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Violate “No Contact” by Dropping By and I’ll Call 9-1-1

By the time I landed in the Emergency Room last Friday, my Blood Pressure was Holy-Shit over You-Gotta-Be-Kidding-Me! And it wasn’t just because I was scared sh*tless of my first time in ER nor my fear that I might have a blood clot in my sore leg. (It wasn’t.) It was because of the utter disrespect that had landed in our mailbox that morning.

Let me set the stage: In 2015, my husband told certain members of his family in writing to leave us alone. It was the official No Contact letter, including the reasons that hearkened back to behaviors so “outrageous” (and yes, that was a euphemism) that if I detailed them here you would be shocked, horrified, outraged and triggered. Word through the grapevine was that the letter hit home so truly, one of the recipients wordlessly walked out of the house and wasn’t heard from again for hours.

That was three years ago. And it seems, three years is all the peace we’re allowed. Three years is the limit on No Contact.

I beg to differ!

The bomb dropped on Friday when Michael received a birthday card ironically stating on the front cover, “Wishing you a day that begins with peace of mind and a happy heart.” My ass!

Inside, the less-guilty, codependent, enabling relative had penned these words:

“Sometime this month we’re going to {City} to see {Friend}, maybe on the way back home we might stop in to say hi and see you. You two wanted time alone, well it’s been a long time now. I don’t think it’s too much to want to see you, not to criticize or judge, just to see you and Lenora.”

Goodbye peace of mind! Goodbye happy heart! Hello violation of boundaries. Hello disgust. Hello “No Trespassing” signs posted. Hello high blood pressure!

By going No Contact, Michael was only following his grandfather’s advice: “When you grow up, get the Hell away from your family.” But like so many of you, Dear Readers, our relatives seem unable to fathom that “No Contact” means “F*ck Off. Permanently.” So like you, we have too often found ourselves going through the cycle of Orders for Protection, Harassment Restraining Orders and, if necessary, picking up the phone to dial 9-1-1.

It’s times like these that make me long for things of yore, like alligator-guarded-moats. Drawbridges. Because our home is our castle. Having been denied the right to a home of my own for so long, it’s my most cherished physical possession. It’s not big; it’s not fancy. But it’s our home and home is precious.

So if / when our castle is violated, despite our “No Trespassing” signs, against our express and written wishes by someone who I wouldn’t trust with a goldfish, I’ve got no problem calling 9-1-1. And yes. This is me using this blog to send a very personal message to very specific people as well as encouraging you, Dear Reader, to also defend the sanctity and serenity of your “castle.”

No Contact means No Contact.

Set one foot on our property and I’ll call 9-1-1.

It is that simple. Don’t violate No Contact.

This post first appeared on Narcissism Meets Normalcy, please read the originial post: here

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Violate “No Contact” by Dropping By and I’ll Call 9-1-1


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