Dating the Real Me

Now that things are officially done, and my lovely narcissist has kinda moved on, I've finally moved into the space of being a free agent and so of course I decided to do something absolutely ludicrous like join a dating site.

You could probably argue that I'm not quite ready. You could probably argue that this might be the worst place for me. And you'd probably be right in so arguing all of the above. But, seeing as how I'm no longer living on the alien planet of narcissism, I was feeling a bit nostalgic for alien and so I thought I'd replace said alien planet with another equally strange place--the wonderful world of online dating. And truth be told, I'm sure I'll come across a narcissist or two in said ventures without even really looking.

You could say the online dating world is a bit in-authentic and rife with said characters and you'd probably be absolutely right in saying so. I've decided to consider it more of a nuclear testing ground for all things explosive in the dating world, which may or may not be about how I feel, relationship wise.

And so it was that I found myself on a casual meet up for coffee last week which seemed harmless enough. Seemingly, everything went fine until near the date's end when the conversation turned toward the topic of whether or not there would be another date. He wanted to go out again. I thought this to be a good thing. Until he said, I'm kind of a traditional guy. I'm not trying to control you but I want to get to know you without you getting to know anyone else.

Uh, dude have you forgotten that we just had coffee? We just met.  And you are trying to control my life already. 

No, really. How would you feel if tomorrow night I was out with another girl like this?

I should hope she could keep the standard as high as I have... I should hope she could raise the standard, even. And I should hope to be the sort of person that you don't forget so easily.

I want you to consider this compromise where you do exactly what I'm proposing and don't date any other guys while we are getting to know one another...

Uh, I'm sorry, but what part of we just met, don't you understand? I felt the oddly familiar coiling and talking and hypnotic looking into my eyes in trance formation. As the strangulation factors began to seem cozy, something triggered. There is a snake, I thought.

Startled. I got my bearings. I'm gonna check in with a friend, I told myself. I'll ask my friend about this boa looking thing coiled around me sharing my breath with me after coffee.

That's weird. Bizarre. Clingy. No, you're not the crazy one. It was only coffee... 

I knew it. I knew all the stuff my friend said. I think I had almost the same thoughts my friend had. Except I didn't trust my thoughts. Thanks to the lovely stamp on my soul by Mr. Crazy Town, himself. This is why I still need for somebody outside of myself to confirm to me that I'm not being crazy. Or unreasonable. Or paranoid. Or over-reacting. Cause the brainwashing continues onward sans narcissist.

The voice of my ex is still there right inside my head. Loud as ever. Telling me I'm stupid. I'm less than. I'm inept. I'm paranoid. I'm over-reacting. I'm worthless and don't matter without him. And as much as I've journeyed onward and I don't believe these lies, there is still the problem with the doubting of self. I know all these things are not true and it's still hard to argue against the part of me that I became in order to survive, and now suddenly I'm apparently supposed to cut off this gangrenous part of myself--but it's still me that I must now ironically sever in order to become the real me again.

it is Finished

It is finished.
The marriage is ended. Unceremoniously declared undone by some ultimate power that rules over things like devastation and loss for a salary-of-sorts at ten minutes past 4 o'clock in the afternoon on a day not all that dissimilar from the day things began in June, far too many years ago.

It is finished.
After all the waiting. After all the speed bumps. After all the endless time spent working with the soul who abandoned itself.

It is finished. 
Those final words, oh-so-similar to the martyr I grew up hearing about. The martyr who hung in the pain of imagining God doing all the forsaking.

It is finished.
Somehow the perspective always gets skewed. The martyr chooses to sacrifice.

It is finished.
And then the martyr questions the abandonment.
My God my God, why?

It is finished.
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Perhaps God did. Perhaps God did not.

It is finished.
Sometimes we are the ones doing all the forsaking of self.
And we don't know it--the abandoning we project onto the divine figure in the sky is our own abandoning. We do the finishing. We do the abandoning of soul all too well on our own, without the Divine and then we blame the Divine for the finishing.

It is finished.
The relief at the closure of the death of relationship is ours. And we feel the stab of the snake, lifted high, in the wilderness, healing all who look. Healing with the finishing of closure. Finality. A death of sorts. Enacted by a judge, in a clinical office in the county of nowheresville. A judge knowing no-one. A judge knowing not the look of a bright eyed boy hoping to change a future and a past wrought with agonizing awfulness. A boy and a girl hoping that love might be enough. But, instead the honorable has ruled it finished. Stamped her signature on the death of a marriage. Called it at ten minutes past four on an afternoon in June when the parties knew nothing of the passing until the lawyers notified the dead of the death of a relationship past. The lawyers waited to send the email. Waited for the day after the anniversary.

It is finished.
Sometimes the finishing hurts more than you think it might. The pain seeps in even after you think you've cried your eyes out till the tears dry out and they are no more. The sadness at the finishing still hits you all the same. You tell yourself its not an ending, but rather a beginning. You tell yourself it is a return to the sacred abandoned self. The snake said so after all. There is a circle. A snake symbol looped around signifying eternity.

And it is finished all the same. 

And somehow, that hurts a bit, more than you might have imagined. Circles and death and life and symbolism aside you still feel the horror of the ending. You still feel the my God, my God, why have you abandoned me piece? 

It is finished. 

regaining intuition

When will this narcissistic experience not define me? I suspect that is when and where there is healing.

When I'm just my own unique person. Not defined in relation to the man with the mirror at the lake.

Not defined by a reaction to the narcissist, but rather when he becomes inconsequential. Just another puzzle piece on the table that is my life. A part of the whole that has shaped me into a (hopefully) better person. I'm not sure about that, but I am working at that.

