I Like Hugs

I like hugs.  I always have.  Maybe I’m weird, but I think hugs are grand.

• A hug says “I got you” and provides protection from fear of the unknown.
• A hug melts away the years that it’s been since you last saw each other.
• A hug provides a snippet of solace as tears fall next to a casket.
• A hug says “I empathize with you”.

My daughter likes hugs, too.  She’s very physically affectionate, which is great, because so am I.  We often will hold hands as we walk though a store.  She will regularly come up to me and hug me when we are chilling around the house.

I give my daughter a long hug every night when I tuck her into bed.  She can’t seem to get enough.  “Dad, just one more!” she says as I try to pull away after hug #7.  She’s recently taken to spending an occasional night camping out in my 15 year old conversion van that I use to haul band gear.  I set her up with a sleeping bag, an air mattress, and an iPad with some movies. She takes along a carefully selected collection of stuffed animals and her phone and camps out in the driveway for the night.  It’s early stages of independence for a 9 year old; I’m OK with that.  She still wants a hug, though.  “Dad, can you come out to the van and give me a hug before I go to sleep?” reads her text message.  I’m more than happy to oblige.

On my way down to the van, it hit me…

I never received hugs from my parents.  I was never tucked into bed at night.  I never had that type of connection to my parents.  I honestly can’t remember a single time where I received a hug at bedtime.  Perhaps I’ve blocked out or misplaced those memories, but I would think I would have at least one or two memories of getting a hug and being tucked into bed as a child.

Typically, I was curtly ordered to bed, and then chastised if I didn’t fall asleep in 10 minutes.  I can still recall my parents’ frustration with me when I would come out of my bedroom to use the bathroom an hour after I was sent to bed. Hmm…like I was going to be able to fall asleep with a full bladder… plus I had issues with bed wetting, for which I was often spanked, so it was definitely in my best interest to make sure all the pipes were drained before I succumbed to the sandman.  Yet another ‘no win’ situation of my childhood.

One of ‘those’ sayings is that we all turn into our parents when parenting our own children.  The thought of turning into my parents when parenting is positively frightening!  I so don’t want that to happen, and I’m extremely conscious of how I approach topics with my daughter so that she knows that she is heard.  It’s good to have realizations like the hug realization.  I helps me to know that I’m not doing it like dear ol’ N-mom.

Stephen Bach

Link Between Childhood Abuse and Alcohol Abuse

So I was doing a little digging into links between childhood abuse and alcohol abuse and found this article from a study conducted on the link between childhood abuse and alcohol abuse on the NIH website. 

Of particular note from the article ->

Especially noteworthy was the high prevalence of emotional abuse (as a child): alcohol dependent subjects were more than 10 times as likely to have experienced emotional abuse than non-dependent subjects…

Wow.  Just wow.

I don’t feel that I am alcohol dependent since I suffered very few ill effects when I quit drinking, but I was definitely headed in that direction prior to quitting.

I found several other articles that all say essentially the same thing:  Children who suffered severe emotional abuse have a very high propensity for adult alcoholism.  The data would indicate that emotional abuse has the highest correlation to alcoholism, even above physical abuse and sexual abuse.

Incredible.  I guess I get the alcohol piece honest.

Stephen Bach

Smile, it’s Not all Bad :)

As I mentioned in the comments of my most recent post (https://thenarcissistsson.wordpress.com/2015/08/13/wine-women-and-song-and-other-deletions/), I seem to have painted a picture of my current situation that is much more bleak than what is truly the case.

The changes I’ve been forced to go through have been a huge adjustment.  I would estimate that a good 40% of who I define myself to be was somehow affected.  I think that these huge changes are what has led to my depressive symptoms, but I don’t feel as though I’m truly depressed.  I’ve been much worse, honestly.  This is more just a big adjustment, and it’s taken me some time to figure it all out.

