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Somewhere Inbetween Time: Between Past-Perfect and Future-Perfect

By the Front Porch Talker

Somewhere along the time-space continuum we have space-time. Space is three-dimensional and time is in the fourth-dimension, with different spatial dimensions. According to perceptions, the universe has three dimensions of space and one of time. By combining space and time, we have the freedom to describe life more accurately—from the quantum level to the super galactical levels; thus, expanding our entire perceptions of time and space, and life ultimately.

Everything is relative, of course, even our own experiences and perceptions of life. Depending upon where we are observing an event, how close and how distant, and depending on the gravitational forces, we see what remains a fixed idea or perception of a truth, simply because we experienced it, forgetting that there is a bigger picture out there in the universe somewhere.

Our perceptions of time depend not only on the gravitational forces, but subjectively how we experience time. Metaphorically speaking, why does time seem to move too quickly when we are excited and engaged in the present moment, with such deep focus? Why does time seem to move eternally slow when we are depressed or isolated, seemingly repeating the same words to some awful song over and over?

What about epiphanies, which are preceded by the perception of uneven time moving in fits-and-starts, from faster to slower in uneven increments, then settling on that one spectacular blissful moment when we feel that time and space have perfectly melded into our understanding of the bigger picture of the world and our lives. Would obsessions be uneven time that settles into isolation, then?

Expression of our reality, the writing-and-speaking time continuum, lags far behind the universe, in both time and space. So, while the meta-world travels faster than the speed of light, with strings of energy, parallel universes, worm holes, black and white holes, and dying stars—we are stuck here on earth, dragged down by the tremendous force of gravity that is our language to describe life.

Literally and figuratively speaking, our dimensions of expression in the English language lag light-years behind perceptions of time and space in the universe. Speaking-and-writing time is a continuum of tenses, from past-perfect to future-perfect, with the present time somewhere in between past and future.

In addition, in the speaking-and-writing time continuum, our tenses are further slowed by wishy-washy possibilities: conditional-time, which considers all the possibilities, past and present; progressive-time  (subjunctive), which is forever lighting on this point or that without a conclusion; and,  (subjunctive) mood time, which is touchy-feely and passive-aggressive.

Our language is always limited by time and tense, just as we are. Spoken or written, language is stuck in compartments, or packages of energy. We say that we are in present tense. For example, we walk into a Dodge Dealership and buy a big new truck, on credit of course. Presently, we sign the loan papers.

But, the moment we drive our four-by-four Dodge Ram Truck out of the parking lot, we are already in the simple past. Our truck was new and was worth the price we paid on credit, but it lost value just by driving it away. The longer we own that truck, the older it gets (and we get), and the fuzzier our memory becomes of that day when we had that past-perfect recollection that eventually fades back into simple past when we retell the story, out of simplicity. Finally, we trade the truck in for a new one and we are back in the present-tense again. Then, we are in the future buying a new truck and then to future-perfect.

Our experiences and memories are shaded by “conditional-time” that moves us backward and forward in time, infinitely, never settling on a definite decision.  It is the land of what if’s and what might have been’s.  Likewise, “progressive-time” is always moving forward without conclusion or introspection. It is the workaholic-time where we never stop working long enough to conclude anything about our lives. It gives the illusion of progress.

Past-perfect is somewhere between forgetting and remembering.  The longer we have lived, the more we have remembered and forgotten.  From the simple past to further past to past-perfect, we move further into our memories from years ago, while never perfectly recalling all the details.

We may vividly recall our imagined mistakes overlaying those with our similar present mistakes. Somebody misunderstands or has an image of us that we feel personally insulted by. We believe this sleight was intentional, which distances us and adds insult to insult.

We are certain that we will never be understood by this person, nor will we understand them.  We remember only a particle or two of the insult, forgetting the context of when and how the remark had been made. We hear only a grain of the truth, say, that we were egotistical or that we cared too much about our public image.

Thus, we are stuck in between, in past-perfect where time and memories collide, distorting the truth, by causing endless repetitions of that one moment, or those few words: ego, image, cared—when we had been insulted. Although we move forward with our lives in the physical world, our past-perfect memories remain distant triggering moments frozen in time that multiply with even further distant insults that keep us forever stuck in the past, with no language to describe this state of being.

