Good News/ Bad News Narc

There is good news and bad news about the NPS
(Narcissist, Psychopath, Sociopath).

First:  The Bad News.

The bad news is that they aren’t going to change.  Even if they could (and it all depends on where they fall on the spectrum) would you hang around for a one in a hundred chance that yours will?  How many years have you already waited, and how much progress have they made in becoming a better human being?  For some, there might be a small amount of behavior modification that is possible, but they will never (barring a miracle) grow a good heart.  Besides, most of them are too busy gorging their fat little souls on all the evil they can shovel in.

The good news is that NOW WE KNOW THIS.  We know to abandon ship and hope and all our wishes for days of yore.  We aren’t left to flounder about in despair, agonizing over the mindf*ck we’ve been dealt.  I can’t help but think of all the people in the past who haven’t had the glorious benefit of the internet to show them exactly what has just happened to them, as they recover from the complete abandonment of their blessed “soulmate”.  I ponder how many people went to their graves, brokenhearted beyond belief, never understanding that their partner was either mentally ill, brain damaged or simply evil.

More good news:  We know how to spot them. We have studied and memorized their playbook (the same way they’ve studied us and learned how to exploit us for their pleasure and entertainment).  Their behavior is shockingly similar.  The outcomes of these relationships are so much alike, it’s stunning.   All we need to do is do a Google search for something like: “Why isn’t my boyfriend talking to me anymore” or “Why is my girlfriend so cruel to me” and bang- INFORMATION.  And whatever information can be found with those searches leads to more information until you finally hit the gold.  You get it.  The you dig yourself out of the shallow grave you’ve been dumped in and you rebuild.  And you help others rebuild.

And you win.  Not like Charlie Sheen “winning”.  You win for real.  You gain your freedom, clarity and purpose.  And most importantly, you get to get off the torture treadmill and you get to live in peace.

Getting Free from the Narcissist

Narcissists have a way of getting into your head. Once you’ve been successfully brainwashed, it’s really hard to get your old brain back.  You feel like you are drowning in despair, and your brain feels as though it’s been scrambled.  You walk around in a sorrow stupor that has permeated your total existence…

But there is a part of you, deep inside, that is looking out for you.  You have to nurture it, to grow it, so it can take baby steps towards freedom.  One way I did this myself is using what I call “Incremental Boundaries“.

Here’s the deal.  I think we all know, if that slimy sleazeball could screw you over once- it’s a clear indicator of who they are.  Maya Angelou said “When people show you who they are, believe them the first time”.  Some of us need more than one run through in the learning process with our NPS (Narcissist/Psychopath/Sociopath).  I know I did.  It took me a while to dig myself out of the story I was in.  I think we all know the truth pretty early on, it’s just hard to fathom that creatures like this exist and literally feed off the souls of those who love them.

So, “Incremental Boundaries“…  We’ve all heard of “no contact”.  Sometimes that’s hard to pull off.  It’s a shock to the system.  Great if you can do it, but if you can’t, here’s the method I used.  All the things he took away from our “friendship”, I then raised my own permanent boundary against.

• He stopped talking to me on the weekends/evenings.  I raised my permanent boundary: “Never speak to him again on the evenings/weekends”.
• He stopped contacting me on a regular basis, I stopped being available to him.
• He stopped texting, I stopped texting (forever).

All the while, when he was revoking my privilege of being in his life, I was also permanently revoking his privilege of  being in mine.  And I was adjusting to them, setting them in stone, so that if he ever tried to bounce back in- my boundaries (actually- a step by step mirror of his abandonment) were impenetrable.

Everyone’s situation is different than mine, so your incremental boundaries will look different.  For instance, if your NPS doesn’t call or text for a month- you should feel free to never respond to their texts ever again- because they’ve set the precedence of “no contact”.  It shouldn’t be a problem for you to inflict the Reverse Golden Rule here (treat others how you want to be treated VS treat others the way they treat you).  It’s not normal to Reverse the Golden Rule, I know- but when dealing with an NPS, it’s the only way to go…but it might not be easy.  That’s why you go “Incremental”.  And if you are queasy at the thought of this reversal- remember, you are at war here.  It’s your soul and wellness that’s at stake.

