::pack:: of fixations

life after tragedy. living while grieving. love and triplets.


Characteristics of Narcissistic Mothers article

Okay, so I came across this article in result of following a commenters advice & I am still in shock.  It’s like somebody has been following my mother around & then wrote this.  I will elaborate on a few topics from this soon!  I have so much to learn still.  Thank you so much for all of your help everyone๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป!




I remember the last thing I wanted to do was plan or talk about his funeral before it happened.  I remember telling my parents that We didn’t want it to be religious because our little family just wasn’t that way.  I requested to sing itsy bitsy spider because that was his favorite song.

You see where we live everybody is Mormon & we both grew up that way.  Throughout my childhood I was taught that you’d never be happy without going to church & following it’s doctrine.  I always felt terrified as a child because I knew attending church meetings would be very difficult for me to do as an adult, because I honestly hated going.  And if my parents (& sister) weren’t there to make me, I was going to be damned for sure.  The first Sunday of every month the congregation is welcome to get up & speak to bare their testimonies.  People would often get up & sob about their relatives becoming inactive & I vividly remember gasping at the thought.  I will tell you if you don’t already know that leaving the church is scary.  No one ever gets up & speaks about that.  The people they get up & cry about probably struggled for years, & felt so.much.shame.  People think if you leave it’s because of Satan, but I left because of how it made me feel.

We couldn’t leave the hospital so we crammed as many people as we could in the chapel at the hospital for the viewing as we could.  They put Ryan & I in “cardiac” chairs (I believe) so we could sit up & we both remember how much those chairs made our poor bones ache!  There was a man there that my mom kept getting really excited about.  Everything’s kinda blurry now so bare with me.  This man had a heart condition that my late brother had had, yet the Drs were able to save his life since technology had greatly improved by the time he was born.

I remember singing itsy bitsy spider & that my oldest sister played the piano.  But all I remember besides those two things is that the man my mom had recently met, spoke at my baby’s viewing.  He spoke longer than anyone else.  And he spoke primarily about Mormon things, as Ryan & I sat feeling disrespected. I had but one request & my parents weren’t about to give it to me.  During my sons funeral the man spoke of Joseph Smith & it took all I had not to just scream at him, there, in front of everyone.  During his talk he also brought up how we’d requested the service to not be about religion but then continued to talk more about it.  I felt degraded & invalidated.  He later came to my hospital room to give me a signed copy of his book.  My mom must’ve noticed my lack of interest in it & I handed her the book as she acted like I’d handed her a million dollars.

If I could go back to that day right now, I would have yelled out at this man during Colum’s Service.  I wouldn’t have cared one bit.  But at the time I was too afraid of offending the Mormons whom were offending the hell out of me.

As I sit & reflect on this day now that I have a clearer head & emotional state I see it for what it is.  The speaker helped my mom make OUR tragedy about HER.  She adored this man not for who he was but because of his heart condition.

After the viewing we were wheeled into a private room somewhere & it was just Ryan, my parents, & I.

I could FEEL that something just wasn’t right.  My mom was trying to distract me from what my dad was trying to tell Ryan.  I kept turning my head towards them and noticed my mothers nervousness each time.  I kept ignoring her & asking him directly, “what’s going on?”.

My father was trying to tell Ryan that he had blessed our kids into the Mormon church, without ever even asking us.  It’s not a blessing per day but more of putting them on church records.  We, their parents chose NOT to do that when they were babies since we ARE NOT MORMON any longer.  It’s still funny to me that despite my drugged up state I literally could feel my fathers controlling, unethical ways.  Never looking for my best interests only his own.

My dad loves to go fishing.  He used to have a boat & he would take his grandsons fishing in the Summers.  He’d take his grandsons, just not Finn.  Two Summers ago I mentioned this to him & the rest of the summer flew by without one single invite.  Finn loves fishing possibly more than most little boys you know & then some.  He had no idea that he was being left out & like myself doesn’t care if he’s the favorite or not.  So the Summer before last I finally got an invite for Finn to go with his grandpa & cousins.  I drove Finn down to my parents house, he was to spend the night & go with them early in the morning.  As I went inside their house, I could FEEL that something was up.  It was the same feeling I’d gotten before but I couldn’t quite pin it until I was driving on the freeway back home.

