Thanks to many factors and revelations over the course of several years, my life has come full circle, and it’s heading into another orbit as I write.

I feel stronger and more confident today than I’ve ever felt in my life.

I’m no longer the frustrated and fearful person who lacks the confidence to speak up when I initially feel the urge to speak up:

1. If I don’t want to do something, I’ll let you know now. I won’t wait until I’m in the middle of doing it and break down angry and upset for having been “forced” to participate.

2. If I don’t appreciate how someone is speaking/addressing me, I’ll let them know, mid-sentence if necessary.

3. If I sense someone is not being truthful, I’ll ask for clarification on the spot, in the moment.

4. If I like you, I’ll tell you.

5. If I don’t like you, I’ll tell you but only because I don’t want you wasting your time thinking I like you.

6. If you tell me you like me, I’ll let you know how thankful and grateful it makes me feel.

7. If you tell me you don’t like me, I’ll respect your reason and try to learn from any mistake I made that led you to your opinion of me.

Some will recognize this list as an example of how I plan to use and maintain my boundaries. I’d agree.

However, boundaries mean nothing if there isn’t a solid foundation of self-acceptance. My foundation, I must admit, is still wobbly. It’s not as earthquake-proof as I’d like it to be.

I feel like the boundaries I have built are quite vulnerable considering I struggle sometimes accepting who I am and where I’ve been.

This blog and the support I get from it have definitely contributed to a more stable foundation, but I can’t rely on this blog alone to reach a higher level of self-acceptance.

Fortunately, I have devised a plan (sounds good on paper!) that might help me reach the level of self-acceptance that my beloved family and friends deserve for me to have.

The first part of my plan is to say “Good-bye” to JUST writing about sociopaths. I started this blog before I ever believed in sociopaths (hehe!), but I admit my experience with a sociopath definitely propelled the popularity of this space.

(I doubt the growth of my blog traffic had much to do with my grasp of grammar or my writing style as much as it had to do with the morbid curiosity surrounding the subject matter of Sociopaths, Psychopaths and Narcissists…oh my!)

It’s the simple truth: The sociopath writing I publish gets more people to my blog and allows me to interact with more people than if, instead, I wrote a blog with a focus on…yoga!

If you have been following this blog for awhile, you will remember that I tried transforming the focus and attempted to transition away from writing about sociopaths a few months ago. Fulfilling this desire (and letting go) has proven to be one of my greatest challenges, regardless of all the yoga I’ve done.

“Just let it go, Paula. You can do this,” I keep telling myself.

How do I let go of something that has brought me so much cathartic healing? That has introduced me to a world of knowledge I never knew needed to be known or passed along? That has provided me with more love and friendships than I ever dreamed would be a possibility?

Plus, I am human, and I like the attention. I like the interaction. I like the validation.

But I also recognize that trying to increase my blog hits each month, to help everyone who comments and to respond timely and accurately to everyone who contacts me privately was causing me some stress, anxiety and took away from my ability to help myself and continue to grow and succeed.

I was stupidly putting too much pressure on myself to be more than I am capable of being.

What am I capable of?

I can write, and I am willing to share. I write blog posts about my experience with someone I believe is pathological, highly narcissistic and sociopathic. I write about how I’ve fallen flat and how I found the faith and courage to continue despite accepting the ugliness of my past. I can also write on many more interesting topics, too.

What am I not capable of?

I can’t be responsible for guiding everyone in the right direction who asks for my help. I wish I could, but I am not a counselor. I can’t help everyone with just words who privately contacts me. I don’t have a magic pill or solution.

Because I have learned healthy boundaries, I recognized how I was allowing my blog to control and dictate my sense of worth and accomplishment. So I took a healthy break the last few months from writing as prolifically as I had been writing. I took that time to map out some goals and determine how I’d like to challenge myself in the coming months and years.

