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Showing posts with label New Abode. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Abode. Show all posts

Monday, July 22, 2013

Love My New Place, and Gaslighting ...

Tuesday 23rd July 2013

As I type this, I can look straight out into ‘the bush’ (overseas visitors call it rainforest). Even in winter it’s a lush green comfort. The clock ticks lazily. My room is small and perfect, the cream walls and curtains bringing a sense of calm. In recent weeks I had the dreaded ‘strep throat’. It dragged on for two weeks before I finally went to the doctor, got antibiotics, and has taken more than another week to finally feel well. As a result, progress unpacking has been slow, but it’s been a joy to have a bigger space to work with.

I’m flatting with one woman, she’s older than me, has a fine sense of humour and is also into meditating. She owns this amazing three level A Frame house nestled into the trees in Titirangi. We share the kitchen and bathroom on the middle floor, but both have our own living room area. On the bottom level there’s an old fireplace which works well, and it’s been a great pleasure to light it and stare at the fire on these cold nights.

Ex lovers’ have been keen to keep my fires stoked in recent months, but that’s something I have to be a bit wary of. When I say ex lovers’, I don’t mean The Rooster. That’s one bird that I just can’t fantasise about. I suppose that was a sign anyway, that all those months of his anger, coldness, twisting of truth, left me unable to think of him with much passion. Even when I was at Vipassana Meditation for 10 days and burned with lust, it wasn’t the thought of him that created that excitement. When I did think of him, I would always see that strange fixed look on his face, as if I wasn’t really there at all.

To re-cap, that had shifted when I saw him on his birthday and still felt so much love. Yet surely I had to notice how it was me that moved towards him, that it was me who tried so hard to win back the love I had been promised ‘forever’. Surely I have since learnt that promises of forever seem to be a seal of doom.

 I think to a time when he once texted some outlandishly gothic sentiment when we were still in the thick of our romance. It left me cold. It was something like ‘even if I were dead to you I would still go on loving you forever with my wasted heart’. That isn’t exact, but it’s pretty close. I remember wondering whether to write it down at the time, because it was so full on. It’s the kind of thing I might have quite liked and believed when I was a teenager. For some reason I reminded him about it when we last spoke, and he denied it. Denied it in that very slow and cold way.

Today I read about a form of abuse employed by narcissists’ that’s been dubbed ‘gaslighting’. I don’t know if The Rooster was deliberately  trying to destroy me (cos some people do enjoy that) but I’d prefer to think that he simply wasn’t aware of his own mind or feelings well enough to be honest with himself or anyone else. I still think our relationship was wonderful and I still think there was a great deal of value in it. It was 'meant to be' and then 'meant to be over'. I can see that.

He did employ some ‘gaslighting’ techniques though, those things that made me second guess myself, things where I was going to have to apologize to him even though he was the one who was nasty to me. Even when he did finally apologize and admit that he had been a dick (not me as it turns out) he was hiding the trump card under his sleeve.  I remember asking him if there was anything I needed to know at least a week before I went away to meditate. That might have been a good time to mention that German Mother was back on the scene.

How defensive he was when I cried in disbelief. How cold and calculating he sounded as he informed me that it was a choice based on where he wanted to go ‘sexually’. He ignored my comments that pulled him up on lies he must have told me, and denied it when I reminded him of his ‘forever’ text.

Our love, once the thing of dreams come true, was reduced to that disgusting phone call. But he’s right in the end. He did choose the ‘right path’, because I can’t be with someone who doesn’t know his truth (at best) or who might be dangerously narcissistic (at worst).

So What Really Happened?
At the end of January his adoration suddenly caved in and appeared to turn into hatred. Literally overnight this happened. I forgave him for shouting and screaming at me. I forgave him for ignoring me as I cried all night. I forgave him for ignoring me and making a full breakfast for himself, and not for me, the following morning. I kept waiting for the apology. Instead, when I tentatively asked if what was going on, he was cold. The cold gave way to terrible anger again, as he told me I was a dick to have asked for his attention when he was tired

Since that day I emailed him countless times, being as fair as I possibly could be, continuing to say I loved him. He kept on and on insisting that I ‘just admit’ I’d been a dick. I wouldn’t. I would admit that my need for communication, affection and attention was ill-timed, but I would not collude in my own abuse. Many times I wondered if I had ‘just admitted’ I was a dick, that he could then have ‘forgiven me’ and we would have been ‘on track’.

