TRIGGER WARNING: This guy’s videos are incredibly good, but VERY intense. Still, I can’t stop watching them. Sage advice from a survivor of narcissistic abuse.
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Guest Post #6: Getting By One Day at a Time (Survivor Road)
Survivor Road is a blog written by a man who is a survival of childhood sexual abuse. I am not sure if he wants me to use his first name so I’ll err on the side of caution and not use it.
From his Welcome Page:
Researchers have found that 1 in 6 men have experienced abusive sexual experiences before age 18. And this is probably a low estimate, since it doesn’t include non-contact experiences, which can also have lasting negative effects.
If you’ve had such an experience, or think you might have, you are not alone.
If you wonder whether such an experience may be connected to some difficulties or challenges in your life now, you are not alone.
If you are a male–or female–survivor of sexual (or any other kind of) abuse, please stop by Survivor Road and say hello. You may find exactly what you’ve been looking for there and people who have been through similar trauma.
This brave man was kind enough to respond to my invitation for guest bloggers, but his post isn’t about abuse or mental illness per se. Instead, he wrote this inspirational post about how to survive as an abuse victim, the 12-step way: one day at a time. This sage advice can apply to almost any problem or situation which is tripping us up in life, not just surviving abuse.
GETTING BY ONE DAY AT A TIME
By Survivor Road
I’ve never liked public speaking. When Lauren asked me to write a guest post for this blog I thought I might feel different. I was wrong. This is so much akin to walking into a room filled with people that are all used to hearing from one person and now here am I, this new guy, a stranger, and what can he possibly say that is going to be of any importance? And I will agree what is important to me may not matter to you. (That doesn’t help the self-doubt either)…
If I could bottle up everything I’d like to say into one line, it would probably be:
You can survive each day if you live each day as just one day. No reliving the past or hiding in fear of the future. Today is more than enough for today.
I know, rather trite. But being trite doesn’t keep it from being true. I’ve found it works for myself, but so many I have talked to have expressed the same idea. You can only live in this moment, so don’t expend all your energy on any other time but the present. Don’t judge your past actions based on your present understanding. Accept your actions were acceptable for the time and place they happened.
This used to be much easier for me. For over thirty years I didn’t remember much before turning fifteen. Some good some not-so-great, but mostly my life as a kid was more mystery than memory. In my “gut” I knew there was more – there was something, but I couldn’t tell you what. I went through dozens of therapists by the age of forty, all with different ideas and philosophies. Religious, secular, it didn’t matter. I just wanted an answer to what happened so I could know who I was. The major hitch in all this – I believed who I was depended on what had happened to me.
Then, when the memories started returning, I wove a new ‘understanding’ – I believed I was what had happened to me. I was the abuse. Then I was the cause of the abuse. It was all my fault. And if I was so flawed I could cause those kinds of things to happen to me at nine, or five, or two… just imagine how screwed up I could make life yet to happen. So in one bucket I had my life, guilt over my past, and fear of my future all stewing together. And that sucker got real heavy in a hurry.
I’d love to say I have it all sorted out now. That I’m doing so great that I agreed to be a guest blogger. But that’s not the case. There are times I still wonder if my intense draw to other men is wrapped up in my abuse. And there are the nights I cry myself to sleep or sit up screaming in the middle of the night, reliving the pain, or worse – humiliation, of something from my past. I still deal with triggers which can be as innocuous as a word, sound, or smell.
I used to think that, if other people can manage, I can. I’ve heard/read stories so much worse than what I suffered of people who are survivors and living each day strong. But, for me anyhoo, trying to live my life because someone else manages to — that doesn’t work. I have to be because I want to be.
And, bottom line, there it is. I want to live. I want to accept all of me. That does not mean accepting what happened to me, but it does mean accepting that it did happen. Maybe a fine line, but a major difference in viewpoint. What happened was horrible. But it did happen. And that’s the other point – it did happen; but it is not happening anymore. And even when my dreams are interrupted by the terrible truth of the past, it is still of the past. Does it impact today? Sure. But does it rule today? No.
