The Holiday blahs have certainly affected me today.  There was a season when hope was still in my vocabulary and all things seemed possible.  At the time, I had no idea it was a false promise from a Narcissist.

Love is what we are told we need.  Attachment is the downfall of loving, I guess.  But I don’t know how one thing works without the other … and I’ve never seen both work together.  The paradox of that confounds me.

In the movie, The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, there was technology that wiped out the memories of love.  I sometimes wish that it existed.  But I have discovered another clue into why my soul cannot seem to leave the horror of my abusive partner’s betrayal behind.  I’m quite certain that he would be entirely off my radar by now if I had not been so traumatized by him.

All the holiday commercials on TV this time of year sometimes serve as a rancid reminder about emotions that I once felt.  The illusion of love propagated by our culture is designed to make us want it but, what is it?

When my former beau reached for me, the anticipation of his touch was like an electrical arc charging the air.  Every smile, kiss and impassioned embrace that I shared with him was, to me, an expression of my love for him.  For him, a Narcissist and serial dater, it apparently was some game that he played to prove to himself that he had the ability to amuse, seduce and sexually satisfy a woman.

That’s the title of a movie that I watched again last night.  Although it is moderately amusing and the acting is very well done, there are similarities between the player’s justifications to his peer-aged lover and experiences that I had with my Narcissistic Partner are stunning. 

There were some major differences, however.  The female character, played by Diane Keaton, learned within a few weeks of falling in love that her new sweetheart was nothing more than a shameless womanizer.  The second major difference is that Jack Nicholson’s character actually experienced curiosity about the effect he had on his former lovers and sought them out in order to better understand himself. 

Of course, he had suffered an event which gave him cause to recognize his mortality… 

Time may or may not heal all wounds but I honestly can’t describe my present frame of mind any better than this awesome song by Carrie Underwood.

If you’d like to pick up some of her heart-felt and beautiful music at Amazon, check out this link.

While returning from an outing with my San Diego family last month, I marveled at the full moon which glowed like a beacon from above.  I was a passenger, so staring at the orb was not a safety hazard.

I began singing the same song that always comes to mind when I’m looking at a full moon.  When I was asked what song it was that I was singing, I drifted back in time to a quiet country road in Wisconsin where I rode along gazing at a similarly impressive moon and sang that same song during easier times.  Like my fellow passengers tonight, my former beau had inquired about the song they had never heard before.

Here comes another day, fraught with memories that comprise a most massive disappointment of my life for a thousand reasons and simultaneously for no reason at all.  My mother, who lived a full life, died two years ago on May 26th.  June 3rd marks the anniversary of her funeral, and another siginificant event in my life … the day my Narcissist chose to end our relationship.

 I don’t know what to think about that event.  I’ve garnered many opinions from others, yet I keep my own counsel on the matter.  A part of me wants to empathize with the stress my Narcissistic lover might have been under but another part of me wants to believe the words of those who also knew him then.  As he is a coward and will not speak of the event with me, his point of view remains hidden.

He came forwards as a hero on the day my mother fell into a coma.  He was at the hospital with me, being everything I dreamed a lover would be at such a time.  We spent hours on the phone talking over things as my mother’s condition worsened.  It is impossible to forget the angelic glow of white that surrounded him as he soothed her dying body in the hospital bed.   At face value, he was perfect in that role. 

The day Mom died, as he walked away from my car to go back to what he referred to as work, he claimed he felt free.  The tone of our conversations on the phone, the week after her death, took on a different tone.  He bagan to tell me my calls were intrusive but he never explained why.  The day of Mom’s funeral, when he came through my door nearly an hour late, unshaven and unshowered wearing clothes that looked as if they had been slept in, I felt the storm he brought with him.  I knew I was in danger with him that day but I had no where else to turn.

Days of festivals and parades are supposed to be fun.  Like my cat, who is disturbed by the noise, I stay in a back part of the house so as to be less affected by Lumberjack Days.
 
As I worked in my office, it occurred to me that there was only one “kind of” happy parade day experience for me here.  It would have been a perfect day had it not been for the upset from the night before with someone who couldn’t remember an agreement he had made with me after blowing off our 4th of July holiday plans that year and scheduling something else in conflict.  Of course, he didn’t inform me of this until all my other friends had plans of their own…   
 
It was always about what he wanted to have and, no matter how much I gave him, it wasn’t ever enough.  This is a Narcissist’s claim to fame, so I later learned.