I don’t want to let anyone down by pulling away from my original subject matter, but I’m antsy to go to new places and explore new possibilities, in my writing, my life and my relationships.

>> I want to write more for my Washington Times Communities column on relationships, yoga and health, all from a mindful perspective. I’ve been more fearful to put myself out there, up to this point, on such a public forum as opposed to my personal blog space. It’s safe here. It’s not there.

>> I want to dedicate more time to my anatomy and yoga studies, so I can be fully confident and ready to teach the students who could benefit from my experience at the time I earn my 200-hour yoga teacher training certification later this year. I want to teach yoga to trauma patients and volunteer to teach yoga in community corrections and shelters.

>> I want to dedicate more time to editing all of the personal abuse stories submitted to me last year, so the second book I publish is one we can all be proud to pass on to our family and friends and strangers in need.

>> I want to highlight more success stories on my blog. I think this community reads enough about struggles; we deserve some feel-good pieces with more focus on aftermath success.

>> I want to organize a conference (no matter how small or cramped) that will bring us all together in a room, so we can give each other real hugs and not just virtual ones! (((Hugs)))

All of these things require time, organization and dedication. I believe 2014 is going to be a time of further assessment.

But I also sense 2014 will be the year the global foundation surrounding the importance of narcissist and sociopath awareness becomes more solid, making all of us better positioned, emotionally and mentally, to stand proud and spread awareness about emotional abuse wider than just our blogs, Twitter feeds or Facebook pages.

Regardless of what I write and share on my blog moving forward, whatever it is it’s most certainly related to how I continue to mindfully heal and grow.

My life is consumed and driven by the desire to never stop growing.

And I’m not just talking about healing and growing from the toxic relationship in which I found myself with the sociopath. I’m also referring to healing and growing from years of not thinking I was good enough.

I want to share all of the good stuff I learn with you in hopes you’ll continue sharing your successes and periodic struggles with this community.

I’ve been too fearful to be me in the past. Thanks to this community (which is continuously growing!) I am ready to spread my wings and take a few risks. What do I have to lose?!? What do any of us have to lose!?!?


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Share Your Story!

Share your story of survival and recovery with me for my next book!


I am writing a follow-up book to Escaping the Boy: My Life with a Sociopath and would like you and your story to be a part of it!

Submit your story!

My second book will focus on healing and recovery from pathological love relationships using mindful approaches like yoga, meditation, writing, journaling, joining support groups and much more.

I believe that the more real-life examples victims, survivors and advocates read, the better our collective understanding. The better our collective understanding, the easier it will be to increase our support systems and see real change in how divorce, child custody, domestic violence, rape and intimate partner abuse cases are approached, investigated and determined/prosecuted.

By following the “Submit Your Story” link, completing and submitting the form, you agree to have your story shared anonymously. However, if you would like me to use your name in my book, check the box at the end of the form prior to submission. Your name and home state/country will be included in the book’s acknowledgments.

If you have any questions prior to completing the form, send me a private message.

You can complete as little or as much of the form/questionnaire as you would like. Keep in mind that writing about your experiences may cause anxieties and a flood of emotions. If you are triggered in any way, stop writing and speak to a trusted counselor or loved one.

Submit your story!

“Are you okay?”

Often, there is a much darker side to domestic violence and intimate partner abuse beyond the physical assaults and destruction of property. I’m referring to the destruction of the victim’s ability to find a purpose to go on living.

At my most depressed before escaping the boy, I thought about how easy it would be for me to end the anguish just by dying. I imagined myself dead. I thought about how my death would affect my son and my mother and my sisters. I didn’t like what I was imagining, but I couldn’t help but think about my own relief. I was tired of quietly crying myself to sleep or drinking myself into unconsciousness so I didn’t have to answer his phone calls, respond to his texts, or listen to the boy degrade me with his accusations and words. I didn’t know any other way to make it stop, but realized that dying was a great solution. Dying would end it all.

