To everyone who has been patiently waiting for me to weigh in on the most recent events of the Cal's Sis unpleasantness, I must apologize. DH and I have been experiencing an onslaught of narc traffic that has recently been clogging up our airways, and it's been difficult for me to sit down and do much writing at all, save for the quick documentation of facts and data that I've been keeping per each run-in we experience. And I'll be the first to admit, all this door-pounding, secret-voicemail leaving, overtly-threatening nonsense is a bit overwhelming. I don't feel intimidated. I feel sad and angry. DH has already rocked out a post about some of the latest contact from NMIL's camp, but I'd like to recount our encounter with J and my feelings on the phone calls coming in from EFIL and NSIL in my own way. I think it may provide an additional perspective to what is currently going on. And, in spite of the narc-attacks on our home front, I do still intend on doing some running commentary on the narc-attacks that have recently taken place in our blogging community. I'd love to have about three more sets of hands, one extra set of eyeballs, and maybe twenty or so extra hours in each day. Then, maybe I could accomplish all of the projects, analyses, and jobs I set out to do when I wake up in the morning. But as it stands, here are my records and analysis of the most recent contact we've gotten from the dark side.
And just bear in mind that literally as I'm writing this, more bullshit is pouring in at us.
As if EFIL's unwelcome visit wasn't bad enough, just a few days later, on November 4, 2012, we got another surprise visit from an equally unwelcome visitor. I was standing in the kitchen feeding my children breakfast when DH walked in, looking a bit panicked. All he said was, "It's J." No preface. Just wide-eyed shock.
I pretty much knew who he was talking about immediately, because we don't know any other J's. But I asked for clarification anyway, because DH hadn't offered much in the way of context. "J? Your mother's second ex-husband, J? Your sister's father?" I was surprised. Even more surprised than when EFIL showed up. "What do you mean, he's here. Like, he's on the porch? He's just standing there? Did he see you? Did you answer the door?"
"No, I don't think he saw me," DH said. "He just knocked on the door and I looked out the peephole and he's just standing there."
DH had literally been outside not two minutes before, shaking a rug out for me. We always have our screen door, doorknob, and deadbolt locked, especially since EFIL showed up a few days ago and we've been even more diligent about it. But since DH had been going in and out, the porch was open. I was just happy he hadn't been caught unawares outside the house. At least he was inside when the guy showed up.
So DH and I just kind of stood there for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the fuck to do about the current fucked-up mister standing on our front porch. I remember thinking that it was sort of funny that we were just leaving him out there without answering the door. He had to know we were inside - the kids were making all sorts of noise and I wonder if he'd heard DH and I talking at all. "Let him wait," I thought. It was our right to give ourselves the time required to figure out what we needed to do.
"I hadn't expected this. Jesus Christ, the drama never ends," I said.
"I know," DH responded. "[J]'s been a non-entity."
"He's never even met our children," I said. "I'm not sure how to handle this. But I think it's safe to say that we know who sent him here." At the same time, DH said "my mother" and I said "your mother." In the back of my mind, I saw the tweets I had read on NSIL's twitter page just a few hours earlier. I knew she was in a hospital and that she would "rather be [in the hospital] than in her house." I knew that J was here because of her, but more than that, he was here on a mission for NMIL. Isn't it always that way?
I went over to the door and locked the deadbolt, just as I'd done a few days before when EFIL showed up. Again, I thought it a wee bit funny that both men had probably thought the door was being unlocked, when really, they were being doubly locked out. I looked through the peephole. J was standing there, looking restless and agitated. I watched him through the peephole. I remember thinking it was funny that he didn't know I was looking at him. As I watched, he reached up and banged on the door again. I walked back to the kitchen. I felt hot and my heart was racing. "I'm really not sure what to do," I said. I thought about calling my mother and asking her opinion. My brain was going a mile-a-minute. DD ran by me to go into the living room and DH and I called her back, feeling like it wasn't safe for her to be near the door or the windows. It wasn't until I thought about what J might do if we didn't answer the door that I decided we couldn't just continue to stand there and ignore him. I was worried that if we didn't answer, he'd eventually go around to our family room door and start pounding on that and peering through our windows.
As DH and I stood in the kitchen, J just kept pounding on the door every few minutes. I suggested to DH that he walk over and say, "J, I know you're there. Please leave."
"I'm scared." DH said.
