Over and over on this journey out of the fog, I've had the sense that I did not choose this path. It's as if I woke up one day and finally saw the reality of my life. My relationship with the narcissist, finally struck me as the non-relationship that it was. I saw that I was staring at the projected shadows on the back wall of Plato's Cave. (If you knew me, you'd know exactly how ironic that analogy is.) I woke up in the middle of a nightmare only to find that what I thought was a mere dream that I needed to awaken from yet again--a dream within a dream as it were--was the real nightmare of this world of being connected to a narcissist. On and on it has persisted as the reality I am in that I cannot wake up from further. The exhaustion point in fighting it has set in and still it goes on. And thus the feeling percolates that I didn't really choose this path. I keep trying to wake up out of said nightmare. But I am awake. I never chose to be one of those people who always chooses to awaken and face the fucked up reality over persisting in living in some false dreamworld created by some narcissistic delusion. But I am one of those people. I will always choose awakening. In spite of all the work and grief and hell and turmoil to endure. No, I'm one who always chooses the red pill over the blue pill. And perhaps that is why, I've never entirely felt like I chose this path. Rather, for some reason this path chose me.
And it keeps choosing me.
Odd as it sounds, that thought gives me comfort. In some sort of fucked up-ed-ness, I cling to that.