However, our recall is paradoxical: according to the Laws of Quantum Mechanics, everything will repeat itself over and over again; but, our limited time perceptions try to control an imagined timelessness of hopes and fears and sentiments into little packets of energy that are separate from the rest of our reality. So, what good is time travel if we are destined to keep making the same mistakes and having the same misperceptions with others?  Why communicate at all?

In a seemingly random moment, we see that person with whom we have felt so much misunderstanding and doubt.  We take a leap-of-faith anyway when that person explains the context of their remark in the present.  “Oh,” they say to you casually, almost as an aside, “I used the words ego and image and caring to describe you after seeing those very words quoted by you somewhere. I didn’t mean that I thought you were egotistic or controlling of your image. I would feel the same way.”

It is then that your perception changes from past-perfect to present, and then into the future.  These missteps in life are merely packets of fear or anger or despair freely floating in the speaking-writing time continuum. They only have meaning if we assign meaning to them. We only free ourselves from the time and memory repetition by allowing for randomness and chaos in our lives. We must admit that we have no control over when or how or why good or bad things happen to us. But we can awaken ourselves to the quaint possibility that language hinders us from moving out of past-perfect and into present compassion.

We signify this new compassion for ourselves after others have first been compassionate towards us. That is, we are not born with the ability to love others. First, others must love us giving us the example of compassion and unconditional love. If we don’t have this love, freely given to us, we cannot give it to somebody else, nor get love from someone else. Although we seem to be living in the same parallel universe, assuming that we are equally able to love and have compassion, the reality is that we are not even in the same galaxy speaking the same language.

This explains several possible theories about why some people become narcissists or sociopaths—unable to feel empathy, and without a conscience.  If they had been abused or neglected at a very young age, there is an “empty self” who cannot love others. Metaphorically speaking, they are forever stuck in past-perfect time that is so many light-years gone that the person is no longer fully conscious of the original abuse or insult. They may remember it intellectually, but have no ability to recall those painful memories, nor to experience them fully.

That is how past-perfect time, on the one hand, can be recall of fond memories of our childhood that may be distorted as time goes by; or how past-perfect time can imprison us in an endless repetition of insults or injury, or vacant bits of abuse or neglect that impair our ability to be present permanently.

If Past-perfect time is for stuck memories, then Future-perfect time is for dreamers and salesmen and optimists. Without the past to dwell on and casts doubts about the meaning of our lives, we are free to dream ahead to the infinite possibilities of what may lie ahead, given our current course of movement. Thus, we plan our futures as we think life should progress: college, marriage, work, divorce, work, retirement, and so on. For many of us, when our futures don’t progress in a straight line, the dream is in contra temps and irrationality, until we rewrite it.

No wonder we feel misunderstood: We are. Speaking-and-writing time is always once or twice removed from the present moment. We spend our lives trying to shore-up time, in one direction or another.  Metaphorically speaking, we exist in separate, parallel universes where we seem to be in the same world understanding the same things, wanting the same dreams: but we aren’t.  We may be light-years away from each other, while sitting together in the same place. Or, we may be inextricably connected to each other, while we have never met.

It’s no secret that every once in a while we awaken from our dreams. We realize that we have done this all before, again and again, ad infinitum; but only now are we aware that just thinking about it changes everything—somewhere inbetween time.

The Front Porch Talker, somewhere in between time


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27 Comments on "Somewhere Inbetween Time: Between Past-Perfect and Future-Perfect"

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Dear Front Porch Talker,

I read the above word salad and it makes perfect sense to me. I tried reading it back wards aloud and it made even better sense. If you play it with a musical score, say in 3/4 time and a minor key, it really sounds great! I think actually you might see about approaching an off Broadway company with this…perfect New Age musical!

I have often found myself both coming and going, and not knowing which way I am—coming OR going. I also know that my exterior presence looks like an older woman, a “mature” woman let us say, But I know for a fact, I am not a day over 18 and my whole wonderful adult life stretches out before me in future perfect tense….how could it be otherwise?

Past worse-than-imperfect time isn’t acceptable, at least not to the 18 year old me, and it saddens the “mature” me, I want a redo. Can you arrange that, and can I leap through time in a Funny looking gull-winged DeLorean car?