I remember sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbing my journal, and beginning THE letter. I didn’t get far before I heard my cell phone ringing. It was the special ring tone I chose for my sister Rachael. I answered. She asked me, “Are you Okay? I am worried about you.”

Instead of going into what I was in the midst of writing, I just talked with her. I took this call as a sign that I was being really, really stupid and really, really uncaring to myself and everyone who loved me. We kept talking. I felt better by the time we hung up, and I ripped the beginnings of the letter out of my journal and flushed it down the toilet. (If I had tossed it in the trash, there is no doubt the boy would have found it and had me admitted immediately. I think he was always hoping I’d end up in a mental hospital, because he KNEW, he was convinced, there was something wrong with me. Little did he know that the “something” was him.)

I never told anyone (not even my counselor) about these thoughts I had about dying. I don’t even know how I would have gone about dying. Killing myself seemed so far from anything I could imagine. Stepping out into traffic. Eating spoiled food on purpose. I honestly didn’t get far with thinking about the “how-to” part of the whole event. And to me, that simply meant I wasn’t THAT serious. But was I?

I often wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t received that call. Would I have written the letter and realized I was stupid? Or would I have written the letter and felt more certain dying was the only answer and way out? I don’t know. I have no idea what my next steps would have been. One thing I do know is that my sister did call me, and I picked up.

Thankfully, the thought of dying on purpose, of killing myself, of committing suicide, has not crossed my mind since that day. That day I started writing little notes to myself about why I wanted to live. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to miss out on my son’s life. I didn’t want to miss out on my own life, regardless of what setbacks it brought to me. I realized that I was the common denominator in my own life and my own sadness. But I also realized that I had to let go of the people who made my ability to fight for my happiness impossible. I had to escape. I had to surrender.

Walking away and giving up on a futile fight is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength. I didn’t know it at the time I escaped. It took me many months to regain my self-trust and self-confidence. I am still growing and learning. But, thankfully, I am growing far, far away from the pain and suffering that once had me doubt myself so completely.

If you are having doubts or if you know someone who is, visit the RU OK? site and learn how to lift the fog. Nothing and no one is worth your life and the guaranteed pain those left behind will suffer.

Be good to yourself. Be good to others. Namaste!

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Acceptance and Feeding the Wolves

I receive letters and private emails from many readers. You share many of your feelings, stories, and fears with me. For that, I am grateful and feel blessed to have your trust.

A recurring question from many readers is:

“How do I get my abuser out of my head in order to forget and move on?”

Unfortunately, there is no easy answer. There is no definitive solution. We lived through something with someone. We can’t erase it. But I do believe there is a first step we all must take in order to recover from it:

We must accept what happened to us and realize we cannot change it or change the person who hurt us.

As a person who was able to wake up and escape my abuser before it was too late, the hurt I felt was not of having my heart-broken. Not even close. The hurt I felt in the beginning of my healing was in having trusted someone I expected would treat me with love, kindness, patience, and forgiveness. Those are basic and simple building blocks of all healthy relationships and the exact traits narcissistic sociopaths like the boy in my story lack.

My husband has those traits. My son has those traits. My mother, father, and stepfather have those traits. My sisters and brothers have those traits. My life-long friends have those traits. Therefore, my expectations that the boy would have those traits was not unrealistic. I had been conditioned to expect them from everyone, including the boy. And when they failed to flow from him, I wanted to help him grow those traits. How futile and naive! I know that and accept it now.

Acting on my co-dependent tendencies is a thing of the past. It serves no one, especially me. Why would any of us choose to try to fix another when we need to fix ourselves first? Once you accept your abuser for what he/she is, you can finally accept yourself, warts and all!

The beauty of accepting ourselves is the realization that we have complete control and power over changing those things we don’t like about ourselves and our behavior. Most importantly, we are allowed to expect better from ourselves and also expect results from our efforts to change.

