The Monster Behind the Mask: Surviving Mr. Hyde

We were always rushing out. Not because we wanted to. Because we had to. Because his recklessness, impulsivity, and refusal to take accountability would explode again and again;  and every time, it was the rest of us left scrambling to pick up the pieces. He says the Anacortes place was “left a mess.” And it was entirely my burden to bear. What he doesn’t say is that we were forced to leave early because he sabotaged our move-out plan,  rushed the timeline, and didn’t lift a finger. What he doesn’t say is that it was his father’s house, a man he despised,  and that hatred poured into the chaos that followed. What he doesn’t say is that he has a pattern. One that led to us abandoning our lives more times than I can count. It’s happened with rentals. It’s happened with jobs. It’s even happened with my family. We were evicted by instability, not laziness. We were chased out by trauma, not neglect. And he was the one lighting the fuse every time. The Con Was Al...

The Cycle of Calm and Chaos It didn’t start with violence.  It started with charisma. He was magnetic; one of those people who can walk into a room and take over the atmosphere like weather. His charm was practiced, effortless, even addictive. In public, he made people laugh. In private, he made reality twist. What followed wasn’t constant cruelty. It was cycles. Weeks of normalcy followed by days of erratic rage, cold withdrawal, emotional confusion. It was whiplash. There were moments of laughter, generosity, even tenderness, but always with a string attached. I learned quickly that when things felt too quiet, the next storm was already forming. He never screamed without first softening the ground with kindness. That was his favorite weapon: the contrast. It trained me, and our children,  to doubt our instincts. One day, he’d be logical and almost gentle. The next, a message would land on my phone like a grenade: accusations, victimhood, threats veiled as concern. Then sil...