My ex might be dying.

Posted on September 10, 2016 by luckyotter

My MN ex may have cancer. He’s been coughing up blood a lot and has been a heavy smoker for years, and also smokes a lot of weed too. He’s also been losing a lot of weight. He tells my daughter he doesn’t think he has much time left.

He’s covered by Medicare (SSDI), but he’s terrified to go see a doctor. I don’t blame him actually. I’d be terrified too.

He told my daughter if he has cancer, he just wants to let nature take its course and doesn’t want treatment. He’s a very high spectrum malignant narcissist, but he hates himself and his life. What he lives is not a life, it’s an existence. He’s just marking time until death, and he’s not even that old (he’s 55, but looks 70).

Although I can’t stand him anymore and refuse to have further contact with him, this development makes me feel very sad. It makes me sad that he allowed his own narcissism to destroy him (as well as almost destroy the people who loved him, including our children). It makes me sad that he’s isolated himself from his family by driving the people who loved him away, one by one–and will probably die all alone with no one to really care. His parents are both dead and he has no other close relatives.

It makes me sad that he, like my mother, will most likely die without ever being free of his narcissistic prison. I am praying for him because although I don’t like him, I know he’s living in a self imposed hell of his own making and his life is without any joy or lightness or love or hope. He’s the most negative person I’ve ever met.

I would love to see him at least become self aware enough to make amends to both his children, and realize that what’s happened to him is his own doing, not the fault of those who were close to him. Not because I want to see him suffer the pain of self-discovery (I’m not a spiteful person seeking revenge), but because I feel like that could possibly redeem him in God’s eyes, even if it’s at the 11th hour.

No, he doesn’t have enough time to be cured of NPD (or ASPD, or whatever he actually has), because that can take years that I don’t think he has, but at least some kind of redemption may be possible and he can have a moment to reconcile with his family before he finally shucks off this mortal coil.

I would also love to see him accept the love of Christ and allow himself to be comforted in His arms during his last moments. He needs that so badly. I’ve felt the love of Christ very keenly lately, and when I feel overwhelmed or discouraged or depressed, I ask Him to take me in his arms, and I can feel that he really does and that brings me great comfort. I felt his presence strongly during my spiritual awakening (of sorts) in the Gulf of Mexico a couple of weeks ago. I feel it whenever I fall onto my bed and weep after therapy, and he just rocks me and holds me like the parent I always wanted and tells me everything will be alright. He was always there but I refused to see.

My daughter does still speak to her father sometimes, but after stealing all her money last month, there’s definitely a rift between them now, and she’s starting to realize what sort of person he really is and that he’s utterly incapable of loving anyone. He told her he wants her to have a baby before he dies so he can have a grandchild for a short time, but she’s smart enough to not do that until she’s actually married (she’s with a very good man now who I think might be “the one”–and there are no red flags that I can see).

Maybe this man, being so physically ill (even though there’s no proof it’s cancer it probably is), will begin to look at himself in a different light and begin to develop some self-awareness. I’m praying, and I know God listens. So I’m not without hope that at least that could happen.

When the Narcissist uses God Against You

Posted on August 31, 2016 by luckyotter

Read all about the way one woman’s narcissistic husband used religion to abuse and control her. Comments are disabled for this post; please comment on the original post.

Divorcing a Narcissist Blog

Before I met the Narcissist I pretty much identified as Atheist. I grew up being somewhat forced into the Catholic religion because my mom was raised that way. I think she felt like she wanted to give my sister and I a religious experience in life… but it always felt a bit shallow to me. My dad was raised Protestant was not particularly religious (and generally made fun of the “Heathen Catholic” religion.) My sister and I had to go to CCD classes and go through first communion and confirmation. As a family we went to church together at all of the major holidays… but I never felt a connection to God, and the religious experience was very limited to what happened at church.

I was always the kid who asked “why” and “how” in my CCD classes, constantly challenging the norm. I think most of the teachers didn’t know how…

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Going with the flow.

Posted on August 22, 2016 by luckyotter

I wanted to get up early and walk on the beach at sunrise, but I guess I was so exhausted from my long drive yesterday and busy evening (also stayed up late blogging about it and chatting with my son) that my body needed extra sleep, and I didn’t get up until about 1 PM!