Oh, yes, that would be lovely wouldn’t it…

Well, the nice thing about all that is that we can actually jump around. Hang out in one place for a while, and then hang out in another.

And a lot it depends on the language we use to describe how we are experiencing things now. Right now I am longing for something the used to be. Right now I am excited about something that’s going to happen. Or I’m apprehensive. Or I’m sick and tired of. Or I’m basking in the satisfaction of. Or I’m wistful or resentful or awestruck or planning or coping or just concentrating on getting above it all so I can get some perspective. All of it placed on different spots on the elastic-bands that suspend me between the two horizons — as far as I can see into the past, and as far as I can see into the future.

And it’s all “real” in a way, because if it’s eating up our mental processing power, that’s real. But as for it being “true,” well, as you suggest, memories are pretty well edited to support our own personal mythology. And even the here-and-now is interpreted through our lenses of whatever emotional dramas are getting the most play at our internal cineplex. And the future — well, that would seem to be the least real of all, except for one little thing. Our beliefs about the future are shaping our actions right now — and it makes a lot of difference whether we’re worrying so much about having a car accident that we cause one, or whether we’re busy organizing our personal triumph over the forces of entropy or evil.

But still, here-and-now is the only “material” stuff we have to work with, and the only available opportunity to try to get a grip on objective reality. I am here. It is Thursday. I am typing on a Toshiba lap top in a bedroom overlooking a forest in upstate New work under a gray sky on a cold day, and somewhere in the world a lot of other things are happening. I can pick and choose what I care about, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re happening.

Which is something lke what I said in my first paragraph. We can’t change the fact that our perceptions are operating in so many ways at the same time. But we can pick and choose what we want to pay attention to. Or how much time we want to give it, or whether we want it to define who we are.

Now my future of finishing several projects and saving my relationships with my paying clients and getting nice checks that I can put in the bank is beckoning me away from remembrance of visiting on your front porch. But it’s been fun…

Kathy

I came across this article yesterday, and read only a snippit, thinking it was a little too quantum physics for me…I really just didn’t feel focused enough to read it, but decided to give it a go this AM and lo and behold, in some quarky sort of way it echoes where my interests are in this space-time.

I made a comment the other day about a book I’d read 10 years ago or so, called, “The Lover” in response to one of Oxy’s posts about memory. Ater thinking about that book, I searched for some on-line essays and reviews about it. I learned a new term: Trauma Fiction. I read some definitions of what trauma fiction is. It’s an out growth of Psycoanalitic theory and is applied to Literary works, that have certain charictaristics…Repitiiton being one element, as well as a certain unspeakability, indirection, ambiguity…An overwhelming sense of the need to bear witness, to testify, but a seeming inability to do so in any direct way.
The idea that primal trauma occurs at a prelinguistic stage, and marks us, (all of us) as seperate identities whose only hope of connection is through the symbolic order ie. language.

Original trauma is unspeakable however, and we only experience it through repitition. Memories are re-written forgotten, or skewed….

I know this is all very Phylosophical, but right now I’m digging it.

I found a great essay about the poetry of Emily Dickinson being a poetry of trauma…very interesting.

Thanks for your inspiration front porch talker lady. I think you’re on to something…I just can’t say what. LOL.

In thinking about this original article–and in thinking about traumas of var ious kinds.

Falling off a 10 story building is a big trauma even if it doesn’t kill you. (a) time to feel yourself slipping and not being able to do anything about it, to feel FEAR for what is coming(b) hitting the ground hard and physical injuries (c) and I guess afterwards trying to lay blame/responsibility on WHY something went wrong and you fell.

It goes much more wrong however, if you find that the ONE PERSON IN THE WORLD YOU LOVED AND TRUSTED PUSHED YOU OFF INTENDING TO KILL YOU. It seems to me that over all the broken bones you endured all the fear, learning the fact that this was your true love trying to kill you because they wanted another and wanted you out of the way.

It seems to me the same scenario would be much less traumatizing to me if I just slipped and fell by accident, or if the person who pushed me was a stranger who didn’t know me.

IMHO, the betrayal of the loved one is the biggest pain of all. The one that causes the emotional turmoil land trauma.

