So, it’s over. He’s gone and done the dirty D&D (devalue and discard, also affectionately known as ”˜diss and dump’) one last time. You’ve sworn, ”˜that’s it!’ a thousand times, cried your eyes out through the night, poured your heart out into the soggy pillow and vowed to get over him. You’ve ripped up all his pictures, thrown out the tokens (what few there are) of his love, including the dollar store ”˜crystal’ wine goblets and the fake diamond ring. You’ve told your friends, (what few you have left), that you will never, ever talk to the lying, cheating, manipulative rat bazturd ever again. Never. Ever. Period. Finito. Not until hell freezes over, or the Dow Jones climbs above twenty gazillion points.
You are adamant in your resolve. You are firm. Resolute.
And then the phone rings. You stare at it. Close your eyes. Dare you read the caller ID?
What if it’s him? What if it’s not? Dare you look? Dare you answer? Dare you wish it could be him calling to tell you he’s seen the light. He’s seen the error of his ways. You are his one true love. He’s been so blind. So wrong. So selfish. So sorry.
You lunge to answer.
It’s not him.
You rush to get the caller off the phone. Having given space to the thought that it might be him, you become fixated on the fear, he might call and find the line engaged. It’s not that you want him to call, it’s just that you want to know he’s still thinking about you, that he hasn’t gotten over you so easily that he can’t be bothered to even try to play one of his sick and deadly games one more time. It can’t have meant so little to him that he’s already moved on, can it? You can’t have had so little place in his heart that he’s already erased you?
And so the cycle continues. Your heart aches with every phone call, every moment he doesn’t call, doesn’t turn up at your door, doesn’t email or text or at least tell a mutual friend he’s hurting for the loss of you. (You don’t want to ask the friend but you do it anyway because”¦ well a girl’s got a right to know doesn’t she? It won’t really hurt will it? It’s not like you’re calling him yourself?) No matter how fierce your resolve to not see him again, you wish and you hope and you dream that maybe it could have worked. Maybe it could have been different. Maybe he will turn up and this time it will be different. Maybe this time Prince Charming will arise from the ashes of the fires of hell where you sent him to burn in eternal damnation the last time he walked out the door and you slammed it shut behind his cute little butt — and it was cute, wasn’t it? It was so, well just so damn fine you loved him in blue jeans and…. and the thoughts keep cascading as you crumble into tears as the realization hits you, it really is over. It has to be if you are to find any solace in your broken heart.
And in the silence of the vacuum of the space he used to fill in your life, you search in desperation for some sense to what happened. Some understanding of what went wrong, believing that if you’d known better how to please him, how to be who and what and how he had wanted you to be, he would still be there, telling you you’re lovely. Telling you you’re the star in his heart, the moon in his sky the sun that lights up his life. Conveniently and oh so capriciously, in the angst of your despair, you forget about the rest of the time when he was screaming and yelling and calling you names and tearing you down. You forget those parts as your mind fixates on the ‘good times’ no matter how few and far between, no matter how long ago.
In desperation, you come here. To this place where suddenly you find sense to his nonsense, understanding, support, relief. Desperately, you want to believe. It wasn’t you. It was always him. He was a sociopath, a narcissist, a jerk. He was a no-good, good for nothing, nothing to give lowlife of the lowest, most disgusting kind.
You want to believe and though you sorta, maybe, possibly do, you still can’t let go of the thought, it could have been different. Couldn’t it? And even though, slowly you begin to realize it could never have been any different because he truly was an S, a P, an N or some other letter of the alphabet, you can’t understand, “Why do I still feel so awful?”
When the sociopath/psychopath no longer in my life was arrested I stood amidst the devastation of my life and searched for a blessing to count — I was still alive, that counted for something. And while I knew I had gotten away from a deadly blow that would have blasted me into eternal sleep, and while I knew he was no good for me, he was the poison killing the lifeblood of my existence, there was still a part of me that wanted to hear from him, wanted to take him back, if only he’d asked. The reality of those thoughts were stunning. Imagine, he’d almost killed me but I still yearned to hear his voice, to know that he was still wanting me, needing me, thinking of me.
All I could do was keep counting my blessings and looking for things to count on to rebuild my life. One of those ”˜things’ in my life that had some monetary value — which after having lost my home, my life savings, my car, my job, and all my belongings there weren’t many — was the three carat diamond ring he’d given me with the promise to love me forever. It was a big, glittering thing set in white gold. It had to be worth something and with seventy-two cents to my name, even a tenth of its value was better than nothing.