Finn was about to turn 8 in a few weeks following.  My Dad wasn’t taking my beautiful non-Mormon son fishing out of love, he was taking him because he was turning 8.  And the age of 8 is when Mormon kids get baptized.  I smiled to myself because I know my son wouldn’t be easily swayed.  I am continually saddened by what I know Mormons like my parents think of people like me.  I know this because it’s what I was taught.

I remember watching an Oprah episode years ago where she asked the audience if there was one thing they could go back & change about their life what would it be.  A man who looked to be my dad’s age at the time stood up & said something like this, “I wish I could go back in time & love everybody in my life, & not let what religion they are get in the way”.  I still close my eyes & say a little prayer in my heart for all the brave, satanic people like myself, that maybe one day, their Dads heart can open up to love instead of religious obligations like the man I saw on Oprah did.


Not being “thanked enough”

Waxing different women throughout the years I’ve learned that none of us really “see” ourselves.  We all focus on our flaws, but most of the time the flaws we focus on aren’t even real.  I will have the most beautiful creature in front of me, the epitome of beauty & yet she has no idea.  In fact I don’t think any of us look into a mirror & really see our true beauty at all; only the flaws we’ve made up for ourselves.

Three Christmas’s ago I had returned to work doing eyebrows at Nordstrom.  They reached out to me & asked if I could work at the Anastasia counter at least for the holidays.  I also had 1 year old triplets & a 6 year old son.  There is one Day in December Nordstrom gives its employees a little extra employee discount & so I headed over to the handbag department to shop for my MIL.  There on the clearance table was a beautiful beige Kate Spade handbag, that being already on sale + the extra discount, & knowing my SIL wanted Togo in with me I thought it would be perfect for her.  My MIL & I are very different & I always struggle trying to figure out what to buy her.  

We drove to her house on Christmas Day, which we all know is a difficult day for us.  But We have to pretend that it’s not & that nothing ever happened.  And even if you don’t talk about your tragedy to them & pretend that it never happened at every family party you still get a letter in the mail saying that you “let your tragedy effect you too much”.  My 1 year old triplets were scattered throughout their Grandma’s house & Ryan was making sure that no one fell down a flight of stairs as she opened up the gift I had stressed about finding for her.  I was so excited to give it to her because it wasn’t too loud & it was also a neutral color.  She undid the silver Nordstrom ribbon & pulled out the beige Kate Spade handbag that I thought matched her style so perfectly.  She looked at it with extreme distaste & disgust.  She would barely even touch it with the tip of her fingers as she pulled it out & put it to the side, all while giving me, every sign of revulsion & hatred that her body & face could possibly bare to throw at me.  Her house is obviously not child proofed so it came of no surprise to me when Ryan said he didn’t see his mothers disgust with the gift I’d gotten her.  I also wonder if she knew that he wasn’t looking when she so deliberately tried to hurt me (for buying her a KATE SPADE handbag mind you).  The woman who gave birth to my husband, who my parents told me didn’t care if I lived or died, was trying to hurt me on CHRISTMAS DAY..., but why???

Looking back on that Christmas it’s funny to me because in my heart I knew something was brewing amongst the women on my husbands side of the family.  There were little signs all over the place coming from most of them for years.  For example: I got a tummy tuck, hernia surgery, & a breast reduction after I carried triplets full term.  I literally had a skin apron removed from my body.  My 21 year old niece from Ryan’s side stopped by unannounced shortly after & I mustered up the will power to get out of bed to show off the new me.  Because I assumed like most people she was happy for me.  As I limped out of my bedroom fresh from major surgery she looked at me with absolute horror & disgust.  She was trying to make me feel bad about the way I now looked.  I fully understand now that she was just trying to hurt me, & she did, she made me cry for days, but why?  Why did she want me to feel bad?  Her one mistake was doing it in front of my sitter, who witnessed the whole thing, which made her denial of it all a little tricky afterwards.  I was so grateful I had a witness to her behavior.

It’s a little blurry & confusing what happened months following the “biggest negative reaction to a Kate Spade purse ever” Christmas but it went something like this...

