Home » My personal life » God, I’m Under A Yet Another Narcissist, Again – My Life As of Now – Part 1

God, I’m Under A Yet Another Narcissist, Again – My Life As of Now – Part 1

Today is March 26,2013.

(Note: I’ve changed the names of the family I’m talking about to protect myself from retaliation by Mormons who might be able to find out who I am from the unique names of the Mormons I mention in this account of my life this month).

Incredibly, as I suspected just two days after having moved in with this elderly Mormon woman “Isat”, I have come under the rulership of yet another narcissist directly in my life, Isat herself.

So, after having fought the homeless ones off in the desert, and my former apartment manager’s harassment, who was also one, I now realize I am under yet another. This is the “Mormon master” I have been speaking about. To explain shortly, in order to avoid being homeless and stuck in the desert with violent and theiving narcissists (due to my narcissist apartment manager forcing me out illegally in more than one way), I had accepted the vague request from an elderly Mormon Samoan woman named Isat, whom I met at a Walmart parking lot there while asking around for change. I met her at night, and she was clearly very exhausted after a while of talking to her (I found out she worked very long hours and at least according to herself, didn’t need much sleep). At first she told me I could stay with her if I did some cleaning around her house, and I’d be aloud to eat their food. She said “their” because she lived with her elderly husband and her direct son, who was grayhaired. She warned me that her dog was smelly. Having met another awful narcissist, the elderly narcissist stalker “JB” from the previous apartment I lived at, who had gotten me in much trouble by harassing me in various ways, who told me that her apartment was bad too because it was a mess (her carpet was filled with swirls of dark armpit hair looking swirls from her dog’s hair, and her lack of wanting to work to clean her dog), and it was an amazingly horrifying sight, I knew to expect something bad. I thought however the smell would be tolerable. It was barely tolerable and I had trouble falling asleep from it. In Isat’s house it too had much dog hair everywhere, including on the bed I was given to sleep in the room I was permitted to use. There was also much dust on the ceiling fan and black mold hanging from the vent. And there was a huge amount of shed pet skin from her diseased mange-ridden dog “Buttercup”. And about Buttercup, she looked like it had diseased pink elephant skin, and it was covered in various large patches with yellow and very off white flakes of skin, as if almost it had psoriasis. It’s skin overall was pink, except perhaps where there was much crusting. It also has one very prominent boil-like protrusion near it’s spine. It sheds a massive amount of skin in a short while. She is also a hoarder, and over the past, I think 10 days since I’ve been living with her, I’ve done a massive amount of cleaning for her. I did however as soon as I moved in, literally, started doing research on the Internet for Isat to find out what was wrong and how to cure it since she didn’t want to take it to a veterinarian, not even after a year. And who really knows how long it’s been since she did that since narcissists are liars. She however showed no thanks for that. Not even when one or two days later, I spent 2 hours of my personal time trying to see how to cure it and let Isat know this! And whenever I’d found solutions to the odor, Isat wouldn’t follow through with them, for example using a activated charcoal bed, or air purifier or a skin cream that apparently could cure mange and other dog skin problems. When I suggested one cream, she mentioned one that didn’t work, and when I reminded her again maybe two days later, she went back to point out that same OTHER type of cream and how it didn’t work. She pointed it out merely because they sounded similar, even though there was no evidence they were. She might as well have been confusing two different dogs merely because they had a similar appearance or were both called a “dog”.

I noticed that whenever I showed clear anxiety and stress over my apartment manager throwing out my huge amount of valuable property, and whenever I strong suggest or lightly ask if she’s help me get it out, she would show faint concern or forget about it, or behave in such a way as if it was the lowest priority out of anything. Keep in mind she’s also a Mormon, and Mormons are supposed to have a massive network of help (though I’ve found over the years that Mormons often fail each other, or perhaps it’s that they extend so much help to others or certain Mormons that they end up with little to nothing for other Mormons). She was also showing clear signs of depression, and so I felt even more uncomfortable about asking her for any help.

I had asked Isat the next day after having first lived with her to let me move into that room and that I’d clear out from the smell, because I could here her son Tai clearly going to the bathroom from mine (our rooms are connected by a bathroom with poor sliding doors!). Isat with a kind of embarrassed look told me I couldn’t move into it because, “That’s my room” as in Isat’s. If she’d said it was Buttercup’s that would have been more reasonable to me, because that isn’t Isat’s personal room, she sleeps in a master bedroom or her office room. So, right away she lied. And after perhaps a days, I noticed Isat had disabled the Internet wifi so that I couldn’t use it even though she knew I was heavily dependant on it for communication, and needed it to fight my former apartment manager’s illegal malicious acts against me by trying to have my property thrown on and to communicate with others to help me move it! I noticed also when I said to Isat a few days ago, “The wifi isn’t working, I thought you disconnected it, that’s why I go out to use the Internet, I thought you did that so that I wouldn’t spend a lot of time on it” that rather than saying, “No, that’s silly,” instead she sat at her laptop, crouched, near her PC, saying, “I don’t know why it’s not working, the modem is acting funny, my laptop isn’t connected to it” or she said “connected to the modem” as if thinking I might think that. And yet I saw when she had left a few days, maybe two or three before that day, that she’d removed what she knew was this device that was necessary to connect to it, which she herself taught me. And I noticed an odd looking wire going into her laptop, and she seemed to crouch in such a way as to hide it when she said “My laptop isn’t connected to the modem”. I also noticed she never uses her laptop anywhere else but next to the modem. I know for a fact I could easily connect to the Internet throughout the house, even outside, though poorly, so I knew she was lying.

