Tag Archives: Housework

Why on Earth did I Stay

As his hands tightened around my neck I struggled but he was much stronger than I. I felt my body go limp as everything went black. My last thought was, “He is going to feel so bad when he realizes what he’s done.”

Then I was gasping for air. I was disoriented and realized I was on the floor of the truck and scrambled to get back on the seat. I expected him to be as shocked and horrified as I was over what just happened but he put the truck in gear and stared straight ahead not saying a word.

I was numb with disbelief, I wanted him to hold me, I wanted it to not have happened because now I knew I had to make a choice. I had always sworn if any man hit me I would be gone so fast his head would spin but now faced with the situation it wasn’t  that easy. When we pulled in the driveway 5 minutes later he said, “That’s it. I want you out, its over.”

I don’t recall what I said, I know I was shocked at the fact that we were both so calm. I felt I should be angry, or crying or indignant but all I wanted was for him to hold me. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t as horrified as me. I don’t recall what I said  but I’ll never forget the look on his face or the tone of his voice when he said, “You ungrateful fucking bitch I shouldn’t have stopped when I did”

I was numb, confused, this was NOT JC, he was the most nonviolent man I had ever known. Sure we’d been having problems but he never even swore when he hurt himself working on the truck. He was unflapable JC never lost control. I didn’t know this cold, distant man that just told me he should have killed me. I was sure he must feel awful, I wanted to put my head on his shoulder and have him hold me, to look in his eyes and see love and not hate. So after a few hours I went out to the shop, he was cold and pulled away from me when I went to touch him. He refused to talk to me so I went back in the house. The next morning he took the house phone with him to work and I was home alone with my thoughts.

Stress, my God, we had so many things happen in the first few months we were together and he’d always stayed so calm, distant yes but not angry and hateful. I was sure with time we could talk like we always did and work it out.

In the first 6 months we had lived together we had made the deal on the house, he had been unjustly fired from his job at the resort (I didn’t know that JC gets “unjustly” fired from every job he has and never lasts more than a few months); I was his staunch supporter and assured him we’d get through it together. He proposed.

My brother confessed to the family something I am not at liberty to discuss here but it had been extremely traumatic for my whole family especially my mom who couldn’t handle it and washed her hands of the whole situation. So it had fallen on my shoulder to be support my brother and mother. My son had gotten involved in drugs and gangs and my family told me I had loved him too much when he was a child, I had spoiled and ruined him. My mom told me to forget I ever had him. JC held me and said there was no way I could turn my back on him now.

He was on the streets some where and I was frantic to find him. My mom kept calling crying about my brother and one day I said, “You know mom I am worried about my brother too but I also have a son out on the streets some where that I am worried sick about.” and her reply was,”but your brother has so much more to lose.” I asked, “So you are saying my son’s life is not as valuable as my brother’s?” JC held me when I cried.

With everything JC’s support was unwavering.

I lost my job 3 months after we moved in and then we got news that JC’S dad had cancer throughout his body and had been given only months to live.  JC got a job and his dad died 2 weeks later, he had flown out for 2 days, worked for 2 weeks and flown back for the funeral. He had been extremely close to his dad and I knew he must be hurting but he had hardly cried or talked about it. I wasn’t sure how to handle it.  He became obsessed about how much money I was spending and insisted I owed him thousands of dollars and that is what the fight was about when he strangled me. He was wrong about the money but I was sure it wasn’t the money anyway; he was hurting and I was going to figure out how to help him.

And that’s why I stayed at first.

I was making as much on unemployment benefits as I would have working and I didn’t mind playing the role of homemaker. I didn’t know it at the time JC was disabling my vehicle; as far as I knew it had mechanical problems and when JC said I couldn’t drive it I didn’t question it. There were no buses out to where we lived and there was never any printer ink to print off resumes so I worked fixing up the house. He seemed to like having me home and would often have me ride with him in the dump truck while he worked. We always had a great day when I did and I would feel so close to him again. He brought home a dump truck load of landscaping rock then soil so I put in rock gardens and a pond, he brought home a load of sand and I shovel and raked it making a lovely sandy beach in front of our house. He came home from work and supper was ready, the house was spotless, there was always fresh baking. I would try to set the mood and have candles lit when he got home hoping he would stay inside with me and not go out to his shop. Every night it was the same, he’d come home, go out to his shop, I’d call him in for dinner, some times I would end up taking his dinner out to the shop for him, if he did come in he would go straight back out after dinner. I would put on something sexy and try to entice him to come to bed and he would pull away saying he was dirty and I would make some comment about liking dirty men. His sense of humor was gone, he would say, “I’ll be right there” I would go to bed and end up falling asleep. Some times he would crawl in to bed about 4 or 5 am and we would make love but often times I would wake up in the morning and realize he hadn’t been to bed at all and I would cry.

I come to dread times we were close and loving because it seemed after an especially loving time he would be doubly cold and cruel to counter act it. I prayed alot, I didn’t know how to reach him, he seemed like he hated me most of the time.

I talked to a girlfriend who also lived at the resort and told her I thought he hated me. She was shocked, she told me that all he ever did was speak highly of me, he bragged about my cooking and all the work I was doing on the place, she said she had seen him bringing me home flowers and I felt bad for doubting his love and decided to try a little harder not pressure him.

We would discuss money, I would think we had sorted it out but within a few days he was on me again. He stayed up all night calculating how much he spent on me and presented me with an invoice of everything I owed him right down to the 25¢ he had given me when I was short of money for a slushy.

The next time he got physical was on my birthday. He forgot my birthday and called half way through the day. I had been snarky with him and then immediately felt bad. It was a day the car was working and he had called me and told me to pick up his cheque, cash it and bring the money to the track. I apologized for being snarky and he just brushed it off. When I got to the track racing was cancelled due to rain so I called to tell him and he said to meet him at work. I got there and he seemed fine, he hugged me and was joking about forgetting my birthday and how he was going to make it up to me by taking me for dinner.