My MIL calls Ryan out of concern to tell him to call his sister, he calls his sister.  His sister tells him that his nieces (whom had been giving me dirty looks for years prior & I had no idea why), said that they heard from some one I said some horrible things about them  So that’s 5 women total that did not come & talk to me about these supposed things I said.  That’s 5 women talking shit about me talking shit about them.  Then they call their son, brother, uncle to try & convince him how horrible I am based off of hear say!!!

When I tried to stand up for myself it was hopeless.  Because the 5 women (4 being my in-laws) thought it was wrong of me to talk about them.  I asked why they didn’t come to me in the first place & they said because I would yell at them & make them cry.

A few months later one niece (she’s in her late 20’s not a child btw), says that all the women sit around & talk about how I didn’t thank them enough.  So does that mean Ryan thanked them enough?, or do boys not count when it comes to “thanking enough”!

 I’m no doctor but I’m pretty sure sitting around & talking about how your daughter/sister/Aunt in-law who was a victim of a very serious crime & then was pregnant with, & gave birth to triplets didn’t “thank you enough” is total gaslighting!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I wonder who the ring leader is?  Did you know that gaslighting is very common technique used in bullying?!?  It’s pretty successful too!  I cried for a good solid year about this.  I cried because I thought that they loved me.  I cried because It was all based on lies.  I cried because I loved them.  I cried because I crave healthy relationships.  I cried because I thought these people cared about us, like really cared.  I thought they helped us because that’s just what humans do.  Because what goes around comes around.  I’ve basically been family-less for years.  

Ya know how they say couples have a 90% chance of getting divorced after losing a child?  I’m actually wondering if their families have anything to do with it๐Ÿค”?  I wonder if they’ve ever done studies on that?  I guess you’d have to study the 10% of people who didn’t get divorced & survived all the unnecessary bullshit of Unknowingly not thanking enough, etc.  I guess I didn’t get the memo of how to properly thank the in-laws after tragedy.  Maybe they could write us all a handbook on it, ya know for the future victims of people getting hit by others driving high & drunk & losing a child.  

There is no way I can win this fight.
And I don’t even care to try.
I know eggshells when I see ‘em.

In reading about abuse & abusers behaviors I keep reading not to listen to what they say, listen to what they do.  Also, I’m working really hard at “SEEING myself”.  Now that I know that I’m not completely nuts, I don’t want to waste anymore energy on wondering why mean girls are mean.  I’m actually taking all the mean girling that’s happened to me in like a positive way.  Like. I must bee something sorta incredible to have all these women spend so much time & effort trying to take me down when all I’m doing is trying to survive happily!  



When I was around 22 years old, I remember sitting in a room at the Dr’s office while waiting for the Dr with my Mom.  I was having gallbladder attacks even though I no longer had a gallbladder.  

I had been wanting to ask her & test out my new theory & we were just sitting there alone in a room together.  I’d rationalized her behaviors & even started to convince myself about what I was about to ask her.  “Mom, ya know uh,....when I was in Junior High & High school?  Were you going through, uh, menopause or something?  Is that the reason why all you & Dad ever did was yell & scream at me?”.  Her face froze with question & shock.   “Kelly, I never went through menopause.”  

“Mom, are you sure?  Why did you scream at me so much then?”, I asked  unbiasedly.  I just wanted answers, I just needed to understand.  These questions came from a place of forgiveness & understanding, but that wasn’t how she took it.  But, I didn’t know how she took it until a few weeks later.  “Well yes I’m sure, I had a hysterectomy & I was most certainly not always yelling at you!”.  I was so confused.  I don’t remember arguing with her any further, or perhaps that’s when the Dr waltzed in.  I felt crazy & dillusional.  She acted like she had no idea what I was even talking about.  If she wasn’t going through the worlds worst menopause causing her enormous fits of rage over the tiniest of things then why?

I called my parents house about 1-2 weeks later.  My Dad answered the phone & snapped at me.  “Kelly, why’d you say those things to your mom?!?”.  I had no idea what he was even talking about.  He didn’t care what my response was, he interrupted me, “she’s been in her room crying for 2 weeks, because you said that all we ever did was yell at you & now I’m the one having to take care of her because of what you did!”

