The Real Tea (Narcissistic Mothers)

Confession time I do judge other parents. Yes I am aware of mommy shaming is not the right thing to do. I don’t judge moms on what they feed their kids or what their children wear or how their children act. What I do judge is when moms who treat their children like property instead of treating them like human beings. These are the moms that I see mirroring what my mother acted like and seeing the child beside her trying hard to please mommy dearest. Those children were me at one point.

On the outside people seen my mom as charismatic. That is how she hooks her victims and keeps her narcissistic facade alive. To the outside my mother looks like she cares about her children, and she has won mom of the year award. I know the real her and when I stopped being beneficial to her every want and need I was a disposable child. I once thought that she was something to be admired and just misunderstood in the world. Waking up to her lies after seeing through some of them brought out the worst person imaginable.

I didn’t grow up with my mother directly and that suits me just fine. Remembering when I was a little girl I thought I missed my mom and that one day she would come get us kids and everything would be alright. As a grown woman who survived her abuse: later in life I see that I was incredibly lucky to not have lived with her. Although I still lived with abusive caregivers; I still could not imagine being alive today, if I was under her care.

She had reached out to me when I was fifteen and beginning to emancipate myself legally. I remember her messages she sent to me. The mom I know she really is, was not the person sending the messages of care and commitment to do right by her daughter. She found my weak spot of feeling alone. She latched tightly and wound her web to hold me. I was naive hearing her stories everything she said she had answers to. The lowest point of my life was her thriving point to carry out her abuse. What she said at the time made sense: looking back I was blind to how much she could create on a whim.

It took one year and several months to start seeing through the woman under the veil. What she said and what actually happened are two different things. People started talking about my mother and what they said sounded more rational than what she said. I had one act of disobedience telling her no. I said no to something that went against my beliefs that one little no lead to my mother hating my very existence. Not only would she tell people I was a whore she would tell people I was abusing her. Anything she was doing to me at that moment created into her statements about me.

One thing I learned about surviving my mother is that it’s not completely over until one of us has died. No matter how much I have tried to escape her she still finds ways to interject into my life. I finally realized after one of my suicide attempts, she said to me ” what a shame I would have been free of you” the woman that was my mother only cared about herself and nothing would make it right. The moment was horrific the life lesson gained from it is unforgettable. I too needed freedom from the woman in the beautiful mask. The face hidden underneath it is deathly and hollow.

I wish I could say there is a happy ending or a feel good moment in reconciliation. Reality is the opposite. The only way to escape her abuse and be truly fee is to disengage. I still have not fully disengaged myself and I can’t until there is closer that justice will do her in to stop her abuse of others. I know the time is coming up in her trials of animal abuse. Promising to keep fighting for her victims because I never want her to steal another persons flame because that is what she does best.

I do judge mothers like her because when people don’t see them they are so dangerous to the child by their side. The little girls and boys who had mothers like mine don’t survive traditional methods. Some of them don’t make it out alive. The pain caused by these narcissistic mothers is explainable. It’s not the child who needs to fight for love but for the mother to fight for her child.

I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents. … The face and body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or a malformed egg can produce physicalmonsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul?

J. J Steinbeck, East of Eden

Written by Ali Johnson

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The Seven-Year Rut

There is a moment in every relationship that happens. It is the when do I walk away moment. It happens so suddenly you feel winded, uncertain as to how it got so far. I am the kind of person that wants to run when things get tough. This is largely due to my fight or flight mechanism being so high after waves of abusive people I once held so close to me. Somewhere deep down I hold the feeling everyone walks away eventually I should be the first one to do it before it starts to hurt.

I’m the kind of person that sees trouble before it happens. I used to try to stick it out until nothing was left of me but missing pieces. Before I met my partner I would only hold short relationships to protect my self from being hurt by someone else; here we are seven long years later with two kids, and I find my flight mode activated once again. The last two years have been long with finical issues and health issues thrown into our ring. Try as we might the boxing gloves eventually become frayed and worn. Breathless as we stand in the corner trying to figure out who won that match. The bell rings, and we go for another round in boxing ring of life. Holding seven years with another person: walking away seems impossible to do. I used to think love should never hurt, I see now that sometimes love needs to hurt in order to grow as a human being.