I started by writing down all of the things I liked about myself. Then I jotted down all of my failings. I wanted to maintain the good in me but transform my bad habits and behaviors. I couldn’t erase my past failings and personal disappointments and setbacks related to my actions. However, I knew I could begin again. But beginning again required a thorough inventory of EVERYTHING!!

I spent many hours and weeks going back in my past and dissecting the years. I discovered too much I had tried sweeping under the rug. I had many “ah-ha” moments, and my confidence in my ability to relearn how to be myself again slowly started returning. With this confidence, I was energized to do something with my skills and talents I had suppressed for so long. (I, just me myself and I, suppressed them. It was no one’s fault but my own.)

In less than six (6) months from the time I decided to take control of my life, my writing took off. My book was published. I landed my column in The Washington Times Communities. My Facebook pages grew. I was approached by the founder and creator of My Emotional Vampire to help with their ever-increasing following. I read more and more blogs by other survivors. I lent my support to them as best I could. One Mom’s Battle asked me to contribute to the back cover of her book. I participated in fund raisers and walks.

My body and soul were being energized more and more every day thanks to my own efforts (and lots of support from my son and husband). I got myself into the mess I was in, and I was able to get myself out of it. That’s all we can do for ourselves in the end, really. Don’t you think?

Today I celebrated another birthday. My husband and son bought me a beautiful cake and two yoga calendars: one for my office and one for wherever else I need reminded of the passing of time. They also got me a dimmer switch for the light above the dining room table. (Mood lighting is VERY important!) Before leaving for work this morning, I wrote in my new journal (Thank you, Janine!) and wished for a peaceful day.

I want to end this post with a Cherokee tale I read many months ago and again last night in the last pages of the memoire Look Me in the Eye: Caryl’s Story by Caryl Wyatt and Anita le Roix:

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life.

“A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.

“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” He continued, “The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”


The truth is tasteless…to a sociopath!

The truth brings tears, but lies cause the pain.Narcissistic sociopaths (like the Boy in my story) lack the ability to feel remorseful or accountable for any of their bad behavior. If confronted head on with any direct lies or manipulation (lying by omission), the narcissistic sociopath will be quick to point the finger of blame. Like the Boy, they are masters at maintaining the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing facade simply by diverting unwanted attention onto others.

The Boy had few friends, and the few friends he did have were ALL illegal aliens from Argentina. Because his parents were born in Argentina and the Boy spent most of his childhood in Argentina, I just assumed he was naturally drawn to them for friendship and camaraderie. In reality, these were the only people he could keep as friends. They were easy targets for his cat-and-mouse games of control and manipulation.

Between 1996 and 2002, Argentina participated in the United States’ Visa Waiver Program (VWP), a program that allows nationals from select countries to enter the United States for business or tourism for up to 90 days without obtaining a visa. So, during these 6 years, many Argentine’s entered the country legally (no need to stow away on a boat or a bus or in someone’s trunk) but chose to overstay their welcome and remain for much, much longer than 90 days.

The Boy was friends with one of these families: husband, wife and two children (not born in the United States). Upon meeting this family, the Boy quickly whispered to me that they were illegal. (Hmmm? Okay. Why tell me? Wouldn’t it be better I didn’t know?) The husband worked under-the-table in construction, and the wife worked at a hair salon as a shampooer. The children (thanks to the 1982 Supreme Court case, Plyer v. Doe) attended public schools and blended in easily with the rest of the kids.

I grew fond of them all, especially the two boys. They were funny, smart, and were very sweet to my son and helped him learn how to kick around a soccer ball. The wife was also sweet but shy and spoke little English with me. The husband, on the other hand, was extremely extroverted, well-versed in American dialect, and seemed to work very hard to provide for his family. (Of course, the fact they were illegal always left me with a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. On the one hand, I was happy they could live outside of the poverty they described in Argentina. However, what would happen to those boys after they graduated from high school? It’s not like they could get jobs or even go to college without their illegal status being discovered. What good could their American high school education do for them in America? I tried not to think about it too much, actually. It was better that way.)