At least it doesn’t rule this day. Tomorrow is another day, but I will live that day when it gets here. My hands are still way too busy juggling to add anything future.
Life is not always sweet and wonderful. But it is life. Regardless of what I believe lies on the other side of death, there are things here and now that I am not willing to let go of. Even with the pain. Even with the memories. Even with the bouts of unfathomable depression.
You have the choice over how you live. I know it doesn’t always feel that way. And sometimes we can’t see anything but the destruction of our souls. But even when all is dark and we’re trapped within the cellar of depression, our actions are still our choice. Make the choice you are best able to make and there is no reason to regret it later.
Whether or not you can be at peace with the world around you, my hope for you is peace with the world within you.
Millennials and voting.
The Primary election is on Tuesday night, but I’m so out of the loop sometimes that I didn’t even realize early voting ended today. I always try to vote early because you can avoid all the crowds and craziness. Sort of like Christmas shopping.
I wasn’t planning on voting today. I was driving downtown to run some errands. But I happened to pass by the library and saw all the campaign signs and a long line of people waiting to get inside. Huh? Why so many people standing on line when it’s early voting?
I got out of my car and breathed in the warm early spring air. It was a glorious day, with the sun shining and the birds singing. A few trees are beginning to blossom. I walked over and asked someone why the line was so long, and she told me there was only an hour left before the early voting polls closed until Tuesday night! I’d made it right in the nick of time. So I thanked her and took my place at the back of the line. The atmosphere was party -like. People were excited about their candidates of choice, and the spring weather made things seem festive.
The vast majority of people waiting to vote were young families, many with babies. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many babies in one place since I took my own kids to Gymboree classes back when they were tiny toddlers. A quick mental calculation based on these young parents’ appearance told me they were part of the Millennial generation (born in the 1980s and 1990s) A few might have been later Gen-X or Gen Y, but not too many. I’ve been reading about how politically active the Millennials are, something the previous generation (Gen-X) was generally not when they were of like age, oh, about 20 years ago now. (Has it really been that long?)
There was a 20-something clean-cut young man handing out flyers and another 20-something young woman dressed in hipster garb and covered with campaign buttons enthusiastically talking about the election and handing out flyers for a different candidate. My own 24 year old son has also become politically active in his state. He’s campaigning for Bernie Sanders (who seems very popular with Millennials, which is ironic since he’s the oldest of all the candidates). A an aside, Bernie has amassed his enormous popularity among Millennials through social media, especially Twitter, where you can #FeeltheBern becoming an unquenchable fire. 2011’s ill-fated Occupy movement also built its momentum using Twitter to spread the word. The movement might have fizzled out before it could make a real impact (or been silenced), but I think it was the first real sign of things to come.
Millennials get it. They’re not taking any more of the same old, same old. They’re not backing candidates who spout the same old tired rhetoric we’ve become so familiar with, jaded candidates funded by huge corporations who promise change but fail to deliver. This generation has inherited a broken nation and no one seems to give a damn. They have had a terrible time getting a foot in the door of real adulthood because they can’t find decent jobs that pay a living wage and many can’t afford to move out of he home they grew up in. They are in college debt up to their eyeballs and will no doubt remain in debt until their late middle age or even for the rest of their lives if things don’t change. They’re sick of being called entitled crybabies, when all they want is the same opportunities that other generations before them did. They also realize that if things are going to change, it’s going to be them that have to make things change.
Most of the Millennial generation is now old enough to vote, and they are taking advantage of that right and showing up at the polls to exercise that hard-won right, whether they are male or female; black, white, Hispanic, or “other;” gay or straight; Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or atheist; and regardless of political affiliation (though most seem to be quite liberal or independent). As Americans, we all have the right to vote, and voting is the only thing that brings real change. If you fail to vote, do you really have a right to complain? Although I’m terribly unhappy with the state of this nation and have been for a long time, I always felt guilty griping about it whenever I failed to vote.
So I stood there on line feeling the spring breeze in my hair and looked around at all these enthusiastic Millennials on line, with their bumper crop of babies and toddlers (the future generation of this country), and felt very proud of this young adult generation, the same one William Strauss and Neil Howe predicted back in the 1990s would become the new “Greatest” generation–the people who would finally be able to save America from itself.