On the first or second night, Isat let me know she was trying to use vinegar on Buttercup’s skin to cure her. After her telling me why she wouldn’t (pat with a cloth) vinegar all over Buttercup’s body at once, which was because she had some raw skin areas (she said she “heard” that vinegar could help a dog’s skin problems), and so I said, “Why not just put the vinegar all over her body all at once (I meant as in dunk it in) and kill it all?” . And she winced at me a little and with a little stern voice said, “First do to yourself what you’d do to her, it WILL hurt her.” Well yes, sometimes medicine and needles hurt, that doesn’t mean stay alive as long as you can already in pain to avoid feeling a needle prick. Just before or after the suggestion to use vinegar all over her if it truly worked, I suggested she use diluted bleach, and her reply was, “But bleach contains chlorine”. Ironically Isat is a blood worker, even dresses in a nurses outfit. Her daughter also studied anatomy, I even found her anatomy notes all over her bedroom, which Isat didn’t bother going through it seemed to remove all the things that might embarass her daughter to find (yet another sign that Isat had narcissism disorder).

About four days maybe after I’d been living there, Isat was having trouble getting a song from one of her CD’s copied, so I tried my best, and clearly something was wrong because the CD was scratched and her PC’s CD drive was poor. So I tried a few simple programs to copy the one track and her husband suggested copying them all, so I tried. But not even my laptop which was fine would do it. So Isat asked if I’d finished and I said I hadn’t and explained why clearly and quickly, and she gave me more time. She then soon after got upset that I still hadn’t succeeded despit me explaining why, like that I was in the middle of downloading a program that might work for damaged CD’s and then she started shooing me away on her third asking if I’d succeeded. And after a short while, during which I spent organizing her mess of Mormon and Christian music sheets scattered about (which I’d greatly organized by then at her request), she came out and said, “I did it, it was simple with a resentful look.” And I asked, “How did you do it?” And she said she’d used Windows Media Player as she’d done successfully before, and I said that I’d tried my best. She then replied, “I think you’re problem is that you think too complex, and not simple.” Narcissists often insult people for being simple and not more complex in their intelligence, but as with narcissists, they are arbitrary and careless with their insults, so they may say the reverse of what is true in their “correcting” of a person. For example they may say, “Well you’re too smart, that’s why you’re failing,” or “You work too hard” or “If you’d work more you’d get these things done faster.” I found it typical then of her behavior to show zero thanks in my doing anything great for her. Early on I’d even written down for her my email and asking her to her face to make me a list of things to do. And she told me the next day she didn’t want to have to tell me what to do but that I should just figure it out for myself. So I replied, “I know, you want me to be like a maid.” Her husband laughed when I said that. So much for getting specific directions. I noticed then when I cleaned one section, she replied, “Don’t touch this counter” in a rude way. So, can I get those instructions Isat?

And here is why I finally concluded about an hour and thirty minutes ago that she’s a narcissist: Last night, when she had family over to visit her husband Yenti (because he’d recently about two days ago experienced severe “gout” pain recently that hindered him from walking), after the kids and their parents left, I spoke with Isat in her dog Buttercup’s room. I sat against the wall near a bathroom door connected to the room while talking with Isat about the recent goings on, and as usual, about how to cure her dog’s mange, and I kept repeating myself as usual as to what to do (and the cures are simply and inexpensive). Isat sat on the side of the bed near this horrid looking dog that was clearly in pain. She said, “Where’s Buttercup?” while going into her room, thinking something was wrong, because with all the family over for hours I suppose, she should have been running about trying to get their attention. My guess is someone or some of Isat’s family told her to go away because she stinks badly. Buttercup will go away when you tell her too (but annoyingly she’ll never sit or lie down if you tell her to). So as I said I sat against the wall and Isat on the bed and faced Buttercup. She did the usual talk about her dog, and I again suggested the cure I knew of and asked if she was going to get it, and instead she said, as usual when I suggest what to do, that she’d continue to apply vinegar to Buttercup’s spine, because she thought it was helping (there was some hair growing over the spine, but it was clearly not getting better after the ten days I’d spent seeing the dog). Buttercup put her paw on Isat’s hand and looked Isat in the eyes, and Isat whinced with a smile back at the dog and said in a “awww isn’t that sweet” type tone, “She’s such a dainty dog, she’s so…” I forget the rest. But what I was seeing was like something out of a horror movie, because this dog was clearly in great suffering, it’s eyes always red around, and dull looking and always weeping yellow a substance, and there was Isat saying, “You’re so sweet,” cold to the dog’s great and continual suffering, even when a horrid stench was emanating from it. When I told her that one of the problems causing Buttercup’s allergy was the huge amount of dust I found on the ceiling, and that I resented the thought of cleaning it myself since he house owners were supposed to take care of that, she said, “Yes, but it has to be done” and then referred to them as, “those creepy people”. Consider the irony of her saying that, after what she just said to Buttercup in the dark room we were in with the only light coming in from the hallway. On top of that, Whitney told me that the ownership had recently been switched out, so how well could Tasi have known these people enough to know they were truly creepy. It’s also something to note that these days using the word “creepy” about someone is a cliche used by narcissist adults, who imitate the conniving, low blow, cheap shot attacks they hear from immature and childish young adults and kids.

At some point during our conversing I mentioned my dyscalculia problem and she replied, “Yes, I think there is something wrong with your memory because I noticed you don’t finish what you start” (as in cleaning jobs) and I replied, “I stop if I think there is something more important to do, like vacuum something” (but she was also just wrong, because I do finish cleaning the dishes or vacuuming the rugs and then move on if I can or take a break when I’m done. Further, how in the Hell can I finish when I have no scheduled hours and if I’m a live in servant? My job would never be finished since things get dirty again, especially when they let a German Shephard roam around shedding hair nonstop and quickly dusting up and covering their rugs with hair every day. And she didn’t specify what she meant by “don’t finish”. Narcissists should being that their minds are illogical and diminish the work of others to less than it is, as if they’ve done nothing or worthless work. So I was again insulted.