When we left the office I asked him if I should leave my car there and ride with him and we could pick it up later or should I follow him.

JC – What the hell are you talking about?
Me-Dinner, should I leave the car here and we can pick it up later.
JC – I don’t know what you are doing but I’m going to the track.
Me – racing is cancelled, I thought we were going for dinner.
JC – are you buying? I don’t have money for dinner.
Me – I’ll will go with you to the track, I got my EI today I can buy supper.
JC – Just go home I’ll see you there.

I was not going to let him ruin my birthday so I went to the liquor store and bought a nice bottle of wine and a pack of tobacco. (I rolled my own cigarettes JC always bought taylor mades). The rain had let up so I went home, poured myself a glass of wine and went out to putz in my garden. I was not going to react, I was not going to ruin my day. He walked through the door about 10 with a carton of his smokes, a 26er of rye, a cases of his favorite coolers and a look on his face that said he was itching for a fight.

JC – I see once again you took care of yourself and didn’t buy me smokes or booze.
Me – please don’t start, I don’t want to fight.
JC – You don’t want to go there because you know I’m right.
Me – just last week you told me to just buy my own smokes and you’d buy your own so that’s what I did. Please don’t do this. Not tonight.


The Perfect Little Family

I was beyond ecstatic for a few weeks and wore maternity clothes almost immediately, I wanted everyone to know I was pregnant; I wanted the cutest maternity outfits.

Then the paranoia set in and I was afraid I might miscarry. Every possible thing I could worry about I obsessed about, the doctor even gave me an ultrasound in hopes of calming my fears but it only worked for a few weeks and then I was obsessing again. If the baby didn’t kick often enough I feared it was dead inside me, I obsessed about it being deformed because I had smoked and drank before I knew I was pregnant, and then there was my obsession with my weight. Having been anorexic prior to getting pregnant and then eating like a horse once I found out I was pregnant I gained a phenomenal amount of weight very quickly. I was 135 lbs when I got pregnant and 207 lbs when I went into labour. The motorcycle club had a pool going to see who could guess my weight when I finally went into labour. Victor would come home to find me on the bed crying, he’d say, “You looked in your closet again didn’t you?” and he would hop on his bike and come home with a new maternity outfit.

One day while I was working I was away from my wicket and when I returned there was a vase on the counter with one single rose in bloom and single rose bud and the card said, “One for you and one for the baby. With all my love Victor.” He never once made me feel fat or unattractive, even when I got stuck in our water bed and couldn’t roll myself out of bed he never even hinted at making fun of me. (Smart man)

It was November and I had been told I could have the baby any day and the baby’s room still wasn’t done, Victor was planning on going hunting in a couple of days and we were arguing. I said you aren’t going any where until that baby’s room is done (you never told Victor what to do unless you wanted the exact opposite thing to happen but my hormones were talking) and he said he’d do it when he got back. I was at the stove frying hamburger, holding the frying pan with my right hand and stirring with my left as he walked past the kitchen door heading to the bedroom. Before I knew it; almost like an out of body experience I flung the frying pan in his direction. The frying pan hit the wall in the hallway taking a chunk out of the wall and narrowly missing him. Hamburger flew every where, I burst out crying and Victor poked his head slowly from around the corner of the doorjamb not sure if something else would come flying in his direction. Victor went into the bathroom and started a bubble bath for me, guided me into the bathroom and told me to relax, he scraped up the hamburger from the walls and floor washed the floors and wall and ate it the hamburger swearing it was delicious (good thing I was obsessive about keeping my house clean). The next day he did the baby’s room before he went hunting.

A few weeks before I gave birth Victor had been at the legion drinking and wanted to take his opened half bottle of wine home with him but the bouncer wouldn’t let him and he had punched the guy, breaking his jaw. I had been furious and we called the guy offering to pay whatever he needed as long as he didn’t press charges; luckily the guy was decent enough, we paid his dental bill and nothing more came of it. Victor promised me he would quit drinking.

The other issue we had was that he never was faithful; he just could not pass up the opportunity to screw another woman. It bothered me terribly, every time he went out with his buddies I never knew if he was with another woman or not. He didn’t have affairs, I’m sure he never saw the women again, it was when he was drinking and he told me once that he just couldn’t pass up a new pussy. He didn’t know what he thought he’d be missing.

As strange as it may sound to you although it upset me terribly and we had many fights over it, I never felt he didn’t love me or that it was my fault in any way or that I wasn’t attractive. He wasn’t like JC, he never blamed me for his infidelity, and he always took responsibility.

I never slept until he got home, but when I heard the door I would pretend to be asleep, he would come to the bedroom door way and watch me sleeping. One night he said,” I really do love you you know, I am so sorry.” While I was pregnant I am sure he didn’t screw around, although I did get jealous one time when I came home just in time to pick him up for prenatal classes and I walked in to a houseful of people and a woman on his workout bench with her legs spread and his face 6 inches from her crotch. Victor did tattoos on the side and the woman wanted a black widow spider coming out of the hair down there. Here I am feeling like a beached whale and he’s down there tattooing; well I guess you can imagine how well that went over.

I finally went into labour on December 20th 1983; because I had been in labour so long with my first pregnancy I didn’t want to go to the hospital until I was really ready. When Victor came home from work that day I told him I’d been in labour all day and he wanted to go to the hospital immediately but I told him to order a pizza because the minute this baby was born I was going on a diet. He wanted sex one last time because he knew I wouldn’t be having sex for a month or so after having the baby. I am sure having sex sped up the labour pains because we didn’t even finish and I said we have to go to the hospital now. I left the house with a piece of pizza in my hand and we arrived at the hospital at 8:15 pm. The nurse checked me and said I wasn’t dilated at all and it was going to be all night. Victor rolled his eyes and she said he should go home and get some rest and they would call when I got closer. I told him not to go; there was no way it was going to take that long. As with my first baby the contractions didn’t come regularly and they had to break my water, I kept telling the nurse the baby was coming and she kept telling I wasn’t near ready; my doctor was at a wine and cheese party and she didn’t want to bother him. They had quite a busy night with babies being born and there was a lull, the nurse said she’d wheel me into the delivery room to give me a change of scenery. I wasn’t in the delivery room more than 5 minutes and I said, “The baby is coming, I have to push!” Victor whipped my slippers off and put my feet in the stirrups the nurse was saying, “Don’t push, don’t push!!” I said, “This baby is coming now, someone had better get over here.” Just then the doctor ran through the door with his arms outstretched and they put the gown on him as he came through the door, he got to me just in time to catch the baby as I gave one more push.