A few clarifications on the previous post:

• I have no interest in dating at this time, but I do envision a return to dating at some point in the future.  It might be a year or so before I’m open to it again.  Frankly, my recent dating history has left me exhausted, and I could really use the break.
• I do plan to continue to play guitar, I’m just not sure exactly how to go about it yet moving forward.  Recently, things have been very unsteady with my band and I’ve had to use many fill-ins, so I’m looking at this as a chance for some downtime and a time to refocus and forge a new direction with my music.  I’ve been doing essentially the same thing for 10 years.  Time for something different.
• I’m not having any issues at work.  In fact, if anything, my work has improved.  It seems that my work b***s*** tolerance has dropped dramatically since this all occurred, and that has resulted in new levels of respect from many of my coworkers.  I’ve always been quite straightforward in a work environment, but now, I have absolutely no tolerance for anything more than “just the facts, please”.

I’ve been focusing a great deal on my time with my daughter.  Without other things going on in my life, I’m better able to focus on her during our times together.  Last weekend we went to the fair and rode rides and ate a bunch of bad food on a stick.  It was fun!

I’ve also taken a very strong interest in bicycling.  Last week I biked 120 miles.  I have 2 road bikes, a mountain bike, and a recently purchased fat bike.  A fat bike is like an overgrown mountain bike that has 4″ (100mm) wide tires on it.  It’s heavy and slow but a lot of fun!  It’s the monster truck of bicycles and I can ride it just about anywhere!  One of the things the fat bikes are good for is riding in snow.  I’m actually looking forward to trying it out in the snow, which means I’m looking forward to snow for like the first time in 15 years!

My new fat bike riding in the woods!

More pictures of my new fat bike! It’s fun!

Now for the bad:  I have an offer from the District Attorney on the table regarding my OWI that I plan to take.  I would plead No Contest to only the OWI charge and all other charges would be dropped.  It will mean that I will have to pay a large fine, obtain an alcohol assessment, attend DUI school, and will lose my license for 6 months.  I don’t think I really have any other options.  The deal that is being offered is the minimum I can be penalized while still being convicted for OWI in my locale, which means that if I decided to fight it and still was convicted, the best I could end up with would be exactly the deal I have on the table right now.  I will be eligible for an occupational license, so at least I’ll be able to drive my daughter where she needs to go and get to work.  Some rough figuring puts the cost of my OWI at close to $20,000 when it’s all done, and I didn’t even pay for my last drink!

One other huge plus out of all this:  I’ve quit smoking.  I’ve smoked on and off for the better part of 30 years, having at one time taken a 11 year break from smoking (started back up again when I went through my first divorce), as well as several other breaks.  I’m a person that gets very addicted to nicotine, and gets very irritable when I quit, so be happy you’re on that side of the screen!!  I figured if I’m giving up vices, I might as well go for broke.  I’m giving up sex, drugs, and rock and roll all at once!  Quitting smoking is 1,452 times harder than quitting drinking.   It sucks!  But it’s a great time to quit.  I have nothing in my life other than my daughter and my job, so I’m much better able to manage stress and triggers that would normally be problematic to my commitment to quit.

Thanks to all of you for your continued support.  I’m working my way through all my emails and I promise to get to yours soon if you haven’t heard from me.

I also have some wild ideas for some future posts, plus the whole alcoholism thing has opened a door to an entirely new world of narcissism that I never new existed.  Much to write about!

Best wishes on your continued healing journey!

Stephen Bach

Wine, Women, and Song (and other deletions)

Wine

Women

Song

Harleys

Beer

Cigars

(the list goes on)…

When I start crossing off the activities that I’ve given up since my OWI arrest, it starts to become very obvious why I’m a hermit these days.  There is now a huge void in my life.   A void that I struggle to fill.   In one brief moment, a huge part of who I knew myself to be forever changed, and I continue to struggle with the ramifications.

I went from going out several times a week to hear live music, listen to friends’ bands, or to play in my own band to never leaving the house.  I haven’t set foot in a music establishment in over two months and have no interest in going out at all.  I have no upcoming gigs with my band, and have no desire to book any new ones.  I’ve essentially turned into a boring old man that goes to bed before 10 pm, even on weekends.  Definitely not someone I’ve ever identified with before!

