By Ox Drover
There are some things in life that we accept as “truths” whether we understand just why they are true or not. We accept that the world is essentially round, that it revolves around the sun, that light is white and the absence of light is dark. We don’t have to truly understand exactly how these things work or why they are true, we just accept that they are true, and when we lie down to sleep at night and the sky is dark, we trust that in the morning the sun will be shining again. That is just the truth. That is just the way things are.
Sometimes we are told by people we love to believe the unbelievable. We don’t want to believe it any more than we want to believe that the sun may not come up tomorrow morning, or that if we drive or float far enough that we will fall off the edge of the world. But somehow, slowly, we start to believe that we can’t make it without the psychopathic partner to tell us how things are. We are compelled to believe them or to give them up. We make ourselves believe that we are mean, controlling, worthless, and that we couldn’t live without them. We make ourselves believe that our lives would be devoid of happiness without the psychopathic partner, mother, sister, brother, child.
The very thought of leaving them becomes unthinkable. The very thought of them leaving us terrifies us, and we scramble to do anything to make them stay, to make them love us. We endure the crazy-making; we force square pegs of falsehoods into round holes of what we can see with our own eyes, force them with a hammer if necessary.
When we are sad, we lie and paint on a face with a smile, so no one else can see that we have failed again to make the psychopath happy, that we aren’t really worthy for him or her to love us. Our painted faces don’t fool those closest to us though, and they know we are unhappy, but not why. If we try to share our truths with them, they don’t understand, which makes us even more unsure of ourselves. There is no validation. We only want consolation from the one that twists the truths and hurts us; he or she is the only one who can salve our wounds and make us feel better for a while.
But then they strike out again, sinking the venomous fangs of words into our flesh. We feel the pain with each strike, straight to the heart. We argue and try to defend ourselves, but they project the pain back to us—it really is our own fault, if we would just try harder everything would be wonderful.
We know we are trying hard, we know we are giving all we can give, but it isn’t enough, it’s never enough. It’s all because we didn’t believe enough, didn’t trust enough, we have to have faith. No matter if our eyes see the sky is dark, we must say it is light. We must believe it is light. We must believe they love us. To not believe is not possible; it would be too painful. What person who loved us, truly loved us, would stay with anyone like us if they didn’t truly love us and want to make us better for them? They work so hard at helping us be perfect, but we just never measure up. We must believe the unbelievable, that we are worthless.
But one day, we wake up, and the sun is really shining, and we see the truth, the real honest to God truth. We have believed the unbelievable, we have violated ourselves by denying the truths we saw, the truths we knew. We have sold our souls to this person who really didn’t love us at all. Our life can go on without pain, without twisting and turning to put the square peg of falsehood into the hole of truth.
Only the round peg of truth will fit into the round hole of truth. The square peg of falsehood held by our lover, our friend, our relative, won’t fit. No matter how we try to cram it in, or how much of a failure they tell us we are because we can’t make it fit, we see. Really see!
It doesn’t make a great deal of sense to try to cram that square peg into the round hole. Why didn’t they just accept the truth? Why did they demand we believe the unbelievable—that they loved us? People who really love us don’t treat us this way. They encourage us, not denigrate us. They support us, not knock us down.
But most of all, people who love us, really love us, do not demand that we believe the unbelievable—their lies. Then we realize that isn’t myself that is the lie, it is them. The very ones we love that are the lie. Our lives can go on and go on without the pain of trying to make ourselves believe the unbelievable—that they love us.
But we have a child together—they must love our child, all parents love their children. How could my own mother not really love me? All mothers love their children. I’ve been a good: wife, mother, friend, lover, parent; how can they not love me? It’s unbelievable that they don’t love me. I can’t believe if I try harder they won’t see the truth and love me back. Surely there is some magic phrase that I can find and say to them that will make them see. It’s unbelievable that they can’t see how they hurt me.
There comes a time when the unbelievable becomes believable and we face the truth. The painful truth that the one we love most in the world doesn’t love us. It is not unbelievable anymore; it’s a fact, just like the sun comes up in the morning. We don’t have to understand how or why the truth is the truth, we just have to believe the truth. The truth will set us free. Free from the pain of square pegs in round holes.
The best medicine available to treat the illusion we have of them being loving and accepting are the inverse of these very qualities, namely, devaluing and discarding.
When you are devalued and discarded, if you have any self
awareness (which most of us do), the time finally arrives
to take that final dose of medication from them. It is a tragic irony, that we ourselves, in most cases can’t get to the point of awareness and healing without their dosings.
After the final medicinal dose of cruelty has been inflicted,
unless one is completely insulated from the reality of their own
precious and inherent value as a lovable human being, the time arrives to face the painful truth. That truth being that
you are only as good as you are useful to them. You are not lovable and valued just because you are a special, unique person in their lives. The lack of reciprocity of that regard
contributes a great deal to the long, drawn out process and of the continuing denial, that ultimately leads to waking up.
No one wants to shed an identity, self definition, old reality
and life that holds meaning for them. That is why people hang in there for so long. At least it’s familiar. The known is always
safer than the unkown to those who have built their lives around people who undermine their self worth and value.
Life, instead of being something worth exploring, becomes something to fear, based on the pronouncements of those
we give our power away to.
That final dose of discard and devaluation holds within it something of intrinsic value that can’t be measured through the immediacy of the pain one feels at finally acknowledging
an essential truth about them. They don’t and can’t love us
in the ways we need, in the ways we’ve loved them and most
importantly the ways we’ve valued them.