Victor gave me the blow by blow description of the birth, “There’s the head, there’s the back, there’s the bum, there’s the balls, IT’S A BOY!!!”

Kris was born at 10:20pm. and weighed 8 lbs 1 ½ ozs, he bruised his nose on the way out and Victor and I laughed because he had his dad’s nose. (Victor’s nose had been broken a few times and was kinda flattened out) Kristofer was beautiful, perfect, bald as a cue ball, 10 chubby little toes, 10 chubby little fingers, pink and healthy. I didn’t know it but my family was in the waiting room and they were allowed to come in immediately after Kris was born, while the doctor was still stitching me up. Finally I had what I had been praying for for so long, a healthy baby boy (although a girl would have been just fine with me I did want a boy and Victor although he always said “as long as it’s healthy” wanted a boy, we could have found out the sex of the baby when they did the ultrasound but we didn’t want to know ahead of time.) the nurse had given me something for pain about an hour before because the pain had been so intense and she didn’t think I was going to deliver that night at all, and it kicked in about the same time Kris was born. Everyone left to give me time to rest and there I was wide awake at 10:45pm, all by myself feeling like I was on top of the world, stoned out of my gourd and no one to talk to. I remember saying as everyone was leaving, “Someone bring me a glass of wine, no never mind make it the whole bottle!”

True to his word Victor hardly drank for the next 5 weeks, right through Christmas and New Year’s Eve. I was nervous he would go out and get drunk after he left the hospital but he went straight home and called everyone we knew but he didn’t drink. My mom and dad gave me a gold chain for my wrist with a gold charm of a pair of booties to commemorate Kris’s birth. (I treasured those booties for 27 years, the chain had broken and I had put the booties on a gold chain around my neck and wore them that way for many years until that chain broke and then I put them away for safe keeping along with some of Kris’s baby teeth, his hospital wrist band and other mementos. In 2010 I saw a little silver bullet shaped container for sale at the counter in a gas station and thought it was perfect for keeping the booties in and bought it. I took it home and showed JC how I had put the booties and Kris’s baby teeth in it and put it on my key chain as a good luck charm. Kris had moved away and it was a way of me keeping him close. Around the time JC and I were splitting the silver bullet disappeared off my keychain, I tore the house and truck apart but never found the silver container. I asked JC about it and he didn’t seem to even remember me showing him the container or what I had put in it. After we were split he had me haul his tools from his last job because he had been fired, when we got back to his/our place I went into the music room to warm up and there on the coffee table was the silver container, the latch that held it onto my keychain wasn’t broken and it was empty. I took it out to the fire where JC was standing and asked him where he got it from. He shrugged and said he didn’t know. I said, “This is the container I had Kris’s booties in.” He asked where I found it and I said in the music room, then he said he found it in some of his son’s stuff that Allen left behind when he left so suddenly. He said Allen must have stolen it, you know how he was stealing everything. But I had it after Allen left, he left in May and I know I had it in October when I went to visit my son in Kelowna because I showed it to him. I didn’t argue with JC and just told him that if he came across them I would really like them back. If there was anything in this world that I cherished it was those booties and he knew it and it was his passive aggressive way to hurt me). Sorry I digressed; back to Victor.

He took to fatherhood like a duck to water, he was bathing Kris, changing diapers, and wanted to take Kris every where he went. He’d take the snuggly with him and take Kris to the bike shop, to visit friends, and he’d get up with him in the middle of the night. I wasn’t breast feeding because I wanted to diet and was going back to work after 2 months so it was easy for Victor to go alone. I was the nervous new parent but he was a natural at caring for a baby. The baby would be asleep and I would get up from watching TV with Victor and pretend I was going to the bathroom and I’d hear Victor, “leave that poor kid alone!! He’s fine, don’t you dare wake him up.” Because he knew I was going to sneak in and make sure he was still breathing.

We had gotten a Springer Spaniel puppy that my dad’s pure bred male Springer had sired and even he loved the baby, we had the perfect little family. I really didn’t want to go back to work full time again and leave Kris with a baby sitter all day and Victor and I talked and agreed I would go back part time. In those days you only got 6 weeks maternity leave and in the 5th week I talked to the bank and they agreed to lay me off which would mean I would qualify for unemployment benefits a lot longer and I would only work a day or two a week for the first while.

On Thursday February 2nd, Victor went out and traded my Honda Civic, our old Fargo pickup truck and a holiday trailer my foster brother had given us all on a 1981 Reliant K car and surprised me with it. He said he got it because he didn’t want me driving with the baby in a vehicle that was unsafe, drafty or might leave me stranded. I was thrilled with it, sure it was just a K car but it was burgundy and had velour interior and was the nicest car I had ever had.