I remember feeling horrible & ashamed that I made her feel cry for 2 weeks.  I also felt horrible from them denying their treatment towards me.  I also felt sorry for my poor Dad, I was so disgusted with myself. I had assumed she felt bad about the way she treated me throughout my childhood.  But the truth was she didn’t even care about any one else’s feelings besides her own.  So I was the one to blame for everything while my Mother Dearest played victim...again.  And that was the last time I brought it up.  Because, I guess it didn’t happen.

My Dad had just had a knee replacement & we were all to go and visit him in the hospital.  This was made out to be a big deal, (which now being what I’ve been through makes it a bit laughable to me).  My Dad will tell you himself that his knees went bad because he had been both the football AND basketball star in High school.  As I approached his Hospital room I could see his big belly sticking out the side of his hospital gown & that his room was filled with some of my siblings.  He was sitting up in his bed & was very alert, soaking up all the attention he was receiving.  I’d only been there but a minute as he looked up at me, grimaced & loudly stated, “you really need to lose weight, you’ve gotten fat!”.  I didn’t even realize he was paying attention to me.  I was speechless & extremely hurt & embarrassed.  He was right though.  I had put on some weight & it’s all I could think about.  

I was so upset by his comment for days following it.  I remember telling a sister or two how rude I thought it was, & could sense that word had  traveled back that I was upset.  Inside I felt deeply rejected by him because of my weight gain, but I’d never felt accepted either.  I called their house a few weeks later to tell my mom how I felt.  My mom answered.  And it was made known that I was somehow in trouble for having my feelings hurt.  “But Mom, he needs to lose weight more than I do.  Mom, it was rude of him to say that!  Mom, my weight is all I ever think about.  Tell him that it was really rude of him to say that.”  I was crying.


“He’s just really hurt by you honey.  I don’t think he had any idea what he was even saying Kelly, he was on so many meds”.  I remember arguing back & forth about why I was the one in trouble.  It seemed that everyone involved were on my parents side.  Why wasn’t he even being told it was rude of him to say?  Why can’t he just say he was sorry?

Both of these stories are examples of some hard core gas lighting, a new term I’ve learned (my vocabulary is growing fast).  I have been gas lighted so.many.times.  Here is the definition of gas lighting from Wikipedia (again I am still in shock there are names for the things I experienced ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ✨):


Gaslighting is a form of manipulation that seeks to sow seeds of doubt in a targeted individual or in members of a targeted group, hoping to make them question their own memory, perception, and sanity. Using persistent denial, misdirection, contradiction, and lying, it attempts to destabilize the target and delegitimize the target's belief.[1][2]
Instances may range from the denial by an abuser that previous abusive incidents ever occurred up to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of disorienting the victim. The term owes its origin to the 1938 Patrick Hamilton play Gas Lightand its 1940 and 1944 film adaptations. The term has been used in clinical and research literature,[3][4] as well as in political commentary.[5][6]

If I experienced gas lighting does that mean every one in my parents wake did too?  Or do gas lighters have specific targets?
You know what else I’m now seeing?!?  That therapist that told me how BPD & NPD get married AND just partner up so well (she interlocked her fingers when she said it).  Wow, my parents partnership is super impressive.  If gas lighting were in the olympics I bet they’d take the gold for sure!  Also, the abusive asshole I dated in High school definitely had NPD!  I was dating my Dad!  So grateful I didn’t marry my Dad you guys!  Unanswered prayers, sometimes you just gotta bee grateful for them✨.

Ryan turned 40.  The triplets are in gymnastics.  Finn starts flag football in March.  The triplets are constantly playing “Honey’s” or “puppies” when they play house.  Dale brushes my hair, Wren is glued to my side, & Holland’s hair is always hanging in her face.  Finn is such an awesome kid.  I never have to worry about him in school & he is so responsible.  He actually is a lot like I was, they all are.  I look at my kids and see all their sweet innocence & it makes me ill to imagine myself at their age getting screamed at, shamed, & criticized.  I feel so free writing my truth.  I was severely abused & I had already survived it even before I knew it wasn’t normal.  And for the first time in my entire life, I myself feel that I am amazing!