Not having a motorcycle over the summer is killing me.  Every time there’s a nice day, I so desperately want to be out on my bike!  Watching others out riding their motorcycles on a beautiful day creates a sinking feeling inside me, reminding me of what once was.

I’ve went from nearly always having a date to having no interest in dating at all.  The thought of dating truly abhors me right now.

I’ve went from living to play music to having no interest in music at all, and I’m not sure when it’s coming back.  I have several guitars out on display in my living room, and I just sit and stare at them, refusing to pick them up.  A few days ago, I remember staring at my Les Paul (guitar) for a good 15 minutes straight, thinking…

…Thinking about all the fun times I’ve had playing guitar

…Thinking about how that will never be the same.

…Thinking about whether I want to make the effort to even try to do music anymore.

…Thinking how I’d just be better off to sell all my music gear and put the money in the bank.

I recently came to the realization that much of my passion for life is now gone.  I was outside on my patio, deep in thought, and when the realization hit I actually mumbled the words “It’s gone”.  I’ve always been a very passionate person, and it’s strange to not feel that burning passion any longer.  I’m not entirely sure how to identify with the new me; the ho-hum me that I’ve become; a me that I don’t really like all that much.

Creativity?  That’s gone, too.  No idea when that one is coming back either.  The extent of my creativity these days seems to involve how I can best arrange the dirty dishes in the sink so I can not do them for 5 days and still not have them strewn all over the counter top.

Today is 130 days without a drink, although I’m not counting.  Counting days seem irrelevant.  I had to do the math back to April 5th to come up with the number of days.  It’s not a test of fortitude to see how long I can go.  My drinking days are over, so there’s little point in keeping track of just how long it’s been since I last had a drink.

I’ve continued to see my AODA counselor, although I’m seeing her much less often.  She’s doesn’t really add much value.  Google has helped me a lot more than she has helped me.  I plan to continue seeing her until all the court stuff is finalized, after which I’ll find someone else, or most likely stop seeing an AODA counselor.

Many of you have been kind enough to reach out to me personally, and I’m very grateful.  I’m also very far behind in my responses.  I will do my best to respond soon.  Please know that I do appreciate your well wishes.  Thank you.

Stephen

EDIT: For part 2 of this post – please follow this link -> https://thenarcissistsson.wordpress.com/2015/08/20/smile-its-not-all-bad/

Rock Bottom

“Hi, my name is Stephen, and I’m an alcoholic.”

Those words had just rolled off my tongue.  It was my first AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meeting. I never thought I’d be saying those words.  I never thought my drinking would get to a point where it would become such a problem.  I always thought I was in control.  I wasn’t.  And that lack of control had been made painfully evident during the last few weeks since the incident on Easter Sunday.

It was Easter Sunday, April 5th.  I was alone, like I am on every holiday, or so it seems.  A few days earlier, I had received the card from my mother that I had mentioned in a previous post, yet another reminder of how I don’t have family.  My girlfriend was busy with her family.  I decided to go for a ride on my motorcycle.  After riding for a few hours, I stopped at a local establishment that is along one of my favorite riding routes.  I had a beer.  The owner encouraged me to have another beer.  Then a gentlemen at the bar bought me a third.  I was on my motorcycle.  I shouldn’t have been drinking.  After finishing the third beer, I headed out to my bike with the intention of going straight home.  I never made it home.  In a rather challenging curve, I ended up getting into some gravel and lost control of my bike.  By the time I regained control, I was pointed directly across the road.  I ended up riding down the embankment some 25 meters and finally fell off my bike.  I was bruised and battered, but I was alive.

I walked up to the road. I had no idea what to do.   My head was bleeding pretty severely from some cuts I had received from going through some bushes on my way down the embankment.  Eventually a passerby called in an emergency.  I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance where I was given an alcohol assessment by the police.  I ended up being arrested for operating while intoxicated.  The case is still pending.

