She waited. Patient. Patiently. I’ll wait for you forever, she told him. And so she waited. She waited and waited but still he never came.
She called. Impatient. Impatiently. She called and she called and still he never answered.
She searched. For him. For answers. For hope. And still her hands came up empty.
I am your only hope, he’d told her. I am the one you’ve been waiting for.
And so, she waited. In the dark. Through the dawn. Throughout the day. And still, he never came.
He’d promised to come. Promised to bring her the keys to their new home. The money he owed. He promised to give back the dreams he’d killed. The trust he’d broken. The hopes he’d dashed. Today, he’d promised. Today.
She believed him. She was patient. She had to, believe him. Give him the space and time and support. It was all she could do. She had run out of options. Run out of strength to fight. To make anything else happen.
She waited.
Patient.
Patiently.
And still. He never came.
She started to cry. It had been so long. So long since she could remember a time when fear and shame and self-loathing were not her constant companion.
She prayed. Please, please, somebody make it stop. Somebody come and take away this horror that I am living. Please.
She was patient. Oh so patient.
And still, nothing changed. Nothing ever happened. She stayed locked. Locked up in this hell that was her life. On the outside smiling. On the inside dying.
And nobody could see. Nobody knew the truth.
She was patiently waiting for death to come knocking at her door.
But death was busy. His scythe was slicing through other life-cords. Setting others free to rise up and find their place in that time and plane where all beings unite with the One who lives eternal. That other-world beyond this fearsome world that had become her reality.
She opened her arms to death. Her life-cord remained intact. And she cried.
Please come, she begged. Please come.
But still, he didn’t call.
Her phone remained silent. Her mind screamed in agony. Her body writhed in pain.
Somebody make it stop. Somebody please make it stop.
And all the patience in the world couldn’t awaken her to the truth. Nobody out there could make it stop. Nobody out there could make him go away.
She had to do that. She had to wake up.
And she told herself she couldn’t. She was too frightened. Too weak. Too alone.
Be patient, he said as he held her in the dark. Just a bit longer and then you will see, it was all worth it.
Nothing would ever be worth the terror of his embrace. She knew that. But she couldn’t see it. Feel it. Breathe it. She couldn’t feel. She couldn’t breathe.
She was suffocating beneath the lies. Suffocating in the sea of fear that held her up to the mirror of her shame. She couldn’t see. She was lost in the dark of his embrace.
And so she waited.
And nothing changed except the fear.
The fear engulfed her. The roaring in her head grew louder. She lost all sense of time. Of place. Of being.
She lost.
And fell into the sea of despair that had patiently waited for her to surrender all hope and fall. She fell. She fell and closed her eyes.
Patiently waiting for death to come.
But it never came.
And then, in the dark of despair, the dream of his coming to save her died and she awoke and lost all patience with him.
She lost all patience with his lies, his deceit, his manipulations. She lost all patience with hiding from the truth and found her voice to speak up.
I have run out of patience! She cried. I have no more time for you.
And in her voice she found the courage to speak up. To stand up. To walk away from waiting for him to come and make it all better. For him to sweep his magic wand across the night and raise the dawn. She lost all patience for him and turned her back on waiting.
She turned her back and reached out. Oh God, she cried. Help me.
And He did.
I am here, my child, she heard Him whisper inside her head. She felt the blood flowing in her veins. The warmth of dawn caressing her face. She felt His breath rise and fall within her and she wept. Tears streamed down her face and then she felt a hand upon her brow.
Cry no more, the voice whispered. Cry no more. You are free.
She opened her eyes and saw the wonder of the world around her.
It had been there throughout time. Waiting. Patiently. Waiting for her to open her eyes. To open her ears and heart and mind to the truth within. For her to awaken to the truth of who she was and who she was meant to be. She opened her eyes and her heart beat a wild tattoo of joy upon her breast.
I am free. I am free she whispered to the dawn. And she opened her arms wide and Love flooded in. Love engulfed her. Picked her up and carried her through her fear that what was would be forever more.
Truth is, the voice called out. Truth is. Within you. Always. Always present. Ever patient. Truth is Love and you are your truth. Love yourself. Love your wounded heart. Your battered spirit. Love your beauty and your beast and let yourself surrender and fall, In Love.
And she did.
And Love embraced her.
And she danced forevermore in the arms of Love.
Louise – did you experience a period of ‘stuckness’ after getting free? Did anyone else? Can people tell me how long it lasted and how they managed to get themselves out of the stuckness and change their lives if they weren’t forced to by circumstance ?
I am reading a book called Trauma and Recovery and there is a long quote about what looks to others and outsiders to be learned helplessness, but in actual fact is internalisation of the abuser inside the target – remember what I said about having an inner P implanted in me?????