My greatest fear.
I just read this heartbreaking post, in which a mother commemorates the one month anniversary of her 24-year old son’s death (he had been involved in a terrible auto accident not long before he died that left him unconscious and brain dead).
The article triggered me. I too have a 24 year old son. Losing him–or my daughter who is going to be 23 next month–is my #1 greatest fear. My son lives about 800 miles away and of course has a life of his own, so I can’t keep an eye on him or keep him safe like I could when he was a little boy. My daughter lives nearby, but once again, she’s an adult and I can’t protect her anymore. Both of them drive, and thinking of what could happen to either of them on the road sends shivers of fear up and down my spine. I worry constantly about both of them. I want to know that they are safe. Some people think I’m a little neurotic about it, but I can’t help being a worrywart.
Bad things happen in this world. Sometimes they happen very close to home. Sometimes they even happen to your own child. There are so many uncertainties in life. Any of us could be taken at any time, for any reason.
If this happened to one of my children, I can’t even imagine being able to stay sane. I don’t think I’d even want to live anymore. I honestly don’t know how parents who have lost a child do it. How they go on. How they continue to make coffee, eat dinner, go to work, see a movie. Even, at some point, be able to smile and laugh again.
A child should never die before a parent. Not ever. But it happens sometimes.
My heart goes out to this brave blogger, this mother of a beautiful young man named Anthony who was taken way too soon, the victim of one of those unexpected, tragic things that sometimes happen without warning. I hope she knows that by posting this, she is in the thoughts and prayers of many. I’m also sure Anthony is still right there with her, smiling down on her from Heaven with the angels. I will keep her in my prayers.
***Share a Post Saturday!***
A couple of months ago I hosted a blog party but hardly anyone came. 😦
I’m going to try this again though.
I’m looking for some new blogs to read and would like know about them and I also want to help promote yours. Have a post you’re just dying to let everyone know about? Don’t be shy. Link to it here in the comments!
I’ll also share your post to all my social media, increasing your views.
All I ask in return is that you reblog this post when you drop your link. If you’d like, you can also share it to your social media too. Spread the word.
Have fun and go at it!
If this turns out to be successful, I’ll probably do this more often.
Shattered Dreams Poetry and Book.
A reader of this blog wanted to share some of her poetry with me and I asked her if it was alright to share the poems with my readers because they really resonated for me and I think other readers of this blog who have been married to or divorced narcissistic men could definitely relate to her writings.
Rina Lynn has her own blog of poetry (Shattered Dreams Poetry) about coping with the emotional fallout of narcissistic abuse and divorcing a narcissist. Please take the time to visit her site.
She also has a book, Shattered Dreams: Poetry for Women Divorcing a Narcissist, by Rina Lynn and Kay Gardner, which is $4 on Amazon.
Here are some of her poems.
The Great Escape
There was a chick
Who pecked and chipped
A window in the wall
Scrunched she sat
Tightly packed
Smooshed into a ball
The shell seemed swell
She knew it well
But her heart knew it was time
She peered outside
While hard she tried
To pretend her life was fine
Then cracks began
To rip and span
The whole of the world she knew
She closed her eyes
And tried to hide
Spinning her lies anew
It’d be ok
If she stayed
She’d lived here all her life
Her life was hell
Inside her shell
But she was just a wife
One piece fell
From off her shell
She began to be quite frantic
She tried so hard
To fix the shards
You should have seen her antics
Then with a glance
She saw her chance
And knew it had to be
With one great heave
The halves did cleave
And all at once she’s free
The Puppet Master
He picks his victims carefully
Then reels them in
With hateful glee
Gives them all their heart desires
Inflames their senses…..
…..ignites a fire…..
Tells them all they wish to hear
Then he owns them…..
…..this puppeteer……
He speaks a word
And they try their best
His every whim
To manifest
It becomes a daily thing
Dangling his prey
Upon his strings
Their individuality begins to dim
Disappears into the world of ‘him’
Soon they are just instruments
Who live to make his life content….