I said, "It's okay. You can do it. All you're doing is asking him to leave. He isn't welcome here. You can do it." I thought about the situation a moment longer and said, "I know it's odd that we even have to say he's not welcome here because he's been such a nobody in our lives. But I mean, we certainly can't let him in. And he has not been an ally to us either." DH agreed. I added, "And your mother sent him. Whatever it is he wants, she definitely sent him."
DH took a few deep breaths. He was holding DS. He walked to the door and said, "J, I know you're there." He paused and took another breath. "Please leave."
J called through the door, "I have to talk to you. It's not about you and it's not about me."
DH said, "I have nothing to say to you." (I was mentally saying, "Don't stray from the formula! Just keep repeating yourself." I didn't say it aloud.)
J said, "Your sister tried to commit suicide last night. She's in the hospital."
DH said again, "Please leave, J, or I'm calling the police."
J said, "Fine! Call the police. I'm going to make a big scene. In front of all your neighbors."
"Okay. We're calling the police." I said loudly. I walked to the phone and dialed 911. At that point, DH also left the door, where J was still occasionally banging angrily every few minutes. I told the dispatcher, "There is a man standing on our front porch refusing to leave. We've asked him politely several times and he said he won't leave." I went on to explain that he was my husband's ex-stepfather and provided the officer with his physical description and full name. The dispatcher asked me if I had any idea what he wanted and I told him that we had had a falling out with my husband's side of the family and he had come to give us information about something. I reiterated that we had asked him to leave but he was refusing. The dispatcher told me that the officers had been called and they'd be on our street in seconds. I told him I didn't want to open the door for them if J was standing on the porch and he reassured me that I wouldn't have to.
DH and I went to stand at the front of the house to look out the windows. J walked across the street to where the officers were standing and waved his arms around in the direction of our house. DH was standing beside me and said, "He's a schmoozer." I said, "Schmoozing is just another word for lying. I'm not worried about him fooling them. They are the police, they are trained to pick up on when they're being schmoozed. AND I'm armed with the truth AND I'm prepared to tell them."
The police officers headed over to our house, J headed over to wait by his truck. He leaned up against it's hood, arms folded across his chest. I opened the door for the two officers. They asked me how I was and I said, "Well. I've been better." I had a moment to wonder how I must look to them, what with my bedhead and my glasses and my pajamas and the baby on my hip. The first officer asked, "So, what's going on?" I told them that this man, my husband's ex-stepfather, had come to our front door, demanding to talk to my husband, and that we had asked him to leave several times to no avail.
"When was the last time you spoke with him?" He asked.
I looked at DH, who provided, "Probably about two years ago."
"Wow." The officer said. "So you haven't talked with him in about two years and he just suddenly showed up today?"
"Yes," I confirmed.
"Have you ever told him he couldn't come here?"
"No," I said.
"Okay. We told him that if he comes back here, you can have him arrested. Now, that's up to you if he does come back. Hopefully, he won't. But you could have him arrested if he came here again."
He took my name and date of birth. I asked if he was going to write up a report, to which he replied, "Yes. It will be documented." I made a mental note to go the police station in a few days time and pick up a copy of that paperwork for our records. Then I thanked him and closed the door.
DH, looking out the front window watched as J walked back across and talked with the officers again. The conversation seemed to last only a few seconds. He walked back to his truck. DH said, "Whoa. He's pissed. I can tell by the way he's walking."
I said, "Good. Now he'll take the message back home to the rest of them and maybe they'll figure out that we mean business."
DH and I talked about the incident many, many times after that. We're still talking about it, trying to wrap our minds around it, trying to figure it all out. Here are some of my thoughts:
- It is unnerving that twice, in so many days, we've had two unwelcome visitors show up, uninvited and without warning, to our home. Technically, the visit from EFIL wouldn't have been a surprise if DH had gotten the first voicemail message from his father sooner. But with J, there was absolutely no advanced warning that something else was coming down the pike, save for a few tweets from NSIL which stood out to me (and which I'll be publishing in a separate post after this one). As always, I've never thought coincidence exists in the world of narcissists, and so I find it likely that a large portion of these recent events were connected.
