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“I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.” Oscar Wilde
You can follow my adventures on Twitter @AROTBEblog
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Monday, August 5, 2019


What’s college for, again?

So my regular doctor’s office is a teaching clinic. I deal mostly with residents who have the title of “doctor,” but they’re still not experienced enough to work independently. This doesn’t bother me. I mean, everyone has to learn their job somehow, right? What bothers me is their lack of understanding on certain subjects.

I get it. No doctor can know everything about everything. But with the prevalence of mental illness these days, basic knowledge in the area should be mandatory for general practitioners. No, they needn’t know every psych med on the market, or even the symptoms of every disorder. But again, basic knowledge would be helpful.


I saw a new resident today who basically laid into me for not having a normal sleep schedule. He told me that I need to take melatonin at the same time every night until I get into a groove. I had to explain that there’s not a single medication available, whether it be over-the-counter or prescription, that can make me sleep. He did not believe this. I gave up trying to argue.

As someone who works as a GP, he was very good. He even works with my neurologist and knew about Dystonia. But his basic knowledge about mental health was severely lacking.

Now, I’ve (obviously) never been through medical school, but anyone who has been to any college or university knows that you’ve got to take a million classes which have exactly nothing to do with your major. Majoring in history? Well, you’ve got to take fifty math classes, memorise the chemical makeup of everything in existence, and speak four other languages. So shouldn’t medical school teach things outside their specialty? Just my own opinion...

Sunday, August 4, 2019

I Present: My Life

Every. Single. Time.

Any time something good happens in my life, something terrible follows that’s so bad that it cancels out the good.

I grew up dancing. I had to have major reconstructive surgery on one leg. I can’t dance anymore.

I played clarinet (almost) all through high school. No more school, no more opportunity to play, ability diminishes. 

Make a new friend. They learn about my illness and quirks. They abandon me.

My parent’s first child decides to be a friend. A year later turns in on herself and becomes narcissist.

Friends leave for college and return afterward. Then they move out of state.

Found the best therapist. Moves somewhere I can’t go after her internship.

Get where I’m coming from? I have given up on anything good in my life lasting more than a month. Not that good things happen to me much, anyway. Even if I have a good day, the next day is hell on steroids.

I just give up.

Wednesday, July 24, 2019


I hate my life.

Yet another reminder that my father is a self-absorbed, entitled narcissist. Everything that he deems to be in his way must be moved immediately following his repetitive question, “What do you want done with this?” Meanwhile, he keeps stuff all over- usually in our walking path. If I say anything about how it’s in the way, he pulls out his victim card. When that’s worn out, he attacks anything he can think of. “You’ve got stuff on the table.” So do you, hypocrite. 

In the midst of all this fun are his flying monkey (aka enabler) and his golden child. My mother (the flying monkey) will justify anything and everything the narcissist does and gets on his “Charmaine is the problem” train. If I say anything against him, she either gets upset, or flat out ignores me. I, on the other hand, must listen to her every complaint, every day, about her work. If I’m not reactive and sympathetic to every tiny thing she went through, I’m suddenly a terrible person.

Dinner time at our house has become “Charmaine can’t say anything without me rolling my eyes, interrupting, or passing it off as insignificant.” Oh, and heaven forbid I expect her to learn the language I need. If I start signing, she looks away. I’m making an effort to learn her language, she could at least attempt to understand mine.

Gray Rock Method is based on minimal interaction. One article I read pointed out, “If you don’t have to talk to them, don’t.” I haven’t said more that three words at a time to my father since February. Keeping him out of my personal life is more of a struggle because of two factors: I still life with his highness, and anything I tell my mother goes straight to him.

Overall, my mother and I have a pretty good relationship, despite her attachment to the narcissist. I’m starting to wonder, though, if I should just keep my personal life to myself. Any tiny bit of info that either of them get is fuel to the fire.

Any advice would be helpful.
Thanks in advance!

Saturday, July 20, 2019


Don’t mind me, I’m good on my own.