On Saturday February 4th, 1984 I went out with girlfriends for a nice dinner and Victor stayed home with Kris and on the Sunday he had plans to go for a motorcycle ride with my dad and a friend, Ken. It was unusually warm for early February and a beautiful day for a bike ride. Victor rode his bike 12 months out of the year, it was an agreement we had, that if he bought a brand new bike it couldn’t be for pleasure only and he said he’d drive it to work and he did almost every day, he had a snowmobile suit for riding in winter and rain gear for the rainy season, full leather pants and jacket, gloves, mitts, full face and regular helmet, he rode in snow, ice any conditions so he was a seasoned rider. On this Sunday he had on his full leathers, riding boots, helmet and leather riding gloves. It was such a beautiful day and I felt a little jealous to be left at home, I loved the motorcycle but it was his day with the guys. After Kris’s nap I put him in his stroller and walked the 2 miles to my mom’s and we drank some wine and sat out side on the patio. She drove me home about dinner time and I mentioned I was concerned the guys were still not home and she assured me they were fine, just enjoying their guy time; but as it got dark I had uneasiness but I couldn’t pinpoint what I was so uneasy about, I knew he wouldn’t be screwing around, not with my dad along. I dozed off lying on the couch with Kris in my arms and around 9:30 woke up with a start. I checked and Victor wasn’t home. I didn’t know whether to be pissed off or worried, it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been late, but the fact that he was with my dad told me to relax I was worrying for nothing. I went to bed and finally fell back to sleep, only to be woken up by the phone ringing at about 11 pm. I had a hard time waking up and the phone seemed to be ringing forever. Finally I answered, “Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Ouellette?”


“This is Abbotsford Hospital calling, when you come in to visit your husband can you stop at the front desk please, we have some of his belongings here.”

“Abbotsford Hospital? What are you talking about?”

“Your husband was admitted earlier tonight and we have his belongings at the front desk.”

“What do you mean he was admitted, what’s wrong? what happened?”

“I don’t know madam; you’d have to talk to the emergency dept about that.”

“Emergency? Can you put me through please?” my mind was racing, what would he have been doing in Abbotsford? They went to Sumas Washington.

“Just one moment.”

I could feel the panic welling up inside me and I was telling myself to stay calm, it must be some mistake, my dad would have called if something bad had happened. Maybe they parted ways and he went to a bar alone maybe he was in a bar fight and got stabbed or something. I waited for what seemed like an eternity and then realized she must have dropped the call. I wear contact lenses so couldn’t see and in my panic I couldn’t find my glasses, I was shaking so badly I could barely dial the phone but managed to finally get information and they put me through to the emergency ward at Abbotsford Hospital.

“It’s Carrie Ouellette calling, I was just told my husband Victor, was admitted to the hospital tonight.”

“Hold on, I’ll get you his nurse.”

“Hello? Mrs. Ouellette?”

“Yes, what’s going on? What happened to my husband?”

“He’s had a motorcycle accident Mrs. Ouellette and he’s on his way to surgery”

“I am on my way, this is Abbotsford hospital?”

“Yes Abbotsford emergency but, there really is no point in coming down here Mrs. Ouellette, he’s on his way to surgery now and isn’t expected to survive there’s no point in you coming.”

I hung up. Not expected to survive? It must be a mistake. My dad would have called. No, it has to be a mistake, Victor can’t be dying, he has to come home, we just had a baby.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

Yes, You Are Pregnant!

I am trying to keep this short, I don’t know why I feel I must share this part of my life, it doesn’t really have anything to do with narcissism, but you know everything that has happened to us in our life makes us what we are today, the good and the bad.

Some things bring us to our knees, some things have us doing a happy dance, some times we feel our feet don’t even touch the ground, other times we don’t know if we’ll make it through the day and all of it teaches us something, or it should. It teaches us something about ourselves, about other people or about the world and no experience is wasted as long as we learn some thing from it. Like it or not it is all part of us and how we deal with the different things that happen to us depends on what happened to us prior to now. Our lives are a series of experiences all connected some how; you can’t remove one experience without it affecting future experiences.

I have said before that I don’t believe that women who get involved with a narcissist are flawed in any way, they aren’t weak and easy targets, the majority of them were strong self sufficient women. I have been really hesitant to write about my past experiences with the baby and stuff because I didn’t want any one out there to read it and think, “Well, it makes sense why she fell victim to a narcissist, look at her upbringing; I had a healthy loving upbringing, I have high self esteem, I would never allow anyone to treat me like that, I am safe.

No one is safe, narcissist’s are chameleons without a conscience; they will find a way to get to even the strongest, most intelligent person. My son was my weakness, my fear of something happening to some one I love was my weakness but I was not a weak person and I guess that is what I am trying to show.. Any way on with the story.

When Victor showed up I believe it was a Wednesday, I still had to work the week so in 2 days Victor sold all my furniture, and early Saturday morning we shoved everything I owed in my Honda Civic and drove straight through to Borden Ontario so we could start work on the Monday. I went with the attitude that it was an adventure and if it didn’t work out I would at least see another part of the country and I was young enough to go home and start over. Victor and I were there a year, spending as much time as possible in Quebec with his family and my brother and mother both came out for a visit at different times in that year. Victor was always very welcoming with my family and his family welcomed me with open arms.

Quebec was a real culture shock for me. This was at a time in the late 70’s early 80’s when Quebec wanted to separate and some of Victor’s friends were angry he was with an English Canadian, some businesses wouldn’t even try to talk to me, many of their laws were different, and it was like a foreign country. At that time in BC you couldn’t drink on a Sunday unless you bought dinner in a restaurant and it was before beer and wine stores. In Quebec people took their children into the bars, drank 7 days a week and could buy booze in the grocery store any day of the week.

Growing up my dad used to accuse me of doing drugs and being promiscuous, I got in trouble for smoking and hanging around with the “wrong” crowd and basically because I got pregnant I had disgraced the family. The truth be known I never even tried smoking a joint until I was well into my 20’s, was not a slut and was quite a prude. I wore conservative outfits, I never went out without my makeup done, and never left a dirty dish in the sink or a faucet not shone. There were no grey areas in my life, everything was right or it was wrong; there was no in between. Victor and I were like the Lady and the Tramp; from two different worlds but there was an appeal to the carefree life he led. Victor wasn’t encumbered by worrying about what people thought; that is not to say he didn’t worry about hurting someone because he did; there is no way he was a narcissist, he was kind and generous and genuine; he had a zest for life, he grabbed life with both hands and LIVED it; …….. Every second of it. Whereas I was spending my life being afraid; of being judged, criticized, or rejected, I didn’t even know what I wanted out of life if my parents didn’t tell me. I thought I knew, until I met Victor. As much as I had my hands full dealing with Victor living life to the fullest, he had his hands full dealing with my narrow mindedness; we clashed a lot.