But even then I wasn’t totally sure Isat was sick, even though I was thinking she probably was. Either just before or just after that conversing, we went to the office which was on the other side of that bathroom, and she again mentioned this odor hiding spray she’d used and marveled a bit at how it had (masked) the smell, and me having just done a major and clear anti-hoarding clean up of her office was completely ignored by her which I think I was amazed at, but I know I was disappointed at. So I said, “And remember did a lot of vacuuming and yes I know you’re letting me live here” in a humorous voice, and she with a kind of conniving tone in her voice and winced eyes, creepy smile and with, it seemed a to me, a slight of shaking of her head,  replied, “Yeees so don’t complain” without a pause after the “Yeees”, even though there was not a trace of complaint in my voice. I was simply pointing out that me having vacuumed up the massive amount of pet dander, including Buttercups horrid cheese-smelling skin was clearly a help. But Isat, clearly being a narcissist, rather focused on her own “work” obsessively and pridefully and considered that of others to be of forgettable value.

On the 22, at night, I found two kind strangers with a truck to help me retrieve some of my property, one was named Robert, though it was, his girlfriend if that’s who she was, who’d right away and happily encouraged him to help me in the first place. But so they helped me unload my things at night at about 12 onto the front of Isat’s house, or rather her’s and Yenti’s. Isat had either then come out or just arrived and took out about two bins from her car. She had just gotten off works perhaps, and I suggested she back up closer to the side of the house where some already were so she didn’t have to walk such a long way with such heavy (rock-filled) bins. And I had shown her valuable rocks already to let her know they were not junk. And almost right away, and repeatedly, told me she didn’t want the things out there in front. And me not saying I would do such a thing, and not intending it, said I’d move them. And she said I could rest and do it in the morning. Instead, so she’d shut up about it since she wouldn’t let it go, I moved it immediately, and amazingly this had no impression on her, even though during all this moving I’d always found the time, and at the risk of losing very valuable property, not to just do cleaning, but decorating her house. I’d even allowed her to use my own kitchen utensils and superior cookware. Hers were all cheap and breaking down, except some glassware she had stored away in a counter near her piano, the one she didn’t want me to touch, even though nearly above it was a nasty black mold infested filter that I’d spent over an hour cleaning.

Either the next day or the day before that I think, during the day, Isat let me know that she used to hate dirt, and would have her family clean everything repeatedly. I said, “Like using bleach on doorknobs?” and she replied, “Yes.” But then she told me that that kind of treatment was “not good for them” so she wasn’t like that anymore. Yet a few days ago Isat expressed concern over me bringing in my rocks because of the “dirt” (she’d seen how messy my apartment was after the break ins, but forgot that it had been gone into illegally and treated rough to take things out) and I reminded her I’d washed most of the rocks off. What was also silly about that is that most of the rocks were in bins and I told her that my intent was to put them all in bins. I had to repeat myself about that at least three times.

Then, this morning, on the 26th of March, that I’d asked Isat if I could have $25 to pay off a laborer to help retrieve my things, and she said she had no more cash (her car was also broken down), that I then told her I’d go out and promise them later payment (I get a small and pathetic income from the SSA, who have been cheating me since 2005 out of thousands of dollars). I told her it would be quick (the other three or four times I took to retrieve my property took many hours during the day). So, first I did some house cleaning, knowing that Isat would act like I’d done nothing as usual, even though I’d done a major clean up.

First, before leaving, knowing Isat was an unthankful and demanding person, I did some dish cleaning and put in dog food and some Parmesan cheese in it since they wouldn’t eat it without something more tasty than that, and would if I put in cheese.

I biked a little out to use the Internet (because Isat had rigged it so I couldn’t use it while lying about not knowing why I couldn’t connect as I said) and saw if anyone was still offering help which I’d asked for through Craigslist. But thinking I’d have a better and quicker chance getting my stuff with the help of one of the Mexican laborers, I, after using the Internet a little, biked down with my laptop to Home Depot to find some day labor help, my bike bag, which had been getting destroyed from my frantic searches for help (because I’d forget to secure the straps and they’d tangle in the bicycle tire) which had my laptop in one bag, again started snagging on the one surviving strap (the other one the day before was ripped off in a tire snag). And when I got to Home Depot and opened my laptop, and after begging a little for help, unsuccessfully, I sat and opened my laptop and saw that half my laptop screen had been broken, apparently from hitting against my bike’s rear rim/wheel during the snagging. And one of the Mexicans with a truck whom I’d begged then and the day before saw that and heard me complain. He immediately then said, “Okay I’ll help you, come on.” And again I’d make it clear I’d give him $5 right then and $25 on the 1st of next month if I could, or as late as the 3rd. When he found my apartment he helped me, and I found out who the two Mexicans were Brenda has used to throw out a huge amount of my property on the 20th because I could see them (though didn’t realize it right then) parked out behind where I was going to park to retrieve property of mine I’d put there the day before to get later). I immediately went to let that guy know not to throw that out, and saw Alex the supervisor telling them to throw it out, but he weaseled away into my apartment to avoid me as soon as he saw me driving up to them. I saw the licenese plate and saw it was “609 YAB”, and later remembered how one neighbor who was by the dumpster they were using said that he rembered that on the 20th when he saw these mystery men throwing my things out, that “6 and 9 were somewhere in there”. They seemed to be day laborers as I’d suspected after having been around them, and them being identified by one neighbor (the horrible homeless narcissist April) as “two Mexican guys with a black truck”. And it was two Mexican guys with a black truck. The one who drove me there, Manny, let him know the rocks he’d thrown out and was about to throw out again were meant for a museum, and the Mexican man (who’d come out of the car by then), asked if that was so, and I told him it was. I didn’t notice but I think he felt bad. He told me that he’d put my things in black bags so that I’d know what was mine when I begged him to put them in the desert. But he wouldn’t because he said he was being paid $400 to remove my things that day and I could hear from his voice he was worried about not getting the payment. When I called for the maintenance man he completely ignored me though I noticed him briefly glance out the window to see what I was doing. So I got back to this horrible house I’m staying at and Manny pointed out at this time my rear bike tire had popped. Wow, how many things can go horribly wrong in one day? And more horror was to come. Then I told him I’d pay him on the first, and told him $40, and he was upset, and said he lost time that he could have used to make money and said, “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” and yet I’d repeatedly said I would pay him the rest later, and repeatedly told him right there and then to come back on the 1st, and he said, “It’s ok, it’s okay,” but I could tell he was disgusted and he drove off.