I don’t mean abusive love. The love that should hurt sometimes is the mindset of is this other person worth it. The case of my life partner I understand fully he is worth it. Right now we are two opposing forces with the same idea to get ahead. We just lack the communication to stop our score card of who did what first. We both know what buttons to push on the other side with no fear of how the other will deal with it. I’m the kind of woman that gets angry when they are scared. My partner is the kind of man who will quietly rationalize every word spoke building the next plan. At night, we lay in bed as two people wanting each other but fearing of touch that can bring closeness. In the stillness of words unspoken I can be certain that we just need each other to understand our differences.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. If we will still love one another, or we will finally draw the white flag of surrender. Relationships take work that never stops. One thing I have learned in seven years of not running away is that our love needs respect when things are not rainbows and kittens. Me; being the headstrong woman who never wants help and him being the strong guy unaffected by small mindedness, need to balance one another and hold on for one more moment. I hope by not running in twenty years we as partners will look back at this moment and see the growth that we have. I currently look down at my promise ring and see not an object of beauty but the promise to stay even when we ourselves are coming up ugly.

For now, I will put up my running shoes and wear my bare feet into our future. I know our gloves will not stay dusty in our mental head space. I can only ask for myself to not give in even when that is the only thing I have learned to do. As two people in the vast universe it is up to us to say when or say go. Winded and slightly defeated I feel it in my heart and gut mine and his love is worth it. We will start with the corner pieces and work our way in to build the final picture.

Written by Ali Johnson

Promise, They Will Be Enough

[Will’s father came back into town, and then lied to Will about being around more and left. Phillip is trying to comfort him]

Will: Hey, you no what, you ain’t got to do nothing, Uncle Phil. You know, ain’t like I’m still five years old, you know? Ain’t like I’m gonna be sitting every night asking my mom ‘when’s daddy coming home?’ You know? Who needs him? Hey, he wasn’t there to teach me how to shoot my first basket, but I learned it, didn’t I? And I got pretty damn good at it too, didn’t I, Uncle Phil?

Phillip Banks: Yeah, you did.

Will: Got to do my first date without him, right? I learned how to ride, I learned how to shave, I learned how to fight without him. I had *fourteen* great birthdays without him; he never even sent me a damn card. The hell with him!

[pause]

Will: I didn’t need him then, I won’t need him now.

Phillip Banks: Will…

Will: No, you know what, Uncle Phil? I’m gonna get through college without him, I’m gonna get a great job without him, I’m gonna marry me a beautiful honey and I’m having a whole bunch of kids. I’m gonna be a better father than he ever was. And I sure as hell don’t need him for that, ’cause there ain’t a damn thing he can teach me about how to love my kids!

[long pause; he’s crying]

Will: How come he don’t want me, man?

Scene from Fresh Prince of Belair.

I remember watching the scene from Fresh Prince of Belair for the first time and felt so connected to what he was saying. I too had absent parents who treated me out of convenience instead of want. Lonely is the best way I can describe my feelings towards the missing people that were supposed to step up and do the right thing. Some people say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but when your parent is negligent it causes a certain degree of pain.

Every time my parents would choose to jump in and out of my life a rift grew. I questioned why they chose that time to step up when they wanted no part in anything else going on. One of my battles as a child was dealing with questions of why I was not good enough for them. I was smart, imaginative, and loved to learn. The older I got I started to feel guilty for being a burden to them. I always felt that I was the reason my mom was slightly crazy and my dad didn’t want me because I made my mother nuts. It didn’t matter how much I achieved I was never good enough for them.

Overtime as their absent parenting grew I felt raw anger towards them. Other children would state how great their parents were. How they loved them unconditionally. The one time that I rejected seeing my father I was guilt tripped by family members. They stated that if I didn’t love my dad I should say it directly. I was torn into pieces that day instead of being told my emotions are validated. Thirteen year old me made a promise that day that if I ever have children; I would love them until the day I take my last breath, and be better than what they were one hundred percent.

Two boys later I have kept my promise. I, no longer keep contact with my mother by ensuring she has no access to abuse my children. My promise is simple yet it allows my children to be loved. Unlike my mother I will allow my children to make mistakes and not treat them as a disappointment. I will make sure they have food in their bellies before myself. They will always have a safe space to live in and someone to care about their needs. My last promise is to tell them I love them with each passing day. To hold them when they are scared and cheer them on when they do great things.

I am not a perfect parent by any means. My parents made a choice to walk away from me, what I learned is that I will be better. I did learn something from them and that is my children are first before me. My love for them shows them they are enough. They will not go through life wondering how they failed me. Love and trust does not come easy for me, but my children will never have to struggle with feeling alone and unheard. I may have been unwanted but I will always want my boys.

