Advice on How to Handle Overt/
Saying “I do not consent”
won’t work with narcissists:
They don’t care about boundaries.
They will keep coming at you.
Look up “grey rock,”
quietly let authorities know
of the toxic person, and,
so you are taken seriously,
allude to the narcissist
your willingness to go to court
on grounds of harassment.
Otherwise, ignore the person
unless communication is unavoidable.
Learn not to take the
narcissist’s behavior personally.
Keep in mind the overt/ covert narcissist
is a delusional, mentally ill person”
Emphasizing what I said previously in “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low — Part 20-B:”
Had Dad, Mom, and her brother, my Uncle Ervil, left me alone, I would’ve had a chance to grow up and learn to think for myself. That’s precisely what they didn’t want. They wanted to use me to their advantage … to run my life as it best suited them.
But they did it in the name of making sure I go to heaven. That is, Mormon fundamentalists believe you have to live polygamy to go to the highest degree of glory. They don’t realize you can’t force anyone to be saved: It doesn’t work that way. But they should’ve at least waited to see if Bill showed interest in me before they pawned me off on him! They didn’t care: In plural marriage, it’s easy-come-easy-go.
Bill Tucker, like the rest of the single and married men in the LeBaron cult, was attracted to me from the day I arrived there in the colony at age fourteen. Two years later, when Bill and I married, he told me: “I was always in love with you but I didn’t ask to marry you because I thought you were too young!” Yeah, right!
What he didn’t tell was the whole truth: He was gradually and quietly pulling up stakes, preparing to leave the LeBaron cult and colony in the dead of night, burning his bridges behind him, the first chance he got without being caught and killed. Bill Tucker knew too much to be let out alive!
Had things been done properly, I would not have been an adolescent thrown to the wolves in a marriage where the man had both arms twisted till he gave in to taking a plural wife he didn’t want, me. He didn’t want wife number-three. Two was plenty! Nevertheless, Uncle Ervil LeBaron was twisting one arm, my parents the other. Worse yet, Bill’s harem didn’t want another wife — at least, not one who wasn’t bisexual — wouldn’t fit into their Big Love nest/fest!
(Continued June 21, 2018: “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And Polygamy On-The-Down-Low, Part 20-D