“This constriction in the capacities for active engagement with the world, which is common after a single trauma, becomes more pronounced in chronically traumatized people, who are often described as passive or helpless. Some theorists have mistakenly applied the concept of ‘learned helplessness’ to the situation of battered women and other chronically traumatized people. Such concepts tend to portray the victim as simply defeated or apathetic, whereas a in fact a much livelier and more complex inner struggle is usually taking place. In most cases the victim has not given up. But she has learned that every action will be watched, that most actions will be thwarted, and that she will pay dearly for failure. To the extent that the perpetratir has succeeded in his demand for total submission, she will perceive any exercise of her own initiative as insubordination. Before taking any action , she will scan the environment expecting retaliation.
Prolonged captivity undermines or destroys the ordinary sense of a relatively safe sphere of initiative, in which there is some tolerance for trial and error ….any action has the potential for dire consequences. There is no room for mistakes…
….this sense that the perpetrator is still present even after liberation signifies a major alteration in the victim’s relational world. The enforced relationship during captivity, which of necessity monopolizes the victim’s attention, becomes PART OF THE VICTIM’S INNER LIFE AND CONTINUES TO ENGROSS HER ATTENTION AFTER RELEASE … in sexual, domestic and religious cult prisoners, this continued relationship may take a more ambivalent form: the victim may continue to fear her former captor and to expect that he will eventually hunt her down, but she may also feel empty, confused and worthless without him.”(p.91).
Herman, J.L.(1998). Trauma and Recovery. London: Pandora Press.
The book also talks about tracking the activities of the perpetrator over time after release and a brooding engrossment with what they are doing – this relates to what Kathy described as surveillance for protection.
What does everyone think of this? Has anyone else experienced this ‘stuck’ feeling? That they want to do things, but for some reason just can’t???
Midlife:
Uhhhhh YES!
I was discussing this with a friend recently!
I am wrestling with it…..it’s like I am sabotaging myself….
Depressed or somehting….and it pisses me off!!!
In a way, I’m like my eldest son….oppositional and defiant!
If’ I am asked….I’ll say sure,sure….and state a deadline….and let the deadline go….I’ll get it done…but in the knick of time! And at the lastminute and at MY pace!
I’ve NEVER ever been like this….for christ sake….I’m a personal assistant….I MANAGE others lives….HELLLLOOOOO.
I CAN”T DO THIS!
If I’m pationate about doing something….I’ll whip it right out….gut if not….it’s gets procrastonated!
I HATE THIS…..and it causes a rediculous stress that is SO not necessary!
I need a fire lit under my ass!!!
I don’t open my mail.
I don’t respond to emails
I don’t pay bills like I used to….
I’m late for engagements….
I push deadlines……
WHY
WHY????
Midlife, YES, YES, AND YES.
I AM ALL FOR ANY DESCRIPTION THAT STARTS WITH ’much livelier and more complex inner struggle is usually taking place’. It’s honouring and validating.
whereas a in fact a much livelier and more complex inner struggle is usually taking place. In most cases the victim has not given up. But she has learned that every action will be watched, that most actions will be thwarted, and that she will pay dearly for failure.
Before taking any action , she will scan the environment expecting retaliation.
OH F*CK, YOU KNOW THIS IS MY LIFE ON BAD DAYS. IT’S THE TANKING, THE FEAR OF MOVEMENT FOR FEAR OF WHAT MOVEMENT MAY BRING. AND I HAVE REASON TO FEEL THIS WAY”CAUSE I HAVE *SO MUCH EVICENCE* THAT THIS HAPPENS. I AM A NATURAL AND EXPEREINCED NETWORKER, I CREATE MY OWN JOBS, I ..I”I”I
”.I HIDE UNDER MY COVERS OR EAT A BIT ALL DAY ‘TIL I AM NUMB, DON’T SEE FRIENDS…AND ON AND ON……
Prolonged captivity undermines or destroys the ordinary sense of a relatively safe sphere of initiative, in which there is some tolerance for trial and error ”.any action has the potential for dire consequences. There is no room for mistakes”YES, YES, YES. AFTER THE BOY WONDER DIED, I FELT LIKE I HAVE NEVER FELT ”“ I JUST GAVE UP ”“ KNOWING WHAT I SO DEARLY WANTED, HAVING SEEN IT FULL ON, MY DREAMS IN FRONT OF MY FACE ”“ THEN RIPPED AWAY FROM ME, EVERY DAY GOT WORSE AND WORSE. I STOPPED TRYING. IT WAS FREEING”.BUT THE STREET WAS GETTING CLOSE”.THEN SHE CALLED AND MY ANGER ROSE UP AND TRIED TO PUSH ME, MOVE ME”.