So, I did what any jilted, broken-hearted penniless woman would do, I decided to sell it. I took it to a jeweler to have it appraised and imagine my surprise when the jeweler looked up from his loupe and said, “It’s fake. A good one, but fake nonetheless.”
I laughed and I cried and I vowed to never again put my faith in another man (well that’s another story but at the time, I really, really meant it!).
I was desperate. What could I do?
The falseness of that ring represented something. It was a symbol of all that was fake about him — and that was everything. Like him, it too was a lie. He had given it to me as a symbol of our eternal love — “Nothing’s too much or too good for you, Louise,” he’d said when he slipped it onto my finger. “You deserve beautiful objects like this diamond because you are a beautiful diamond, a real gem.”
Of course, that was the second time he’d slipped it onto my finger. The first time, surprise, surprise, it had been too big and he’d taken it to be resized but then it had disappeared and then reappeared two years later — after the other woman had had a chance to wear it ‘proudly’ for awhile, I later discovered.
But back to the ring. I had believed it was real. I had believed it meant something. I had invested great meaning in its beauty. I had to do something to disconnect from the ”˜story’ of what that ring meant so that I could let go of my need, my want, my desire to believe it wasn’t all a lie, he hadn’t really meant to hurt me.
I decided to throw it away. Into the ocean.
On a picture perfect summer afternoon, a girlfriend and I headed to a cliff overlooking the sea and performed a ceremony to send the ring off into the waters of life. I had the ceremony all mapped out. It was perfect. I’d written a letter, read it out loud under the clear blue skies, burned it, and blown the ashes into the wind. I had done all those things, had released him and myself from the hold of his lies. Had said I forgive him. Had promised to love myself enough to forgive myself too. And yet, when it came time to cast the ring into the ocean, I hesitated. “What if”¦ the jeweler was wrong? What if it really was real?”
I stood on the rocks, the waves crashing below me, the sun beating down and I cried and I cried for fear, it was all a mistake. The ring was real and so was his love and it was me who had been so wrong all along.
See, we want so desperately to believe in the perfection of what we perceived their love to be we fear letting go, just in case it’s all some cosmic mistake that will be set right the moment we open our eyes wide enough to see, he really is the prince of light — it was just a dark cloud blocking his true love from illuminating us in the rosy glow of his promises of happily ever after.
In our need to believe we didn’t make a big mistake, or even worse, fools of ourselves, we cling to the faint, lingering hope that the cosmos got their wires crossed and left us to clean-up their mistake. If we could just find the magic crumbs that will lead us back to our happily ever after, every thing will be okay and he will once again appear on the horizon of our dreams.
Reality is: Ain’t gonna happen. Just ain’t possible.
I threw the ring into the water that day and as it spun and twirled in its descent I still wanted to grab it back. I still wanted to hold onto it, to never let it go.
That ring has long ago washed up on shore somewhere far away, or been eaten by a giant man-eating shark and I have long since let go of ever believing there was anything about him that could possibly have value in my life today.
But I remember. I remember those moments of wishing and hoping and fearing that what was, really was. I remember wishing upon every star that he wasn’t really a liar and cheat. He didn’t really consciously, knowingly, willfully do the things he did. He didn’t really lie and deceive and manipulate and destroy everything and everyone around him.
In my acceptance of the truth — he was the lie, the ring was a fake — I let go of ever having to hold onto the hope, it wasn’t true.
In my acceptance, I stepped into the truth of what happened to me and let go of thinking about him as anyone other than a liar, a cheat, a manipulator, a deceitful, deceiving and destroying being of the human kind.
In my letting go of that ring, I set myself free to explore the possibilities of who I can be when I no longer look for my truth in someone else’s lies and instead, spend my precious breath finding the truth in me.
Reality is, when we ask, “How do I stop loving him?”, we are avoiding asking, “How do I begin to love myself enough to stop believing I will find the truth in him?”
If you are attached to believing you cannot stop thinking of him, ask yourself, “What in it for me to keep believing I can’t?”
If you are running the story of him through your mind again and again, ask yourself, “What’s in it for me to keep the story of him alive? What’s in it for me to avoid writing a new story of my life, a story where I am the architect of my joy and happiness, where I am the heroine of my story of love?”