Unfortunately, the Boy shared many of the couples’ secrets with me. One secret in particular that he shared (with great delight and enthusiasm, I might add) was that the couple was no longer married. The husband had cheated on his wife, they divorced, but decided to reconcile to keep the family together. I commended them (to myself, of course) for at least trying. The Boy would often tell me how much the husband wanted to leave the wife but stayed only for the kids. The Boy also told me about the woman the husband REALLY loved: another Argentine who was married to someone else. (Hell. Really? I needed to know all of the sordid details? AND you want me to be friends with the wife?)

Then I was unfortunate enough to become privy to the biggest secret: the husband and the woman he REALLY loved were having an affair. Secret meetings. Cell phone pictures of her ass tattoo. Gifts. Dirty e-mails. (STOP!!! Please don’t tell me anymore! I don’t want to know. And why do you enjoy the drama of this so much, Boy?)

The worst part about knowing all of this was sitting in the same room with the wife listening to her struggle with deciding wether or not to return to Argentina. I wanted to have the guts to say, “Leave. Go back to Argentina. Take your sons and give them a future they deserve. Their father is cheating on all of you.” But I didn’t have the guts.

Until about two months after I escaped the Boy. I wrote to the wife and told her about the affair. The Boy later told me that my decision to tell her about the affair was “tasteless” and only made her cry. (Wow! I was why she was crying? Funny, because I’m not the friend who kept a secret from her, nor am I the husband who cheated on her. But I, SOMEHOW, made her cry?) I simply said, “The truth may have brought her tears, but it’s the lies and secrets that caused her the pain.” The Boy said nothing.

The wife returned to Argentina with her sons. I am sure the Boy continues to blame me for the upheaval of that family. I am sure he discusses how sick and sad I am for causing so much pain to an innocent family by being so “tasteless.” After all, a true friend just sits back and finds pleasure in the suffering and drama of another’s life, right? That’s the tasteful thing to do.


Reader support and fun with analytics

WordPress blogging is fun. I get to write and publish and meet other bloggers and readers. I find out a lot about myself and receive enormous amounts of encouragement. I honestly don’t know what would have happened to my mind in the last few months if I hadn’t been gifted with all of the support.

Especially in hard times, we need each other. Now that the good times are peeking through, I’m focusing on participating more in the blogs I follow (and hope to follow), which means reading them, commenting on them, commenting on comments, and simply being there like so many were there for me.

One of my favorite features provided by WordPress is the analytics. People from across the globe visit my blog. The majority of visitors come from the United States, Australia, Canada, and the United Kingdom. I can also pinpoint the city, state and the referral site!

The most interesting analysis to date has been the reoccurring (almost daily) visits by a specific reader (not a fellow blogger) who comes from Springfield, Virginia and enters via If you happen to be that reader, thank you so much for your interest in my blog. It seems you’re especially interested in anything and everything I post about sociopaths, Escaping the Boy: My Life with a Sociopath, and abuse. I hope you’re learning about yourself the evil among us.

To the rest of my readers and fellow bloggers, Namaste!

Anne Lamott quote

My yoga break

I miss you.I took a short break from yoga. My husband and I have been preparing our taxes, financials, and minds to begin house hunting in the D.C. area. I am getting a bit anxious about finding a place and moving, hopefully before the end of August, in time for the new school year to start. With all of my anxieties, I realize that two weeks is long enough to be away from yoga. I go back this afternoon.

What have I noticed in these two weeks away from yoga? 

  • I get tired faster, it seems.
  • I am not as regular. (If you know what I mean!)
  • I don’t eat what I should eat when I should eat it.
  • I ache.
  • I miss my yoga buddies.
  • I miss the lotus flower painting on the yoga wall.
  • I miss the hot room!

What activity would you miss if you had to be away from it for two weeks or more?

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