The only way I could sum up my childhood to people was that I wasn’t allowed to have feelings.  That my Mom was the only one who got to have feelings.  I guess the easier way to put it is invalidating.

I wrote about my wedding story on here somewhere but what I didn’t tell you was that when I got home from our honeymoon, I ran back over to my parents to grab something really quick.  I typed in the code to open the garage door, then hung up my car keys on the hook in the kitchen upstairs (habbit) & ran downstairs to pick up a few last items.  I don’t recall a single word being said, but I could feel something was up.  I unhooked my keys in the kitchen, only moments later not thinking anything of it, but immediately noticed that my keys felt lighter.  

And without a word their obligation to me was done.

I no longer had a key to their precious home.  The code to open the garage was changed so I couldn’t get in that way either.  This moment & the way this made me feel is something I will never forget.  I’d never stolen anything from them.  Their house is the very last place I’d want to go to.  Yet, it almost felt as though they saw me as a criminal.  Didn’t they know all I’ve ever wanted was to be free from them?  

I’m realizing that my invalid childhood has lead to poor communication skills into adulthood.  I’m working on it.  I can explain things much better when I write them out here.  I also forgot what it felt like to trust my gut, to really trust it, because everything I felt was invalid.  I thought my gut must be wrong, it must be defective.  I understand that my parents are the way they are because of abuse & possibly permissive parents.  I know they will never be loving parents to me.  And that is all I ever wanted was to feel loved by them. And to understand it all, is freeing.

I once had a teacher that said most people see all of the details but not the big picture or, they see the big picture but not all the details.  I think I definitely don’t see the big picture a lot of the times because I get lost in all the details.  I have felt so lost in all the invalidation.  It’s so nice to see the big picture & to know, really know that I’m not defective; it’s them.

I wax the eyebrows of some pretty big bloggers/influencers.  I saw one in particular last week.  This girl is such an inspiration to me.  She shows so many different sides of herself to thousands of people; sides I’d never let anyone see. She is beautiful & a remarkable human being! She dealt with abuse in her childhood & they are still in her life via family parties etc.  I asked her how she is able to go around them & not get triggered & her response was equally both beautiful & amazing!  She said she puts all her shields up.  She meditates & then combines her inner power, & the light of Christ to make a shield of light that blocks all their negativity. (Or something like that).

Is there a shield store?  Or a shield repair shop?  Mine are broken.  Mine broke when I almost died...or is that my new perspective showing?  My new perspective of YOLO & nope if I need shields to be around you then I’m not coming ‘round, (because my baby DIED on Christmas).  No but really it’s like a gift I have now.  If people are mean to me & I did nothing to them, &
they cannot discuss what the problem is, it’s bye Felicia!  Oh, & this goes for everyone, people that know if my baby died on Christmas or not, (I will write more about this soon!).  But my shields that I have to use against toxic family are broken!  Or maybe they just don’t make shields like they used to?  Or maybe I’m.too.weak.  Or maybe my feet have walked on more eggshells than they’re supposed to & they’ve developed an extreme intolerance.

But would it be okay if I just focused on the good things happening in my life & forget about having to use shields & just not let the toxic people come around us?  (Unless they are willing to pay us of course).  And the ones that aren’t my parents, is it okay that I only want to be around them under my own terms?  Because my baby died on Christmas.  Is it okay to spare myself from additional pain from people, & no longer subject myself to being bullied by women, even if they are family?    

My body has a lot of quirks from all it’s been through. Most of the left side of my body is completely numb.  My entire abdomen is numb.  My left glute, & thigh area is completely numb. When you are numb it’s easy to not use the correct muscles in order to move properly.  This can lead to more problems.  And sometimes the pain radiates throughout.  I scar really bad internally & there’s a whole plethora of different issues there & it can be terrifying.  If I think about it, I can feel that my body hurts constantly.  But I don’t.  I keep a positive attitude.  My last physical therapist told me she thinks that my brain rewired the way I feel pain because I can handle more than most.  It rewired itself after experiencing so much.  I have been doing reformer Pilates and it has changed my life!  It’s expensive but a lot cheaper than physical therapy.  I am relearning to use the muscles slowly & it’s wonderful to feel more balanced.  When you are numb you can’t feel what muscles you’re working.  Pilates is teaching me how to use my muscles again properly.  I highly recommend it to anyone who is struggling with chronic pain.  