No worries though. My son has to work all night tonight so he was still asleep too. I quietly ate some cereal and headed out. I decided to go back to Rees Park, where we witnessed the sun set last night. I felt like it was calling me back. This time I had the presence of mind to wear a swimsuit.

The day was hot, very hot–95 degrees and very sunny. I drove to Rees Park and immediately smelled the ocean smell and felt the soothing sea breeze, making it seem cooler. I noticed that unlike last night when we were there, the tide was coming in. There were no sandbars and there were very small waves (really, more like ripples), and a lot less of the beach was visible. Banks of puffy white clouds dotted the horizon against the bright, almost electric blue of the sky.

I took off my sandals and stepped into the water. It was as warm as bathwater! So unlike the ocean water further north, even as far south as Myrtle Beach. Of course, this was the Gulf, a smaller body of water than the Atlantic Ocean, so that probably had a lot to do with the very warm temperature.

I waded out into the water, and when I looked down, I saw small schools of tan colored fish swimming around my feet. I squeezed my toes into the very fine, silt-like sand, an lowered myself into the water. It was like sinking into a bathtub, only so much better.

I closed my eyes and used the rest of my senses to feel nature around me. I felt the ripples gently rocking me, and I just let my body respond to that, rolling over and floating and stretching every part of me that could be stretched. I breathed in the salty air and listened to the seagulls on the shore. I scooped up some of the silt-like sand into my hands, and squeezed the water out of it until the claylike substance squeezed out between my fingers and left a small ball in my hands. I looked at it and could see many tiny shells and fragments of shells studded throughout the ball. It felt so nice in my hands I decided to rub it all over my arms and then lifted my legs out of the water and rubbed some of it on those too.

I looked around me and saw a few other people, also just relaxing and enjoying nature. I had a short conversation with a woman lying in the water nearby, who was visiting her mother. She said this was better than going to a spa, and I agreed.

I just sat there, not caring that the tide was now getting dangerously close to where I’d laid my things. I looked down into the clear greenish water and then looked out where it seemed to stretch out into infinity, becoming dark blue as it receded into the distance. I looked down again and there were those little fish swimming all around me, as if protecting me. I looked back at the beach and gazed at the palm trees and listened to the hissing of their fronds in the gentle breeze. For a rare moment, I was completely in the moment, not worrying about the future or fretting over something in the past. I just was me, just a part of nature. Not my ego or my achievements or my failures or my fear or my anger or my shame. Just me.

I felt the healing energy of the sun, sand and water that cradled me, and realized that this was all God’s doing. It wasn’t the water rocking and comforting me, it was God holding me gently and using the warm water to do that. I never felt like I got that from my family or anyone else I loved, but God has always been there, always ready to hold and comfort me. All I had to do was ask and be open to it. I felt a lump of gratitude form in my throat and thanked him for bringing me to this place. Through grace, I knew I would be healed, that one day my mental disorders would be a thing of the past.

When I got back to the apartment, I found out an answer to an earlier prayer was answered favorably. I think that has everything to do with what I found out on the beach today.

Little Miracles.

Posted on August 21, 2016 by luckyotter

God keeps sending me all these little gifts and surprises that are becoming proof to me that he listens and cares. I’ve written about a few of these before. A few others are too hard to explain so I haven’t talked about them. Another one happened today, sort of a big one.

Katie from Dreams of a Better World blog and I have been having a lot of discussions (in the comments) about the nature of suffering and what it means. She’s also written some excellent and moving blog posts about it. A whole book could be written about this topic (and maybe has), but here’s the short version of what we both think suffering means.

God doesn’t cause us to suffer or make bad things happen. He isn’t a big bully in the sky. But he allows those things to happen and asks us to trust him when life looks hopeless. He uses those things so we learn to lean on him, and then he will begin to show us in small ways that he is there, and that increases faith.

What happened today seems like a dream, but I think it’s the beginning of a spiritual awakening…maybe. Time will tell. I know I’m changing, and they are all good changes. I don’t think these changes would be happening without God and the reason why things never changed before, was because I wasn’t ready to trust him or lean on him yet. I was still too proud and too suspicious and untrusting and skeptical because of my past. But you need to lean in completely and just let go. But that came later.