“This explains several possible theories about why some people become narcissists or sociopaths—unable to feel empathy, and without a conscience. If they had been abused or neglected at a very young age, there is an “empty self” who cannot love others.”

Most people who are neglected at an early age crave love and affection and very often end up running into the arms of socipaths for the rest of thier lives.

Every single sociopath I knew had non-disordered parents.

That is so sad, Oxy. It makes me feel like crying. Maybe I’m heading into a different type of grief.

You know, I never consciously thought that way. I think maybe my ability to expect too much of people got burned out of me early. I did fall madly in love with people, but at the same time I secretly assumed they would screw up. Or I would.

And when disaster struck, or more likely, when I added up all the disappointments and realized that there was no no love left and I’d have to make it on my own again, I never thought to grieve the loss of the person or my dreams. I think it was, more or less, what I expected.

I was more inclined to think, “Why me?” And assume that I’d done something wrong or there was something wrong with me, or even that God had stopped loving me and I was just destined to be alone and totally unprotected in the world. (And that was a true grief, but it was about me, not the other person.)

But reading your words, I realize that, of course, I trusted people. We have to trust people at some level just to do anything together. And when we’re doing the constructive, hopeful and intensely personal things of family and friendship and romantic relationships, and that trust is betrayed, even in small ways, it’s wrenching in the same way that an unexpected death is. Suddenly the scenery of your life is rearranged, and some of the things you really liked have just disappeared. And no one warned you this was going to happen, especially not the people who you trusted to not deliver these terrible surprises.

I think you’re right about the trauma being different than, say, a hurricane or an unknown hit-and-run driver. Because it’s personal. You thought you were known to these people and accepted and valued. To find out otherwise is such a loss of companionship, reinforcement, acknowledgement, comfort, safety, all kinds of things, not to mention your certainty that you understand anything at all.

I’m not good at sadness. I wish I were. I think I’d heal and let go of things faster. Every once in a while I get a wave of it, and I’m so grateful for it, because it feels like an authentic human response. It feels true.

And that’s what I felt when I read your post. Sad for you for being able to write it with such knowledge and feeling. And sad for my loss of something I can barely describe, except it was about loving and being loved back. Even if it was an illusion, it was a kind of nourishment to my soul.

Maybe I’m getting closer to being ready to give up being such a tough guy (or take for granted that I can be that anytime I need to be) and open myself up again to risk and surrender of a little of my total ownership of everything in my life.

What a thought…

Oxy and Kathleen, Your right, I think that betrayal by someone you thought loved you as much as you loved them is the WORST. Id rather have had physical pain than to go throught he betrayal of my daughters.
I clearly remember, going in to tuck up my daughtr, [then around 16,} and hugging her, I realised it wasnt her, but banked up pillows, covered with a blanket. She had escaped out the window and run off into the night!I can still feel the searing pain of hurt and betrayal, and of course th worry of wondering when shed come home, and in what state of drunkenness.
With my other girl,lying next to her on my bed,{in my tiny flat, after Id left my ex.} Shed fallen asleep, and I lay next to her, hugged her, and my salt tears fell onto her lovely long blonde hair. She woke up and said,”Get off! Stop it! Your wetting my hair!” I then realised she didnt care one jot about me.
Or D banning me from her wedding in 1994, but sending lovely glit edged invitation to David. I gota note telling me to stay away, {just after Id sent her A$1,000 as wedding present!}I thought the pain of this, being banned with no cause from my daughtes wedding,would kill me.
Small things.
She cam e home from school white faced, and said her period had started. I tried to hug her, and told her she wasnt sick, and if she felt better, Id drive her back to school. She agreed. I cleane d her room, made her bed, put a small bunch of Violets on her dressing table,with a packet of pads, witha loving note, sying,”Congrats darling, on becoming a woman!”.
When she got back home, she went to her room. Not a one word about the flowers and loving card. She said,
“My dressing tables very cluttered. Dont touch it again!” all this with a glare that would have soured the milk.
Again, I cried my eyes out.
The sting of these seemingly small betrayals I can still feel to this day.
Love, Mama Gem.PS I dont buy this theory that the poor dears were deprived and neglected as children. My two girls had love, boundaries, affection, and every care lavished on them.