I can tell you this with full confidence that if you saw me today, you’d never guess my body had been through what it has.  It’s been years since I’ve taken any opiates/pain pills, (Ryan too)!!!  I don’t even take NSAIDS.  We’ve come so far that it almost feels like a different lifetime.  People ask me all the time how I did it; they say I have every excuse to not get out of bed in the morning.  I tell them that it really isn’t that hard to get out of bed if you have 2 legs that can walk.  After getting used to Colum being gone, the hardest part about Christmas & living everyday without him has been dealing with all the horrible things that our families have done to us, & not seeing the big picture.  It’s been really confusing to say the least.  

I wrote this post a week or so ago, that’s why there are 2 posts in one morning.

Thank you so much for your comments!  They mean the world to me.  Thank you for supporting me so I can speak my truth.

Black out

I used to think it was strangely fascinating when people would tell me that they’d “block things out”.  This person in front of me had experienced something so traumatic that their own brain hid it away from itself, in order to protect itself from reliving the horrific experience.  

In April or May following the crash, I can’t recall exact events now but it was when my mom was wanting me to console her for Colum dying & I wouldn’t, (it should’ve been the other way around, right?).  It upset her, &/or I stood up for myself & the usual thing happened in result.  The usual thing my Mother Dearest usually did was get all of my siblings, or as many as she could to rally against the enemy, which was me...I was STILL USING A WALKER so her desire to be the bigger victim was a hard fight & she could only round up my one older sister, the one who abused me my whole childhood, yup, that one.  They are really there for each other, two peas in a pod really.  

My sister sent me a text message stating: “Bad things happen to everybody, & you need to get over it.”  (She’s talking about the car accident I was in less that 5 months prior).

I responded: “Fuck you”, & no I don’t speak to my family that way.

My entire childhood my mantra with my evil sister was: “I can’t wait to be a grown-up so I don’t ever have to see you again”.  I’d tell myself these words over & over again.  I realized on that day that I was now a grownup & this person, although she’s biologically related to me, has no place in my life.  I’m done.

But strangely she mentioned an incident to me at my Mother Dearests Birthday party a couple years ago.  She told me she wanted to apologize for that time when I was sleeping innocently one night when we were in high school & she just came in my bedroom & punched me as hard as she could in my stomach.  She asked if there was any damage.  I listened to her in disbelief as she described details of my parents even calling the police on her.   ...how do I not remember any of this!?!  She kept mentioning that this one is one she still feels bad about.  None of it sounded even the tiniest bit familiar to me.  And this person has borderline, never apologizes for anything cause, duh, she’s never wrong.  She mentioned that she’s pretty sure that this is when she was on the drug Phen-Fen & how it was the medications fault ‘cause it made her crazy, (aw, this is her motive).  

I actually remember her on Phen-Phen & I don’t recall a change in her behaviors except that was really happy.  The happiest I’d ever seen her actually.  She’d lost some weight & her confidence immediately skyrocketed.  I think she wanted me to know that all her bad behaviors were all to blame on the Phenomenal side effects of a dangerous diet pill.  But what about all the other times I wonder what her excuse was๐Ÿค”๐Ÿง?

 I’m just like those people I’ve always been strangely fascinated by.  But it’s daunting not knowing what else my own mind is hiding from itself.  Or is it? Is it ok to have a plethora of tiny vaults holding twisted memories of abuse, stashed away in your brain & soul?  Truthfully, I am just happy to not be stuck in a basement with her anymore, with a conjoined bathroom between us. When I text my parents horrible things (after thanksgiving), I told them that “when they get to hell, to tell them you want my old room in the basement.”  

The hardest part for me is that my parents hardly ever protected me from her.  They were too busy thinking they were the only ones with feelings. No one will ever understand what it was like in that basement except for maybe her ex-husbands.