I haven’t had a drink since that day.  I’ve learned a ton about alcoholism during the last 3 months.  I’ve learned that the cultural definition of an alcoholic and the clinical definition of an alcoholic are very different.  Based on the clinical definition, I am definitely an alcoholic.  Based on the clinical definition, my mother is an alcoholic, as well as my golden child doctor brother and his deceased twin.  We are all ‘functional alcoholics’. Alcoholism has a significant hereditary piece, and i definitely have the hereditary part locked up.

About 3 weeks after the Easter incident, my new girlfriend broke up with me.  I saw it coming and wasn’t very surprised when it happened, but it still hurt.   I can’t say I blame her.  I’m not sure what I might do in a similar situation.  Having someone to support me during this time would be invaluable, but it seems that’s not the way my life works.

Thinking back, it seems I’ve always drank. At times, my drinking has been quite heavy.  It’s never been as heavy as it’s been the last few years, since I’ve made all the realizations regarding my family of origin.  I was using alcohol as an escape. I knew it.  I knew I was drinking too much.  Even in my very first post on this blog, “My Day of Reckoning”, I acknowledged that I had taken up self destructive behaviors to soothe the pain.  I was drinking nearly every day.  I surrounded myself with people that drank, often to excess.  I was a functional alcoholic.

Since quitting drinking, life has been extremely difficult for me.  I’ve gone through a very severe depression, something I’ve learned is not that uncommon when giving up drinking.  I no longer have my motorcycle since it was destroyed in the accident, and that absolutely kills me.  I am having a difficult time adjusting.  Being a musician it seems everyone expects you to drink.  At a gig last weekend, I had one of the gig organizers hand me a bottle of vodka and say “Good Job!”.   I handed the bottle to my drummer.  People are constantly offering me alcohol.  I went to see a friend’s band a few weekends ago, and they let me sit in with them for a few songs.  After I was done, I went up to the bar to order my typical seltzer with lime, only to be given a drink that was half seltzer and half vodka.  I could smell the vodka as I brought it up to take a drink.  I had the bartender pour me a drink of just seltzer as I requested.  It makes it very hard.  I’m faced with having to completely rewrite my life and take it in an entirely different direction.  It’s definitely a challenge!  Since the accident, I’ve been a hermit, hardly ever leaving the house.  I’ve had to give up many friends because they all drink and I don’t want to be around that right now, plus being around drunk people when I’m not drinking really isn’t very fun; more an awkward reminder of where I once was.

This entire episode reminds me yet again of how I have no family.  I couldn’t fathom calling anyone in my family and telling them what happened.  I would be summarily condemned.  I couldn’t imagine calling anyone in my family and pleading with them to get help for their alcoholism before they endure a similar circumstance.  I would be scoffed at for making such a ridiculous request.  In their mind, it’s my issue and mine alone, and they are blameless.  Little do they understand that I’m acting as a mouthpiece for the family’s dysfunction.

I’m also very upset with myself for continuing to let the issues of my FOO get the best of me, to a point where I ended up getting arrested.  I’ve worked so hard to improve, and episodes like this make me think I’ve accomplished very little.

I’m trying my best to stay positive, but I’m really struggling.

Stephen Bach

10 Huge Misconceptions About Emotional Child Abuse

This is excellent! So many people believe that abuse only exists when someone ends up in the hospital. The truth is, the emotional piece is, in my opinion, much more destructive than the physical piece. The physical wounds heal, the emotional wounds may never heal.

The Invisible Scar

[via Neal Sanche] “How could you have been abused?” a grossly misinformed person in an adult survivor’s life may say. “You had a roof over your head, food in your belly, clothes, and no one ever hit you!”

But as every adult survivor of emotional child abuse knows, the essentials—good attention, unconditional love, and emotional support—were missing.

Unfortunately, however, many misconceptions about emotional child abuse abound. Here’s a look at some of the biggest ones.

Misconception #1: Emotional abuse is another word for verbal abuse

Fact:Emotional abuse includes verbal abuse, non-verbal abuse, and non-physical forms of abuse.