So make a trip to the mental hardware store and get busy. 🙂

 

 

 

 

Love Like Velcro

Sometimes what you think love is, really just ends up being mechanics.  

Like Velcro, with little hooks and loops.  And sometimes, you have to free each separate connection these hooks and loops make.  And it takes time.  And it takes NOT letting them get close enough to reconnect, because then you have to start all over.

Why would you want to free yourself from that?  Doesn’t that sound like a lovely, strong and solid bond to be envied?  Doesn’t that sound like your dream relationship?  This may be news to you, but love is smooth and easy.  It doesn’t catch or bind.  It allows movement, even the moving away.

Velcro love keeps you fastened any way it can.  It’s a bit like slavery.  Your suitor will find your loops and he will, like a soldier, assume the position to ensnare you.  To take your loops captive.  Any letting go will be at his discretion, and his alone.

Velcro love steals your breath.  It steals your time.  It steals your mind.  It eats your soul, because of the insatiable instability of another.  And when you finally see that you’ve been dying all along in a plastic stranglehold, when your eyes finally fly open out of a nightmare, then you know it’s time to sever each loop, one at a time.  As best as you can.  Day by day.  Assimilating the truth of the lies, the fabrication… un-telling the sweet stories you believed.

Let it rip, any way you can.  When you think about it, it sounds a lot like freedom.

Deliverance

While I journeyed through Narc land, I relied on alcohol to numb the pain.  Sometimes, of course, it made it worse.  I was only trying to escape.  Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn’t.  There were a few too many times that I fell asleep on the laundry room floor with eyes swelled shut from the tears of loss.  I lost my best friend.  This was the kind of friend that I had always wanted.  An Oprah/Gail friendship.  He pulled that rug right out from under me.  I knew this, though.. “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time”.  I knew if he could walk away from me, he was no one I needed in my life.

Oh but the wine.  The beer.  A little Vodka, whiskey…  Whatever would legally numb the pain.  I started drinking before he and I had connected.  I remember pretty sizable tumblers of wine.  Why not?  What else was I doing?  Seriously?  Nothing.  I was becoming a blob.  We started talking and I was in heaven- soon followed by the hell of a discard.  And alcohol.  Every night.  I would have plans to skip the booze and then would find myself out buying some more.  I didn’t want to live that way.  Living like that is like dying every night.  But I had to find a way to feel less pain.  Less alone.  If that meant getting schnockered, so be it.

And I prayed.  Matter of fact, I prayed all through the friendship- for this friend.  That I could be something good for him.. that God had a purpose..  And I prayed that we would stop drinking.. because when you have people around you, sometimes they drink with you.  I could see it becoming an unhealthy thing for all of us.  So I prayed.  And my spirit prayed, too.  I would wake up in the middle of the night or early morning and I could feel this wailing in my soul..”God, I don’t want to be like this.. help me”… It was heavy, it was strong, it was serious.  In addition to my verbal prayers, my whole body cried out to be rescued- not only from my heartache but from the elixir that wasn’t really fixing anything.

I noticed that I wasn’t enjoying the booze.  It wasn’t doing anything for me.  I got tired of the stupid feeling.  I wanted to be alive.  I didn’t want to be numb anymore.  And that was it.  I’m not totally dry, but I have no desire to drink.  I suppose sometimes on special occasions.  But I don’t need it anymore.  So that same God that heard my prayer about the booze.. hears my prayer about my heartache.  Hears my prayers about the narcissist.  Hears my prayers for you.  Knowing that he delivered me from alcohol… I know that he can also deliver me from loving someone who is not good for me- or at least change that love into a love I can live with- the kind that can let go.

No News is probably Good News

Things are quiet here.  The battle has died down.  I am just burying corpses.. memories.. that won’t die.  That’s ok.  It was a part of my journey.  I honor that.  If they twitch or flinch, I guess I’ll let them lie a little longer.