All I could think of was how much I loved him and that he’d had a terrible breakdown. If someone has a break down, you stand by them.

 So I did.

Even as he continually denied the severity of his behaviour, I thought that surely we would work things out. The fact that he wouldn’t see me face to face didn’t help matters. The only time we did, he softened. Perhaps German Mother had already moved back into his bed, the smell of her skin replacing mine, her desire to please him without question too intoxicating to deny?

The smell of skin, of baking, of a routine they had established over a period of years. How convenient that she’d never moved her things into storage. It was her oversized, yellow 1980’s style couch I’d cried on all night. How nice it will be for them to slip back into each other, into old habits and new found appreciation of each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

As much as I loved him, a thread of wisdom has pulled me clear of the mess. For so long I have missed his languid voice, the strange sense of humour we shared, our love of music, our slightly obsessive desire to watch music documentaries together. He was a soul mate. I do think that still. But we all have more than one soul mate, and this was yet another learning experience.

He says he has followed his heart, but the heart is a most unreliable organ to rely on in an overly romantic sense. People will do anything in the name of ‘love’. Kill. Steal. Lie. Cheat. Stab you in the back as soon as it’s turned. It’s all so ephemeral, the wanting of the heart.  Besides, he had his heart in one hand and his cock in the other. All that beating must have been confusing.

The part I identified with most strongly in the gaslighting article (link posted below) was regarding disbelief. I really found it absolutely bizarre that someone could love me on a Friday and hate me by Saturday! Ha ha!

What is “Gaslighting”?
Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse used by narcissists in order to instill in their victim’s an extreme sense of anxiety and confusion to the point where they no longer trust their own memory, perception or judgment. 
(There are different phases described, and the one I’ve copied from the article is exactly what happened with The Rooster):
The Devaluation Phase:
The relationship has now shifted into the “devaluation phase”, and it is as if a lethal freak fog has descended over the relationship. Almost overnight the narcissist becomes decisively cold and uncaring. The victim’s falls from grace is a hard one, they cannot seem to do anything right anymore; the narcissists loving words turn to criticism, everything the victim tries ends in a negative effect, and they find themselves devalued at every turn. Totally confused, the victim has no idea what is happening, and they become increasingly stressed, unhappy and depressed with the situation. The roller-coaster relationship leaves the victim in a state of constant chaos, as if always “walking on eggshells”. All their energy is directed at defending themselves, so the narcissist is not getting the positive attention that they crave; this is likely to be the time when the narcissist starts to look for a fresh provider of narcissistic supply.
The narcissist gaslighting is now at its peak, and there is no reasoning with them. Confused by the narcissist’s bizarre behaviour, the victim works harder and harder to please their abuser in the hopes of getting the relationship back to where it was in the start, when it felt safe. Deprived of their “narcissistic drug”, the victim is suddenly thrown into strong withdrawal symptoms.
http://narcissisticbehavior.net/


As interesting as all the labels are, what matters most for me is continuing to meditate. I have not talked about how he treated me in January as I was ‘protecting him’ (and therefore any criticism of the fact that I still loved him). Bitching alone isn’t interesting or helpful, so my aim here is to share my experience with the hope of saving someone else from needless suffering.

The Rooster’s original abusive tantrum was such a shock. I thought it was a short term ‘spaz’ and that he would ‘wake up’ and get some help.

I now share this with the understanding that there wasn’t anything I could do for The Rooster, nothing I could have ‘done right’.

If someone is in denial and thinks it’s ok to call you a dick, to scream at you that they “don’t care” when you ask for a hug, then move on. Do not imagine that they are simply in need of more love. They may have already taken your love and used of it what they wished. You have outgrown your use. Don’t waste time feeling sorry for them. Don’t hang around hoping for that big high you had for the first four months (or however long it’s been). Yes, you are part of them, they are part of you, consider projection and all the rest if you must, but be wise. Go towards peace and kindness. If a man holding a knife was walking towards you and screaming with rage, you wouldn’t smile and keep walking towards him with open arms, thinking that with just enough understanding he might not kill you. You would fucking run!

So if you gotta run, run!

And as for me, well, I’m not going short of anything darlings. I have the perfect place to live and I’m enjoying being primarily vegetarian. I have reduced my Ritalin (for ADHD) since doing Vipassana, and on Saturday I’m going to an all day mediation course in Onehunga. I did the one day course last month too, it felt quietly supportive to meditate with others who have been through the10 day experience.

The benefits of doing Vipassana are so numerous that it just blows my little mind. I can’t recommend it enough. I thought hypnotherapy was amazing (and it is), but meditating in this particular fashion is deeper than I could have imagined possible.

Meditating is a form of hypnosis, and when you are aware of that, then you are the scientist of your own experiences. You can watch pain come and go. You can feel pleasure burn and pass through you like a wave. One thing is certain. It’s always changing. Love appears to come and go. Hatred can flare up where desire reigned.  For me, the only way out is through. To sit and observe. To be bored. To be thrilled. To think I know it all. To know nothing. To feel it All!


May All Beings Be happy!

Monday, April 23, 2012

New Abode!

New Abode


The Toscat is sort of leaning, sitting up next to me as I type. My back hurts, but I don't really mind. I'm exhausted, and that's okay. I'm home. I am where I'm meant to be. I love my new dwelling.


I feel like I'm in a boat because the room is narrow, yet when I look up there's a window that fills the whole end wall (just beyond all the stuff I haven't unpacked). In the morning, the light comes through that window (it sort of looks like another ranch slider until you get closer and see that the windows open outwards). Through that ranch slider like facade you see only native bush and the a few hints of other houses in the far off distance. I can walk around naked, and if someone is willing to get out their binoculars to see it, then they can go for gold.


Much thanks goes to Handsome Rob, the Sexy Ex and Da Mamma for their help in shifting all my marvelous and extraneous crap. Handsome Rob turned up with a trailer and despite having a number of other really important things going on in his life, still chose to spend hours helping me. I couldn't help but think about friendships once again, how someone can be in your life in 1992, and then shit, here we are in 2012 and it's still easy to connect with this person.


What's going on when you have a friend for many years and you didn't  recognise that they were a narcissistic, passive aggressive, self loathing A- hole ... and yet there are other friends you haven't been in touch with for a million years and then they glide back into your life so sweetly and kindly? Is that a sign that I am standing up for myself finally? That I'm not willing to be quite so understanding (ie; doormat?). I guess you can be understanding to a point, but if that point means taking abuse  (even quiet abuse, the kind that with holds love as punishment), then the point has been lost. 


Here's to the discovery of points. Ha, I'm not even making sense anymore, I'm so tired. 


Jobbie:


Teaching today was a bit ramshackle, and I haven't got a lesson plan for tomorrow. I'll get up early and do it, I'm just fried right now. I don't have enough hours, but I'm really excited about what I can do to help these women improve their English skills and build up their confidence. I just hope they don't bring their children tomorrow. Don't get me wrong, I love children, of course I do. I'm brilliant with them. But not when I'm trying to teach English to adults. Kind of hard when the mother whips out her breast and keeps feeding the demanding little beast during her English proficiency test. Another woman had this super ADHD child who was completely jacked up on sugar. The only way to shut him up was to draw pictures for him. I whispered to him as I drew, which he fortunately copied. I quite liked him when he whispered. He seemed less like the spawn of satan that way.


Oh, I'm not pregnant either, phew! I wouldn't mind popping one out if I had a consistent and committed partner etc, but it wouldn't be easy to do it in the current circumstances! Ha! Imagine that blog entry. I did wonder what on earth I'd do, and had decided I'd have managed fine, and that of course it would have been a very cute and well loved sproglet. Shit. It would have had the biggest eyes and lips ever!


The night away in Whangmata to get Nanna's ashes buried in with Robert's was really good. A number of rellies couldn't come or didn't want to, so it ended up being really intimate which was brilliant. This man we'll call Pat presided over the burial. He and his wife had known  Nanna and my Step Grandad (he also got re-buried on the same day) for about 35 years.


 It was kind of funny, because Pat talked about my Step Granddad like he was the most awesome man in the world, yet he was a creepy, violent old fuck head with a tendency to feel you up if you didn't wriggle away quickly enough. Ooh he loved a good tickle did my Grandad. I don't care, I forgave him years ago for feeling up my barely formed right breast as he shared a bible passage with me during my 11th year of life. Gave it a good old massage. He liked little breasts. Preferred them to grown ones I do believe. He had also done similar things, and worse, to both of my aunts. Perhaps my mum escaped such attentions due to the large size of her bosoms? It's all speculation now of course. Imagine asking him directly. "Grandad, before you die, I just wondered ..."


Pat was describing how great my step Granddad was with children. Ha! Yes indeed, you could definitely say he had a way with them, that's for sure. Adults thought we were squealing in delight as we ran screaming from him. I was screaming with genuine anxiety. I knew what sex was, and that was the vibe I got.


I looked over at my Aunt during some prayer in which Pat said "none of us are perfect". She was also open-eyed. I winked at her. I'm not usually a winker, but this occasion seemed to call for it. Dirty old Granddad was quite the winker. We smiled at each other. My Aunt is a fiery one. She's the sort that will just tell you to shut the fuck up if she feels the need to. I used to be really freaked out by that, but I'm not anymore. I'd tell her to fuck up too if that happened now. And then we'd hug. Maybe not right away, but we would.


Later she said that if I hadn't winked, and if the dogs hadn't come when they did, then she was about to speak up and say what she really thought about stinky old Granddad. We were  behaving for my Uncle's sake, and for the sake of Pat and his wife. Did Pat and Pattette realise that when this 'wonderful man' tickled their three year old son so much that he wet himself (a fun story they related at the graveside) that the poor kid was probably being molested when they weren't looking? Who wants to be tickled till they wet themselves? I didn't laugh. Oh how he loved children. Should really be on his little metal engraving.


The dogs came and saved the day. This other family were attending to their graves and their two amazing weird dogs ran over to explore. I called them over, and one in particular was ridiculously cute. It was a developmentally impaired bull dog. The owner ran over apologising as this amazing beast lay down on the grass by us and sort of spread eagled it's body flat to the ground. It truly looked like a stoned bull frog.We all were laughing and getting some much needed relief from all the Death, and the girl said "aw sorry, he's a bit retarded, he was the runt of the litter." I took a photo and then realised I'd left my memory card in the computer.


What was great about the graveside visit was describing Robert and Nanna. Sure, ole Granddad was a nasty bit of work, but Nanna loved him and I love Nanna. I only got to know her since Granddad died ... I think that was about 7 years or so ago. Robert was 13 (he'd be 44 going on 45 now!), but it was still good to acknowledge what I remembered of him. He was kind. He had lovely brown eyes.


Nanna had a blokey sense of humour, she was sharp tongued and musically gifted. She was cute. She was hard. She was coy. She was learning to paint in oils. She never gave up on love, deciding she would quite like to get married for a third time should a nice man come along. 


I love how people can be so very many things. Whatever is going on for you, don't stop. It's only too late when you're dead, and once your dead, you're back into the Big Endless Love and will more than likely be recycled into a new life. You won't remember it, so just focus on this one for now.


The best parts of the Whangamata weekend were swimming in the sea with my lovely young cousin, and going down to the wharf with mum on the Sunday before heading back to Auckland. My cousin is such an intelligent and sensitive soul, she's adorable.


Oh, and the sun is shining these days. Very happy about that. Bring me the vitamin D!!




xxx