You reach a spiritual low that can go no further, in our cases caused by prolonged abuse, and one day we realize we must fight to survive. But we’re so weak and beaten down, how can we fight? But we do. We get angry at first, and rage and pound our fists against the walls and at the sky and maybe at God himself. But soon the angry fires burn themselves out and are replaced with a sort of openness. I can’t explain this openness but it happens after the anger. It’s like you’re empty and waiting. Waiting for what, you don’t know. You’re exhausted.

If you’re a writer, you start to write. Katie and are both write and that’s the tool God has given us to draw us closer to him, and to help us make sense of what happened to us. So we started blogs. For someone else, it might be art or music. Creativity is very close to spirituality, and it is given to us through grace.

That’s when God steps in.

And then everything begins to change.

Getting back to the conversation Katie and I were having in the comments about suffering, I decided to go to Mass today. I never go on Saturday but something told me to go today. The homily was about–

You guessed it. The nature of suffering and how God uses it to humble us and mold us into who he wants us to be.

I couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. I felt my heart open. Wiping away tears, I looked up at Jesus on the cross and whispered thank you.

After a lifetime of not knowing what I was put here for or what I wanted to do, and not being passionate about much of anything, the clouds are finally beginning to clear and some kind of plan is coming together for the rest of my life, and it’s nothing I could have ever dreamed up myself.

Whenever I tried to make choices without God, I always made the wrong ones and was back to where I started or worse. But now, I’m finally starting to see the path that God has laid out for me, because my faith is growing. And it’s the little miracles like what happened today that are helping with that.

When a scapegoat dances in the love of God

Posted on August 19, 2016 by luckyotter

This post just begs to be reblogged.

Comments here are disabled; please comment on the original post.

God is my guide and mentor.

Posted on August 7, 2016 by luckyotter

I don’t like to get all religious on this blog, but once again, God led me to a small thing that’s exactly what my soul needs. Just about a month ago, I found a wonderful book of devotions in the Laundromat. Those have been so helpful and comforting to me.

Today, I decided to look at the books that were marked-down at the grocery store, in hopes of finding an entertaining novel to read. Maybe something fun like a “beach” novel, something I could enjoy and then give away when finished. I usually avoid “Christian” novels because they’re not usually very well written (and are sometimes too obviously religious, which I find offputting). Be that as it may, almost immediately a book called “Crossroads” by Christian author William Paul Young (author of “The Shack“) caught my eye. I picked it up and read the blurb on the back, and I scanned a few pages. Well, well, well. Crossroads seems to be a book about an egotistical businessman who apparently developed a narcissistic, cold personality as a result of some sort of horrible trauma when he was younger. He doesn’t believe in God and is cynical, materialistic, and unhappy. One day he suffers a brain hemorrhage and almost dies. I won’t spoil anything else (and besides, I haven’t read it yet so I don’t know what happens) but it’s got to involve this protagonist’s spiritual transformation.

Wow. I write about narcissism; it’s a terrible problem in the world today and lately there’s a big part of me that wants to help not only victims of narcissistic abuse, but the narcissists themselves (in some kind of professional or spiritual setting and context, of course–I am no contact with all my former narcissists and plan to remain so).

Coincidence? No, I don’t think it is. Finding this book (marked down to just $4, which was exactly what I had on me in cash!) couldn’t have been more perfect for someone like me at the particular stage I am at in my healing. I found it when I was picking up a few food items after mass this morning, during which I had become particularly emotional during the Eucharist and felt filled with the Holy Spirit.

How can I doubt God when things like this keep happening? I know he’s leading me in a direction unique to me and that everything that happened to me was training for whatever it is he’s leading me to do. At this point, I trust his judgment much more than mine. When I try to make my own choices without God’s guidance, I usually make terrible ones.

Gifts a scapegoat brings to the world

Posted on July 23, 2016 by luckyotter

I thought Katie was gone, but she came back just when I needed her posts like a starving person needs a nourishing meal.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been depressed and resentful about my scapegoat status in my family and repeated throughout my life (especially in the workplace), sinking into resentment, envy, and self pity. These are bad emotions for me, they are bad for anyone! These emotions poison your soul. In fact, last night I told my wonderful therapist that I didn’t think therapy was working, because I felt like I’ve taken 3 steps back and failing to make any more progress. He reminded me that a lot of negative and self defeating emotions got triggered starting with my father’s death last month. He’s right, of course, but I still wasn’t buying it.