Then I decided to use my wagon after a few minutes of anxious thinking and decided to go dumpster diving if I had to and use my wagon. And after walking about three miles with my wagon, I did so, and was covered in the stench of my own rotten food slime. I got a lot out and save a lot of rocks, but hardly everything. After some humiating property salvaging I started back and noticed after a few minute of walking that my cart/wagon wasn’t rolling freely like it did the last time I used it to transport my property so I checked the wheels and they all turned smoothly, then I noticed while rolling it almost right after that the front right one had gone flat. So I was almost half dragging this heavy smelly wagon up about 2 and a half miles. It was embarassing, and once again something got damaged, this time the bottom of a smooth ironing device. If you know anything about irons, the bottom must be smooth if you don’t want to damage your clothing. The day before when frantically cleaning out and salvaging some apartment property, I threw out one big rock and of all the places to land it struck one of the most expensive items I’d put out onto the desert side, my food vaccuum storage device. It still seemed to work right though and didn’t crack to my surprise. I still haven’t tried to see if it works though.

After all that struggle I somewhat rushed to take a shower, a mostly cold shower without soap that lasted about 3 minutes because I decided to use some soap. But instead I spent my time looking for some alternative clothes to put on then the nasty bacteria tainted ones, and not seeing my personal germacidal citrus spray I put around my waste a new trash bag to rush to find it in the garage where I thought I’d left it. But I saw Isat in the kitchen where the garage is past, so I went back to my room, and then I saw the spray on my desk, so I began spraying the clothes I had just taken off. I’d suggested the night before using it on Buttercup, but she said, “But is it safe?” And I was surprised she’d asked because she knew I’d was looking out for the health of the dogs and pointed out that her feeding Buttercup hotdogs might be bad because Buttercup might be allergic to it. And yet Isat still persisted afterwards. Then all the sudden two days after me pointing that out then began feeding them cooked salmon, and only would used cooked samon. I suggessted Tuna instead since it was cheaper and she said that that was a good idea, but never went through with it.

So after spraying my clothes and having nearly just put them on, except my shirt and putting on some new socks as I was about to, and only having my cap and pants on, Isat knocks on my door (I forgot to mention Isat loved to knock on my door early in the morning to wake me up, not saying a word, if she couldn’t see me right away, and said to me about 4 days after I moved in, “wake up early”, as in about 8 AM as is taught for Mormons by their leaders to do). She then had me follower her to her kitchen (I put my shirt on, and there was nothing on my messed up feet – I have a high arch problem, so I walked awkwardly to her right away) and she turned around after getting there and said to me in a stern and near frantic voice, “I don’t want to have to repeat myself, I don’t like to repeat myself, I want you to clean, that is why I brought you in, so I told her I had cleaned and she raised her hands to each side of her head, with her hands open and straight up and in a stern angry voice said to me, “Don’t speak! Listen, I don’t want to have to repeat myself! I told you not to feed the dogs cheese, why is there cheese in here?” I had sprinkled MY OWN parmesian cheese at first and in later days, hers into their bowls when dog food was in it, because they wouldn’t eat their food, so Isat thought, when they should, and I could see that they did ignore it for a seemingly unusually long time. And three or four days after I moved in, I had told Isat that I didn’t mind living outside in their backyard, in a tent (or shed) so that they could rent out my room and get $600 amonth, because that was a lot of money to lose every month and that could be used for a solar power system). She replied, “I just want you to clean.” I told her that I was very concerned about money because of her distress over her power and water bill and the large amount of water being wasted and the energy being used by her vacuum every day (to suck up pet dander and hair) and that my dad had raised me to be stressed out over money. and that I was more concerned about her family then myself.” Her reply was, “Good, I’m glad that you think that way,” and she emphasized that point again in some other way, but I can’t remember how. So I told her since she was trying to save money I did so, and she said, “I’d rather feed the dogs salmon to make sure they are healthy” (or something similar but not as intelligent sounding). Then WHILE USING MY NEW-LOOKING MIXING BOWL (in comparison to her thin beat up little ones) FOR PANCAKE MIX, STIRRING IT IN FRONT OF ME, said with contempt, “The amount of money it costs to buy the salmon is nothing to me, like that cheap cheese” or she said something very similar. If that is so why didn’t she buy by now the dog saliva allergy testing kit I told her I found only for $128 about two days ago? Why not have Tai walk to me to Home Depot or Lowe’s to buy more bins for the rocks she doesn’t want anyone to see or my other property that she keeps saying she doesn’t want sitting the way it is at the side of her house!? And why did she assume I only had a little property? Just before or after the suggestion to use vinegar all over her if it truly worked, and her reply was, “But bleach contains chlorine”. Why doesn’t she buy bleach regularly and instead let it run out to nothing? Am I also to be her counselor and so remind her of what she should do? One of the worst things about narcissists is that you can’t correct them hardly without them resenting it, even when you are very polite. They see it as combative, complaining about them, being unthankful and/or you being stupid. She has money now in her bank and can use her credit card. And why when after berating me in the kitchen (and more to that story after this) when I saw a pest control man she called to spray around, wearing a mask, did she not show one word of concern when I pointed out he was wearing a mask, and must then be using something toxic, and that that perhaps was what Buttercup was having an allergic reaction to? (though I did notice later he went to the door asking if she wanted him to spray inside, and she declined his offer, perhaps before she had till I mentioned this, but still, she she’d no thanks for me looking out for Buttercup). And speaking of the mixing bowl, earlier, I think two or three days ago, I’d made some of my own rice, not from Isat’s supply, and she knew it wasn’t hers and I know that because she expressed that in some way, BECAUSE SHE WAS EATING IT, KNOWING IT WAS MY RICE. So now is it, “What mine is yours and yours is mine”? So I get to eat her food and she gets to eat mine? Wow, so I can’t use her cookware or utensils to make food that I buy for myself but must share it with her on her whims? Is that a great deal?  Do I have unlimited money to share with her? When she wants my things hidden from site outside and I can use my tarp from my camp site 3 miles away, should I go get and risk her throwing another tantrum over everything not being constantly clean and neat or should I use my own money to buy another $60 tarp? What a narcissist. I remember about five days ago, she said, “You’re dad’s Jewish, he must have money.” Strangely when I told her some day or days before that that I was half Jewish because my dad was, she said, with an awkward hesitation in her voice, as if struggling to say it, “We too are Israelites.” and wouldn’t look me in the eyes like she believed it but as if she was programmed to mention that when hearing someone say they were Jewish. I knew that she was taught that from other Mormons, and no doubt repeatedly told that by her leaders.