Dear Kathy and Gem,

Yea, to me the BETRAYAL part is the worst INJURY. The other injuries are so easy to heal by comparison—after all it is just bone and muscle and skin, it will knit back together. Maybe a scar or two but it can be repaired.

The injury to the SOUL is so much worse. My egg donor early on after I had first found that the Trojan Horse and SHE had lied to me attacked me verbally when it was just the two of us together, and she cried (oh pity her!) how I was TRYING TO TAKE CONTROL OF HER MONEY. I was absolutely devastated because I KNEW THAT WAS FALSE and that she thought (even in a deluded state that I would try to take from her was a horrible injury to me) Later that day after I had left and gone home and cried and cried, she called me to tell me “sorry” and I said “BUT YOU SAID I WAS TRYING TO STEAL MONEY FROM YOU” and she said “Oh, I didn’t MEAN THAT, I WAS JUST TRYING ****TRYING*** TO HURT YOU” and then I was hurt 1,000 times worse than what she had said before about me trying to take her money. I had heard out of her own mouth that she was TRYING TO HURT ME. To tell a lie that she knew was not true because she KNEW IT WOULD HURT ME and she WANTED to hurt me.

What could hurt MORE? than the fact that my “mother” wanted to hurt me? What kind of a “mother” wants to hurt their child even as an adult? What loving kind and caring parent has enough rancor in their heart that they want to damage the relationship with their child by accusing the child falsely, then NOT EVEN THINKING IT DESERVES A REAL APOLOGY, OR A REAL FEELING OF REMORSE?

That was one of the most painful days in my life—the day my egg donor stopped being my mother. The day that I realized she did not have kind and caring intentions toward me, but that she wanted to hurt me, wanted to make me feel bad—and boy did she ever know how. It was also the day that I saw she had no remorse for feeling or acting this way toward me, and that I should not expect mercy from her.

Yes, it was sad…because though I was 60 years old when this sad day came, in a way it was my day of freedom, the freedom from forever trying to please her, to feel her love and acceptance rather than the disapproval and rancor that she really feels for me. I never did deserve that from her, and I no longer feel that I must accept that from her either. She no longer has a daughter. She is no longer my mother, but instead, just a DNA donor. Yes, it is sad, sad for her and also sad for me, but I am overcoming my loss and she is just sinking ever deeper into hers.

Dearest Oxy, I feel for you . There is NO pain like the pain of betrayal of this kind,especially of a Mother to her child!. Im lucky, as tho my Mum WAS very manipulative,at some place in my head I knew she was sick. But she was NEVERmean or nasty to me like the pain youve been through.
I STILL to this day cannot wrap my head around why my daughters behaved and behave this way to me.Every kindness I showed them seemed to make them hate and despise me all the MORE. {After Puberty that is.}Its INHUMAN to treat someone this way, who is acting with love, compassion and kindness. I DONT GET IT How and WHY do they do it?Not only sticking the knife in, but twisting it as well, and kicking you in the kidneys when your down.
The pain of childbirth is bad, but NOTHING like this kind of emotional and mental pain, it sears into the soul. I dont think Ill EVER get over it, the sheer injustice, malice aforethought, what makes these sick creatures tick? I wish I knew.I think you just have to learn to live with the pain and stay the F– away from them for GOOD. They are truly EVIL. Thats it, theyr evil.Im a loving Motherly person, and I did not deserve any of this!. Im angry now, and its a good thing, but I wont let it spoil my life any more.Love,
Mama Gem.

Oxy, my Mum is dead, and your Mum is dead to you, we’ll just have to be Mothers to each other!
You deserve the BEST of Mothers, we dont always get what we want, life is often very unfair and cruel.
But Im sending you the biggest Mum HUG of all time, and I love you.!YOU ARE AWESOME! We ALL love you!!
Mama gemXXXXto the moon and back.

