Lizard Tails & Confetti

Woven so carefully by the threads of mind control only a survivor of covert narcissistic abuse can comprehend. I no longer concern myself with those who never saw anything wrong, for it was I who had to spend a lifetime navigating my way through this 3-Ring Shit Show.

Reflecting back upon the teeter-tottered reality of my life, I thought the following phrase best captures it in it’s entirety.



There seems to have been no in-between.

Reality was either…

Riding high on cloud 9!

Or…

Reality was Traumatic AF.


When growing up, if I expressed in any way that my (experience, emotion, perception, idea or belief) of something or someone was lizard tails, I was promptly corrected and somehow convinced that it was confetti.

If my interpretation was that it was confetti I was made to believe that it was in fact, lizard tails.

I never seemed to get it right.

Never understanding up from down. I thought I did. But every time I turned around I was told I was going in the wrong direction. Except in school where I finally got things right…and so I excelled.


So here are some quotes for the bipolar-botched, confusion-cursed, gaslighted game we cane to know as our “identification of self.” Woven so carefully by the threads of mind control only a survivor of covert narcissistic abuse can comprehend. I no longer concern myself with those who never saw anything wrong, for it was I who had to spend a lifetime navigating my way through this 3-Ring Shit Show.

No longer needing to convince, at last I am free to provide myself with trust, patience, compassion and a really dark sense of humor.

Through it all I certainly became adept at one thing.

To find humor in ALL THINGS.

For the good days, the bad days, the good minutes, the bad minutes… the happy, the sad ~ as all of it, any of it might change from minute to minute.

So right now I’m just learning to ride the waves.

But one day…this young grasshopper will find the balance of the crystal, calm waters within…

Until then…damn lizard tails and confetti it is.

But now…

I alone choose to determine which is which.


Thank you all for visiting!

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All my Love,

Kacie ~°°~

Thimbleberry Thoughts

All of our moments should be overflowing with thimbleberry thoughts. So in planting these tiny seeds, in due time and in just the right season, the blossoms of revelations, wisdom, and nourishment might likely produce the sweet and lovely fruit for which others may receive their harvest.

Perhaps you are wondering what exactly IS a thimbleberry. Thimbleberry is a beguilingly tart, aromatic fruit that grows wild in northern climates, thriving in areas with cool summer temperatures. The large, velvety berries have a tangy taste reminiscent of currants and raspberries, with soft seeds that release their nutty flavor when chewed.

All of our moments should be overflowing with thimbleberry-like thoughts. So in planting these tiny seeds, in due time and in just the right season, the blossoms of revelations, wisdom, and nourishment might likely produce the sweet and lovely fruit for which others may receive their harvest.

Please feel free to take whichever seeds of thought you like, and scatter them to the wind, because that is precisely where a miracle may in fact, exist.

All my love, Kacie

Sprinkled Encouragements

A Life Without Dreams is Like A Cupcake Without Sprinkles…Encourage a Friend and Share a Sprinkled Encouragement or Two!

Sprinkled Encouragements

Lemondrop Liars

“And it was determined that THAT was a lie. “

Maury Povich

I learned to lie by the very best, my mother. A theatrical, dramatic, and visually stunning woman, who could charm her way through life, or so she thought. I learned early on about white lies. Harmless lies that quickly evolved into what I now refer to as lemon drop lies. But it took me a “minute” longer, more like 40+ years to discover that my Mama had leveled up in the lying games.

The occasional white lie went something like this, “Oh no, we can’t make it, my husband has to work that night.”

Then came the lemon drop lie, “Oh no honey, we’re not racist, it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s black. We don’t have a problem with it. We’re just protecting you from the other parents that do.”

When I say leveled up, I’m not sure how to describe the lie other than a complete and unstable depart from reality. It goes something like this, “ You know Kasie, I just realized that I’m not as strong as you are anymore.” We were on a Skype call and she was down south at my brothers house. Now also important to mention, no one was talking to me at the time. Except for her. I mean for months. Nobody would talk to me, or answer my calls or my emails. But she would, sometimes. And she picked this specific visit at my brother’s house 600 miles away, to skype me out of the blue. Why? To set the trap. That is why.

She’d begun to wage a smear campaign against me. At first I didn’t understand what she kept talking around/talking about (you know exactly what I mean if you’ve ever experienced one of the covert narcissist’s attacks. They’re often so confusing but of course you’re the one, the only one that can’t understand them) so I asked. Her timid, childlike reply was, “Well, that time I came to your house and you shoved me out of the garage, I realized that I’m just not as strong as you are Kacie.”

She had certainly upped her game to a new level alright. I was frozen in sudden confusion but slowly what she was doing began to take hold. I slowly replied, “Mom, …what are you…doing?” She proceeds to repeat herself in the same manner as before. I suddenly realized she was laying a trap. I firmly responded, “Mom…listen to me clearly, I have never touched you or pushed. Not once, not ever.”