Reading Katie’s latest two posts made me realize that my unhappy upbringing, continued tendency to be the target of abusers, and lifelong, seemingly intractable poverty as an adult didn’t just happen in vain. I feel strongly, like Katie does, that those of us who were scapegoats and have suffered so much must be very spiritually strong for us to have been chosen for such difficult and harsh training–training for something far more wonderful than having the latest SUV or European vacation. If that sounds grandiose, then so be it, but I simply won’t and can’t believe that what happened to us happened for no reason at all.

Sometimes I yell at God.

Posted on June 29, 2016 by luckyotter

I talk to God a lot in my car, driving to and from work. Sometimes I talk to him at other times too, like when I’m in the shower or cleaning a house. Lately I’ve been getting in the habit of talking to him first thing upon awakening, even before my morning coffee. I think this is progress.

I guess you could say what I do is basically prayer, only it seems friendlier to to me think of “prayer” as having a conversation, and that’s what God and I seem to be doing. Even when it seems to be just a one sided conversation, with me doing all the talking (which it usually is), I just know that God is listening. And God does provide answers–maybe not right away, and maybe in ways I don’t expect, but my prayers do get acknowledged.

All relationships have their ups and downs, and my relationship with God is no exception. Sometimes I’m filled with gratitude and have nothing but praise for my Heavenly Therapist; but there are times when I’m mad at him. I mean, really furious-mad–spitting foam out the corners of your mouth enraged. When I get that mad, I yell. I know God can take it. Humans are more fragile; you can’t just go around screaming in their faces. Some people do that, but you might get beaten up for doing it. I know God won’t beat me up if I yell at him, and he won’t send me to hell either.

I used to be afraid to get angry at God. But I’ve come to know God well enough to know he’s not going to judge me for stating my opinions or even blaming him for the things that have made my life so ridiculously difficult. Like any loving father, God loves his children unconditionally, no matter how badly we behave. God knows what’s in our hearts, and yelling at God at least acknowledges I know he’s present and listening. And so, yelling at God becomes a form of prayer.

I screamed at God again this morning in the car. I woke up feeling triggered again by issues that were brought to the surface of my consciousness by my dad’s death almost a month ago (has it actually been that long?) I was feeling sorry for myself, bitter, enraged, sad, guilty, and regretful all at the same time. But the primary emotion I’ve been feeling is anger (which I know is a flimsy cover for the hurt and pain that lies beneath that). I wanted to get it off my chest and needed someone to blame, so I blamed God.

“Why did you let an emotionally fragile person like me be born to callous, hardened narcs?” I screamed at the top of my lungs, making the driver in the next lane stare at me curiously (my windows were rolled down). “It’s not f__king fair!,” I bellowed, not giving a damn that I dropped the F bomb in the presence of the Almighty. He was going to hear it from me!

“You are Almighty,” I continued, “you have all the power. You could have made things different, but YOU CHOSE NOT TO! WHY? You could have let me be born to people who knew how to love me and wouldn’t abandon me and turn against me later. Who would have helped me build healthy self esteem, who would always be there for me no matter what. You could have stopped me from marrying a sociopath narcissist who tried to obliterate me and almost turned my kids against me too! You could have let me develop enough confidence to be successful at something in this world and take a few risks instead of being a little pussy too afraid to come out of my box. But, NOOOOOOO,” I screamed sarcastically like the late John Belushi. “You let me suffer instead! You let everyone keep victimizing me even though YOU COULD HAVE DONE SOMETHING ABOUT IT! WHY? WHY? For the love of God (yeah, that’s you–OWN IT!), WHY??? (this said banging my fists on the dashboard after each “WHY?”). Why do you keep letting me struggle to survive, live paycheck to paycheck, even though I work and work and work and work until I feel like I’m going to die? And then get looked down on by my own family for not being as successful as them! Why does everyone else get all the breaks in life and I never do? I don’t have ANY advantages, NONE! I don’t have financial security, own my own home, I don’t have a supportive family, I don’t have a large circle of friends to stand in for family because I lack the confidence to reach out to anyone! I have no self confidence, I have no husband or lover, I’m all ALONE in the world, ALONE! DO YOU HEAR ME? Dammit. I can’t get close to ANYONE! And I’m SICK of it! You let people who do NOTHING throughout their whole lives, who had everything come easy to them, who haven’t suffered more than a chipped fingernail, people who never lift a finger for anyone else, EVER, who ABUSE others, then they get rewarded even more than they already are? WHY? WHY? WHY? HOW IS THAT FAIR? I DEMAND an answer. Dammit, I am MAD. What did I do to deserve this, God? WHAT? Nothing, that’s what! Sometimes I think you hate me! Sometimes I wonder why you let me even be born–it would have been better if I was aborted because the pain would only be for a minute or maybe not at all and not for a whole f__king lifetime! WHY, GOD, WHY? I DEMAND ANSWERS!”

