My Real Friends Don’t …

I guess you could say I’m a victim of my own terminal naivety and hopefulness, even when none is warranted. How else could you explain my repeated attempts to make peace, even after everything that has been done to me? Is there any other way to explain why I would try to even co-exist with people who actively and with malice aforethought planned harm on me?

I’m generally not a stupid person. Truly. But when you are trying to move forward in positivity, it becomes easy to convince yourself that a positive outlook requires forgiveness and ease between all involved. Forgiveness, of course, is a very good thing. But co-existence, peace, ease … You can’t have this with everyone. You just can’t. Some people are simply evil, and opening yourself up to them invites nothing but pain.

I’m ashamed to say I did this. It was for all the right reasons: moving on, closure, a positive outlook … Whatever label you’d like to slap on it, they all mean the same. But I overlooked one major detail: you can’t make nice with people with no heart, no empathy, nothing inside.

I have spent months crying to my therapist that I keep hitting a wall in my healing and telling her how frustrated I am by the memories that keep surfacing. I begged her to help me figure out why I’m caught in a loop. The answer is not only painfully clear but comes courtesy of the one who deliberately caused all my pain, for no other reason than their own amusement.

See, that’s what narcissists do. They play with their victims, take what they will, and then leave them twisting in the wind. Mine went above and beyond, by fracturing my family. I have to continue to deal with them until my children grow up since they wormed their way inside my marriage and took my ex-spouse. The children were one of my reasons for trying to at least be civil.

But the narcissist will never stop if they have an opening. So my attempts at peace just opened the door for more abuse, more reminders, more pain both new and old. And when I finally reach my limit and react, and I have a few times, the narcissist points the finger at me and tells me I’m the one at fault. But this time, they did so with a quote that inadvertently unlocked the chains I had unwittingly put back on myself:

“I don’t see how we can talk. My real friends don’t say such things to me.”

“Such things” being that I had the audacity to remind the narcissist of what they had done to me.

But, you know what?

That’s some true wisdom.

Real friends don’t try to cause harm.

Real friends don’t steal spouses.

Real friends don’t fracture families for their own amusement.

Real friends don’t play God with others’ lives to cure their own terminal boredom.

Real friends don’t lie repeatedly.

Real friends don’t gaslight.

I could go on and on.

But mostly, real friends don’t do what you did.

But that’s because you were never a real friend. So thank you for the truth bomb you didn’t realize you were giving me.

I’m now set free from my imagined obligation to keep the peace with someone who deserves no peace from me.

The Storm

The storm outside seems to be a manifestation of my soul this evening. For weeks now I’ve been churning inside, emotions and anguish bubbling up to the surface unbidden, painful memories haunting my sleep and darkening my days. My hope is that this is the storm that leads to a brighter tomorrow, that the work I’ve been doing on myself has come to this: the memories and pain and loss have created this storm inside me, and it won’t end until I can face all that pain without flinching. I’m finally ready, and so it’s here. I have to stand here, in the midst of the storm, and let all the hurt pass through me and finally away to be able to move forward into the sun.

My introspection has brought up many buried feelings, and lately I have been lost in them … Searching the remembered pain for things I could have done differently. I’ve spent days chastising myself for trusting someone who couldn’t be trusted with my friendship … Let alone my family. The thunder crashes in my head and heart as I feel shame, regret, and the loss of time I can’t retrieve. I look at pictures and feel the weight of the past like a boulder on my heart. I can’t escape the recrimination; it’s mine to carry.

The lightning flashes both outside my window and inside my heart as the anger melts away to pain, and then white hot fury. How dare you take the precious gift I entrusted you with, and soil it with your sick designs?? Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?? It wasn’t for you to play God with my life, and decide to “make it better.” And how is this better, exactly? The only question is if I’m more furious with you for what you tried to do to me, under the guise of love, or me for being so stupid and believing you. I can’t seem to separate where the pain ends and the anger begins, and I’m not entirely sure they’re separate anyhow.

I want to cry into the storm until I have no more voice. I want to scream until all the pain and all the rage and all the injustice is gone. What would I be left with?

When the storm ends, and the world is washed clean, there’s a silence and a waiting. I’m not there, yet. I’m still caught inside the storm. But someday soon, the clouds will part and I’ll see the sky above.

I See Through You

Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away … or maybe just a few years ago … I actually cared. I’m not saying I don’t care anymore, because to stop caring would be the opposite of who I am. But I’ve taken a page or two from your playbook, and caring is locked away safely where it can no longer hurt me.

I care enough to study what happened to me, like a science experiment. It’s lovely when you can reach that level of detachment, and go over the events and the facts without any attachment to the emotions that used to fill those events up. And I can see a truth, hidden carefully under the wreckage you’ve left everywhere in your wake.