I have never had the kind of supportive friends and family that other people always seem to have. If I ask that something be shared, like a blog post or video, I get maybe one person who does. 

I’ve recently started doing bits of history with (subjective) humour thrown in. Once, and only once, has my Facebook page been shared. No explanation with it, so no new followers. 

I’ve asked countless times for certain blog posts to be shared, and nothing. More often than not, I don’t get so much as a “like.”

Everyone else has so much support that when they ask their friends and family to share, it gets done. I honestly have zero idea why I even ask anymore. I’m obviously not important enough or good enough at anything that makes people want to pass along what I do. 

I’m the kind of friend that I don’t have. You ask for feedback, I give it. You ask for shares, I’ll most likely do it. If you need a favour, I’m first in line to help. 

I get somewhere around 0.00000001% the support that I give. I’m not gonna stop, because I’m a good friend. But it would be super nice to get just a fraction of support that friends and family are supposed to give.

Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Second Child

Second best.

First child: “I broke a nail. It bled for a second.”
Parents: “Oh no! Which finger? How long was it? Let me see! You gotta put a bandage on it!”

Second child: “I’ve got a fatal illness.”
Parents: “I’ve been through that. You’ll live.”


First child: “I got a B on my math test.”
Parents: “That’s so great! I knew you were smart!”

Second child: “I got a B-.”
Parents: “You need to apply yourself more.”


First child: “I spend more on clothes than I do food.”
Parents: “Well you look incredible!”

Second child: “I splurged and bought a $10 album.”
Parents: “You need to manage your money better.”


I frankly don’t believe ANY parent when they say they love their children equally. They can’t. Kids are individuals with different personalities, and nobody gets along with every personality. The problem comes when you dismiss one kid in favour of another, or treat that child as if they’re second best. Again... kids are individuals, not clones. One kid’s B is another kid’s D+. What one is good at, the other isn’t. What one fights, the other knows nothing about. 

Believe it or not, kids can tell when they’re second. And it gets more obvious as they get older. 

Tuesday, June 4, 2019

New Beginnings

I started a thing.

For  a while now, I’ve been wanting to make videos. Ideas have come and gone, but I think I finally found something.

History has always fascinated me. Granted, I’m mostly interested in English history, but each city has its own interesting history. Today, I started with the Salt Lake City cemetery.

If you’ve lived in SLC for any amount of time, you’ve more than likely heard of some of the oddities surrounding the historic cemetery. Emo’s grave, “victim of the beast 666,” and a few others. There are also some very cool things, like the Christmas Box angel. My draw is a little more personal.

The views from the annex are stunning. If you’ve never been up there, you’re seriously missing out.

Anyhow, I made my very first video today. Every single first attempt sucks, no matter what you’re doing. I’ve got to learn how to do things better and try harder to stick to my own accent (you’ve gotta watch to believe it...). But I’m sure with helpful hints and (hopefully helpful) criticisms, I’ll get to where I want to be.

Friday, May 31, 2019

Up, Down, Inside Out

“Words taste like peaches.”- Ellie on “Chuck”

I’ve been having an absolute blast lately. I like to say that I’ve “broken through my meds.” Thanks to the brain-numbing effects of psych meds, I can’t think of another way to say it. Basically, my symptoms are too much for the meds to handle (ok, so I can find another way...). 

I’m maxed out at 400mg of Seroquel, but I’m far from stable. I don’t notice it during the day, being alone most of the time, but in the evening, it’s like I just... I don’t know... I feel everything. I feel fast, if that makes any sense. Manic, but to an extreme. It feels like I can feel my blood moving through my brain. It’s rather obnoxious.

The best part is trying to sleep at night. We have all seen the things on FB or IG that say something to the effect of, “Me: *tries to sleep* Brain: Allow me to give you a selection of your most embarrassing moments from your childhood.” Yeah... I got quite a few of those. 