After one of these rants, I’ll feel a bit better–exhausted and a little out of breath, but kind of relieved and relaxed too. Sheepishly, I’ll apologize for my outburst, and ask God to forgive me.

What I imagine then is a bemused smile on God’s face, for he is all forgiving and doesn’t hold grudges. I think he’s glad I turn to him in my moments of need, angry or not. He isn’t going to judge me by my moods or emotions. Ever so gently and quietly, he reminds me that adversity breeds wisdom and God has given me a difficult path because he has something planned for me that requires that particular kind of training–not because he hates my guts and wants me to suffer. Finally, in his patient and gentle way, he’ll remind me of all the things I do have to be grateful for right now, that my life is really much more blessed than it seemed 5 minutes ago when I was ranting like a banshee from hell.

****

Antidote to this post:
Changes

Changes.

Posted on June 26, 2016 by luckyotter

I never used to be able to relate to “positive thinking” statements. They seemed trite and shallow, as if they were made up for other people–people with normal lives, normal families, normal incomes, good jobs, who didn’t suffer from mental illness, who hadn’t been abused by almost everyone they had known, and who had an actual future to look forward to.

Dying slowly.

When I was with my narcopath ex, I really didn’t have a future. Not if I’d stayed with him. I was slowly dying a long, excruciating death–a death by annihilation of my spirit. His abuse was effecting my body, my mind, my emotions, and my soul. Pictures of me taken when I was with him compared to pictures taken of me now show the toll the relationship was taking on me. I looked older 3 years ago than I do now–and my depression showed on my face in every picture, even the smiling ones. I was overweight and miserable. Even my hair looked depressed, dull and without shine. When I was told to “just think positive” I felt nothing but rage and frustration. How could I even hope to have a better life, how could I even hope to ever be happy? A smiley face meme, a “thought for the day,” or “inspirational” coffee mug just wasn’t going to do it for me. And those things can be shallow and trite, but that doesn’t mean that a positive outlook is forever barred from me. It doesn’t mean I can’t still find happiness.

Cynicism and bitterness.

Even if I hadn’t been abused, by nature, I’m a depressive sort of person. As an INFJ, I think deeply about things and feel them even more deeply. I’m a worrywart who tends to see the glass as half empty. I catastrophize and ruminate and obsess and worry about almost everything. I get upset when I hear about wars, murders, shootings, racism, sexism, injustice, unkindness in general, and most of all, the abuse of animals and kids. Or the abuse of anyone for that matter.

I see all the trappings of success–big houses, late model cars, vacations, the latest this or that–and feel depressed because those things will never be mine. I wasn’t invited to be in the Club. I feel victimized and alone in the world. I used to think God hated me. I almost became an atheist–but not quite. I always felt *some* kind of presence, but didn’t think that presence thought very highly of me. I even thought that my purpose for existing was to be an example to others of what not to be. I felt like I was held in contempt and condescending pity by everyone. But what I didn’t know was I was projecting my own sense of self-hatred and hopelessness onto whatever Higher Intelligence was out there and everyone else too. The internal voices instilled in me by my emotional abusive upbringing echoed down the years and contaminated any ability I had to find joy and meaning in life. I became bitter and cynical, and turned up my nose at “happy people,” assuming they had no depth at all–but was it really just because I envied their ability to feel joy?

