Every time the jackass narcissist is around, his flying monkey treats me like crap. Anything I say gets an eye roll, a glare, or an answer with a seriously annoyed tone. I can do no right, narc can do no wrong.
The term “flying monkey” for a narcissist’s enabler, comes from The Wizard of Oz. The wicked witch’s flying monkeys do her bidding. The narcissist’s enabler does their bidding. Get it? And since the jackass narcissist’s goal in life is to tear me down to suicidal levels, the monkey picks up on it when the narc is around.
Tonight, I posed the question, “Are you aware of how you treat me when he’s around?” As you can imagine, this went over about as well as throwing an egg off the roof.
“I either get the eye roll, a glare, or a bite.”
“No...”
“Yeah, ya do.”
“When you put dad down, yeah.”
“Not just then. I asked for help, and you glared at me, and said ‘just a minute’ like you were annoyed.”
Then... in the least apologetic tone I’ve ever heard in an attempt at an apology...
“Well, I’m sorry I did that tonight.”
🙄🙄🙄
I interviewed for a fabulous job, last Tuesday. People love working there, it’s got great benefits... Just sounds like a great place. However, the best benefit of this would be: I could get my own place! Away from the jackass, away from the back-and-forth enabler...
I’m just done. It’s time to make time for myself— Time to find out if I’m worth more than my family thinks I am, time to choose who I have to be around, and time to be me.
I won’t give my family the satisfaction of my death. Instead, I’ll shove my happiness in their faces. Repeatedly.
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