“Child abuse is more than bruises or broken bones,” state Melinda Smith, M.D., and Jeanne Segal, Ph.D, in a HelpGuide article. “While physical abuse is shocking due to the scars it leaves, not all child abuse is as obvious. Ignoring children’s needs, putting them in unsupervised, dangerous situations, or making…

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God, the Ultimate Flying Monkey

This is a post I’ve been baking for a while.  I know it may well be a very sensitive topic, but I feel it needs to be said.  I typically try to keep religion out of my discussions, but in my experience, abuse of religion can be one of the most damaging arrows in the narcissist’s quill.

In my family of origin, the ultimate flying monkey was God.  God was the one that was going to condemn me for my behavior.  God was the one that was going to show me how horrible and disrespectful I was.  Failing to blindly obey my parents meant I was slapping God in the face and I would find myself in hell.   Questioning my parents authority meant I was questioning God himself.

If going to heaven means putting up with more abuse from people like my parents, I’ll take my chances with hell.

God was always the quick out for my parents.  If my narcissistic mother was dead wrong, she would invoke God and then return to her ‘righteous indignation’ at her ‘horrible’ scapegoat of a son (me).  “He that spares the rod spoils the child”.   Ironically, this is one of the few bible verses I still remember, probably because it was used as justification for the way I was treated.

I find God and religion to be about the most hypocritical entity ever created by mankind.  I was raised in a very conservative protestant Christian family.  Because of our religion, we were taught that we were better than everyone else, and that people of other religions were all going to hell and we should not associate with them.   But in the next sentence, it is our job to go and spread God’s word to the masses and convince them that they had better do it our way or face hell.  So first we are supposed to ignore anyone that doesn’t profess our beliefs, while we are also supposed to convince these same people we are supposed to ignore that they need to follow our way or risk eternal damnation.  So which is it?  Are we ignoring these people, or are we showing them our Christian love to help convince them that they need to follow our interpretation of God?   Honestly, you can’t have it both ways.

So does that mean that I’m free to believe whatever I want to believe because I happened to choose the ‘correct’ religion, but everyone else is not?   How is that fair?   So I am encouraged to have my own personal relationship with God, as long as that relationship follows the principles that are dictated by my (or my parents) religion of choice?

If you are familiar with Christianity,  Jesus loves the sinner but hates the sin.  Jesus hung out with prostitutes and thieves.  Why?  Because they are the ones, that, according to Christian principles, needed the most help.  But if I hung out with prostitutes and thieves, I would be a pariah for associating with such horrible sinners and I would quickly become fodder for the gossip mill.  So it’s OK for Jesus to do it but it’s not OK for me?  This brings up another interesting dichotomy with God and religion:  Interpretation of scripture is subjective and is subject to the motives and desires of the person making the interpretation.  Osama Bin Laden used a fatwah based on his interpretation of the Koran to incite a holy war among his followers and convince them that they needed to kill themselves and thousands of others in the name of God.  Was Osama Bin Laden correct in his interpretation?  Can he scientifically be proven wrong?

I find it incredibly ironic that the Christian Bible is “inspired by God” and “unable to be comprehended by men”, yet, that doesn’t seem to stop Christians from placing their own interpretations on it anyway.  Christian principles say that God is the only one who has power to judge others, but that doesn’t seem to stop many Christians from picking up the gavel.  Conservative Christians are some of the most judgmental  people I have ever met!   Of course, these Christians are picking up that gavel “in love”, which is EXACTLY the way my family behaves.  “I only judge you and tell you how screwed up you are because I love you”.   What’s the saying?  Don’t judge a man unless you have walked a mile in his shoes?   This concept is completely lost on conservative Christianity in my opinion.   They feel that they are superior to others because of their belief system, and thereby have the right to judge others.  How wonderfully narcissistic.

Yes, there are many people that call themselves followers of God and take to the principles of love that are inherent in most organized religions, but there are many other people that use God as the ultimate manipulation tool.   More people have died in the name of God on this planet than for any other reason.  It’s an abomination.

Stephen Bach

Easter Blessings… or No?

 

Below is an Easter card I received from my mother in the last few days.  It’s quite impressive, honestly.  It’s homemade, and I’m guessing she spent quite a bit of time on it.

Unfortunately, she literally can’t help herself.  She starts from a good place, but can’t help but drop the stink bomb on the way out the door.

