I was panting, eyes closed, beads of sweat running down my back; limbs shaking in the arms of the Devil.
This man I had loved for years, in vain, just like the waves of the ocean love the sharp rocks that shatter them. Still, they fling themselves against the dark razor blade rocks, over and over again, desperately, incessantly. An eternal, sad scene. Or perhaps just
inevitable. A fact of life.
There’s something horrible about being rejected by a narcissist. Rejection is always painful, but with a narcissist, it rips you apart like nothing else I’ve experienced in this lifetime. No other sorrow, not even Death itself, seems so horrible, so gut-wrenching, so painful. The pain stabs you like a hundred knives all over your body, while you are paralyzed, defenseless. The despair you feel is what Caesar felt towards Brutus, what Jesus must have felt towards Judas. The betrayal spreads like ice through your veins, freezing
your blood, making you unable to move. After all you’ve endured, after all you’ve suffered through, all your
sacrifices, all the times you forgave the narcissist… And suddenly THEY don’t want YOU?? It’s
Technically, I was the one who had broken up, yes. But always with some small, secret hope, that the narcissist would come back, changed, having seen the light. Cause I still could not fathom that he had no soul. After all he had put me through… he should be devastated, he should be on his knees, crying, begging forgiveness… But a bit of time had passed, and it seemed like he had let me go, finally.
I should have been ecstatic, right? I wasn’t. My psychological conditioning kicked in. He was supposed to always want me, chase me. He was supposed to…? NO. This, this was exactly fitting into the things narcissists do: The managing down your expectations. He had apparently managed down my expectations to this point; that he would gladly see me once in a while, but he wouldn’t make any sort of effort whatsoever. He must have trusted his psychological conditioning of me so much, that he knew I would come running back to him. Even for crumbs!
Even so, I knew it was just a matter of time, before he would prance back into my life, a run away proud horse. Never to be tamed, or even reliable, of course. He would want to be near me, and I would have the knowledge that at any moment he could suddenly kick me right in the heart. Again. Perhaps it was better if I made some sort of pre-emptive strike…
I was lonely. So lonely that words can not explain it. I felt I was in an isolated prison cell, without hope of ever being released. I was on a desert island with no ships in sight. Rejection eating away at my insides, loneliness gnawing my bones. It seemed I wasn’t even worth the effort, to him… I do not believe I have ever been so broken, so hopeless.
So, I started drinking a bit too much, at times. Dulling my senses, just a bit. This had an unpleasant side effect. Much like I can imagine addicts of heavy narcotics might think: “Oh, I’ll just have a few beers”, and then they might end up taking amphetamine at the end of the night… just like that, my “substitute” addiction, led to worse situations.
Having had a few drinks some nights, all sense and reason flew out the window, like a bat from the attic, at midnight…
Yes, I started to call the narcissist some evenings. Missed my heroin… Sometimes he would pick up, sometimes not. I am
assuming it had to do with if he had some other woman there, or not. Sometimes I would go to his place.
The old flames awoke again. For a few moments, I felt… relief. Like some cast away from a shipwreck, the
rescuing ship came towards me. After living alone in the wilderness, I finally felt human touch again, a human voice, a laugh, a beautiful, beautiful face, eyes filled with sparks and tiny wrinkles around those eyes, magnificent, perfect wrinkles, breaking my heart into a thousand pieces all over again. I caved. Broken as I was, there wasn’t even a choice. I held onto this man like I was drowning. And I was. I truly was.
But if you’re drowning, and are being saved by a narcissist, your rescue hangs on a thin thread.
Despite all the nights we shared that incredible passion and physical tenderness again, not a word was uttered by him about mending things he’d broken, or even making any serious tries with “us” again.
I started feeling worse and worse about myself. So, this is really all I’m good for? A bed-warmer…
My self-confidence was at an all-time low.
With a narcissist, you will always reach an “all-time low”, that feels worse than the time before. Of course
that happened this time, aswell. It wasn’t as dramatic as before. Just a few small events that showed him
in an ugly light again. Showed what a small and self-absorbed person he really is. I will get back to that
and make some more detailed installments of this story of darkness. I must once again purge and cleanse my
soul, before I can feel whole again.
So, I am back from Hell, once again. I must rebuild myself, piece by piece.
But, for being shattered, I must say I am surprised at how well I’m holding myself together towards the
outside world. I continue my work, as always, no one I meet in everyday life can guess at how torn apart I
“The sadness in my eyes…. no one guessed, well, no one tried”. /G. Michael song.
It is only in here that I let the cracks show. All the ugly cracks of this, once again, shattered soul.
I apologize for not having time and energy for blog reading right now. I am very busy with survival and
letting this ugly and dark story seep out, bit by bit. I hope to be able to resume blog reading as soon
as I gather some more strength.
I wish you all love and happiness. /Survived