Is it true that they become a puzzle piece that fits perfectly, all the curves of you?  All the little concave parts?  The pointy little corners.. with temporary precision, they carve out an illusion that is a perfect fit.  Until the fix stops working.   And then they vaporize back into the swirling mist, and those shapes that were filled are empty again.  More empty than you ever knew they were to start.  How unkind to become the best friend I ever had only to dissipate into thin air.  Or more, to make a mockery of it all.  But that’s what they do.  The Narc giveth.  And the Narc taketh away.  The Narc deems whatever he desires to be worthy- worthy- for the duration he desires.  Once the prize falls from grace, it is cast aside.  It was there to serve, and that is all.  He got an emotional tank full- that kept him going down the road a little further.  That’s how it works.

But what did I get?  I got a swift kick in the arse.  I got this thing in me that demands that I LIVE.  Yes, it comes from my pain, but regardless, it’s there, screaming like a newborn baby.  It’s alive.  I’m alive.  I’m limping, for sure, but I’m here.  I’m awake.  I’m aware.

I wish God had set the alarm sooner, time is short.  And for all the pain and tears I drowned in, I am thankful.  I am thankful that I loved someone that much.  I am thankful for the things he made me see.  I am thankful for all the good things he gave me that I will keep forever.  He made me bigger than I was.  Better than I was.  And I had to hate him to get free.  But I don’t really hate him.  It doesn’t matter what was real about him.  What matters is what he tried to be.  Good.  The guy deserves some credit for that because I’m sure it was quite a battle.    And so the way he took a part of me… I take a part of him.  I take him with me.  He didn’t win.  And for all of his pain, I hope he does somehow, in the end.

The Past..

Is not a good place to be.  It’s like a prison.  Sometimes you have to go there.  Visit.  And you find things that weren’t even there the first time.  But they are there now.  Waiting.  For today.  To bring then and now together, to clasp hands and to walk for a bit.  So thankful to walk away from “then”.  Where the mostly broken was.

Things were better when I was dead.  Like I was supposed to be.  But not really.  I missed out on things like when you are in a car and watching the stripes on the asphalt, it’s a blur.  It speeds past so fast you miss the big picture.. the scenery.  In the inside of the excruciating little pictures.. the ones that hurt.. the Big Picture is the One That Matters.

The Big Picture.

This is the place where all things work together for good.  This is the place where all the bleeding matters.  This is the place where all the tears God says he is catching.. are truly caught and kept for a day when “he will wipe the tears from their eyes”.  And God can use my heartache for something.  Or he can waste it.  It’s his choice.  But can he turn me away when all I ask for is something from this mess… this mess I have created with my singular, stubborn heart and my pathetic, empty hands..  The wine doesn’t wash it away.  The blood doesn’t either.  It’s all still sitting here for me to contend with.  Like Fight Cub..in it, in the brawl and the bruising.. I am alive.

I am the voice from the vine.  It speaks through me with more wisdom than I can claim.  It transcends the body I walk in.  It takes the walls down, brick by brick..and speaks.  And I let it, because it sees from another place.

It took a really long time for me to find the place where I actually have words.  I have him to thank, because on the other side of brokenness, the view is pretty good.  Getting better all the time.  The only sad part is, he will never see it.  He will never be able to grow from his pain.  He will only stay locked away in his fortress, never able to come down.  I owe him more than to walk away and forget him.  So I won’t.  I will keep him here.  In my heart.  In this place he never belonged.. never quite fit.  And I will keep lifting him up until the strength for lifting is over.  And I know it may never be over.  I am OK with that.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good…” (Genesis 50:20 NIV).

What No Contact Means..

It means parenting your heart.. It’s that sweet little heart that you love with is like a sweet little baby that doesn’t know any better than to smile at a stranger. That gives its sweetness and wonder so innocently.. It means that you have to reign in the love that you are SO ABLE to give, that a sick soul can receive and devour and USE for their selfish, soul-less purpose. They are needy, vacant vessels that thrive on the loveliness of YOU and all that you are. Plus, it’s enter-fucking-taining. That wonderful, innocent heart inside of you has to learn that the world can be a cold, ugly, abusive place. But still, in the midst and muck and madness of that ugliness, a flower can still pop through the soil and take your breath away.