Kathy, Oxy,
Its that terrible feeling of the ground being cut from under you, that everything youve been taught about love, trust,kindness, has suddenly gone, like a huge earthquake, or chasm appearing in front of your feet, then you falling into it.
Nothing will ever be the same again. And the pain seems more than you can bear, and you know now that NO_ONE can help you or save you, or say:”There there,-Im sure he/she didnt mean it.!”
Becuse suddenly you know YES, they DID mean it,yes, it was deliberate cruelty, no you didnt deserve it,for the first time you feel real HATRED against you,and can feel the breathe of satan on your neck.You now know what EVIL really is.Mama Gem.They did it to Christ, do you really suppose they wouldnt do it to you too?

Just a thought Oxy, but do you think your former Mum, {your egg donor,} is mentally sick?Not that it excuses her callous treatment of you in any way.Maybe her parents treated her this way,{ie, badly,} and shes unconsciously getting back at them thru you?
In any event shes the loser in all this, shes lost a precious daughter, just as my 2 spath Ds have lost their Mum.
Love and Hugs, Gem.XX

I have long wondered about a lot that has been discussed thus far.

I don’t know what I believe anymore, just a lot of questions that may never be answered.

I had a horrible childhood, can’t believe I lived thru it. Had 2a wicked mummy dearest, and she was raised in a great home, her mum, my grandmum was the best. Never could understand my mother’s evil towards me my whole life, don’t imagine I’ll get over it even with all the work I have done over the years.

Dad was abusive, but mom was sneaky, mean, manipulative and betrayed me at every turn. She was a wicked one. She took my best years from me.

Ex-Sociopath I have n/c with now was also borderline, bipolar, and of course, sociopath. As far as he claims, he was beaten terribly by his father, worse than I had it. I always had extra compassion for him because of his childhood abuse, one child abuse victim can so relate to another who has been thru hell and back.

After I discovered lf, I learned that psychopaths lie just to lie, so I don’t know what was true or not, I just look at it now that everything he told me was a lie.

My point is this: I was abandonned by my birth parents, after finding them years later, my birth dad threatened to kill me over 30 times. My birth mum refused me again, she said she had nothing to give me, like I was wanting anything to begin with, just wanted to know her story and who I looked like.

My adoptive homelife was a bloody nightmare, the worst part was the psychological brainwashing and the ptsd I still have as a result of their scapegoating me.

With the lack of love and abuse I have endured, I turned out to be the most compassionate person alive. So, I don’t buy the explanations anymore when it comes to people who have chosen to be psychopaths due to their childhood abuse. BS!

Dear finally got it! I agree with you, WE HAVE CHOICES, even if your (or their or my) genetics tend to point to a selfish person, we still have the CHOICE to act on it. WE HAVE FREE WILL as long as we have enough of a mind to KNOW RIGHT FROM WRONG.

I long ago saw a that KNOWING RIGHT FROM WRONG and acting on it, is a choice.

In the Bible the story of Adam and Even and the forbidden fruit is and has always been interesting to me. God told them not to eat of the “tree of the knowledge of good and evil”—not because he wanted to deprive them of this wonderful fruit, but because he wanted to PROTECT THEM from this knowledge. He wanted to keep them INNOCENT like children. But even an INNOCENT CHILD must have directions of “don’t touch” to protect it. The CHILD HAS A CHOICE to touch or not to touch though. Just as EVE didn’t know WHY she was not allowed to touch or eat of this tree, she knew she was commanded NOT to.

Well, of course, as the story goes, immediately when she ate, she KNEW the reason God had told her not to eat. Just as when we tell our 2 year old “don’t touch the stove” they IMMEDIATELY KNOW WHY—-IT’S HOT, and they get the consequences because they CHOSE to touch.

It doesn’t matter if the Devil lied to Eve and told her God was lying to her that God was being selfish and trying to keep the GOOD stuff for himself, or if like our 2 year old they decide for themselves to disobey, they GET THE CONSEQUENCES of their choices.

Finally got the lesson, you got the “double whammY”—Psychopathic birth parents, who did, though, toss you off to another set of parents, unfortunately though to another set of abusers—but it is obvious to me that though you were spawned of a pair of psychopaths, and even raised by a pair, YOU MADE THE CHOICE NOT TO BE AN ABUSER….it may have made it easier for you to accept BEING abused, just as being raised in a 4-wife marriage would make a woman more prone to accepting that kind of treatment from her husband in her own 4-wife marriage. But it doesn’t mean that you can’t LEARN BETTER and learn that you do not have to accept those choices, that you have and can make other choices.