Written by: Ali Johnson

30 weeks with my son Maximus.

myself, Travis, and Max

The Woman of Today are Somebody

I am a woman who has a body that hurts. The spirit inside of it has been crushed time and time again. This body has seen horrors that no little girl should ever have to endure. There have been times in my life this body was robbed of its dignity. From the time I was four until I was seven years old. The next time I was sixteen years old and made a choice I regret. The next time I was twenty years old I just went on a date. Some of these people were family others were strangers. Like a teacup I glue myself back together each time someone strips me of my body, mind, and spirit. The cracks left with each chip leaves behind small flecks of what makes me human.

I am woman I have been broken by other woman. Drugged and told lies for over thirteen years. I was called a liar nothing more than a whore. I was invisible to outsiders as the evil kept me hidden. Words and actions done by other women have left an imprint calling for action. This body of mine has seen and endured hardships that no little girl should ever have to live through. Like the phoenix I rise each time from the ashes ready to fight again.

Paying more attention to the news of women rights, I see that we are headed in a dark direction. Our rights are at risk; if we do not see what our politicians, religions, outdated mindsets fuelled by fear will take us back to the stone ages of lost rights. We live in a scary time and without realizing how close to the edge we are of no longer having ownership of our bodies.

The woman of today are somebody. They are foundations of love and should be treated like a human being. Look around; each woman you see is a sister, mother, daughter, friend, they mean strength and willpower. If we forget to fight for their rights and refuse to acknowledge their place on earth then we are truly lost for a better future. Giving power to remove one’s ownership to their body is a catalyst of allowing others to take away personal rights. This will remove the right for a woman to choose if she wants children, stopping child marriages, and forced sexual slavery etc. We need to wake up because this happens it is not something we should ignore.

Power is a strong word but if given to the wrong people that power becomes poison. The disappearing woman, the murdered woman, the woman who took their lives, the abused girls, they are worth fighting for. If we do not fight for them we are making power poison. The pot has begun to brew and simmering slowly allowing for people too blindly believe that we as women are safe. Ignoring this reality comes with a deadly price. The war on woman has begun the time to unite and fight is now.

In loving memory of woman who are silenced. Lost but not forgotten.

Written by: Ali Johnson



Mothers Day For Women With Abusive Mothers

Mothers days is a sore spot for those who have abusive mothers. The aggressive reminder of pain inflicted given from those whom thrive on it. It’s a great day for some; but with others who have dealt the blow of being unloved or smothered by woman unable to show true compassion beyond their narcissistic parenting, its considered a day of emotional turmoil. Every feeling, every question of why, every memory blurts through the heart like emotional vomit. The painful part of dealing with abusive mothers on mothers day is the silence one keeps inside their minds.

To the ladies balled up on your bathroom floor on Mothers Day: it’s going to be alright. Right now what you’re feeling it’s allowed to be angry and feel robbed. It’s alright to read on social media about all the great moms and feel that familiar twinge of heartbreak. Those tears you are crying right now will soon pass and you will get off that floor.

The ladies with children of their own on Mothers Day had the challenge to brave it out for their children. All day they put on the brave face as their children proudly show them the crafts they made. Once the night has come and the feelings become too much they simply allow the panic to set in. It brings the self-doubt that they too are failing just has someone failed them. To those moms who kept it together until the end, know this the cycle of abuse stops with you. Just because the woman who caused unspeakable pain does not define you as a mother. Cry it out, scream like no tomorrow, break a plate, at the end when you have nothing left for that woman to steal you get off that floor and be the warrior. You survived Mothers Day for one more year. That takes guts and strength that most do not know. If you survived this Mothers Day and keep on going I promise you they already lost.

Although they tried to steal your soul and break you into a million pieces abusive mothers lose out on love themselves. I know this day sucks a billion times over. It feels suffocating as if your head is being held under water and you are drowning in emotional turmoil. I know you might lash out on those you care about and feel guilty but you are not her. Mothers day is a very dark day for you and I; please I beg you take a moment to see the goddess in yourself, and find love that was stolen in your soul. At the end of the dark day that is Mothers Day I want you to look in the mirror and tell yourself you made it. You survived and that is what counts.

With Love to those ladies who survived the pain of the Mothers day,

Ali Johnson.

Focusing On Men’s Mental Health

I remember a time when I was arguing with my husband; in a moment of causing verbal pain, I yelled at him saying you don’t have to balance anything. The words lingered in the air like bait waiting for the fish to bite. Instead of firing back at me he just simply said I balance just like you, I’m just not as verbal about it. Taken back by that I had a deeper look into what men go through on a daily basis. We as society forget that men have to have balance in their lives just as women do.