……where did their will go?
……why do they stay?
…..why don’t they escape…..
……and leave the fray?
A war of attrition is being fought
They respond…..
…..the way they ‘ought’…..
Doing their best to please another
While their identity is smothered
You can’t see the forest
For the trees
You can’t escape
Till you ‘see’ the strings
And understand it’s just a game
…..to enslave you …..
…..and drive you insane…..
The thrill of the sport…..
…..a manipulative zest….
To prove to him
He is the ‘best’
All you are…..
…..is another conquest…..
Swelling his appetite
…..and selfish greed…..
On hurt and control
…..his evil heart feeds…..
If only his dupes
Could really see
They hold the scissors…..
……to cut the strings…..
Then……they could truly be free…..
Living a life…..free of his deeds
The Feces Inspector
I had a job i did
For fully half my life
I examined feces
In my role as a wife
My husband produced
It freely
It seemed to roll right out
I followed him discretely
Trying not to shout
I knew this wasn’t normal
it couldn’t be ok
I wondered just what caused it
Each and every day
So I began a quest
The origin to explain
I set up a lab
The truth to explicate
I wore rubber gloves
To scrutinize his manure
I checked out what I fed him
His routine & DNA
Puzzling perceptions
Grew more enormous
By the day
When digging thru the dung
Looking back it seems
The stench that it created
Stifled all my dreams
I smeared it on the slides
Peered into my microscope
The closer that I looked
The more I lost my hope
The manufactured crap
Continued all the while
When picking thru the pile
It was really hard to smile
So I resigned the job
Gave up my inspector hat
Someone else can have it
I’m not doing more of that
I cleaned up the counter
Swept & mopped the floor
Threw away my samples
Walked out and locked the door
…….then beamed with satisfaction
Anger Has Been Banished. It’s Time to Go Away
There’s another person
Who lives inside of me
She’s so very bound
That she can’t get free
Her given name is anger
And she’s very strong
She stands up to deal
With the things that’s wrong
When my voice is silent
Her voice rings out loud
She can speak to bad guys
She truly makes me proud
Others do not like it
When she’s in control
But I gave her permission
To protect my soul
Until she was allowed
My life was filled with pain
I needed her assistance
My self-esteem to gain
Now my life is better
The perpetrator’s gone
But anger just won’t leave me
She feels this is her home
She’s overstayed her welcome
Now she needs to leave
Unfortunately we’re at odds
We’ve really disagreed
I think I can manage
She thinks I’ll be deceived
Serenity won’t visit
If she stays around
She says she’s rude and ugly
And wears a constant frown
I really need the comfort
Of tranquility
Poise, content, composure
And equanimity
They say that she can visit
When there is a need
But for them to live here
Anger must concede
Backbone, strength, and power
Will take her place today
Anger has been banished
Peacefulness can stay
Honor says it’s time
And I will be ok
Anger you must listen
It’s time to go away
The Scapegoat
It’s your fault!
…..from the very first…..
No matter who is punished…..
……yours will be the worst…..
Everyone else is perfect
But.….you are very bad…..
You try your best
To please the rest
But…..somehow you just can’t
You talk too loud
Or not enough
Or leave dishes in the sink
Someone else messed them up
But, it’s your job to see they’re cleaned
You’re too big
Or too small
The opposite of what is best
You work the hardest
Try the most
But never please the rest
Their evil deeds
…..are swept under the rug
…..or simply attributed to you…..
Then you’re screamed at
…..and penalized…..
For what you didn’t do
Chastised, reproved
Castigated, reprimanded
Disciplined each day
The weight of someone else’s deeds
Is placed upon your plate
The lies that are their alibis
Sound grand to all who hear
No sympathy
Will come your way
Only boos, and sneers…..
After all……who would tell…..
….such outrageous things?
No one in their right mind
Could really be so mean
So…..to others….it has a
Truthful ring
Embarrassment…..humiliation
Becomes your garment donned
There’s no way
To convince the audience
That by a NARC they have been conned……
You hang your head
Accept the shame
….while more blame is piled on……
The scapegoat……
…..who bears the sins of the home…..