”.this sense that the perpetrator is still present even after liberation signifies a major alteration in the victim’s relational world. The enforced relationship during captivity, which of necessity monopolizes the victim’s attention, becomes PART OF THE VICTIM’S INNER LIFE AND CONTINUES TO ENGROSS HER ATTENTION AFTER RELEASE ”
OF COURSE THE PERP IS STILL PRESENT ”“ BECAUSE IT WASN’T JUST THE SPATH, BUT THE N FATHER AND THE N GF AND THE SPATH BOSS,—AND THE SPATH POLICITAL/SOCIAL SYSTEMS—”.
Good work midlife. Thank you.
Best,
One step.
Dearest EB, What your describing is FEAR ,and it stands for FALSE EVIDENCE APPEARING REAL.
Fear isa spirit.Fear can kill you with stress overload.
But its not real, it only gets strength if we feed it.
back to the white wolf and the gray wolf again.
Which one grows?
The one we feed.
PTSD can cause all of your symptoms, I still have it after NC from my spath daughter after 1 year NC.
I think we need to cut ourselves some slack, it took years and years of abuse to get us like this, how come we think we can fix it overnight?!!
Love and Hugs,Gem.XX
Louise, thank you for this beautiful prose poem.
I stopped dead at “I am your only hope, he’d told her. I am the one you’ve been waiting for.” Feeling the sweet, poignant tug of those words, wondering if I was still vulnerable.
And then I thought, I’m supposed to be saying that to ME. I am my only hope. I’m the one I’ve been waiting for.
As always, your writing gives me the chills in the most wonderful way. You wake me up again to truths I need to remember.
BTW, here is a Valentine gift from NPR, the host’s favorite break-up songs, described as “songs of love and loathing.” I haven’t listened to the songs, but my sister, who knows my story (and has her own just like it), says they’re great. And there’s no Bonnie Raitt on the list, so hopefully nothing to make us sad. (Unless Jimmy Durante singing “I’ll Be Seeing You” will do it to you.)
Here’s the URL: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18950469
Kathy
Regarding the “stall” or the funky plateau, as I usually think about it, I’m beginning to suspect it’s a combination of psychological and physical burn-out, but due to something in particular.
I agree with onestep and gemini and midlife that it’s fear. But fear of what? The logical answer is that we’re still dealing with “bad learning” from the trauma, fear that any action will result in more of that same sort of cosmic whacking that was so painful before. Because this goes beyond the sociopath; it’s like the whole world is a threat now.
But what’s the trigger here?
For me, I keep coming back to a whole series of things he said to me that all came down to the same thing, more or less. No one could possibly love me. No one will ever love me again. There are at least 35 things about me that I have to correct before anyone could even look at me again without gagging. And all of that is impossible to fix because I’m too stupid, too undisciplined, too misguided, too emotionally damaged, and just too much of an all-around loser to even begin to write down the list, much less do anything about it.
That’s a lot of stuff, but it all comes down to one feeling. A kind of ego implosion into shame and insecurity. And if I can get in touch with that feeling, I can work on it. (It’s when these things just float around in our heads while we try to avoid them that they drag us down.)
So, okay, here’s my feeling and I’m going to really feel it. Hopeless. Incompetent. Afraid of anyone seeing me because they’ll see through me and know what a loser I am. I’m slipping right inside of it, and wondering…
Is this my voice talking this stuff? Or did someone else say it to me? If it was someone else, not just him, but the first time I ever felt this way, who was it? Who made me feel like this?
And were they right? Am I really such a big nothing? This might be a good time to go to the mirror, and take a look. Do I really agree with this? Or do I have some little argument in my own behalf I’d like to make. Not grandiose, but just logical.
I’m not Ava Gardner or the President or the winner of the Nobel Prize or the Academy Award, but I’m not nothing. I’ve done some really hard things and finished them. Some real people have loved me, and a lot of real people care about me. My whole life is full of cool stuff I’m doing, and souvenirs of cool stuff I did in the past.
So okay, I’ve screwed up. And other people have screwed up around me, in ways that made me feel bad. But I’ve learned from it, each time, something new that changed my life.
And that’s maybe the important thing about me — when I try, when I just take a chance and try anything, it usually comes out surprisingly well. When I get the nerve to contact someone, they usually are glad to hear from me. When I try to write something, people usually like to read it. When I get away from this computer and go out, the world usually turns out to be prettier and friendlier than I remembered.