Here’s the text of her card (note, all capitalization and punctuation, etc has been copied verbatim from the card):

In what appears to be a Sharpie on the inside flap:

“May the blessing of Christ’s resurrection stay in our hearts, and remind us always of his Amazing Grace and Endless Love that allows us to “embrace” Eternal Life in Heaven!  God’s Blessings Always!!”

PS: (in a regular pen).  Enclosed is (XX)$ to make (your daughter’s) Easter “special”.   Would LOVE to spend Easter with you but that will be impossible!!! (OVER) (She had more to say, the inside flap was full, so I need to flip to the back side)

On the back (in a regular pen):

PPS: I am scheduled for major surgery in the next few days and will spend several months recuperating. I would love to speak / meet with you before this to discuss our “differences” – whatever they might be – in case I do NOT make it through this major surgery and die!!  Waiting to hear from you!

So my friends, what do you think?  Curious as to your thoughts on this one.  I have plenty!

Stephen Bach

The Tiny TV

I haven’t been posting many memories as of late.  I do have quite a few more that I ultimately intend to share, however.  This particular one popped back into my head in the last week.  I had completely blocked it out.

I was about 12 when this happened.

It was a few days before Christmas and I was riding with my family in the car to visit my father’s parents in another state for the Christmas holiday.  I was super excited to learn what I might be receiving for Christmas gifts and had been asking my parents all day what I might be getting this year.

“Am I getting a TV”?  I asked

The room in which I stayed at my grandparent’s house had a TV and I really liked it!  So cool to have a TV in my room!  I could watch what I wanted to watch and wasn’t required to watch my younger twin brother’s shows on the TV that we children shared in the lower level of the family home.

My father responded with “Maybe…”

“REALLY??”  I responded, about to jump through the roof of the car with excitement.

My mother chimed in with a smile and a wink: “We can’t give away what you might be getting for Christmas.”

I was convinced!  I’m getting a TV for Christmas!  Sweet!  The smile on my face nearly touched my ears.

The next day we were to celebrate the family Christmas at my grandparents house. I couldn’t wait to get my new TV!  We went to church and came back to my grandparents house to open gifts.  It was the family tradition that we each take turns opening one gift at a time.  Behind the Christmas tree, up against the wall was a fairly large box with my name on it.  My new TV!

I strategically planned my gift opening so that my TV would be the last gift I would open.  Finally, it was my turn to open the big box with my name on it.  I picked it up, and it seemed pretty light for a box holding a TV, but I knew it was in there!  Mind you, this is the days of the old tube TV’s and many of the older TV’s still had vacuum tubes in them.  Even a 13 inch TV would weigh a good 20 lbs.

I opened the box and dug through the packing.  Something’s not right.  Either my new TV is really small or…

Oh no…

At the bottom of the box is a blue one of these:

It’s a small plastic picture viewer that looks like a TV.   You look through the back and push a button on the top to change the picture that you see.  I think it had 6 pictures of Europe on it.

This was my new TV.

I was crushed.  Obliterated.

My parents both had big smiles on their face and could hardly keep from laughing at my heartbreak.  They were reveling in my misery.  I barely noticed.

My heart was in my shoes.  I nearly broke into tears.

I mustered a very weak “Thank you”, and after finishing up the last few gifts, I retreated to my room at my grandparents house and laid down on the bed and cried.

Yet again, my misery and heartbreak was a source of entertainment for my mother and father.

Another humiliation of Stephen completed successfully.

Stephen Bach

 

A Golden Apology?

I received the below email from my golden child brother this past weekend.  The title of the email was “Apology”

 

My brother.

I am sorry that I upset you. I was drunk the night we talked, and have since really cut back. I was frustrated by some of your behaviors for sure , but I was unkind. For that I am sorry.

I really am.

I’m not exactly sure why you’ve chosen to shut me out for 16 months but that is your choice.

Let me know if you’re willing to talk.

I wish you well, always have.

 

So what do you think? Is this a genuine, heartfelt apology?

Curious as to your thoughts,

Stephen Bach