I wasn’t aware of the choices I had available,, so I made choices that had consequences I didn’t like, but I found other choices, I decided I would make other choices, and I made other choices. We all can make other choices.

I do know the difference between Good and Evil and so does my Psychopathic son—I choose to do good, he chooses to do evil. We both have free will.

Sure it hurts that those who had an obligation to us (our parents) did not choose to honor that obligation to us by nurturing us and loving us—-but we have the choice to continue to let that abuse drag us down, or we can choose to rise above that. I choose to rise above.

It hurts when those that we honored our own obligation to them to be loving and caring parents to them and they reject that loving and nurturing and instead strike out at us. They had a choice, to return that love or to refuse to return that love.

We fulfilled our responsibility by trying to love and nurture them. They are adults and we no longer have any responsibility toward them. So we must choose to let their rejection of us ruin our lives or not. I choose to not let that ruin the rest of my life.

Our mother Eve blessed us with the knowledge of good and evil, and blessed us with the abilityto make choices…for better or for worse.

Unless it is a very small child without the knowledge of good or evil, or someone who has no intellect, we all have the ability to choose to do good or evil. I choose to do good and avoid those who do evil. Seems pretty simple, but it isn’t always that simple.

Gemini, Thank you sweetie! I needed the hug!

Dear Gemini:

Couldn’t have said it any better myself. It’s a soul destroyer.

“There is NO pain like the pain of betrayal of this kind,especially of a Mother to her child!”

TO ANYONE OUT THERE:

I would love to know your views on this:

Do you think psychopaths choose to be psychopaths even if they were born with no conscience?

Dear finallygotthelesson,

I don’t think anyone is born with or withOUT a conscience. A child is self centered at birth, they must be in order to survive, everything it wants is RIGHT! But as a child grows and its needs are met by those around it for survival, it can learn from those that do have a conscience what a conscience is and how to have EMPATHY for others.

There aare several good articles here on this very subject by Dr. Leedom. Go over the the side of the blog where the articles by Dr. Leedom are linked and go read them. I think they will answer your questions much better than I can.

I DO think psychopaths have the same choices to do or not do that you and I have. I think they KNOW right from wrong, it is just a matter of caring and empathy.

My beliefs: I agree with the proven research: psychopaths are born without a conscience. I don’t believe empathy is learned, I am a proven case.

Would love to hear more opinions!

Dear Gemini:

You hit it right on the head, when I finally came to the realization that everything evil that was done to me was deliberate that was when I was able to go nc and remain that way. My experience with the psycho has changed me more than I ever thought possible, I am forever changed which saddens me to no end, am much, much more cautious and untrusting with people to an extent I have never known.

I have experienced that breath of satan on my neck that you speak of, it is palpable.

I also feel that everything I have ever learned about love, trust and kindness has been taken from me, my innocence. I always really believed there was good in everyone, but no more.

Thanks for this validating post!!! Much joy and peace to you

: )

“Its that terrible feeling of the ground being cut from under you, that everything you’ve been taught about love, trust, kindness, has suddenly gone, like a huge earthquake, or chasm appearing in front of your feet, then you falling into it.
Nothing will ever be the same again. And the pain seems more than you can bear, and you know now that NO_ONE can help you or save you, or say:”There there,-Im sure he/she didnt mean it.!”

Because suddenly you know YES, they DID mean it, yes, it was deliberate cruelty, no you didn’t deserve it, for the first time you feel real HATRED against you,and can feel the breathe of satan on your neck. You now know what EVIL really is. Mama Gem. They did it to Christ, do you really suppose they wouldn’t do it to you too?

