Building Bridges

Last night I decided to do Lazy Studying which basically involves lying on one’s back reading relevant literature to one’s dissertation and then watching TED talks followed by YouTube videos on the topic of choice.

My dissertation, as mentioned previously, is on domestic abuse and its identification within A&E departments in the UK. The next video uploading last night was on narcissism and how to recognise it. Hmmm.. I thought, interesting…. (in light of my last – and final – dalliance with ‘romance’, outside of my marriage). As I watched and listened to further more accounts of narcissistic behaviour, which involves manipulating, controlling, demeaning, coercing etc.. I realised that this was something that I had encountered more times in relationships than I had realised.

First instance was as a 13/14 year old going out with an 18 year year old who stole motorbikes, did drugs, lived in the most horrendous squat-like residence (even though it was actually owned by his father) and loved to taunt me about his past girlfriends being far better in the sack than I. He also set his dad’s dog on me once. Admittedly it was only a Jack Russell but it had teeth and was aggressive. I sat cowering on top of a set of drawers crying, while he and our ‘friends’ fell about laughing. He also had an affair with my supposed mate from school and left love letters to and from her that I would find. He even got me to pick up a letter from the post office and then proceeded to read it out to me – from the ex apparently – although I now have my suspicions that in fact a lot of these instances were fantasy and game playing to undermine my already shattered sense of self. After six months I woke up to the fact that he was a dickhead and stopped seeing him. (Note: I was a wilful teenager and whilst my mother did attempt to stop me seeing him – it didn’t work). Then proceeded years of intermittent stalking, silent calls and even fairly recently, a friend request on FB.

The next narcissist gave me quite a strong hint on the first night we went out – he told me my hair smelt disgusting as we stood on the escalator on the tube. To be fair I hadn’t washed it that day but still. Rude. He would regularly get drunk and tell me that he didn’t need to meet or see my friends as he had enough and didn’t like mine anyway. He was 39 and I was 23.. there were regular put downs and the final straw came when he stayed at my flat while I was at work and inadvertently folded my two cats into the sofa bed. They lived, the relationship didn’t.

The third lovely fella is someone I have had to remain in contact with for a long time due to the child we produced together. But along the same lines as above.. I left him after a year and a half. There were many instances of control and manipulation but my main memories are of being told to dress and behave more like a lady and to straighten my hair so it didn’t have ‘fizz’ and that it was ok if he mistakenly stayed out (repeatedly) until 6am after going out for a pack of cigarettes 12 hours earlier..

gray bridge and trees
Photo by Martin Damboldt on Pexels.com

but if I planned a night away at a friends then I was deserting him.

The final guy I have spoken about previously.

Interestingly, I don’t generally believe that I am pushover. I am pretty feisty and independent and certainly with the last 3 men, they were presented with that version of me on the first meeting. So I wonder if the challenge of being able to reign those characteristics in, is what appeals? Equally do I need to admit responsibility in thinking that I can somehow change their personalities too? Each of them were troubled and had experienced difficult upbringings, so did I too think it was a challenge? Did I want to temper them down? Or instead is it some perverse longing to  feel secure and in the absence of a father, fathered? There are many theories out there I am sure but this reflective process has left me very much grateful that I can see my own manipulative traits and desire to control through my own perceived omnipotence.

Mr P and I are building bridges, hopefully out of slightly more sturdier materials. As a result of this painful intermission, we appear to be able to look at each other in a new light; with more acceptance, understanding and hopefully, tolerance.

 

Another duvet please Facebook

It comes to something when you hear the glee in your mother’s voice upon telling her how many meetings you have made in the past 5 days (7).. ‘that’s fantastic!”. “Yes”, I reply drily, “isn’t it just?”. I did also mention that because there are a majority of people who drink more than I ever did, that maybe I didn’t need to stop quite now.. and could continue until I got to where they did and and then stop. I quickly laughed to iterate how it was all such a funny joke.. meanwhile mentally clarifying to myself that this could be an option… couldn’t it? 

Oooh it’s funny how your mind can turn things around to make them fit. A bit like a piece of puzzle that isn’t really meant to go where you are putting it, so you just rip off the protruding peggy bit off so that it slides in nicely. Rearranging the narrative.

My mind, desperate for some sort of pleasure, has decided that I need to buy things. Constantly. Ayurvedic tea seems to be the recent addiction – which of course needed new glass mugs and a loose leaf teapot. Before that I decided I needed to purchase literally anything that Facebook showed me. So I now have a new duvet cover, my own purpose made home hair colouring kit from the US, a gel nail kit with UV lamp and I have paid a tenner to find out which food I need to eat to help with my Vata Dosha (basically, amongst a plethora of other things, it is supposed to help you sleep better, restore better mental health and stop farting like a trojan.). I could’ve got this information for free. From Google. However, I only discovered that after I had paid. I also nearly booked for a massage and spray tan before common sense prevailed and I realised that food for the family might be more beneficial.

The mental fogginess is still there. I can’t seem to think about anything meaningful at all. It’s as though the brain has shut down that area for refurbishment – “Closed until further notice” – my relationships with my family or friends etc? I can’t think about them. What I want to do regarding applying for a job? No, not today thanks. I am only able to place one foot in front of the other and think about the day in hand. Thankfully, it is suggested that when giving up an addiction, you only take one day at a time, which is lucky really, because that’s literally all I can manage. The moment I try and plan something concrete for the future, the amount of mental effort it takes to sustain the process is enormous and I mentally and physically crash afterwards. I want to sleep sooo much. The exhaustion is overwhelming at times.

Maybe that’s why currently, instant gratification is key. I have a sneaky feeling that I need to move away from this type of thinking.. that I need to sit with the discomfort and accept the loneliness and difficulty of feeling like I am missing something but for now small steps.. and maybe that elephant duvet cover that I keep seeing an advert for………

I can certainly recognise that I am at the beginning of a long, long road and as I tentatively am putting down my feet, feeling my way, I am just thankful that my wake up call didn’t involve other services, that I am still on my path (albeit a tad rockily) and I do have the option of making the right choices now.

 

 

Surrender & Peace.

I felt it wash over me, a sense of peace. Contentment. Reminiscent of a time long ago as a child on a mediterranean holiday, lying in the shores on warm, wet sand, as the waves gently passed over my small, brown body.

The coils have been so tightly sprung for so long that I couldn’t quite work out what was wrong. The house was still in need of a good sort out, no miraculous dumping of millions had occurred in my bank account and I hadn’t lost 2 stone. So why on earth did I feel.. ok?

Surrendering isn’t something I do very easily, well not without mind altering substances and as they are officially off the menu, I am having to find alternative measures; meditation and yoga are my mind altering practices.

Meditation has been delicious.. there is something about the letting go; the shoulders gently relax; the tension melts and you surrender.

I suddenly ‘get’ recovery and the serenity it can bring; letting go and accepting; the tribe I have become part of and within which support freely flows.

The anxiety is lifting and my eyes are starting to smile once more.