The Bible says to guard your heart, but it never explained quite what that meant. It didn’t fully explain that you would have to be on the lookout for angels disguised as devils.. or did it? It did warn that the devil himself parades around like an angel of light, but when that light tells you that it loves you, you believe it. You drink it like wine at a weddin’. My angel..I marveled at this jewel… I had no idea, not a clue what was under the mask-or that a mask even existed. And I didn’t care. So like a precious, loving little girl, I gave my heart to a monster. I held it out like a bouquet of freshly picked flowers I shouldn’t have plucked from the neighbor’s flower bed (my bad), because I really DID love. Because I really COULD love. Because I could love ANYBODY. I had that super-power. I don’t know if I have that anymore. But I have another super-power. It’s called “discernment”. Hard-won, too. I guess there are worse monsters that I could have loved. At least this one’s teeth weren’t too sharp (well, at least not yet…). Getting love from me was like taking candy from a baby. But baby is fresh out of sweets.

No Contact means you’ve drawn the line. The other person is In Time Out Permanently. Not engaging in discussions that go nowhere, no “word salad” specials. At some point you rise above. And you stay there. I think mine knows that dinner is done. I don’t think he’ll come back for another spoonful of what I don’t have to offer him. He’s way too smart for that. He’s THAT model. The “duped and done” brand of psycho. Oh, and I do hope there is a human in there that can scratch and claw his way out one day. But at what point do I give up the dream? For him to be whole.. real..? I was just another body on the pile. I get it. But I am human, I can still hope for better for him. Until I forget. Until No Contact has finally stolen him from my soul and wiped him from my mind. Then who will hope for him? It won’t matter. He will be an echo in a hallway that no one ever uses.

You must parent your heart like a baby, gently, but with vigilance that will save baby from harm. Don’t just tell baby that the stove will burn, remove baby from the room where the stove is. Don’t tell baby that falling down the stairs will hurt, gate the damn stairs. But most of all, be tender. Baby’s already taken quite a spill. Baby deserves to be sheltered and pampered and loved. That’s what No Contact is. It’s keeping baby safe. It’s locking the front door so baby doesn’t wind up crossing the freeway. Who wouldn’t do that for a baby? Why wouldn’t you do that for you?

Memo

Will I always feel such loss, having lost something intangible, something so fabricated? Or was it like a garment too quickly worn thin? Is love such a waste that one should have need to discard it? It must be, to one who does’t feel it.. Or to one who feels so dimly and fleetingly. I can’t find fault in that, in another’s limitation. Instead, I weep for it.

What’s left is standing in this empty, broken place. It’s like standing in the rubble of an earthquake, the dust still dancing in the air. I am smudged with dirt and blood, bones splintered from the crashing of stones and crumbling mortar. God? Is there any way you can reach into the rubble of a human? Is there any way to clear out the debris from the soul of man? Send the arrows, send the blows, send the waters.. send whatever it takes for his eyes to see the abyss that he is and help him long to be anything other than that. And then deliver the good desires of his heart, if there be any.

And while you’re at it, God.. maybe do the same for me.

Post 101

I am sitting here, not regretting. I am sitting here sad. A little. Our friendship ended up being neither genuine or viable. I couldn’t just continue loving someone… not someone who didn’t love me.. more, someone who couldn’t be honest about that. I could understand the incapacity to love and even find peace with it. I could not continue to be something/someone that was an object of entertainment.

Were we friends? Or did you do the time to create some other benefits? And how many people did you get to try to fill you up? Even if you had told me you couldn’t love, I still wouldn’t have wanted to be utilized for your scandalous purposes. I am so much more than that.. than some grovelling woman wanting a piece of you. And you enjoyed that concept. It made you feel like a man. Like THE man. But it made me feel terrible. I hope that you can understand that. Anyway. I think you liked me well enough. But like I said.. I am more.. and you may never be able to grasp that. Or maybe you grasp it quite well now. You want them all, in order, in their place. I am no longer a part of that. My love was genuine. A little out of control, and that’s ok. And even though I have made it clear that I no longer feel the way I did, I do still love you . That lost boy you were. That rotten man you sometimes are. And maybe it would have been to much.. to see the real you. The sick you. To live with that. It is better to save face, isn’t it.