Victor dabbled with drugs and every time he did I would get spitting angry, he drank to oblivion, and partied hard, but his whole family did. They didn’t even own a coffee pot and started the day with a beer. At Christmas I was mortified that his mother cooked a full turkey dinner and no one came to the table to eat it and just picked at it throughout the night. Some people didn’t even get their tree up before Christmas, I called my mother in tears, it was all so “unChristmaslike” for me and I missed home terribly. When I cooked while I was there I demanded people come to the table and eat. I told his father, “If I can go to the trouble of cooking you a meal the least you can do is come to the table and eat it.” He said something to Victor in French and he laughed; Victor said his dad liked my spunk.

When I look back, I was very young, only 22-23 but I had very definite ideas of how a relationship should work; the roles of a man and a woman in the relationship and they were pretty stereotypical. The woman cleaned, cooked and the man did the outside yard work and fixed the vehicles. We lived on base so army was our life, all our friends were army and most of our entertainment took place on base. The army almost promoted infidelity. Every Friday night was a “smoker” for army personnel only, no wives or girlfriends until 9 pm.
They would barbeque steaks and get pissed, by the time I got there at 9 Victor would be 3 sheets to the wind or passed out. I remember one night in a club on base there was a group of us sitting at a table and the husband ½ of a couple we socialized with a lot was sitting two chairs down from me. I didn’t know the woman sitting beside him but ½ ways through the night I realized she was giving him a hand job under the table. I was disgusted, mortified, shocked, wanted to go home and puke.

Victor got out of the army a year after we moved to Ontario and I went ahead BC to get a job, a place for us to live and to plan our wedding. We got married Aug 28, 1981, our wedding is a post in itself and maybe someday I will tell you about it, here’s a clue………every time I hear the Glen Campbell song, “Someone Left My Cake Out In The Rain” I think of my wedding.

Victor embraced my family and our traditional Christmas’s, Thanksgivings and birthdays; as much as he was a free spirit he truly loved my family and my family loved him. Not ever having that when he was going up he was almost childlike in his enthusiasm for anything to do with family, I learned how to cook French Tourtiere and made it every Christmas until just a couple of years ago and I always gave Victor 4-6 pies and he would give me wild meat to go in it. Even though Victor’s father had been a hunting guide for a portion of his career he never taught Victor how to hunt. My dad was an avid hunter and was more than happy to teach him.

When we were back east I started to let my hair down a little bit, long before the movie “Dirty Dancing” came out Victor was doing it. God he could dance, he is the only man I’ve ever seen jive with 3 women at once and not miss a step. He loved to dance and I grew up dancing at home, both my parents loved to dance. I can remember standing on my dad’s feet as he whirled me around the living room dancing, even as an adult I used to love doing an old time waltz with my dad. Him being 6’3” ish and me 5’10” ish our one arm outstretched and his other arm around my waist guiding me we would glide across the dance floor, our long legs in perfect unison. Unfortunately if we were not careful we would get too close to someone else and lambaste them on the side of the head with our outstretched arms because we were so tall our arms were at the exact height of many of the other dancers. Victor and I were the same height in bare feet and that presented a problem in itself when dancing; he wasn’t used to a woman the same height as him and when he told me to “just relax and let yourself fall I’ve got you” when he dipped me, the idea being I would reach the full extension of my arms and that would help snap me back up; he miss judged the length of my arms and I landed full force on the floor. Then there was the time he had me above his head, I was to remain straight as he held me horizontal above his head and twirled me; that time we took out the ceiling fan in our living room. One thing for sure; every time we danced I fell in love with him all over again. As maddening as he could be and as annoying as I could be with my obsessive compulsiveness we loved each other.

He got on with the Federal prisons, I got back on with the Bank of Commerce, we each had our own sets of friends, mine the conservative group, his the rowdies and then we had our couples friends; when we threw a party there was never a dull moment. We bought a motorcycle and joined the same club I had belonged to a few years prior, we bought a “fixer-upper’ house under foreclosure in 1982 right after the bottom fell out of the real estate market but the mortgage rates were something like 20%. The people had put an addition on the side of it, two bedrooms and a living room but hadn’t removed the wall between the old house and the addition. In true Victor fashion, while I was at work he decided to take his chain saw and cut an archway into the living room. Great idea, but he didn’t measure anything, didn’t check for wiring, and didn’t cover anything with a tarp or even close a cupboard door. There was a fine layer of gyproc dusk over everything.

We put in grass and gardens, poured concrete in the back for a patio and settled in as proud home owners and newly weds, there was only one thing missing ……… a baby. Every month I agonized when I got my period and I still had to go every 3 months for another pap smear and the results were always the same; not good. Then one month I was late, I did a home pregnancy test and it came out positive. Back then they couldn’t say you were positively pregnant until you were 6 weeks and the next 2 weeks were a living hell until I got confirmation; Yes, you are pregnant!!

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

Starting To Show

When I told Wayne he asked me who the father was. He knew damn well I hadn’t had sex with anyone else and I said as much. Unbeknowenst to me a few weeks later he secretly got a vasectomy in hopes of proving his innocence. I don’t know if it is still this way but back then a man had to have his wife’s signature to get a vasectomy and he conned Karen into signing the consent form by telling her the surgery was to remove scar tissue.

I had 2 good girlfriends in school, one of them told every one she knew as soon as I told her I was pregnant and the other one, Debbie stuck by me through it all. They could have pulled her finger nails out and she wouldn’t have talked. Another girl I didn’t know approached me after hearing from Kathy I was pregnant, to tell me Kathy was gossiping behind my back and offered her friendship; Dallas, and her and I became the best of friends.

Initially Wayne wanted me to have an abortion but I flatly refused. After that he pretended nothing was going on and he would pick me up from school and we would screw like always until my friend’s mom said, “Carrie is going to have to tell her folks soon, I can’t believe they haven’t figured out she’s pregnant because she is really showing.” Debbie told me and within a week I was gone. I told Wayne he had to do something to help me, so we planned that he would pick me up in a couple of days.