…..so no one else needs to atone…..
Shame
Shame is that feeling
That you aren’t enough
You feel as if
You should be
Made of stronger stuff
It’s hard to hold
Your head up
It’s like you don’t belong
No matter what you do
It seems to be all wrong
People laugh and whisper
Or.….that’s what you believe…..
To be on equal footing
Is something
You just can’t perceive
But you must remember
We are all alike
Made in God’s image
So stand right up and fight
Most of the time
When shame has held you down
Worn you to a frazzle
Esteem’s been tightly bound
It’s because of something
You’ve taken on yourself
You didn’t even do it
It was done by someone else
Maybe it’s your family
That has done the deed
Maybe it’s somebody
Else’s lifetime creed
You believe that you
Must measure
Yourself by their thoughts
But you can’t accomplish
All the things you ‘ought’
You deem yourself ‘guilty’
Picking up the weight
Shame brings upon you
It seems it is your fate
But look at this whole thing
From a different view
Why must you pay?
For things you didn’t do?
Throw off that fault
Break that felon’s thong
The offense wasn’t yours
You did nothing wrong
Let others stand in their corruption
And shame will slide right off
You didn’t do the crime
You mustn’t pay the cost!
A Little Girl
A little girl
Whose life was hell
Tried to be so good
She washed her face
And combed her hair
And did everything she “should”
And as she grew
Her “oughts” did too
The load grew hard to bear
As others refrained…
She accomplished great things…
So they handed her their cares
She took on blame…
She took on shame…
The people round her knew she would
They used
Abused
And taunted her
Because she was so good
Talented
Proficient
An expert at so much
Alone each day she waited
For a single loving touch
As life passed by
She began to cry
But none had time to listen
The family left
She felt bereft
With tears her eyes did glisten
With deep despair
She combed her hair
And did the daily chores
The song was gone
She carried on
Alone
As each day before
Emotions and authenticity.
Emotions are the first language we ever speak. Their expression is a pre-verbal language that is gradually replaced with words as we grow out of infancy. All emotions are really just energy moving through the body (though I think they originate in the soul). This movement is expressed through various physical reactions as the emotion moves out of us–laughter, crying, sighs, various non-verbal sounds, wiggling or jumping up and down with joy, trembling, and various expressions of anger (of course we need to be mindful of this one). This idea of emotions as a language isn’t my own; it’s been suggested by others, but I think I would have come to that conclusion on my own sooner or later.
Babies and animals (especially higher level mammals like dogs or monkeys) don’t have words, but they are very good at communicating their feelings and needs. In fact, they are better at this than adult humans, because there is no pretense and no words to mask or obliterate visceral emotion. With a baby or an animal, what you see is what you get.
We don’t begin to have problems with this until adolescence or sometimes later childhood, when spoken language has become fluent. You don’t see a toddler or a dog presenting a false self or hiding their real feelings. Unless abused early on, there is no shame in their emotional expression. An animal or an infant will not lie to you, manipulate you, or tell you they are happy when they’re anything but. That’s because they don’t have the language behind which it becomes possible to hide.
Babies cry to communicate. We may not like it when they do, but it’s the most important way they communicate. It’s really just a pre-verbal language that helps them get their needs met. Of course they could be crying because they’re uncomfortable or in pain, but they also cry when they need nurturing and just need to feel attached to Mom. Most of us are naturally drawn to comfort a crying baby, but really, they are just telling us about their physical and emotional needs that in a few years might be expressed by, “I’m hungry” or “I’m angry” or “I need a hug” or “I feel lonely.” It’s not always “bad” when a baby cries, although it seems so to us, and we want them to stop. Babies also use their whole bodies when they cry. As the emotion moves through them, their entire body responds. They kick their legs, punch the air, and howl. When an adult expresses strong emotion, such as crying (and sometimes laughing), they tend to hold themselves back to some extent, only letting part or none of their body respond to the emotion. Babies also wiggle when they’re happy. Do you know of any adult who wiggles or jumps up and down with joy? It’s something we outgrow as adult, but is that really necessary? What’s really wrong with wiggling or running around the room with happiness or sobbing with abandon?