She also said something like, “The kitchen is the most important area, I want you to constantly check the kitchen, then the outside. I don’t want to have to do this stuff myself!” I kept trying to tell her I’d just gotten back and was trying to get my things right away so they wouldn’t be thrown away, and she gave a pathetic, “I know about that already” response, yet didn’t say she cared of course, as a narcissist is typical of. She did also say, but only because I pointed it out, “I know you’ve done a lot of cleaning.” Also Isat, I went out of my way to do a lot of beautifying, which though was obvious, it was only when I beautified her bedroom door way did she say it looked good and might get more flowers to put by it. I also did research to help her dogs, that wasn’t part of my cleaning job. I also cleaned her air ducts, which is the job of the people she’s renting from to take care of. I also helped organize her hoarded junk, not part of my job, yet clearly something that needed to be done since it was accumulating nasty dust.

Yenti was walking around Isat as she was saying this and acting as if nothing bad was going on. He’s also an ex-police officer from Samoa. He doesn’t seem to have NPD and is a friendly guy. He also seems to know Isat well enough to avoid upsetting her as much as possible. For example I took out Isat’s old ugly gray plastic decaying vending machines from her/their garage to be able to clean that crowded filthly place more easily. Yenti kept expressing concern they’d be rained on (it almost never rains here, and a Polynesian of all people should know the difference between a desert and a tropical island). When I got home not very long after, after having neatly lined them up outside against a wall where they wouldn’t be noticed hardly, I saw someone had put them back in. I asked Isat if she did it and she said she hadn’t (not many days after Yenti had a gout attack I mention later). I suppose perhaps he was concerned over Isat freaking out over that, but if that were so, why didn’t he just say, “Isat might get upset seeing them outside, it’s just better to clean them here in the garage and clean around them”? That’s not too hard of a thought is it?

I’d even told Isat and Yenti early into moving in that my spine was arthritic and couldn’t then work easily or nonstop, and even let her know I was disabled and that running heavy property back and forth like Brenda was doing was damaging my knees badly. Isat herself said what Brenda was doing was “unreasonable”, “stupid” and “evil”! I also told Isat that I had a bad psoriasis problem on my scalp, similar to her dog’s problem with it’s skin. But being that she clearly didn’t want that dog cured but to stay in pain, and therefore had no compassion for it, she clearly had no compassion for me being in pain either. It was all acting on her part. She was probably happy that Brenda was doing what she was so that I’d spend more time cleaning at her (Isat’s) house.

So, there I was, being insulted and like I was a little child, then she asked why I didn’t clean before I left! Grrrr! and I said I did, and she talked over me saying, “Listen! I don’t like to talk much! I don’t want to have to clean the kitchen! I don’t want to have to tell you what to do, just do them.” or said, “I don’t want to do things around the kitchen!…” Now that’s not how the conversation exactly went, mainly orderwise, but those are statements she made. The point is that’s a very close replica, and I mean very close of what she had said to me. It was incredible: I’d just gotten back, and after a hellish near dragging of a heavy amount of smelly things, smelling myself and them the whole way, and as soon as I got back took a shower in an amount of time many people would be disgusted over, and having barely used up any time after that, there Isat was yelling at me for not finding the time to clean and oh God no, feeding her dog’s cheese when she took no time to play with her dogs or pet them and showed no real concern for them, even though I did, even with Buttercup! She also told me, I think almost after all her berating, that when I mop the kitchen floor not to leave it wet. What? Why if she hates to talk would she be playing Captain Obvious? It was stupid for her to mention that too because I’d repeatedly expressed dread over her slipping on very slippery office rug she stupidly keeps half inside her rug floored office and half outside on the slippery tiled floor, and sometimes outside of it. That rug is moving all the time always out of place, yet no matter how many times I tell her to get a rug holder, she doesn’t care or forgets, as if she doesn’t care about her own life or thinks she’s too smart to slip, even in her elderly and slow age. It’s also a danger to Yenti who has a problem walking, especially now, and with their German Shepard running around hyper at times. Also, I had after mopping, twice, walked all over the floor with a towel beneath my feet to make sure it was dry. But that’s how narcissists are: negative assumers. And now that I mention that, I have a related thought: It could be a sign when a kid’s parent keeps saying, “Clean your room” with no care if it’s already been cleaned and no matter how many times their kid says is it clean and shows it is clean, that that parent is a narcissist.