I packed a bag and he picked me up and took me to a hotel in Vancouver. I had already checked into homes for unwed mother’s and had some names of people to talk to when I got to Vancouver. As soon as we got through the door at the hotel Wayne was on me for sex and then said he had to go, I started to really cry and he got angry with me because I was being so self centered and not thinking about how this was for him, his marriage, how my dad would kill him. I told him he should have thought about that before he screwed me and before he lied about being sterile. He gave me $50 and promised he’d be back the next day and he didn’t show up for two days. When he did show up he was very cold and we hardly said a word. He drove me over to the YWCA and paid for a room for a week, gave me another $50 and unceremoniously dumped in the lobby. He said he’d be back but I knew I was on my own.

That night some guy I met on the street bought me dinner, I think he thought I was a hooker until he talked to me and then felt bad and bought me dinner and took me back to the Y and told me to go home.

He didn’t know my dad, there was no way I was going home, I’d get beat for sure. I didn’t sleep much that night, I remember being so scared and lonely in a bare room with a desk built into the wall and single bed, I had to share the bathroom and tried to do that as little as possible. The next day I went to visit a couple of homes for unwed mothers, one was run by the Salvation Army and the other one by nuns. They were both very friendly but I couldn’t see myself in either one. I was so shy, painfully shy, I just couldn’t live with all these girls, I went back to my room to think. A few days had gone by and I was out of money, the taxi fare had eaten up most of it.

There was a bulletin board in the lobby of the Y and I absentmindedly was looking it over when I notice a 3×5 card.
“Young professional couple looking for live in nanny for their 2 yr old little boy.
Room, board, and some cash in exchange for light house keeping, occasional food preparation and caring for our son, unwed mothers ok.”

There was a number, so I called. I talked to a woman and we made plans that her husband would pick me up the next day and bring me to the house. He was a very nice fellow but I was so nervous, I had no idea where we were going, I know now that it must have been North Vancouver because we went through Stanley Park, as far as I knew he was taking me into the forest to rape and kill me, but we got to a very nice house and the woman was very welcoming and sweet, she showed me a small but very welcoming bedroom that would be mine and the rest of the house. Then we sat at the kitchen table and talked about me, them and their expectations. I was 9 years older than my little brother and had cared for him like a mother since he was born; so caring for a young child was nothing new to me and I had prepared the family supper every night since I was 9 or 10 so that wasn’t an issue.
They liked me, I think they could tell I was just a scared kid who had no where to go and not into drugs or partying and I was healthy. They asked if I had considered giving up my baby for adoption and that their little boy was adopted and how much they loved him and what a blessing he was in their life. Then they told me that what they had hoped was that they would find an unwed teenage mother who would live with them and care for their little boy and they would take care of all her needs until the baby was born and then they would adopt the baby. Up until this point I had always thought I would keep the baby but the more I thought about it the more it seemed like the right thing to do. I said I had to think about it and they said that was fine and to call them with my decision in a couple of days. The next day I had just enough money to make a phone call so I called them and said I would do it and we made plans for them to pick me up in a couple of hours.

I went up to my room and packed what few possessions I had and went down to the lobby to wait for them.

At home my parents had read my letter saying I was pregnant and had gone away, it didn’t say who the father was or where I had gone. Immediately my dad went to see poor Sam again, who of course had not seen or talked to me since my dad threatened his life the first time. My mom called my girlfriends and although they knew I was pregnant, no one, not even Debbie knew where I was. Then they called Wayne and Karen to see if they had any idea where I might go or who the father was.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

My First Experience With A Narcissist

Narcissists Are Truly Dangerous People

Through my research into narcissism I have come to realize JC is not the first narcissist/psychopath I have been involved with; all these years; since I was 15 I had no idea until just recently.

Those of you new to my site might not know that I had a baby when I was 17 which I gave up for adoption. I did a post on his birthday Sept 19th, and can’t remember exactly what I said in the post. I don’t have an internet connection right now so I can’t check. If I am repeating myself I apologize, but I think there is an important connection between JC and Wayne and why I had such a hard time leaving JC, plus Wayne was also a text book narcissist.

We moved to Chilliwack when I was 9 and two doors up lived two little girls, a boy and a teenager who was just living with the family, I don’t know what her story was as to why she was living there but it doesn’t matter. After graduation she moved away; then out of the blue when I was 15 she moved back to Chilliwack, bringing with her a new husband that she was obviously madly in love with. I think she was about 25 and he was 30. He was so good looking, funny, such a nice guy and my whole family fell in love with him. My dad being a prison guard was leery of people until he got to know them but he took a liking to Wayne immediately.

Karen told us how she had been riding a bus and Wayne had gotten on the bus and sat beside her. By the time they got to where they were going they were in love. He swept her off her feet and it had been a swirl wind romance. They told us that even though he was a Canadian he had gone over to Vietnam and been medically discharged due to not being able to cope with the horrific sites over there. He told us about the guy standing next to him getting his head blown off and how he eventually attacked a superior officer because he just snapped and we were all memorized and felt so bad for him.

I believe they were moving to town because Karen got a job in the office of the police department and Wayne was unemployed so my dad pulled some strings and got him a job in the prisons as a guard. Karen and Wayne spent a lot of time at our place, especially Wayne because he and my dad had become fast friends.

I remember one night they were over visiting and my mom and I were in the kitchen doing something and we were whispering about how cute he was and how nice and that was the kind of guy I would like to meet someday. I had myself a real teenage crush on him (I think my mom did too). They told us also that Wayne had been injured when he fell while balancing on a fence when he was a kid and was sterile.

My mom worked full time at Safeway and I came home from school every day and took care of my little brother, Wayne of course knew my dad’s work schedule and he started dropping by for coffee when I was the only one home. I was your typical love struck teenager and he would tease me about boys. My dad always thought I was a slut but I was still a virgin at 16 and I told Wayne that, we talked about a lot of personal things, I wasn’t happy at home, had low self esteem, never really dated any one and Wayne played on that.