Dearest FinallyGTL,!and Oxy,
Thank you so much for your response.
I was praying today and God reminded me that we havent read the end of the book yet!{the Bible.} where He promises to wipe away every tear from every eye, and there shall be no more death.Thats when we get to sit at Christas right hand, sup with him and He’ll say,”Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter into thy rest prepared for you before the foundation of the world!He said “In this world you shall have tribulation but FEAR NOT! I HAVE OVERCOME THE WORLD!!The devil is under His feet, finally.Itsa comfort to realise in direct proportion to how much the devil hates us, Christ loves us! he did say,
“We wrestle,{fight} not against flesh and blood but against evil angels and the rulers of satans dark kingdom.”
WE ARE LOVED! Maybe not by our parents and children or spath husbands, wives, lovers,but our Heavenly Father loves us! We are the apple of His eye!We are carved on His heart! He holds us in the palm of his hand!As a Mother hen guards her chickens under her wings, so does God protect us. Remember Job, God would not allow satan to touch his soul, he put a hedge around it.So, our soul is intact, the devil cant touch it.And nor can our spath family members.
So we can take comfort in that
Love and Hugs,
Mama gem.XX

Dear Gemini,

I will never be an orphan! (((hugs))))

Dear Gemini:

Loved it!

Especially:

“Remember Job, God would not allow satan to touch his soul, he put a hedge around it. So, our soul is intact, the devil can’t touch it. And nor can our spath family members.
So we can take comfort in that.”

Amen, this really helps. : )

Hi, got the lesson! Not only that the devil cannot ‘Listen in’ on a private prayer between you and God, neither can he or any of his cohorts intercept the loving angel mesages,{that come to us as sudden “Inspirations”} from God or His angels. he’d love to be able to, but he cant.
So, thats a comfort too.!
Much Love, mama GemXX

Just concluded a one year relationship with a man who I believed I could spend my future with. I discovered that he was not only cheating but abusing my credit card. Now I do not see myself as a victim because the signs were already there. But, I was in denial.

I write this because there are plenty of women out there who will do the same. Not evaluate what is in front of them. Blinded by the false love and affection that they receive, thinking that it is actually the real thing.

The first warning sign was his awful relationship with his mother and his distrust of women. The second was his haste to marry after only a few months and his extremely romantic declarations. The third red flag was a type of disdain when I was not feeling well and could not visit him. He became cold and distant instead of caring.

In the first few months of our courtship, he asked very little about my interests.Five months later, he said he did not know my last name. I was amazed but still continued on because he appeared to be a good father to his children by his previous marriage and had a decent job and values.

But, I noticed that he would take short cuts. Something as simple as running red lights and speeding. Also, he had a horrible credit rating that he would not go into detail about.
He was insanely jealous, accusing me of seeing other men and wearing provocative outfits. He traveled a lot and was never around much but expected me to drop everything when he came into town. And I did.

In return, he took me on a few vacttions and did some household chores. I deferred marriage until I got to know him better. In the interim, “Mr. Romantic” never called or sent flowers for valentines day and also forgot my birthday and our anniversary. But still, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

When we had passed a year of our relatioship, I noticed a difference in his mood. He was now taking anxiety pills and medicine for depression. He also voiced his disdain for his looks and refused to accompany me to any social functions or participate when I had friends in my home. Said he was not interested in meeting any of my friends. Although he had few if any of his own. But still I persisted making the excuse for his behaviour due to his sad childhood. I prayed a lot.

Then, it happened. I discovered that he was seeing someone else. The evidence was indisputable. When I confronted him with it, he never affirmed or denied it. He did try to manipulate the betrayal by saying that he was happy but it was I who wanted the break up. He then categorically listed all of the things that he had done for me and promised to help if I ever needed it.

I was sucked back in for a moment. Trying to rectify the break up and get him to at least discuss what he had done.
Then, the credit card bills came in for charges that we had never agreed to. In retrospect, he had been with more than one woman in our relationship and lied continulously about it.
A little research showed that he had a pattern of doing this for many years. I was saddened but relieved that I was spared a future with him.

It was at that point that I thought there might be more to his bahaviour than what I had observed. It was then that I googled “sociopath.” I was shocked at the similarity in the definition and his personality traits. They were almost one and the same.

So, when your gut tells you that he is not really what he seems, listen to it. Evaluate small things. Even those that are as simple as a man who gets a thrill out of running red lights.

Very well written post. Yes I also volunteered to be a victim. Lesson learned.

Dear Bluediamond,

I second Henry’s opinion! WELL Written post! Glad you are here and thank you for sharing your experience.

YOU are SOOOOO RIGHT! Watch for red flags and honor even simple ones!

Again. Welcome! God bless.

bluediamond, ditto to what hens and ox drover just wrote!

😀

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