You were at the tail end of a toxic relationship, and looking for a way out. In truth, you had checked out long before. When you formed a new connection, it was intense, deep, and real. It was exciting. But it also scared you … And one of these realizations is that you aren’t as brave as your public persona. It’s less work to take the easy path.

Speaking of the easy path, when someone has had a childhood where they had to be the adult it can produce either a very mature adult, or one that is resentful and anxious to recapture their missing childhood. When presented with the chance of living responsibility-free (or responsibility-lite) many of these people jump at the chance. They pay no attention to the fact that to do so requires they ransom at least half their soul in the process of not being true to themselves.

It looks like a chance to live “free” as a child/teenager would, but it’s anything but. Shirking one’s responsibilities and betraying the trust people have in you isn’t an alluring or attractive life. And whoever holds that carrot on the end of a stick to you has sinister motives at best, and they give away their true nature. As you join with this poor influence and sink to their level, your heart and mind shrinks to the narrow world view and shallow empathy of people like that.

Like begats like. You become like those you spend time with.

It always seems fun at first. “Eat, drink, and be merry” purports to be the way to live. But life is not just fun. And there needs to always be a balance. What did you give up, to shut part of yourself down? Who did you sacrifice on the altar of fun, thinking you could redo your lost childhood? Because you can’t have a do-over on those years.

Or these.

If you’re healthy, strong, happy, and your career is flourishing, then congratulations! You clearly are living your truth and partnered with someone who is your match and complements you. But if the opposite is true … Well, you may want to check what parts of yourself you sacrificed for the chance to live “stress-free.”

Life isn’t without stress. Happiness doesn’t exist without sadness. Childhood, once gone, is over. The tears and smiles of years long past have ended. Just like the feelings of one you sacrificed for an empty promise of good times and an easy path.

The Proof Is In The Pictures

I have spent hours going through old pictures. I needed to find something. What was I looking for? I wasn’t even sure at first. But it was this ache in my chest, this pain when I saw anything that reminded me of my past. It felt like a hole in my heart.

My past is couched in terms that are almost opposites. At the same time that I weep for the all-together family moments, I feel fear/anger about the horrible abusiveness I endured at the hands of my partner. I realized recently that I’m grieving a “family” that is half manufactured nostalgia, courtesy of my sentimental nature + the good memories. And that’s been hanging me up.

So I went through all the pictures.

All the videos.

All the journal entries.

Yes, I went through everything. And oh my, do I have a lot of things: so many pictures, so many videos, so many entries. It made me pause. I looked at the other pictures: the kids, the trips, the little things done all the time with them. I looked at both together.

I looked at both together.

That’s when it all hit me. None of it was real. I’m feeling nostalgia for a mirage.

Before I go too far, I am NOT saying that the memories with the children weren’t real. Those were basically the only real things during those dark years. But there wasn’t any real connection between me and my partner. The control and pain he chose to put me through had lasting damage on me. I don’t think of him … like ever. The only time I do is in the context of “Oh god, what now??”

I was ridiculed. Called names. Threatened. Belittled. Berated. Raped. That’s the glossing over. But hey, a close friend said he was an oasis for her as she tore my life and my children’s lives to shreds for her own personal gain, so … who am I to judge a little abuse?

The proof is in the pictures, though. That’s the key. The things we did with the kids, I wanted and not only did but enjoyed as much as they did. And even though I’m now a solo parent, my pictures of our fun times haven’t changed. Not at all.

The only thing that is different is the absence of an abusive spouse. And I don’t miss a moment of that. I have never once thought “Hey, I really miss being shuttled around because I’m not allowed to go anywhere by myself. And it’s been awhile since I was told I was a stupid b*tch. Above all, I haven’t had some guy dragging my life down to his gross and base level … I should fix that.”

Um, no. I’d rather pull my own teeth than ever be controlled and verbally abused again. He really made sure to keep me under his thumb. Well, until I broke free.

Me? I’m still playing with the kids and loving it. We do as much and even more than before. The smiles and giggles are constant.

I don’t need to be nostalgic for my family. They’re right here. They always have been. 💓

Cancer of the Soul

What is negativity?

Oh, I’m sure you think you know the answer to that  question, and you’re correct, but not FULLY correct. Sometimes it’s insidious, and sneaky, and just as soul-deadening.

I’ve allowed it in lately, without even realizing it was there. I thought it was hurt, I told myself I was right and that my pain justified my … my what? Pain, hurt, loss, none of these ever justify ANY response that is negative.

I was manipulated. I was used. But most importantly, I perpetuated the negativity without even realizing it. I gave it more power. It grew, and spread, like a cancer.

I hate cancer.

What do you do with cancer? You cut it out. All of it. So I’m doing that now.

No more manipulation. No more allowing my emotions to be used against me, or against others without my even realizing it. I drive this car. No one else.

Don’t let people seep their negativity into your life. Don’t let cancer in. It always kills the host, if you don’t rid yourself of it fast.