on True Presence

Sometimes I wonder at the irony in investing so much of my self, my everything in learning the art of listening, in the art of being-ness with people in their pain, some sort of attempt at actual true presence. And yet, I've failed miserably in finding such a reciprocal sort of listener in my personal life. 

No one would argue that the narc can ever deliver such. Rather, the partner of the narcissist wakes up alone in the relationship. But of course the loneliness in the midst of a relationship is worsened by a fake togetherness. So no one knows you're actually, alone. Your loneliness--invisible to the world. Worse yet, you find your soul being sucked away.  

And then post narc, you think your chances of finding someone who can listen should naturally increase, because you've eliminated the whole category of serving the narcissist. You just want to find someone who has the capacity to listen to pain.

But, apparently people are losing their capacity to listen and be truly present to each other, the world over. 

In my work, I give everyday one of the things I most value in life, to all who seek my help. Something I consider a true gift. They don't know that almost always, I won't even let my mind wander--I concentrate so earnestly at listening with every cell of my being. It demands tremendous energy. I won't allow myself to check my phone nor surf social media. That kind of listening most of my people can't necessarily tell when the "whole being" listening isn't present, but some of my more sensitive patients can. And I can feel the difference. And the true, real, authentic whole being listening is the only time I've experienced other healing shit spontaneously happening. And so, most days, almost always, I give fully, the one thing I most want the Universe to give back--the thing I've given a thousand times to people, but have never experienced in the context of a significant other relationship. One day I hope this bit of irony ends. 

Entangled

The specialists would say I'm supposed to be over this--him--by now. Supposed to have moved on. Supposed to have gone and gotten myself a whole new revamped life sans abusive ex.

But every time I try to go and get myself another life I look at the black and white photos on the wall staring back at me. The big, brown eyed baby that used to say woo-ah, woo-ah, woo-ah, when he first learned to walk with the Winnie-the-Pooh walker looking out at me. And I remember the three babies I pushed out of my own body created with the evil one I'm supposed to now erase from my mind. And once again I feel torn apart. I feel torn in two. 

I am haunted by the beautiful pictures in my mind of these lovely person beings. 

How do I share the beautiful memories in my mind with a monster?

No, I never see him anymore. No, I never speak to him anymore. No, I go out of my way to be far from him--to keep him out in every way imaginable. But he is there in the memories. What the hell do I do with the memories entangled with him? What the hell do I do with the most significant pieces of my life buried in the same tomb with him?

 

On the Pain of Hope

Today, a few hours before our date that we were supposed to have tonight he told me he thought we should back off a bit. As in I should probably never expect to hear anything else from him, ever again. No, he didn't say it quite like that. But the hope bubble of a potential relationship is popped.

He put it quite kindly. He was exceedingly gentle. He said it quite mildly. And this I know.... he has a good heart--this is absolute. He's not evil. He's not vile, like my ex. He's a genuine, kind person. He's totally one of the good-guy types.  I can only hope he finds someone else equal to the grandeur of his soul. The soul that he has no idea how different it is from the standard. 

Because he's living in some kind of organic bubble where there are tons of cool, authentic people living on the planet--people you might bump into at any moment. Because they are everywhere.

Really. I hope that.

Because nothing in him is evil. He was so honest. And I was too. And I know from my own experience it takes courage to be that honest. And he doesn't yet seem to know how rare that level of honesty is. Clueless. In my experience, you don't throw that away. Even if it is potentially moving away to another state. Because you don't find it often enough to throw it away on the altar of potential moves. You grab on and hold on. No matter what...

But instead we both get to drift in the pain.

Healing Decisions

This week I quarantined a decision I had to make--separated off from it--put it in isolation far from any bit of residual, entangled, bitterness or anger--not because I needed to in order to survive as I have needed to in the past, but because I wanted to for the sake of the real authentic me that I am aiming to become more and more. I quarantined said decision in order to isolate the amazing healer part of me that does beautiful compassionate things in the world. That healer needed to be in isolation from the damaged, sad, sometimes spiteful parts of me that are still learning how to be in the world again, post narcopalypse. It was the right thing to do.

All the same it was a mighty struggle to do the right thing that healer part instinctively could do without even thinking or batting an eye.

I'm certain all the therapists and narc abuse recovery experts would likely tell me to draw a boundary line in the sand. They'd encourage me to hold my ground, to not give valuable information to the narc. I'm sure some might deem my actions a fawn response of cPTSD variety in some manner and therefore a trapped-in-trauma-and-thus-unhealed or "stuck" response.

But that was not the space from whence the decision originated. The decision was born of the rich ground near the heart of healing--the soul space. A sacred, powerful space, it flows as the source from whence any healing runs--something that gets tapped or touched upon when real healing shit happens. Compassion, unfettered kindness, empathy, and mercy linger there. It's not a space controlled by said healer, its more a space visited by healer types, entrusted to healers to protect or to act as guides to. It's not a space anyone ought fuck with, generally speaking, as I'm not sure the kharmic righting of such would be good for the fucker. Almost like if you curse that soul space the curse ricochets back upon you.

And so I made a decision to mercifully give helpful, information to my ex. The as of yet still wounded parts of me wanted to hold back said information, clenched in spite.

But this time I chose to authentically give--not out of some sort of fawn response, not out of obligation, not out of guilt, not out of fear--I chose to give because I am a healer and that is who I am. And that is the most powerful, authentic source of everything good in me and who I want to become more fully, and so I walk further towards my own becoming. And that choice is oddly enough, furthering my own healing.