Now here is what made it very clear Isat was a narcissist: the night before when Yenti had his family over, I had given Isat a green quartz crystal cluster, and for some reason it had gotten a beautiful white encrustation(? not sure what it was) on it which wasn’t there before, but it made it very beautiful unlike when I had first gotten it, as if it were snow covered a little. I didn’t notice that when I was taking it out of my apartment, perhaps it was talcum powder. Regardless, Isat immediately with wonderment said, “This is beautiful.” And not more than 10 minutes after her harash berating of me, calm again, picked up the crystal cluster and said, “I can have this?” And I said, trying to work up some happiness, but couldn’t, turned my head and said, “Of course!” with a happy tone, and she replied while turning to walk away, “I love this, it’s beautiful.” Then, a few minutes later returned to tell me I could have some of the pancakes, and then, “The strawberry jelly and butter are there for the pancakes.” Ironically I’d just used them for that after she walked away with the crystals, but not wanting her to get angry immediately went back to washing the dishes, so didn’t even rest to digest any food (nor had I when I, for speed, microwaved some catfish meat Tai’s friend caught and gave to me yesterday during the day, after seeing me pick up a massive amount of dog poop quickly by hand with a bag over my hand, I think he saw that at least because when I came in he had a “I feel sorry for you” look on his face. And Isat by the way, many days before that, had expressed disgust over me saying I would use a bag over my hand to pick it up. she said, “You’d pick it up with your hand?” And I said, “That’s how those at apartments did, and said she used this (trash-picking up device, it was those kinds that are used by workers to pick up cigarette butts, though when I was about 20 or 21 I remember this horrible family called the “Thoburns”, one of whom owned a “Golf Park at Vienna”, who would have me pick them up by hand, which was a huge pain on my back. I remember one of their regulars, a teacher, asked me why I was doing that, a somewhat elderly man, and asked why I wasn’t using one of those devices, and he said, “You can’t do that, it will mess up your back” or something like that, and I suppose I replied, “I know.” For dog poop however, it was faster and easier, and to me, less gross. Why would I want to look at that stuff for long or play some game nearly with a clamp trying to pick up all the pieces? To me that’s worse. The bag way gets it done faster, and shouldn’t Isat have appreciated that? It’s now 4:10 PM, it was 1:40 PM when I started writing this. My own room is still a mess on one side and still filled in the two closets with her daughter’s junk! I could tell her daughter left in a rush to get away from this nightmare as besides it being filled with junk, the floor was covered, even under books and paper, with Buttercup’s skin. One of the things that amazed me when I saw, especially after now knowing what Isat is truly like, was seeing on her daughter’s wall with regards to how to behave, “Don’t talk back” I think it said, “Don’t talk back to parents”. I still have the paper somewhere. It’s 4:17 now.

Somethings also to note is that having no friends can also be a good sign of someone having narcissism disorder: when I asked, maybe after the 3rd day after moving in, if Tai could help me move out, Isat said, “Oh, he has to work” in a disengenious way. I noticed that often Tai is at home relaxing and doesn’t clean AT ALL, except now and then, his room, and I did see his room was well organized at least in one part, and Isat had to think hard of who among her RELATIVES could help me, and came up with no one, as opposed to being able to simply call a list of a healthy amount of friends. And Isat should have many friends, especially as a rich person and being apart of a large cult that is split into many large “stakes”, at least in Las Vegas. I noticed that Tai is not a Mormon, when I was alone with him I told him about a stalker cop that had stalked me (years ago), and with little and careless thought, he said, “Just kick his f**cking ass.” This was obviously not a Mormon, and I’ve not said one cuss word around him or the others so as to influence them to converse any of them with me in this way. Though last night I was talking with a helpful and friendly person I’ll call “DJ” who did use the f word now and then, and it came out of my mouth too while we talked, and I think one of Yenti’s relatives, a pretty teen girl, heard me talking that way when she listened in to what me and DJ were saying in the garage. It’s not how I prefer to talk if any of you wonder and I do try to avoid it. These days, with all this stress however, it’s extremely hard for me not to speak cleanly even when alone.

It’s not a surprise to me that a Mormon would have narcissism disorder, because they follow the teachings of narcissist: Joseph Smith, and raised to follow his way of life. It’s 4:28 now, I better get to work.

Among Isat’s hoarder tendencies is that she doesn’t want me to throw away those those plastic milk jugs. Ones that I suspect are tainted with BPA. Strangely she only has about 6 of them as far as I can see. Perhaps someone in her family is throwing them away? She said today, “We save these”, and earlier on the 4th day I moved in, maybe longer after that, she’d also said not to throw them away. And not long after I’d moved in, Yenti had said that “we” (the Mormons) didn’t believe in the last days or in survivalism, yet not long after that, Isat said she’d bought MRE’s in case of a disaster, and that earthquakes had happened before in Nevada. She suggested that she was going to get a barrel to fill with water when I suggested getting emergency water since you could live without food longer than water, and sterilizing it with chlorine pills, but she said there was some other way which I thought those pills were, but then I realized it wasn’t chlorine but neither of us could remember what the chemical was. She also said I should fill those milk/juice bottles with water in case of an emergency. When I suggested she get spears, she asked if it would be better to get a gun. I also suggested as I did earlier when she expressed distress over her electricity bill ($500 a month) that she get a solar set up, but she said instead she’d get a little one.