Maybe the truth of my life is that I’ve always been a little afraid, always had to push past my fear to do anything. These voices have been in my head as long as I can remember. And maybe now that I’ve gotten better and really think I can do better than I’ve ever done before, those voices have turned up the volume. Or maybe I’m just not so good at denial anymore, and I’m not able to ignore them so much. And so I’m actually going to have to pay attention to them and deal with them, for the first time in my life.
But now, after I’ve gotten better, I’m pretty sure they’re not what I really believe about myself. They’re just a bunch of memories that aren’t particular useful to my current intention to be happy, creative and confident.
So I can just say “Thanks for the input, guys, but I’ve decided I’m going to like myself for the rest of my life, and I’m not actually looking for love or approval from crabby people like you, so you can take a rest.”
And then I can look in the mirror and say, “You can do it, Kathy. You can make a list of what you want to do today. And just try, take your chances of failing, and but it will probably come out okay. There are a lot more people out there rooting for you than people who want you to fail. And I’m rooting for you. So just take a chance and try. It might just turn out to be a good day.”
So that’s what I think my funk plateau is about. I don’t know if that’s true for anyone else, but I wrote down my process in case it’s useful for anyone.
I have a lot of deeply embedded stuff from my father, the bully-coward who was so scared of his kids challenging him that he tried to destroy our will, and my poor beaten down mom who was so bitterly jealous of anyone who had more hope than she did that she was bitingly sarcastic. It’s part of me, just like the good stuff from them is part of me — the intelligence, the aptitudes, the sense of humor, the endurance. My job is to be more aware of my choices than they were, to make the choices about what I accept as “me” and what I don’t from all this inherited noise from them and the nuns and the mass media and the ex-boyfriends.
Thank heaven for psychotherapy and the internet.
Midlife – I am responding to your feeling of stuckedness. I am at 2 years no contact. He was with me 3 years before that. I knew him 2 years before he hooked me. So 7 years of my life have been occupied with him. 4 of those years he has been here in mind only. I think in some form he will always be part of me like it or not. I think that stuckedness or ptsd is more about what he took with him when he left, good and bad. Those dreams, the ideas I had of being in love, of happy ever after are forever gone and changed. Having to look at the world, the reality that he forced on me, good and bad are changed. So maybe it’s not so much stuckedness we feel but change, good and bad. If there was a pill that would erase him from my memory I would sell my home for it, but because of the lessons I have learned, good and bad I am lucky i have a home,,once again I dont think I am making any sense, but time and no contact and someone new will get us unstuck,,,hang in there,,,
Midlife — you ask a really good question.
For me, the ‘stuckness’ is often preceded by a fear of something – and often that fear is based on my misconception that I am powerless.
so — I have a contract with myself — it is: I am a fearless woman.
when I feel stuck, or frightened or just plain confused I state my contract and then ask myself: what would a fearless woman do in this situation?
the answer is always… A fearless woman would do what’s best for me. What brings me more of what I want in my life. What brings me closer to living the life of my dreams in the rapture of now.
And then, I do it.
I find stumbling around in asking myself — “why am I feeling stuck?” is one of my favourite self-defeating games. ‘Cause I love being caught up in ‘why’ — it means I don’t have to get doing what’s best for me. It means I don’t have to turn up for me, in all my fear, pain, anger, angst, whatever the emotion.
So — when I turn my light back on me, when I turn it back on what I deserve, what I want more of in my life (which is always peace of mind, contentment, self-love, acceptance…) then it doesn’t really matter why I’m stuck. What matters is — what am I willing to do to get unstuck? What one step can I take to bring me closer to my integrity? My truth? My beauty? My dream?
Liane Leedom once said to me: Avoidance strengthens fear.
A powerful statement — and true.
My little old brain goes — I’m scared of… I’m too tired to… I don’t have the energy… I don’t deserve… and then, I let myself off the hook of not doing whatever it is I need to be doing to keep my life clean and sparkling.
And so, the next time I go to do something that frightens me, or am too tired, or whatever, my lil’ole brain goes — remember last time you didn’t do it you felt better for awhile? Well, if you don’t do it this time you’ll feel better again so best not to do it.
And then, I don’t do it and then I feel better, for a little while and then I feel worse because I know — I let myself down. I let myself off the hook of turning up for me, myself and I.
So — what is best for me is to keep turning up for me, in all my confusion, fear, pain, angst, stuckedness.
Period.
and kathy — thanks for that link! I’m going to go and check out those songs and have myself a party! think I’ll dance around the living room, kick up my heels and live on the wild side of life!
Hugs everyone.
And Kathy — I just read your post on the ‘funky plateau’.
Awesome!
you are a WoW — a Woman of Worth!