We are our thoughts, our thoughts become our reality. What we focus on becomes stronger in our lives. If your thoughts are focused on him — change them into thoughts that support and love and honour you. As Louise Hay writes, “It’s only a thought and a thought can be changed.”
Change your thinking. Change your life.
skylar,
I will throw you a party….But not a pity party…Lol NOT that we all don’t deserve to have a pity party ONCE in a great while as long as we don’t stay at the party to long…Usually when I throw myself one I am the only one “attending” maybe thats where the real “pity” comes into play…..
This party is going to be a boost up skylar party. Likely the reason you can’t sleep is your stress level is high.
So I’m thinking you need to think today some good thoughts…
I believe I read that you were with your Ex from the time you were 17 years old. And that he was older than you, I don’t remember how much older, just that you metioned that.
And that you were with him for like 25 years.
Girl……You are unbelievable. You must have an AMAZING STRONG spirit. You were barely more than a child when he came into your life and him being older than you he could have “molded” you into a weak, helpless, God knows what…..He could have arrested your development as you were maturing into a woman, him being the older “man” in your life…Those years that you were with him in the begining were some very important “growing up” years.
And yet you came through as this shinning star! It sounds to me as if you were the mature one in the relationship right from the start, even at your young age.
You really have done an amazing thing. To survive a relationship with such a man and to have been taken into that relationship at such a tender age and to be IN IT so long and to come out of it with your spirit and wisdom and maturity is almost unbelievable.
I’m in awe of you skylar….
Blueskies, Skylar and Flyspeck, and all, love thios comic:
jamesfinch2003@yahoo.com
I just remembered something –
when I first learned about red flags, in the early days of coming here, I felt SO enlightened, it was a revelation and changed the way I looked at people, I actually declared that ‘I could spot a sociopath from a mile away’ or something like that. now another memeber came in and told me that was a total crock (not those words!), to which I became upset and deflated (reality bites).
JUST KNOWING to look for red flags doesnt mean your ALWAYS going to spot them, or that its your fault if you dont.
JUST being strong in your self wont shield you from every wound.
BUT both of those things are TOOLS we need to stay as safe as we can.
I think the crux of this issue is that we DO need to take responsibility, to learn how to use those tools, to stand up and be strong…. but as human beings WE WILL ALWAYS BE VULNERABLE. we are built that way (and who’s ‘fault’ that is ultimately, is a much bigger debate;)
Thanks witsend, you are a doll for saying such nice things at my pity party.
He was 11 years older, but still in diapers which is why I was always mothering him.
But you know, YOU’RE RIGHT!
It’s amazing that I wasn’t molded into something much worse. I’m convinced that God was looking out for me and protectiing me. God wanted me to learn something about humanity and I did, but I didn’t become a P. I’m so grateful.
I’ve seen so many P’s at different stages of the spectrum of narcissism. They all made the choices that have put them there, at that point in the spectrum. Anybody could make those choices down the slippery slope to becoming a P. I hope God continues to protect me from making those choices. I DON’T WANT TO EVER BE A PATHETIC P!
My link to the funny cartoon doesn’t work! Darn! It can be googled by entering wolf in sheeps clothes. It is the one that says, Funny cartoon of wolf making sheep costume.
I know it’s a distraction, but I really think it’s funny!
Love you guys.
Fly speck,
I just now read your post to me, (I’m waiting on my son to get read to leave for town so will try to keep this short.)
NO! I did not beat on this woman some more. I did NOT beat on her at all. As it turned out, this woman had decided that BECAUSE she had been “victimized” in the past, that the world OWED HER a living, OWED HER to support her, without ANY EFFORT on her part. She was ENTITLED to have someone else support her financially, physically, and emotionally, and walk on egg shells around her….in short, this woman was ALSO as it turned out, an ABUSER herself.
There are relationships tha I call “gasoline and fire” relationships where TWO disordered people find each other and play a game of “musical chairs—abuser style”
First one will abuse the other, then they switch seats and turn around and the victim then becomes the abuser and the former abuser becomes the victim. It is a FACT that you can have a relationship with TWO abusers using and abusing EACH OTHER. True, this woman had been “abused” but she had “given as good as she got” to her former abuser. It just so happened that on the last round, she “got the short end of the stick.”