On the 24th, Sunday, she turned the heat on, and it was unbearable. She and Yenti were gone so I wasn’t able to rest in my room because I thought the control was in her room and I didn’t want to violate her privacy. When she came back many hours later, I asked about it and said I was very hot because of it, and her reply was (and remember this is many hours later), “Buttercup is cold.” When I asked if there was a way to stop it in my room, she said, “No” and then went to it and lowered it to 73 degrees Fahrenheit, but still wouldn’t turn it off or set it to automatic. So I had to wait for her to leave. Tis is a woman who when first taking me in to live with her said, “You’ll be treated like one of the family.”

It’s now 6:01 PM and the sun is still somewhat bright. I think about five days ago, one time she knocked on my door at 8 AM, and without a word left, and when I immediately opened it, found a vacuum right next to it. Talk about “rude” and “arrogant”. That’s almost like her standing in front of me out of the blue and pointing to a vacuum while starring at me. And what would that mean, am I supposed to be psychic Miss “I don’t like to talk” Isat? And wow, is that supposed to be the model example of a loving person and Mormon, an anti-social person? What if, in the morning, I’m going to the bathroom and Isat knocks, am I to shout from the bathroom while taking a shower or brushing my teeth? And if I don’t answer will she take that as a sign of rudeness or disobedience or not behaving like a family member?

About forty-five minutes ago I thought about going to their church and to suggest that he slyly somehow get Isat to give me a regular schedule rather than being subject to her narcissistic mood swings and assumptions about me “not finishing” or not having done anything and arbitrarily telling me when to rest and  work. But the thing is, there are a much higher amount of narcissists in narcissist spawned cults, so I have a higher risk of encountering a narcissist pastor who may side with Isat and who may tell her to bring me to church and wait for me to quickly convert or get rid of me for risking making their “Church” look bad by me spreading word about her being a bad person and therefor bad member. Even if I merely say that Isat is getting senile, if the narcissist pastor in one of his mood swings thinks, that because I’m not Mormon, that that’s “criticizing” their Church, which is a “no-no” in Mormonism, or might illogically think that I’m risking their income by upsetting a tithe-payer to their church, then I may end up back out in the desert. And just by mentioning Isat and Yenti and their son in their house by name, I risk some malicious narcissist Mormon using their geneological database to look them up to find out who I am and get me kicked out for daring to criticize his precious leader Joseph Smith. And how many Mormons who read this fully (and how many will read it carefully in the biased lifestyle they were raised in to walk away in anger from anyone who “has already made up their  mind about the Church” as if making up your mind is bad in and of itself, and merely because they “made it up” to be opposed to the bad things they learned about it, as if you must approve merely because of some shallow “good things” Mormons claim to do, or many even and ignore any bad, no matter how severely bad that fruit is. As if you should only focus on that one percent of the fruit that isn’t rotten and ignore the rest of the mushy slime it’s leaving all over your hand just by holding it, or the foul stench you smell from smelling it.

It’s now 8:32 PM. Isat and Yenti left with some family members of theirs. They’ve been gone for about one and half hours now. I’ve done a lot of cleaning, including of some of my property that I salvaged from the dumpster. Some of them smelled very bad. I’m getting read to get on the Internet to ask DJ to help me get a desk tonight or tomorrow that I hid in the desert and while I look through some bags of my stuff that I left there. I had told Isat not long before she left, that I would put salmon out to defrost, and that I would find it back in the refrigerator. And she told me it was her doing that, and that she was doing that in case we forgot it was out and it spoiled and to keep the dogs from eat it spoiled and that it boiled quickly so it wasn’t a big deal. However that was a ridiculous and rude thing to say, because I didn’t say I did that for the dogs, but it was meant for me, and my way of saving her power. And her stove had poor efficiency and she knew that. Strangely, she wouldn’t use her microwave as I sometimes did to feed myself. I had even told her that I ate the salmon raw, so for her to put it back in was yet another callous act that showed she had narcissism disorder. It was also rude in that again, she was showing more concern for the dogs that me or the rest of her family. For example, her son Tai will almost entirely eat Cup of Noodle soup because, as I predicted he’d say when I asked, “It takes too long, and that’s all they’ve got.” Maybe it wouldn’t take so long if his mom wouldn’t sabatoge his or the rest of her family’s efforts to get things done quickly, and in a rational way. It was also ridiculous because salmon doesn’t spoil that fast. What’s also ridiculous is that she told me many days ago, with a smile, that she always burns things when I told her I wasn’t always good with not burning food. So, if it’s the case she’s always burning things (and I found evidence of that when I found burned hot dogs not long after moving in) due to her poor memory, then why not try mine? And why worry when her and the rest of her family and I am often in the kitchen, and as I said earlier, told me to constantly watch it. Such is the mind of a narcissist.