I turned 16 (the age of consent) in April and that following July my family was going away for a month on summer vacation, they would be gone 2 weeks, back a few days and then gone again for 2 weeks. I had a full time summer job waitressing and didn’t want to go but they didn’t trust me to leave me home alone so they talked to Wayne and Karen and it was decided I would stay with them while my family was away.

Karen worked a lot of night shifts at the cop shop and Wayne worked shift work but it turned out that he and I had a lot of time alone together. He had started to really ramp things up, talking about “making love to me” and how he wanted to be my boyfriend. One night he took me out driving around to the all the places in town the kids went, we did what everyone called “the loop”, drive through the A & W, the Dog N Suds, and then the Dairy Lou; he had me sit beside him and “pretend” we were on a date. He told me that he knew Karen was having an affair with one of the cops and he had spied on her and saw her partying at a house that the cops kept as a party place.

One day Wayne showed up at the restaurant where I was working and said that a fellow, Sam, who I had been on a couple of dates with was stalking me. He had seen him outside the town house where they lived and then outside the restaurant, he told me to not leave work alone or with anyone and that he would drive me to and from work from now on.

They had a beagle names Barney and I was there about a week when he was talking to Barney about having sex with me. I was a shy kid and felt very uneasy about the whole thing, pretending was one thing but like I said I was a virgin, I hadn’t even seen a man’s penis in real life AND he was married. I ran upstairs to my bedroom and he came running up and kicked the door down. Why he didn’t just open it I don’t know because it didn’t have a lock on it, but he landed on the bed and started kissing me. Next thing I know he’s on top of me pinning me to the bed. I tried to protest, I was confused, scared, and yet I thought I loved him too. All I remember is it hurt like hell and I wanted it to end soon. He was still inside me when we heard Karen come home and he jumped up and ran downstairs and I lay there, crying, afraid to move.

I bled a lot, the sheets were covered in blood, Karen assumed I had gotten my period, God only knows how Wayne explained the bedroom door being kicked in, he had broken the door frame. Hum….. broken door, bloody sheets….. But no questions asked. I bled for days and every day after work Wayne wanted sex again. I never once in the months that followed had an orgasm; I just assumed something was wrong with me because I wouldn’t even get close to having an orgasm.

When my family came home for the few days in the middle of their two vacations they came over to see me and I took mom aside and tried to tell her what was happening but couldn’t find the words I just said I wanted to go with them on the second vacation. When she asked why I told her about Sam stocking and Wayne insisting on picking me up from work. She told my dad who immediately drove to Sam’s house. Sam’s father said Sam was at baseball so my dad drove out to the ball field and right up to the pitchers mound where Sam was pitching and threatened his life if he ever came near me again. Poor Sam didn’t know what the hell my dad was talking about but he certainly stayed away. With Sam taken care of and Wayne promising to not let me out of his sight my family left to finish their vacation, and true to his word Wayne did not let me out of his sight for the full two weeks.

Once I was home he would pick me up from school or show up at the house and we had sex. He’d want sex even if my dad was home and asleep on the couch, or he’d take me to the river and we’d have sex in the truck parked where all the fishermen could see us. He taught me about giving head, anal sex, bondage, and bought me crotchless panties and stocking to wear when I was with him. Sometimes he would tell me to meet him somewhere and not show up and then say he had been there but on the other side of the building, or I had gotten the location wrong. If they were at a party of my mom and dad’s he’d corner me in the hallway. By my 17th birthday I was 4 months pregnant. (To be continued)

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

Life With JC Was Never Simple

This is the little watchman's cabin.

This is the little watchman’s cabin.

Yet another strange but true story of a time while I was involved with JC. I am leaving the name of the town and changing all the names in my story for reasons that will become obvious later.

JC had a friend who did woodworking and refinishing of antiques, I never met him but was with JC when he stopped at the guy’s warehouse.

JC and I were in an apartment at the time and I came home earlier than expected one day to find JC sitting outside the apartment complex with all his stuff loaded on his truck and the engine running. I was devastated, especially since he had come to me only a few months prior and begged me to take him back and only that morning he had bought me breakfast and we had had a wonderful loving talk.

He said his buddy had moved out of the warehouse and he was taking it over and we were done; that was it. He had planned on leaving before I got home. I begged him not to do this and after a couple of days of me pleading we agreed to date on his terms.

At the warehouse there was a watchman’s cabin at the front of the property, it was so over grown with blackberries you couldn’t even see it from the road, in fact his friend had left the whole property in a horrible state of disrepair. I made a deal with JC to help him clean up the property and warehouse for reduced rent on the watchman’s cabin and we agreed I would pay him $250 a month, we would continue to date and see where it went. He rented out part of the shop to a friend “B” for $350, he said he was paying $1200 a month rent, so that meant it cut his rent in half.

I worked day and night ripping out blackberries and burning them, burning the garbage left behind by the previous tenant and in not too long the place was looking great. The cabin had been used as a big dog kennel and stunk like wet dogs but with soap, water and elbow grease I had it really cute in no time at all. It had a stove and fridge, bathroom with a shower, bedroom and main living area, maybe 250 sq ft with lots of windows and I made it into the sweetest little home. I painted flowers on the walls; wall papered and built a garden with a pond behind the cabin.

I worked along side JC cleaning out the warehouse, there was a ton of paperwork left behind from the owners, packaging materials, wood, all sorts of miscellaneous crap but it didn’t take long and you never would have known the place. The guy renting from JC was a painter by trade and brought left over paint and his sprayer and painted the inside of the warehouse. JC and I always worked well together and at those times I felt close to him. He was calling the shots as far as the relationship went and usually acted like he couldn’t stand the fact that I was breathing his air, he rarely said “I love you”, I was walking on egg shells and I knew I couldn’t do it much longer.