And now my love for you, it’s back to being my secret. It will likely never do any good to tell you again. You have nothing to give back. No truth, no honesty. I hope that every love affair you attempt to start up bites you in the ass until you finally decide to look at yourself in the mirror. Until you finally decide that being “real” is what you have to do. Until you get broken enough that all your mirrors stop working. I love you. I want what is good for you. That may not be what ‘appears” to be good outwardly, but I pray that it grows you on the inside. You are mine. You are my project..my assignment. Until you are not. Until then or whenever.. I will love you from here, out of the reach of games and hurt hearts. The pain of being away from you is less that the pain of being near, but never really near you. So I will love you from here. In the silence knowing the facade is all you have to offer me. It’s all you have, I know. I climbed this mountain of aching and sorrow and wept every drop of me out at the top. I have started the descent into a peaceful place. I hope you are doing the same.

Recovery Does Happen

It’s been 8 days. These 8 days are different than the several times I hit the 8 day mark. For one- I cut the main tie.. I severed the jugular that was our communication route. That feat in itself is enough to make the 8th day different. But this time, I feel like I won’t turn back. I feel like if we never speak again.. I am totally ok with that. Before, it hurt too much to feel I’d lost that friend. But a real friend doesn’t create his wonderful relationship and then use it for entertainment. And in the end.. that’s all I think it was. You know when you get a WORD- your intuition.. God.. The Universe.. tells you something but you don’t quite grasp it? In the throes of my adoration, the word “entertainment” drifted down from the sky (or rather, the ceiling in the grocery store) and rested on my shoulders. “Entertainment”. At this point, being open minded, I let it rest there, knowing that yes, this situation could very well be just like a reality show for my friend, where he was on the stage. Where he was THE STAR of the show. Doesn’t that end up being what it’s all about for them?

I learned the truth about a year after we had started talking. I learned that I was- in fact- nothing to this person. He allowed me to stay in his life for another year, even acting as though I mattered again, and maybe I did. But it would always happen. The gentle discard. He would always try to sneak away, like I wouldn’t notice. He was so “busy”. Yet, when he first pursued me, I had an all access pass to his life. He told me everything. And I loved it because I loved him. But that went away. I realized that if he could let me go once, he could do it again. Even though we still talked, sometimes like old times, I prepared myself for the eventual reality that he would leave. Yes, I was too dependent on him.. too attached. But it was a set up, I think, and a damn fine one. I guess it gives some people a sense of self worth and power to feel wanted, loved and adored- whilst they crush the throngs of those who love them under their feet. What a legacy. I suppose if you crush enough people, there will be no one left. You will be alone, on a mountain, with not a soul who gives a rip if you take your next breath.

So Recovery. Not easy. I used an unfortunate method. I learned to hate him. I made myself. Actually, I just took all the subtle, rotten facts and focused on them. For many, these facts are not so subtle.. physical abuse, cheating, lying… My friend was much more subtle, but the truth was no less real. I existed for him. At his whim. For his purpose. Nothing else. So I learned to hate, but I only did it for one reason: to be free. I am not one to cling to hate, I think it’s a terrible way to feel. But I figured it would level the playing field enough for me to come to the middle ground of indifference. And so far, it’s worked. Because you know what? I am NOT an afterthought.

Will there be repercussions? I don’t know. I guess I am waiting to see. But with this specific brand of “friend”, I think it’s safe to say I am dead to him. I don’t think there will be contact from either party. For myself, I’ve walled myself off emotionally to the extent that no.. I won’t make contact. There is nothing there for me. I would like to make peace with him (I did try before goodbye), but I won’t make contact. And you know what? I still love him. I still pray for him every day. In that respect, I WIN. Love WINS. And he will never know.