My brain, however, prefers to remind me of everything that has angered me throughout my life, starting when I was around five or six. I get so beyond agitated that I don’t get to sleep until at least two in the A.M. Dreams are unbelievably vivid and usually wake me up several times before I finally give up around 7:00 and get out of bed.

It’s been somewhere around a month of this.

Here’s the kicker: Both meds that actually work for me are on my neurologist’s you-probably-shouldn’t-take-that-if-you-wanna-stop-twitching-anytime-soon list. Par-tay... 

I’m thinking twitching (and subsequently walking funny with horrid pain) isn’t a deal-breaker anymore. I’d rather feel stable than run marathons... or walk for three minutes.

If you had to choose in my position, which would you choose: physical pain or emotional turmoil?

Sunday, May 26, 2019


War has been going on since the beginning. Invasions, power struggles, retaliations, and other unknown reasons. No matter the reason, it leaves more than just physical scars.

PTSD (among others) is extremely common and extremely under-treated among soldiers. Most suffer in silence. Some can’t deal with it and wind up taking their own lives. Far too many wind up living on the streets. It’s the biggest tragedy, in my opinion, to lose someone heroic in such a terrible way.

Some who have served in action have said things like, “It’s (messed) up,” and “Nothing’s the same when you come back.” Those of us who haven’t served cannot truly understand the full extent of how they feel. 

To the men and women who fight for our safety and freedom, you are not alone. Help is available without judgement. Please reach out. Heroes deserve better.

There’s a hotline to call, text, or chat online. There’s even a number for the deaf and hard of hearing (link below).

You are never alone. We are behind you, and we support you. 

Thursday, May 23, 2019

No More


Narcissistic Personality Disorder affects between 0.5-1% of the population. 50-75% of those are men. Sounds relatively minimal, right? Wrong. Those percentages are only those who have been properly diagnosed. My father, like SO many others, have not been properly diagnosed. But then, why should he go to a psychiatrist? There's nothing wrong with him. I'm the one with problems, just ask him.

Yet another thing he refuses to believe is that he is a hoarder. His father was a hoarder, so you'd think that seeing his filth and having to clean it up would have clicked in his brain that he shouldn't do things like keep the broken ice maker from the fridge that hasn't even been inside the freezer in around ten years.

Five to fourteen million (nice and specific, huh?). That's how many people are compulsive hoarders in America. But again... he's not diagnosed because he sees no problem (that's the narcissism talking).
Then there's this.

I won't even get in to that.

But I am one hundred percent done with his crap. I have applied for a job that will allow me to move out. Here's hoping I get it and that it works out!

Side note: Did anyone get the Doctor Who reference, or am I just a lone geek?

Sunday, May 19, 2019

Not Built For This

Who can do this?!

Yesterday, I decided to start treating the narcissist the same way he treats me (moving things I decide are in my way, pushing through without a word, pointing out every little thing he does wrong, etc). All I can say is I have no idea how anyone can do that on a regular basis.

The energy it takes to be so selfish and cruel is amazing. The emotions involved (which he lacks) are overwhelming. I never realised exactly how little self respect Narcissists have. I mean, how could you have self respect while treating your own CHILD like they don’t matter? 

I have said for upwards twenty years that he is the kind of person (can’t call a narcissist a man because they don’t possess crucial qualifications) who should have never gotten married, let alone had children. 

Funny thing about his children, though... His favourite is also a narcissist. Not quite sure how that works, but it’s happened. In my own way, I’ve never put up with his behaviours. As a child, when he’d push and push, I’d break and have what he deemed a “temper tantrum.” It was, in fact, a response to his *insert explitive here* behaviour. Now I push back. I refuse to give in and allow him to make me feel worthless, useless, and unwanted (his specialty).

So now I have to find a way to deal with him that doesn’t make me feel like a terrible person and let’s me maintain boundaries. I’m in a group on Facebook that has been super helpful. Someone gave me the link to an article on “the gray rock method.” Figuring out how to use that is gonna be an adventure because my therapist doesn’t really know anything about narcissism or its abuse. If anyone has any suggestions, my ears are open (so to speak).