“You most certainly did Kacie, you just don’t remember. You were probably drinking. Anyways you know that isn’t why I am calling you, I’m only talking to you because I love you and I’ve missed you. Why do you always want to fight” Then leaving no opening for a response, she continues, “I’m not going to allow this. I’m having a good time here with your brother.”

Yeah, um…ok. No. She clearly called to set me up on camera alleging that I’ve physically abused her. I appropriately defend myself because it never happened and now somehow I’ve started a fight with the intention to ruin her trip.”

Continue reading “Lemondrop Liars”

Psychological Abuse is Still Abuse.

The facial expressions used during the psychological attack are unnerving and theatrically bizarre.

There is an insidious and grave type of domestic abuse that is finally being acknowledged by medical health professionals and addressed by domestic violence programs. It is Psychological and Emotional Abuse and the damaging effects upon the victim’s mental health can be debilitating and long lasting.


Call 703.746.4911 (TTY- 703.746.3288) to speak with someone from the Domestic Violence Program.


This is not to be misconstrued with having a partner or family member that while in an argument may use name-calling or raises their voice on occasion. It is much more pervasive and subversive than that. It is rather, a consistent, unrelenting and deliberately destructive attempt to break the victim down so as the abuser then has complete control over the victim.

Brainwashing is said to reduce its subject’s ability to think critically or independently to allow the introduction of new, unwanted thoughts and ideas into the subject’s mind, as well as to change his or her attitudes, values, and beliefs. Using various forms of mind manipulation the abuser dismantles the victim’s life, relationships and reality.

How I always felt when he would start the game.

Psychological abuse is in fact considered domestic violence by health care professionals. Although the actual abuser may suffer from a Narcissistic personality disorder or other pathological mental health disorder, I struggle to say that they “suffer” at all. It is most often their victims that suffer the greatest harm.

Silence harbors secrets. And the abuser’s highest priority is to keep their victim(s) silent, however, in regards to an abuser with pathological traits, mindsets, they are already way ahead of the game. They have already anticipated that the victim may speak out, so they begin a subversive and methodical dismantling of the victims credibility. They do this by raising doubts as to the validity of the victim’s own memory by gaslighting them, making them doubt their experiences in which the abuser revises portions of events and dismissing any opposition raised by the victim. Another preemptive tactic commonly used is to express false great concern while making deceptive statements to others about the victims soundness of mind.

The facial expressions used during the psychological attack are unnerving and theatrically bizarre. As the victim your initial thought is that he cannot possibly be serious. But then it goes on and on until it becomes a terrifying rage.

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Often times, victims may have low self-esteem or self-worth, and they may be insecure or unsure of themselves. It is common that they were abused in a similar way during their childhood. We seek things that are familiar and therefore we seek relationships that mirror or represent those that we had as children. Substance abuse by victims may develop, as was in my case. I became a textbook alcoholic. The took a number of years to recover from not to mention the therapy and mental health problems which arose during the abuse. There are various professional opinions regarding whether we seek these relationships out so that we can resolve them as adults when we couldn’t as children or that we seek them out out of familiarity and what we already know. We learn quickly how to comply, cooperate and conform. We know how to smile in pictures and we know what we can and cannot talk about. My situation was not as physical as it was psychological. I remember the first time that my intuition told me that was not right, but I brushed it aside. There were many red flags during the courtship, but looking back now I believe that I chose NOT to see them. Does that mean I was deserving of or responsible for the abuse? Because I brushed red flags aside? Or because I let one incident become another, and another? No. The answer is an emphatic and intractable NO!

I am a survivor of domestic abuse which involved psychological abuse and pervasive mind control and I am telling my story in the hopes that it will save at least one soul from the sheer madness, attempted suicides, addictions and dissociative states that I did and that I am convinced were the direct byproducts of years of this type of abuse. Administered first by my mother and then years later by my second husband.

“If environmental risk factors for [mental illness] can be validated and confirmed, there is every reason to expect they will point to preventive measures that lower their risks and morbidity.”

Alan Brown, Columbia University Medical Center

Call 703.746.4911 (TTY- 703.746.3288) to speak with someone from the Domestic Violence Program.

The Waiting Room

“Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

I mean, they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time.”

Banksy

Strange how It seems like only yesterday,
That I would run and laugh in sweet innocence play.


But now it seems I have come to assume…
A place alone in the waiting room.

I’ve raised my children, and lost one too,
Many happy years, yet some days of blue.
I’ve planted seeds to watch them bloom,
But today I sit, alone in the waiting room.

When I was a child and so naïve,
It never occurred to me that I’d have to leave
My mother’s arms, the scent of her perfume,
Memories painfully linger in the waiting room.

I am no longer young, but not quite old,
Though a sickness came and left me cold.
My skin I now wear as some strange costume,
While I pray today, in the waiting room.

Today my blessed grandchildren came for a visit,
Bringing their lovely presence to my elderly prison.
As the end of visiting hours began to loom,
I desperately feared being left alone in the waiting room.

Tomorrow I will be unable to stand or walk,
Or raise my head or manage to talk.
Yet tomorrow I will embrace my groom,
And no longer will I be… alone in the waiting room.

Kacie Brockman

Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson