Talking about the relationship of this kind, it is difficult not to slip in the charges and do not bump into the pathos. I’m not sure that works for me. To talk about this seriously because this story concerns my close people. However, I am convinced that my experience should be recorded. Though, because of the dozen articles I read on the subject, only one was devoted to the description of the victim. More than six months ago in a secret psychological group, I asked the question: “How to get away from abuser?” and are unable to get any clear answer, except: “Run without looking back and stop any interaction.” In practice, this implement is not so easy, especially when the person had become your mother and you have in common children.
Prior to the beginning of this year, the word “abuser” was not in my vocabulary, I knew nothing about <>. That near me reference abuser and part-time perversly Narcissus (Perversly narcissism is an extreme form of narcissism: the person absolutely deprived of the opportunity to see the causes of problems and failures in their actions and shifts the blame on circumstances and other people. He is a parasite on the attachment and conscience of others, and becomes the aggressor in the relationship – physical or emotional), I guessed only half a year before the final denouement. Most of all the process of realization was like a detective when from a set of disparate facts make up the whole picture.
I’m a patient man and so what is happening for a long time considered anything but abosom: punishment for past “sins,” a test of strength, humility, service, great love, and so on. Don’t want to go into details about our relationship – I can only say that the developments with suspicious accuracy described by the writers of the film “My king” of Narcissus 80 level with Vincent Cassel in the title role. It is a pity that it was released only in 2016 – I could “shoot” before.
At the beginning of our affair just lazy wisher didn’t compare my darling with a Blue Beard. But unless well-wishers who else believes? Even when the unfamiliar galaxy of young girls began to scribble me sympathetic letters, I laughed at them with a thirty-two year old height. Our relationship in that period was so powdered with a layer of sarcasm, which, I suspect, even the most watchful psychotherapist could not see would be him, of despair and resentment.
The unconscious, meanwhile, was desperately sending me warning signals in the form of nightmares, and the body was already hinted on the problem of psychosomatic disorders. I persistently did not notice the ugly dreams, frequent headaches and strange feelings in the abdomen, and the General depression blamed on postpartum depression and professional implementation failure. The only thing that bothered, it “blackened” the face: the features were sharp, and from the eyes appeared the eternal tension. Comrade, with whom we had not seen for three years and was found last December, asked: “What happened to you? You look like a lost battle. Who are you fighting for?”
An article about perverse aggression I came across by chance in the tape Facebook. Terminology there is a rather strange and the overall mood is too aggressive, but described the situation to a frightening detail repeated our model of communication. Then I began to think that everything that happens to me fits into a certain pattern. There was a double standard: I was not allowed, and the tenth part of what made my companion, just because I’m a mother, and the child is entirely my responsibility, my time and my personal space. For example, the request to babysit so I can work, most often heard response: “No.” Three years I have not been able to make plans for the weekend, because at any moment I could hear: “I changed my mind”. Of the weekend plans work out life plans, which, in General, too soon is not.
I became a wife, whose sole purpose was to enrage her husband and prevent his outbursts of anger. The trick is that this is impossible: if you put the perfect order in the house, be sure to hear that you’re a bad mother, but if too passionate about a child, you hint that you missed career opportunities. The emphasis was on the fact that something I have not done, any efforts are ignored. At some point all of his actions, I began to mentally add the prefix “under-” and almost believed what I absurd on all fronts. Some glimmers of self-esteem I felt only when I was able to be helpful to my husband. On their own desires and aspirations, I have simply no remaining resource, and motherhood against this background, it was turned into a torture. The guilt my companion was observed.
At first I was elated: I was able to bring her man to clean water, and to understand that his influence on me is not the result of any special hypnotic abilities and a very clear set of repetitive actions. All subsequent quarrels, deceptions and manipulations of the time seemed programmed. I crack them in two accounts, on which we then laughed together. And the twisted pattern was much stronger than the man himself. It was an unconscious schema, which a certain degree of pedantry applied to every woman Bluebeard. When I first became really boring – I really didn’t want to be the heroine of a recurring scenario. And sad because I no longer understand whether these actions any love. I realized that I no longer feel in myself forces to continue the relationship under these conditions.
We went to a therapist. We must pay tribute to my abuser: he also wanted to change the situation (for the desire to change much I was willing to forgive him) and agreed to look the part. On our first session, came the words “passive-aggressive” – they explained my desire to mask the problems of irony when in fact I most like the offender somehow cripple. I must say, the irony gradually began to refuse me, and I often happened nervous breakdowns that used to happen every ten years.
In the second session, after another of the breakdown I came alone. A couple of months, the therapist helped to make two other discoveries which were the last parts of my puzzle detective. First: the person next to me is no empathy. All the situations which I could not find an explanation, suddenly cleared. The idea about lack of empathy crippled my already chaotic picture of the world: and how about the fact that we knew each other’s sentences? Why are we equally appreciate films? And why so well-read human emotions? Later it turned out that perverzne daffodils do not experience emotions in the conventional sense, but simulate them perfectly.
After this discovery the “tips” began to pour in on me from all sides. In early spring I why-that has twice revised the Mel Gibson’s movie “Apocalypto”. There is one uplifting moment: the main character ceases to escape from the chase, finally when he feels his territory, and shouts of the pursuers: “I am Jaguar paw. This is my forest. And I’m not afraid”. I watched this scene until, until I learned the language of the Indians of these words, and in tears, put them on the pic. Then I couldn’t quite understand what it is I’m not going to be afraid and where to begin my forest.
I helped the therapist. I complained to her that recently, can’t think of anything that my creative flow has long dried up. She said something like: “There is love and there is fear – the more fear, the less love. Creativity is born out of love. And you’re the last three years living in fear. Creativity just nowhere to take it.” What I have long been taken for existential longing, was fear. I still difficult to explain its nature: no one threatened me with physical destruction, but I felt that if this relationship continues, I’ll just end.
For the first time in three years I was feeling sorry for myself. No longer wanted to keep the face – and I allowed myself to experience any emotion and live it to the end. For example, learned really angry. And in the most inappropriate situations want to admit feelings, and I admitted, hoping thereby to somehow conjure a leaving love. If I was hurt, I talked about it and cried, finally ceasing to sneer at me with a disturbing situation. I stopped lying, but I still didn’t have the strength and courage to end it all.
My therapist brought a metaphor of Russian fairy tales, which quite accurately described my state: soldier, hacked to pieces, dead first, bring the water to coalesce, and then alive. It is better that I grow on the island of Bali – from the same trip on the motorbike along the rice fields of Ubud, I almost physically feel the drag on my wounds. In may I went back with the baby to celebrate its third anniversary. Bali became my dead water: I gathered myself together, that I had the strength to finally crawl out from the field of battle. A week after arriving home I Packed my things and moved.
The first three months after retiring I thought that I was joking. Never in my life have I went from a man who continued to love, or to fear. Although there was euphoria from the fact that this is finally over, the sensation was strange. I really felt like a warrior who won some meaningless battle and does not understand what to do next. Fear gradually eroded. Along with this began to change and my child, who previously cried in the wind, now fiercely fought for the blades and the machine.
I’m in no hurry to forget everything that happened to me. I decided to be sad for as long as I grashtitsa, cry a lot, to confess his love to until it’s over. Now in place of all powerful feelings came sadness, more like mourning. I don’t want to distract from this feeling, do not want to have an affair, do not want to drink or dance to exhaustion – I know I need to trustit.
We still keep in touch, though, because we have a common child. Our correspondence again full of irony, and the whole situation affectionately called “abusers karuselli” I “deftly jumped”. Recently my abuser he sent a link to an article about perverzne the daffodils with the comment: “Jackpot!” This is the latest and the most accurate that I have read on the subject, and I hope this material for yourself it is already close.
Watch as native you the person consciously chooses to be bad, terribly. To see how the mechanism of self-destruction, and to be involved in it – creepy. Know that you are not able to influence it, is the worst. To see the man again triggers the same mechanism with other girls, just sad. Don’t know what will you need to have to break this pattern. And I am infinitely sorry for his Blue Beard.
I believe that our mind strives to overcome the injury and put us in such conditions that this injury has become obsolete. In almost all previous relationships I was the victim of many important decisions I have taken out of fear (fear of being left alone, fear of making the wrong choice, fear of losing opportunities), but none of the previous experience gave me so clearly to understand that the path of fear – a false way.
After this tear off all my work projects, which was pointless to continue, collapsing superficial relationship with boring people, collapsing values that have been imparted to me in childhood and with whom I have not internally agree. I don’t want to be afraid and not want to lie. Because I am Jaguar paw this is my forest, and I’m not afraid.