Consider this too, concerning Isat’s rude comment that I shouldn’t complain: when I was talking with DJ in the garage on the 24th, I asked if he wanted to go inside to eat, or for some other reason, and he said, “I don’t want to go inside because of the smell.” Consider that I’d cut, in my opinion, more than half that smell away, and he’d only briefly come in; if all my work and hard cleaning and bleaching for days didn’t get rid of the extremeness of that bad smell from her dog, how then can Isat say I shouldn’t complain about the conditions of my stay? I can’t even get a guest of mine in for more than few seconds without them curling their nose and leaving in disgust? That’s reasonable and not something to complain about on top of her bad treatment, her rude and irrational behavior towards me, the stuffed, dirty, smelly room she gave me, and her persistent delaying or refusal to get genuine deodorizers and air purifiers or to put any she has to work, and her turning on the heat on despite it making me miserable so that her heavily diseased dog won’t shiver, and when she has plenty to cover it up with and the money buy a room heater for it?! And it is in that room most of the time, sitting depressed and in pain, and moves it’s head away and holds it up when I try to pet it, and me not even touching it. And consider this: When I first told Isat I had psoriasis and that it got worse with stress, her reply was, “You need to relax.” So, I need to relax by cleaning nonstop and resting, sleeping, waking and going to the bathroom at her whims? That’s her idea of relaxing and a good life? No wonder her daughter wasn’t able to keep her room clean and their parents won’t ask their son to work for them. My guess is that he’s paying them to leave him alone so that he can live life like a normal person. And how’s this for relaxation, the Sunday before the last one, Yenti, when I asked if he wanted anything done, he replied, “Sunday is a day of rest.” But when I told him about a immature argument/little fit one of my supervisors, “D.B.” at “The Golf Park in Vienna” where I used to work over me saying I didn’t think it was right to work on Sundays, Yenti then changed his story to, “Sometimes you have to.” And last Sunday, when Isat went off to do her bood work job, and she turned around in her parking lot, and her last words were, “Daniel, try ot throw out some trash.” And that I did as I showed with some pictures and videos that day when I cleaned her office and majorly renovated and beautified it that day and the next. But did she show appreciate for it, as I said earlier, “No.” And instead she even said, repeatedly, to clean the beautiful futon I put in it, while ignoring that the couch by it she regularly sleeps on apparently, is horribly filthy and no doubt saturated with the stench of her diseaesd dog and her step daughter’s German Shephard, Brutus.

It’s now 8:51 PM, and I’m sitting painfully on some large rocks by a building to access the Internet, typing on a laptop with half it’s screen being impossible to use.

(I went home at about 9:45 PM, after finally, after days of not having done so, opening up some tabs – in my browser – to check the world news.)

It’s now 11:44 PM, and I had done more work, cleaning off my own things and Isats. And my psoriasis has flared up greatly and I am itching like crazy from how she treated me today and remembering all of this Hell she’s put me through and no thanks to Yenti, who like the youth pastor of GV Christian church, did not warn me that Isat was mentally ill. And he is an ex-police officer, so he knows that warning people about criminally minded people is the moral thing to do. How long do you think I’ll be able to stay under Isat’s crippled, decayed, horribly smelly, failing wing? It’s 6:19 PM, and a few minutes ago I heard a hard knock on my door, should I assume it’s Isat wanting me to do work or check to see if it’s one of the dogs trying to get in as they sometimes try to do? What kind of life am I going to have living here with this new madness?

It’s now 11:47 PM, and I really want to post this story on my blog now, before tomorrow comes.

It’s now 1:43 AM, the 27th. Instead of going out to post this to my blog earlier, I instead to remove the horrible bed that used to belong to Isat’s daughter, which wiped me out. I put it in her choir room not knowing if she’d allow me to throw it out or not without her exploding in anger and because I didn’t know if the trash disposal company would throw it out or not being that it was a queen sized mattress. I’m exhausted, and my scalp is still severely itching.

It’s now 3:15 AM, and I finally got back on the Internet a few minutes ago, and a few minutes before that I found Isat had been boiling a slice of salmon for a little longer than it should have been. She was apparently on the Internet again, and still keeping me from using the wifi and despite seeing my laptop on a kitchen table when she came in a few minutes after me turning off the stove and chopping up the salmon for her dogs, (yes, she feeds them in the middle of the morning, and and a result they make am abnormally huge amount of poop in their backyard more quickly than is normal for dogs that eat a proper amount), not asking one word about whether or not I was able to get on the Internet successfully since days ago despite me saying I couldn’t back then. And she said, “I thought you were asleep,” and I replied, “I couldn’t sleep because I was in too much pain.” As always, she asked, “What?”. She always, and I mean that literally, asks, “What” after I speak. Apparently she’s hard of hearing and for no reason I can figure out other than her being a stingy or prideful person, won’t use a hearing aid). But so I repeated and added, “because of all the moving.” She of course gave no compassionate response, let alone any response. She did offer me the salmon meant for the dogs though, but being that she’s a narcissist and knowing she valued her personal dog more, I dared not eat from it.

It’s now 3:26 AM. And to any of you fault finding Mormons who want to accuse me, in your hypocrisy, of being a fault-finder, arguing that in my retelling of the past days of my life, especially over Isat, and second her husband and third her son Tai: try living my life and in the situation I’ve described, then you can judge, and on top of that, as I pointed out: stop being fault-finders yourselves by calling me one, without evidence and when I’m pointing out worthy criticisms to note. Stop trying to sugar coat and blind everyone from reality so that you can keep up your lying without having to feel even a tinge of guilt or worry that you’ll be found out as false teachers and blind followers. And, this is literally in my estimation, about 85% of the things Isat has said to me, the rest being worthless talk. And she herself said to me in anger, “I don’t like to talk much”, so then, I’m truly pointing out the little she has said to me each day, from before the 20th of March up to now, the 27th. If anyone is a fault-finder, it’s a narcissist, and Isat. Furthermore, to cover up the acts of a cruel animal abuser would indicate that you who want to make, “You’re being a fault-finder” hit and run jabs are narcissists yourselves or heavily deluded by your Mormon brainwashing. To long abuse an animal is a clear sign of an unkind, unloving and evil person: “Whoever is righteous has regard for the life of his beast, but the mercy of the wicked is cruel.” – Proverbs

And what Mormon after reading this would like to prove to me, with his kindness, putting his money and house where is mouth is, to prove there are good Mormons and that their founder, Joseph Smith, wasn’t a narcissist?

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