I will wander where life takes me. Ushered by intuition. I will and must listen to Her. For she has never actually let me down. It is the narcissist that tried to drive Her away. And made me judge Her, untrustworthy. And so I shall usher Her back. And make space for Her. Allowing Her whims of change to influence me and guide me.

Flooded Kindness

I'm not sure why I'm so sensitive to certain things. In particular, lately, my eyes have turned into water faucets. As in, lately, I cry a lot. I suppose that is not surprising. And to be expected. What's strange about it is what turns the water faucet on. I often find myself crying at kindness. Or real compassion. Or empathy.

Yesterday, was overwhelming. One of those days when I felt so raw and precarious and exhausted and worn down to the nub, like a pile of pick-up sticks. One of those days where I had to pull a Kimmy Schmidt and break time into ten second increments--arguing with myself that I could, in fact, manage ten seconds, then ten more, and ten more, over and over. The I'm-going-to-have-a-breakdown-right-here edge stood beside me all day.

I went to the gym to cope. The majority of my energy was diverted from Back & Bi to the landscape of my head in self talk. Just don't burst into tears, here. They won't understand. 

The whole time the tears threatened and I tried to imagine that I was just sweating a lot out of my eyes.

It seemed like the bros were staring more than usual. Do they see my tears?

And then one of the regulars, whose name I don't even know, went out of his way to ask me if I needed to work in and use the chin-up bar. He was just being kind. But, it felt like it violently struck some sort of resonance nearly dropping my bridge into the water. I choked out a yes, then practically ran across the gym to escape observation and to grab my usual 25 lb dumbbell step-stool, as anything less is too tipsy. Its just sweat! I wanted to scream. A lot of sweat is just dripping down my face. 

When I left the gym, a bro stood an extra five to hold the door for me. Uh. Kindness. Another choked word. Thanks. My eyes added more water to the already puddled parking lot. At least, there was nobody around to see. I cried all the way home. Reminding myself that I'd never see the people in the car next to me at the stop light and it really doesn't matter if they see me balling.

At the grocery store, a man motioned for me to go ahead of him in line, as I just had a piece of poster board for one of my little people. Again. Hot tears fought so hard to escape my eyes, they burned.

Kind words in an email involving everyday details from an office manager in Canada. Again, tears.

A season two Christmas episode of Glee. In the story line, Coach secretly buys, Artie, a pair of legs. The unseen act of compassion and kindness. I crumpled into an uncontrollable hot mess on the sofa and my little she dog licked my salty tears.

Somehow, I know this all has something to do with recovering from the narcissist, but I can't for the life of me, sort it out, yet.    

Writing Exercise: Five Core Values

This comes from the book: Ensouling Language by Stephen Harrod Buhner.

Directions: Choose 5 deeply meaningful words, ones that approximate the center of who you are and evoke emotive content for you. Write them down. Any words will do--as long as they are meaningful to you.

Example. Earth, Stone, Green, Leaves, Plants.

Or another. Love, Happiness, Child, Wandering, Hope.

Here was my list: Soul, Compassion, Creativity, Healing, Intuition.

Do this part of the exercise now without reading the rest of the directions...

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Next. "Write five poems, each of which uses all five of the words. You can use as many other words as you want, nevertheless each poem must contain all five of the words you have chosen. Take as much time as you need..."

When done, read the poems in sequence. You might be amazed by what comes out. Here are all five of mine in order...

One
the soul of healing
grabs intuition
and holds on
birthing compassion
creativity's apex.

Two
intuition speaks from soul
breathing with compassion
creating a healing force
magical enough
that few believe its existence.

Three
the real trick in life
is ferreting out compassion
from soul
when poured empty
and used up.
creativity wanders in
searching for healing intuition
that has sporified
in order to survive.

Four
living the soul's creativity
heals the parts of
intuition, wounded by those
that sacrifice
compassion on pain's altar.

Five
healing
pilgrimage of creativity
to soul's center.
seeking out
bits that keep us human.
splinters
most wanting of compassion.
the inward glance
pains.
but, in the stumbling dark
intuition
holds our hand.

Down is Optional

Down is optional. Up is mandatory. Words posted on signs in a National Park in the West that reflect the sentiment of where I'm at.

I climb up out of the depths.

I tell myself to just continue. Keep on walking. Put one foot in front of the other. Don't worry about the rest.

Though my quads yell, though my lungs doth protest at the limited oxygen, though my people doth vanish, keep walking, I scream at myself. Get out of the Grandiose Narcissistic Canyon. You must.

Don't expect anyone to get this. It is ok. One day the straining will be less. Forgive those that do not have the endurance for this marathon climb up with you. Maybe, they carry too much already. Maybe, they are too hurt themselves. It is ok. You will survive. Down is optional, but up is mandatory. Remember that.

After a Destructive Encounter

Now that you have entered with an open heart
into a complex and fragile situation,
Hoping with patience and respect
To tread softly over sore ground in order
That somewhere beneath the raw estrangement
Some fresh spring of healing might be coaxed
To release the grace for a new journey
Beyond repetition and judgment,
And have achieved nothing of that,
But emerged helpless, and with added hurt...

Withdraw for a while into your own tranquility,
Loosen from your heart the new fester.
Free yourself of the wounded gaze
That is not yet able to see you.
Recognize your responsibility for the past.
Don't allow your sense of yourself to wilt.
Draw deep from your own dignity.
Temper your expectation to the other's limits,
And take your time carefully,
Learning that there is a time for everything
And for healing too,
But that now is not that time... yet.

--John O'Dononhue (Irish poet, philosopher)