Not all “apparent victims” are totally “innocent” and that is a FACT. Some people who PRESENT THEMSELVES AS VICTIMS are in FACT, abusers who got what they had given, in spades.
Martha Stout who wrote the book, “The Sociopath Next Door” spoke about the PITY PLAY that is a very common ploy that psychopaths use to HOOK US (caring and compassionate people) into pitying them. “Oh, I came from such a bad background, my parents were so mean to me, I need YOU to take care of me because I am so pitiful.”
That doesn’t mean that ALL victims are not victims, or that even psychopaths don’t get victimized themselves once in a while. The thing is that WE who ARE CARING people are not so unquestioning of others that when someone says “I am a victim” that we automatically assume they cannot ALSO be an abuser.
For example, many people here have said how their psychopath played on their sympathy and pity and caring to get them to financially SUPPORT the P, and to provide housing, transportation, medical lcare, etc. and the P played the “pity ploy” to get these things, pretending to be a true victim.
While here at LF we ACCEPT a poster’s assurance that they have been victims and are not themselves ALSO abusers, but the fact is in REAL LIFE there are plenty of people who are MOOCHES and use the “pity ploy”—-
I can’t tell over the computer screen when someone is doing this, or when they are lying about their abuse, but in REALLIFE when you are dealing with someone day in and day out, you can SEE the differences between what they SAY and what they DO.
Many of the people who have abused me have presented themselves as needing my “help”—-with money or whatever. soometimes I have given this to them, but then eventually SEEN that they were not wanting help, but instead were like a leech sucking blood (in the form of money, compassion, etc) from me. They began to want mroe and more and more of the things done for them that they were responsible and ABLE to do for themselves.
The particular woman I am referring to did not have a job. I found a way she could have worked and made her own living, but she did not want to do this and came up with a huge number of VERY CREATIVE excuses of why she could not work.
She also came up with some very creative reasons I should pity her and GIVE HER MONEY. (I did not take that opportunity) Because I COULD have given her money (I am not destitute) but chose not to, she became very upset with me. She felt ENTITLED to have me give her money. She also played this same pity ploy for money with others as well, and they also did not give her money.
I have in the past been an enabler—doing for others what they SHOULD HAVE and COULD have done for themselves—but that is neither good for me, or for them. Each of us is responsible for doing all we can to help ourselves. Just because someone lays down and refuses to walk when they very well CAN DO SO, does not mean that I am RESPONSIBLE for picking them up and carrying them when they want to move from one place to another.
I am perfectly willilng to give someone an OPPORTUNITY to help themselves, but I am NOT responsible for doing for anyone what they are RESPONSIBLE for doing for themselves. I reserve my charity for those that are UNABLE to take care of themselves, not for those who refuse to take care of themselves.
This was also not a “snap judgment” on my part, but an observation over a four month period of time.
I don’t know if you remember that many people here have been totally ripped off financially because they kept on doing for a P financially trying to “help” the P with lilving expenses, and with transportation, medical care, etc.
Yesterday my son and I were talking about “positive energy” and he analogized Ps as being like funnels, sucking positive energy in at the wide mouth of the top, but little or nothing coming out the bottom. He pointed out that the rest of us are more like conduits, with energy FLOWING THROUGH, but the Ps take in MORE THAN THEY GIVE, they suck us literally dry if we will allow it.
Keep in mind that the PITY PLOY of a “victim” is a COMMON tactic that the Ps in this world use, presenting themselves as victims, when in fact, they are LEECHES and parasites.
Sometimes it takes a while to see the difference, but I am learning and I am VERY PROUD of myself for seeing that this “victim” was in fact, a psychopathic leech, looking to hook on to another compassionate source of supply for herself, rather than looking for an opportunity to help herself.
No matter what I had given her, no matter what I had done for her, it would never have been enough to satisfy her attitude of entitlement to have me take care of her.
If that sounds harsh or judgmental to you, I am very sorry for that, but just as I no longer have compassion for my psychopathic son’s plight as a victim of the Texas Department of Correction, I keep in mind that HE PUT HIMSELF THERE BY REASON OF HIS CHOICES AND DECISIONS (he murdered a woman) and it is up to him to decide to make better choices.
blueskies and flyspeck – We are all here for a reason. I just wanted to say that I don’t disagree with either of your opinions. We are all entitled to those. We do come here for support, empathy, a shoulder to cry on, etc. For me, I have learned that there are so many different emotions from day to day – even moment to moment. Anger, pity, tears! I too felt sorry for myself. Crying – how could he do this to me? I am such a good person – I was sooooo good to him.