We had a moment in our relationship where my partner was feeling depressed. He wouldn’t admit to it but it became noticeable. He was not eating nor sleeping well. One of the more noticeable signs was his anger at little things. He felt that he was burdened with copious amounts of responsibility with no hope to move forward. In his mind he was struggling to be the man that he was told to be. This is a common notion among men in our generation. Having the title ” be the man” creates a monster in helping men understand getting help is not a weakness.

Part of the problem of older generations is the toxic masculinity placed on young boys to suck up their feelings and just deal with it. So when depression and mental illness do arise people like my partner push down their struggles and refuse help. This is problematic for young men who will continue the cycle of trying to be manly with no support system to cope when these hidden illnesses come about. It creates a lack of understanding on what needs to be done to create better supports for fathers, children, and young men.

We as society have to see a different ideal and better understanding of what men go through. Breaking the mould of toxic masculinity is a big step that starts with talking to younger generations about acceptance of feelings. The next big leap for helping men in mental health is breaking the stigma that men do not need mental support because they do not suffer like women do. The third big step in changing this is stop portraying men as bad parents and treating them as unintelligent. We as society need to support younger generations of males and give help to guide them instead of breaking them down. By giving support there would be changes in parenting, changes in suicide rates, changes in quality of life among males. Stronger futures can be made given the chance to pave the way for our sons, brothers, fathers, and boys only if we can end toxic masculinity within our mindsets.

Written by: Ali Johnson

Parents of Dating Children

I have a pressing issue with men and woman posting on social media about what they will do to the future child that will date their child. This issue is hearing other parents think it’s ok to threaten other children with violence if they so look at their child. I try to understand how this is ok? As parents, we are responsible for teaching the younger generation that abuse is not ok.

I am a mom of two boys one is eight years old he is autistic. I could not imagine if he started dating and upon meeting the parents gets threatened. He already lives in fear of social normalcies and has a hard time understanding them. If someone threatens him without good reason they are showing him it’s ok to be a bully. Why instill fear upon a child learning what is ok in the world? Where is the village everyone so highly speaks of when raising children?

I have a job in motherhood and that is to teach my children to love and hold respect for others. I am teaching them to be good human beings with morals and good faith to do well in life. I will teach them that their bodies belong to them and that they are responsible to take care of the body they hold. As a mother, I already know that they will one-day encounter relationships. My job from that is to show them love should never hurt and that they are allowed to say no. This includes teaching my sons that they as well do not own another person and have to uphold the opinions and rights of others. I live by the rule to show them an open culture of trust and accountability. If they do not follow through with these rules I have failed my job as a mother.

As a parent, I will not threaten your daughters upon meeting them. I would hope that other parents will hold the same respect for my sons. I don’t own my son’s body nor do you own your daughter’s body. What I do on my end is having open communication and trust. If something presents as wrong give me the formality I would give back and talk to me. Then comes talking to our children united to teach them respect and understand the world better. If my child is being abused by your child whether it’s female or male I will step in and take steps to ensure their safety. If my sons are the abusive ones I will fully protect your children as well. As parents this role is intimidating and I understand the passion behind the veiled threat.  I also have a clear understanding that as a parent it would be the same for your child as what I feel for my children. I am a mother who would do anything to protect my children from harm. I have learned in motherhood I need to step back and let their lives run its due course.  

I will not place guilt on the guiltless unless proven otherwise. Children deserve a better future with less unprecedented violence as they are our pathway to change.  We are at the melting pot of generations; breaking the wrongs before them, if we keep this cycle going of ownership of our children, it will continue with the idea of ownership of someone else’s body. This has been proven ineffective and only generates the idea of toxic relationships. We as parents can create a better future for the generation below us. Give future children a chance to grow by growing yourself first.

Written by Ali Johnson

One voice is all it takes.

Her face showed up in the news again for abuse charges laid on animals. I awoke to see her path of destruction laid out like a road map. I felt the flash of anger that I buried deep inside me to forget the crimes she commits. Stories of her victims came to light one after another. Each story presented the same showing the chronic abuse of good people who fell for her stories like a fish latching onto a hook. The worst of it showed she caused mass suffering again.

I watched the media post my mothers picture again triggering the flash back of high school embarrassment yielded into anger. Everybody in my classroom knew I was Patricia Moore’s daughter, the daughter of an animal abuser. This time around the audience was all Canada. This time Canadians paid attention. The attention was a beacon of systematic failure from the SPCA, it also shone the light of incompetence of the Canadian legal system.