When a dog sees its owner, it will bark excitedly and jump up and down with joy. If it has misbehaved, it will show its guilt (and I’m convinced that dogs DO feel guilt and shame). If it’s sad or afraid, it whimpers and its whole body trembles. It doesn’t need to say “I’m sad” or “I’m happy” or “I feel ashamed.” Its body and face says it better than any words ever could. That’s why I think people relate to dogs so well. Dogs represent our own emotional natures, that to a greater or lesser extent, almost all of us keep behind wraps most of the time.
I’ll never forget the time I was helping a friend pet-sit. The owners had a dog and a cat, and while we were there, the owners came home. When the dog heard the key in the lock, he began to bark excitedly and jump wildly at the door, intermittently spinning around in circles, wagging his tail crazily and practically tripping over his own oversized feet in his excitement. When the owners came in, he practically knocked them to the floor, licking both their faces happily. Even the cat went nuts with happiness, rolling around ecstatically on the floor in front of them. He also ran up to the owners, purring loudly and meowing. Do you know any people over the age of 6 or 7 who act like these animals did during a reunion?
Of course we don’t want to become babies or pet dogs and cats, but they have a lot to teach us about authenticity and the courage to be emotionally vulnerable.
I’m in no way trying to imply that language isn’t a good thing. We evolved it for a reason. Language makes it possible for us to use more of our minds and make new discoveries. It’s the reason we can write a symphony, a novel, or make new scientific discoveries. Good language skills are an indicator of high intellectual ability. Words can also be great tools for genuine emotional expression. But when we grow up and start to use language completely in place of bodily emotional reactions to communicate, we throw out the baby with the bathwater. I think schools are responsible for a lot of this. Schools–like work environments–discourage the honest expression of emotions. We begin to hide our true feelings.
Of course, bad parenting that fails to mirror a child’s true feelings does the same thing and is even more damaging because it happens when the child is still pre-verbal. A child whose emotional needs have not been met and who isn’t mirrored when very young becomes ashamed of their emotions and tries to hide their vulnerability. In some cases the damage is so great the person develops complex PTSD or a personality disorder. We need to find ways to be emotionally honest without reverting to a preverbal, infantile state. I think we’d also be not only more emotionally healthy, but also more physically healthy if there weren’t so much shame attached to emotional expression. Numerous studies have shown that chronic illness later in life is linked to repressed emotions. I think what happens is when they’re not allowed to move through the body naturally, they get trapped in the body and can make you sick.
To help us get there, I recommend watching anything by Brene Brown, an author and public speaker who thinks that vulnerability and authenticity are things we modern humans need a lot more of. Her most popular video is “The Power of Vulnerability.” Many people have said it has completely turned their lives around.
Inner child work and a lovely dream.
A cute little song about narcissism.
I came across a song called “You Don’t Know Jack” by Girl With Ukelele. It’s a fun little song about a not so fun subject — a narcissistic “friend.” There’s no video of it, so I linked to the post where I found it, which has an audio you can play.
http://fawm.org/songs/57962
Here are the lyrics:
You, you’re always busting zongs
You think you know it all
But you don’t know Jack
You, you think you make the rules
You think you have them fooled
Cause you’re just on crack
chorus:
You may think I’m cruel but
You’re really just a weirdo
A narcissistic fool who thinks he is a hero
You, you think you are so cool
But you’re delusional
And just plain lazy
You , you think you’re so well liked
But they are just polite
They think you’re crazy
chorus:
You may be on top
Cause you lie and cheat to get there
But I will watch you drop
Cause you don’t deserve to be there
You, you kind of creep me out
Now that I figured out
You’re just a psycho
You, you are a parasite
I’m glad I saw the light
I’ve got your number
chorus:
You may think I’m cruel
But you’re really just a weirdo
A narcissistic fool who really is a zero
You, you think you know it all
Well you don’t know it all
You don’t know Jack
Finally, a clearer understanding of Narcissism & how it relates to CPTSD
WARNING: THIS VIDEO MAY BE TRIGGERING (I found it extremely so).
Lucky Otters Haven 