What is it of such intrinsic value beneath all the grief and sorrow that will outlast all the pain of acceptance of the truth?
Ourselves.
We get to meet the very wholeness of who we are through embracing the pain and loss. We get to discover that our lives
were never meant to jump through hoops created to keep us
from getting our needs met. Like toddlers taking our first baby
steps, we get to experince the exhiliration of moving unencumbered by the support of any but ourselves!
Healing may be a long process, but well worth it, when the return is the ability to find peace and wholeness without having to look to another to provide that sense.
Most importantly, the way is cleared for starting the adventure
of SELF discovery, something many of us were trained we didn’t even have the right to pursue. We were assigned our places and roles in life early on. We faithfully toed the line until the ones came along that tested that self definiton until it cracked and broke under the pressure.
We’ve much to be thankful for that we’ve survived and are learning to thrive.
That is it! When everything we do , is for their benifit! And everything they do , is to our detroment! When we are willing to forgive and they never do! When we take the blame and they never do! When we are willing to give up our lives for their sake and they never give a TRUCK! About us! Or our feelings!
We Wake the Truck UP! Thank you!
Yes,, first I was over-valued as perfection in his eyes.. then devalued, blamed and discarded because I wouldn’t do as he said and make my life to his specifications..
Truth is I was ‘perfect’ for what he was looking for to meet his current needs then when I began seeing his holes clearly, seeing through his smoke screen, he had to make me out to be not perfect in order for him to keep his perfection mantle.. but when you go from being on a pedastel.. put there by them .. then are chipped away at.. it is difficult for anyone.. when I told him that he didn’t listen to me.. he told me that he was the only one in my life who really ever did listen to me.. and that he could see who I really am…
BS.. he couldn’t ever see himself clearly…
Good article..
OXY!! THAT’S THE PAMPHLET. your words should be on the flyer that we should be standing on street corners giving out. If someone had given me those words to read 15 years ago, I would’ve packed up and left. IF ONLY…
Dear Skylar, “If only”—“the saddest words of tongue or pen, it might have been” (wordsworth or someone said that, can’t remember who)
We can’t let the REGRETS get us down either, sweetie. And you know, I WAS WARNED about several of my Ps and I did NOT heed the warning. I think others here have also been warned and not listened. Now THERE’s something to make you want to BOINK yourself for, and believe me that is why my head is flat. I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED….BUT I DIDN’T.
PS. ” IF a frog had wings he would not bump his butt every time he hopped, either”
Oxy, you wrote this one like you’ve really been through it, and you made me remember when you wrote:
“When we are sad, we lie and paint on a face with a smile, so no one else can see that we have failed again to make the psychopath happy, that we aren’t really worthy for him or her to love us. Our painted faces don’t fool those closest to us though, and they know we are unhappy, but not why. If we try to share our truths with them, they don’t understand, which makes us even more unsure of ourselves. There is no validation. We only want consolation from the one that twists the truths and hurts us; he or she is the only one who can salve our wounds and make us feel better for a while.”
Isn’t it weird and terrifying when we get to the point where we think that the only one who can fix the pain is the one that caused it? This article makes me remember the days when I was thinking “If he would only do (whatever), even for a moment, then I would be okay.”
I can’t do any of this any more. Lie. Paint on a happy face. Agree with what I don’t understand. Endure gratuitous criticism or unwanted harassment. I’m not even sure I remember what exactly flipped that switch. I just know it flipped. And I’d almost forgotten what it was like before, until I read your post.
Truth does set us free. At some point we get tired of their lies and lying to ourselves. And that is the beginning of the rest of our lives.
Thanks for a great post.
Kathy
Thank you Oxy. It is so true. That is what finally set me free. Waking up and being really honest with myself, that I was living a lie. His lie. And as much as I wanted to beieve it, I had to stop fooling myself and WAKE UP! It wasn’t reality, it wasn’t real love. And accepting that is soooo hard, but accepting set me free. Painful as it is, it was my only option. Great article once again. HUGS!!!
Dear Kathy,
Yep, been there and done that, actually that is why you and I can write articles about it because we both “been there done that” and have a closet full of the tee-shirts! Realizing and then tearing the masks not only off of them, but the masks we put up as well is a hard project.
Here I am soon to be 63 and I iam finally the GENUINE OXY the “what you see is what I am” crusty old biddy some days and the can’t watch “Lassie come home” without crying my face off…don’t even talk about Old Yeller or Where the Red Fern Grows or the Yearling….I would be in bed for a week after watching all of them. LOL
But the thing is whatever face I wear each day is a REAL face, and really me. It may be different tomorrow, but that one will be REAL TOO. No more fakes, no more pretending, no more covering up for someone else’s bad deeds. If today’s face is sad you will see SAD, if tomorrow;’s face is mad, you will see MAD, if thenext day’s face is whatever, you will see whatever. What I feel is what you will see.
I have played “what would the neighbors think” for way too long, I no longer give a large rat’s behind what the neighbors think…if they even do think about me. I’m learning to validate myself by my own moral compass and as long as I can look myself in the mirror, then I am OK.
Amber, glad you are making progress, it is a long road but each step we take does make us less enslaved to the past! (((hugs))))
OxDrover:
“Lassie Come Home”, “Old Yeller”, & “Born Free”….they just don’t make ’em like that anymore.
Not to mention Marlon Brando, James Dean, & Elvis Presley. MEE-OW!