I again felt the anger in realization life meant nothing to her unless deemed necessary to carry on her tale of victimization. In hopes that a community can come together I was amazed at how many people came forth with information and advice. If it wasn’t for the Canadian equestrian society more horses would have died at her hands. Blood of animals are on her hands and yet on her Facebook page she claimed innocence, stating the Canadian legal system is witch hunting her. She then further posted that most of the equestrian society is bullying her. The problem with repeat animal abusers is lack of mental health detection for hidden illness. Why this lady should be allowed out; killing more animals, creating more fraud, is beyond me.

I stayed quiet for so long as her malicious intent burned strongly leaving carnage in her wake. This tale of her routines continuing constantly has no end unless action is taken. How many years should she be allowed to willingly state she is above the laws and continue her path of destruction? How many animals should die because I stayed silent? The thing about being a survivor of abuse is when you leave you want it to end. I tried to stay away for the sake of my own sanity. It meant having her removed from my life to keep safety for my children and myself. Although as if seeing for the first time I need to take a stand now and call for change so her abuse cycle ends.

The thing with Patrica Moore and many others is they thrive on emotional vulnerability. Having dead animals is no consequence for them. As long as they can find new victims and new outlets to place their cons they will continue on. The more victims that play into their cons builds on their egos. Animal abusers are truly narcissistic by nature. By saying this I see the pain of her victims and I see that as a Canadian and past victim I hope to give a voice of reason. Animal abusers such as her should be put in the spotlight as example what is wrong with the current laws in place.

No longer being a bystander I hope people who have been victimized by her will continue to find courage and speak up. I hold in good faith to end Patricia’s reign of terror the legal system will have to see Canadians, animals, and mass public, are tired of being abused in a path of one’s self-destruction. With more people speaking up and saying this is not a one time offence it would show that animal abusers are incapable of showing compassionate respect for the law, and fellow peers. I believe that if people stood in harmony and fought together it would place this whole situation into a larger motion. If people can give the recognition of one animal abuser; use their voices calling for demand of justice, it can call for larger action to end other abusers and give closure to silent victims. I went years in silence out of fear. I never thought that by using my voice and providing support others would follow suit. Using a large vocal point I can take back my self dignity: find a community of support that allows others to heal, and change laws.

One voice is all it takes to make a difference in the lives of those who have been abused. If one voice can speak volumes others will follow pursuit for a greater future of justice and peace. The blood on abusers hands can end. I hope my voice can give power back to those affected and with a slight glimpse of hope heal others who did not know they had the power within themselves. One voice, One greater good can we all speak up now?

I won’t accept your apology.

For the love of god do not say sorry.

I have lived through the story.

You let me beg for a chance to live,

I tried over and over to give and give.

You took a piece of my lively soul.

You old actor, your stage is awful.

You made me look sick, it’s unlawful

You drugged me since I was three.

You did this with sickly glee

Then your son took my innocence at four

Until eight when I was old enough to know more

Easy target I was to him, no one would know his sin

That is what happens when you’re merely a foster kid

Then he moved, someplace far away from there

It doesn’t matter though the mental scare fared

In my mind to start the rest of mental duress

You’re a liar, nothing but full of stories

Don’t worry lady I can hold on to everyone’s worries

Let’s talk about the drinking you let him do

In front of us? Don’t you know kids are like glue?

He was trying to forget erase this and that

Like tit-for-tat but you don’t get the last laugh

It’s enough for us kids to see you fight with him

your sense of power whoever you could dim

I hold no memories of the smell of clean

You hoarded and loved the power of mean

Filthy is what our life was from a young start

But lady bloody hell do you ever play the part.

You had everyone fooled to think I was dumb

Retarded before I could even suck my thumb.

You swore up and down that something was off

You made parents hate me laugh and scoff

Call it what you can you the one that was sick

But we kids were your target you must be some kind of thick

To think that someone wouldn’t’ notice three underfed kids

Who were angry and sad but actually we were scared out of our lids

Then the bladder control thank you for taking another part of me

You liked that it became infected, you waited no I can no longer pee

Right as a grown up I am safe from you, false doctor

You had the medications, the story, and the means, how you never falter.

Let’s talk about the kidnapping I remember it well, do you after all?

Insanely legal as you were guardian another way of control, no way to fall

You took us out of anger played the abused card, you and your farce

You cut contact and hid us well, you lied again pulled stories out of your arse

But you liked it right? That scent of fear and control, you regained your reign, way to care

But no more I am free now and you hate it, let’s not kid can you face it

You tried to kill me but I stood up, I am strong filled with life and grit

So don’t say you sorry because the one thing that happened is you failed

And from that I don’t wish you a dear farewell, because lady our ship has sailed.

Written by Ali Johnson