- I question the legitimacy of the claims being made. As is always the case when dealing with narcissists, no one is ever in possession of the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Instead, bits of information float in which may or may not be true, are sometimes only partially true, and often are outright lies. Here are some of the facts that I have picked up: NSIL not only has access to her cell phone, but she has been tweeting while in the hospital. She is currently in ICU, but has had visitors and seems to be coherent enough that it's not possible to tell whether or not she has or had drugs in her system. All of these facts tell me that she was probably not admitted to the psych ward (since, to my knowledge, people are generally not allowed phones and usually have to stay a minimum of three days once they have been admitted), which is odd if she did, indeed attempt suicide. And with those facts tucked away in my pocket, I have to wonder whether she really attempted to commit suicide or not, and what J's motive would be for using that type of language. My best guess is that she overdosed on drugs and/or alcohol, or had an unhealthy mix of both. Whether or not it was a suicide attempt is up in the air. But the real point is that while NSIL is mentally unstable, desperate, and looking for help; her NM is finding ways to pump the situation for all that it's worth.
- I believe that J's purpose in coming was not simply to inform DH of the news. I believe that the reason why he stood on our porch, demanding to speak with my DH, was not simply to convey the message about his sister. It was to be the current spokesman for Team NMIL, to tell DH this was all his fault, that he was destroying his mother and sister, and that he needed to get his ass in gear and go hold his sister's damn hand for the rest of their natural-born lives.
- It is painfully obvious to me that, on NMIL's scorecard, she's 0 for 2 in terms of caring for her children. I told DH that of her two children, NMIL has failed both of them; and that they are both replaceable to her. I told him that she is already out there cultivating her new family, because her son has just about slipped away completely, and her daughter won't be far behind.
- J has revealed himself as a bully, with his threats about "making a scene in front of the neighbors"and his refusal to leave. I'm glad we called the police and that we'll now have their official report as evidence of what's going on.
- It would be remiss of me not to discuss my thoughts on the situation that NSIL is in. They could be summed up with this phrase: "If you dine with the cannibals, eventually honey, you're gonna get eaten." (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Cannibal's Hymn). I would love for this girl to make it out. Not only alive. But thriving. I would love for her to See what's going on, to admit that she Sees it, to choose a different path than the one she's headed down. I told DH, "She's gonna make it out, just like you, DH. Only at the end of the day, her way out is death." And while she's collecting pseudo-attention from all her pseudo-friends, and dreaming up a fancy vacation to go on when she gets out of the hospital, she's not getting the real help and guidance that she'll need to change the direction in which she's headed. I don't wish death on her, but I won't feed my family to the wolves to see her live another day.
Last night, on November 4, 2012 at 10:38 PM, NSIL called DH's work from her cellphone and left the following message: "Hi [DH]. Um, it's your sister. Something happened and I'm in the
hospital. Uhh, mom doesn't know I'm calling you, but I'm not going to
tell her anyway. Um and [pause] I just wanted to talk to you or let you know um [pause] I don't know. Okay. Bye."
At roughly midnight that same night, she tweeted, "I wonder if you would even recognize me now." To me, this was an obvious reference to DH.
It's hard to tell whether the sadness in her voice is real or contrived. I think, if this was a genuine moment for her, even on some small level, then that's what we'll be speaking to if we choose to respond. I don't think there is anything wrong with her expressing sadness and it is not my intention to add to it. What I hear in her message and see in her words are the following: a kind of lonely desperation, a reference to DH's familial tie to her, an extremely vague explanation of what has happened as a way to hook him into wanting to know more, and perhaps most importantly, a subtle acknowledgement that she knows her mother is the key. But I am left to wonder whether this call was real or contrived, whether NMIL pulled the strings, and who, if anyone, gave her DH's work number. She has access to the internet, so it's possible that she looked up his work contact number herself. But one of my very first thoughts about her message was that someone gave her his phone number and either directly or indirectly asked her to call. It's difficult to know for sure whether she reassured DH that NMIL wouldn't know about the call because she was trying to protect NMIL, or because she was so desperate to talk with DH that she was willing to say anything, even if it wasn't true.
And you know what? I don't want anyone to keep secrets. That is not my MO. Never has been. I don't find it reassuring at all that NSIL promised to keep her phone call to DH a secret. What we all need is more truth and less lies. I know that is the only way NSIL knows how to operate. I wish that, for her sake, she'd learn a few new moves. At any rate, I think it's crucial that the mention of her mother is an indication that she is aware that her mother is dangerous, and that having any information about NSIL's attempts to contact DH could go very badly for her.