He doesn’t care! I now know that! I didn’t even realize he was an SP…..but now I’m actually glad to know that he is. That something is not terribly wrong with ME!
I think for me, (my opinion), it has been important for me to take responsibility for myself. YES, HE did it to me! HE is to blame! But now that I know – KNOWLEDGE is power and I want to be strong! I’m not there yet – I have my bad days. But every day I’m here with you….trying to learn, trying to become that stronger person. Thanks to all of you sharing your experiences and opinions, I am becoming that person.
kim frederick,
“In Oxy’s defence, she’s pretty sharp and I think she knows when someones “stuck” in pity party mode and isn’t able to progress because of it! She’s not one to kick a gal when she’s down, so to speak.”
Destitute and distraught, totally down beaten. What do those words mean to you?
To me, they mean pennyless, homeless, emotionally drained and stressed out to the max or very close to the three.
How long was this woman dealing with her situation?
Post traumatic stress disorder. It’s a REAL thing!!!!
I can read between the lines.
Here this woman has been through how many years of serial Ps? And then she is put in the position of dealing with being destitute and distraught, totally down beaten in THIS economy?
Not much healing is going to get done if your main priority is where your next meal is coming from. Think about it.
Where was this woman living? In her car? Under a bridge? I’ve been there done that, only many years ago when things were alot different in this world. I was young and had the years ahead of me. I’m 47 now. I could not imagine the stress it would put apon me now but I know it would be horrific. To have that compounded apon what I went through 2 years ago? I think I would have slit my wrists. And then to have someone tell me I could have/should have seen it coming?
I say again…Dr. Robert Hare has been fooled. Are any of us more experienced than him?
flyspeck,
please post your story, I would really like to learn all I can about P’s, especially the way that they deceive. I’m always afraid of running into one and not recognizing it. Tell us what happened to you and help us stay safe.
Flyspeck:
Wow…..I have to say, I think you added a bit of personal attack towards OXY.
Being human is also a factor here. Knowing someones inner kindness and willingness to offer experienced advice is another.
We are all different, sharing similar experiences. This is a blog, containing numerous opinions from people around the world. All we have is the written word, and others ability to interpret it as they will.
……we all communicate from our different styles.
I am sorry you viewed oxy’s posts as ill willed towards people……
I feel confident that is NOT how it was meant!
I am of the mindset that we have to pick ouselves up, dust ourselves off and move foreward…..and this will become a reality for each of us at one point or another. We do this in our own time…….or not…..
NO ONE WILL DO THIS FOR US!
And there are consequences for each move we take……good or bad.
If we don’t act……we lay stagnant and fall deeper into a depression.
Some fall deeper than others…..
I don’t think it negates what Oxy was saying….If Oxy validated this ladies depression…….and gave her ‘permission’ to spiral down, played to her sadness and advised her to go to bed, cry and think about what a hell of a life she has gotten herself into…..
HOW PRODUCTIVE WOULD THAT BE?
I interpreted Oxy’s post as an encouragement not enabeling to remain stagnant.
Regardless if someone is on the verge of suicide……we have 2 options….LIVE OR DIE……(I would hate to see anyone kill themselves,).
I have been in this quandry……and chose life…….and chose to fight like hell!
I believe you were way off base and personally attacking of a member at LF.
I think you minimized Oxy’s journey and have NOT paid attention to her story…..as she HAS been ROMANTICALLY involved in a toxic P relationship……..in addition to her family situation.
I suggest you pay closer attention to ‘facts’ you so flippantly state, prior to posting such mean spirited postings…..
LF is open to anyone suffering or recovering from trauma/pain/sadness of a Sociopath.
If you fit this description, welcome.
I will take your journey at face value and offer all the support I can. IN MY OWN UNIQUE STYLE.
I am of the ‘take no prisoners’ , or ‘in your face’ type style……I NEVER MEAN ANY HARM OR FOUL to any member……I completely understand, that some may be turned off by what I have to say and am quite okay with that…….
The only qualifications here are that we respect each other and offer support.
If you dont like someones postings, or advice…..don’t read.
We have a choice, but don’t be mean.