It was a good size warehouse and JC set up his living quarters up stairs but didn’t have a shower or kitchen so I was cooking for him and usually slept in the warehouse with him.

I felt uneasy in the warehouse, I didn’t know if it was JC or something in the warehouse but I just felt the presence of something evil when I was in the warehouse; in the cabin I was fine. I wouldn’t even go in the warehouse if he wasn’t home and just stayed in my little cabin. The warehouse was literally only a few feet from the railway tracks, it even had a loading dock out back where they used to load product onto the train it was so close. When the train went by every thing shook and it was so loud it gave me the willies; I had often thought that a person could scream at the top of their lungs and never be heard.

Ordinarily if JC went out and left me at the warehouse he would lock the gate and tell me to not let anyone in; which was pretty easy seeing as I didn’t have a key for the padlock on the gate; but one day he slipped out on his motorcycle and left the gate open. While I was putzing in the yard a older robust friendly looking man and a very skinny nervous looking woman walked through the gate. I stopped what I was doing and asked if I could help them. She asked me if I was the owner and I said no, that my boyfriend was renting the place and he wasn’t here at the moment. She asked who he was renting from and I said I didn’t have a clue she would have to talk to him directly. I said I could get JC to call her when he got back.

She said, “Yes please do get him to call me immediately when he gets back because I am really curious who he is renting from ………. seeing as I am the owner and haven’t rented it to any body.”

I felt the colour fade from my face and there we were; them staring at me and me a deer caught in the headlights; blinking at them.

Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck

Always Leave Them Wanting More

Rain and more rain

Rain and more rain

and more rain and more rain, and then it rained

and more rain and more rain, and then it rained

That has always been my motto when ending a relationship. Always leave them wanting more.

I have always had amicable breakups, been fair in the division of property, cooked them a lovely last supper, and remained “friends”, for a period of time any way.

I have never had a significant relationship end where the guy didn’t eventually want me back. Actually I have always been the one to end the relationship; it was still painful but my decision none the less.

So I was thinking maybe that is why I am having such a hard time getting over JC, maybe its just my ego getting in the way because it wasn’t me that ended it and I had plenty of reasons to end it. Kinda like “How dare he end it when I should have walked away first, how dare he reject ME!”

I always had too much pride to ever beg a man, sure there were times I cared more for a guy than he did me and I’d hang around waiting to see if he changed his mind but I invariably found someone else and was unavailable when he finally did “see the light”. With boyfriends I moved on quickly with marriages (yes plural) I didn’t start dating again for almost 2 years. During that two years I would stay in contact and be friends without benefits and once I started dating someone seriously, or they did, the friendship would fizzle out.
Usually the new partner isn’t too happy with the friendship, my ex’s new woman could never understand that if I had wanted him I would have kept him in the first place.

But maybe they were insecure because I always looked my best any time I saw my ex. I figure; why make them glad they are no longer with you? If my son’s dad was picking him up I’d make damn sure my makeup was done, hair, nails and I was dressed attractively. Nothing over the top like garter belt and heels but you know; wearing those jeans that make your ass look especially enticing, heels that make your legs 6′ long. I was always very pleasant too, especially to the new woman, I certainly wasn’t going to be a bitch to her, (unless she was a bitch first) and make myself look bad. I have always wanted to be “the one that got away”, not the one they thank God they got away from.

Also I am an Aries and they say Aries women are the most able to live without a man of all the zodiac signs. That’s not to say we don’t love men and don’t love being in a relationship with a man. It just means that if we have to we are capable of doing anything a man would do and don’t need a man to complete us or “do for us”. When I am with a man it is because I want to be with him not because I NEED him.

So all that said, I was mortified when Denise called her brother (JC) last week when we were broken down on the side of the road. I hadn’t slept more than a few hours (in the dog’s bed on the floor) the night before, hadn’t had a shower in two days, was filthy from work, been crying most of the day so my eyes were puffy and blood shot. My make up was smeared and I had black smudges of mascara under my eyes; I looked in the rear view mirror to see what I looked like and realized I was too far gone for any quick fixes. To top it all off I was broke, broken down and damn it….. I needed a man.

That is NOT the way I see my ex’s!! I am supposed to be looking hot, in control, happy, doing great with a big bright smile on my face and he is supposed to look tired, unhappy and take one look at me and think to himself, “What the hell was I thinking? God I miss that woman.”

I want him to drive away remembering how great sex was, all those times I greeted him in a sexy little number, all the wonderful meals I cooked for him, all those nights we laid snuggled up talking until the sun peaked over the mountains, how I love to dance all by myself in the kitchen and how his kid loved me and how I loved Christmas and decorated the whole house, bathroom and all. And how I was always willing to help a neighbor or always encouraging him when he was down. I want him to remember the beautiful gardens every year and how hard I worked to create a welcoming home.

I don’t want to remind him of the fights, or me being needy, I don’t want him to be glad I am no longer in his life. I want him to be eternally sorry he blew it.

But when you are dealing with a narcissist you are dealing with someone who doesn’t feel like a normal person. Sure he wants you back. He wants you in his harem of adoring fans waiting in the wings for him to grace you with his glorious presence; when he needs some good strokes or needs a punching bag.

I keep wanting him to be sorry; really truly sorry but I know he won’t ever be sorry. A long time ago he wanted to end it and I had asked him, “What if I leave and like last time you realize it was a mistake? This time I won’t come back.” His answer was, “I guess I’ll chock it up with all the other mistakes I’ve made and get over it.”

I left him, he came groveling back, I went back, nothing changed.

I think that if a narcissist some how all of a sudden grew a conscience and truly realized all the pain he had caused in his life he wouldn’t be able to handle it. That’s why I don’t think they ever change; they couldn’t handle the guilt. No one could have a conscience and live with themselves after causing the devastation and destruction they cause; no human.

Just my thoughts on a dreary rainy day before I head out the door to work.

I hope where ever you are the sun is warm on your face, birds are singing and flowers are blooming.


Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck using WordPress for BlackBerry.