Slouching toward heaven.

When I finally went No Contact with my ex, things began to change. Not a lot at first, but for the first time ever, I felt some hope and even fleeting glimpses of joy. I started to blog. Writing down my feelings about what happened to me helped me make sense of them. Through blogging, I found a community of others in a similar situation. I no longer felt so alone. Blogging was the best sort of self-therapy I could have hoped for. A talent for writing was the one tool I had that began to help me be able to lift myself out of the mire.

Eventually, this got me to the point of wanting something more–an actual relationship with God. A lifelong agnostic, I began going to church and decided to become Catholic. I started to pray a lot more (I call it “talking to God,” which sounds friendlier). My faith was shaky and fragile (and still is), but I kept plugging away, asking God to give me the ability to trust him and to give me faith. If I couldn’t trust other people, it was especially hard to trust an entity I couldn’t even see. Sometimes I felt like God wasn’t listening and had doubts that he existed at all. But God was always someone I could turn to when no one else seemed to care. I had no choice! Over time, I felt myself beginning to change from within. I began to appreciate the things I had more, instead of feeling resentful and envious of others for having more than I did. I’ve even had a few of those rare transformative moments of gratitude and happiness so profound it brought me to tears.

I am grateful.

I may not have a lot, but I have what I need, and that’s a lot more than many. I don’t live in the best house in the world, but it’s a nice place to live and I like its cuteness and coziness. I don’t drive a late model car, but I have one that’s reliable and gets me where I need to go. I don’t come from a big loving supportive family, but I have two wonderful children who I have a good relationship with. I can’t afford to take real vacations, but I have a car to go on short day trips. I live in a beautiful part of the country, even if I’m jaded and don’t appreciate it as much as I used to. I can sit on my porch and see mountains and trees and flowers and see the night sky. I can hear birds singing outside my window. I don’t have to look outside my window and see a back alley full of broken glass and hear sirens and people fighting all night. I don’t love my job, but it pays for what I need and there are a lot worse things I could be doing. I have two wonderful cats. I have writing ability. My blog is doing well and is not only helping me, but it’s helping others too. I have a wonderful, empathic therapist who almost seemed to drop out of the sky at just the right time. Lately, I’ve been finding myself thinking that my glass is half full instead of half empty. That’s God changing my attitude in a really big way.

It’s not a smooth road. I still get triggered and go back to my old thinking patterns. I stil have days where I feel hopeless and unloved. These attitudes are so ingrained in me that removing them sometimes feels like performing a skeleton transplant. But all I have to do is lean on God and tell him I can’t handle it myself–and things do begin to look better. God is working on me, changing my attitudes, and people have said they’ve noticed a difference in me.

Big changes, bright future.

I have a very strong feeling that God is planning a major change for me in the near future–a change that would give me a whole fresh start and more choices than I’ve had. It looks very likely that in the very near future, probably before winter (my least favorite season–I hate it!) sets in, I will be moving to Florida to join my son. I won’t be living with my son; I will have my own place. He thinks he can get me a job where he works too. I will be living near the beach. I can watch the sunsets over the Gulf of Mexico every night if I want. While I love the North Carolina mountains, they don’t speak to my soul the way the ocean does, not even after 23 years of living here. I grew up in coastal New Jersey and New York and used to hit the beach every weekend in the summer since it was no more than an hour away from where I lived. The ocean is in my blood. Here where I live now, getting to the beach requires planning a vacation or at least a weekend getaway since the closest beach is a five hour drive away. I never have enough funds to do that though. I haven’t seen the ocean since 2008. That’s far too long.

I have no ties to North Carolina. There’s nothing left for me here–no friends, no family, no pressing commitments–so I won’t have any misgivings about packing up and leaving when the time is imminent. I’m trying to get my daughter to come with me, because I think she needs a change too. There’s nothing left for her here either except her dad, but he is a toxic person and her relationship with him is a codependent one. She may not want to leave him though. She feels responsible for him. But when and if she decides enough is enough (and I’m praying she does), the invitation to join me and her brother is always open.

I think that this move will change my life in so many positive ways. No, of course it won’t be perfect, but I will be living near my son again, I will near my beloved ocean again, and I can make a fresh start in a new place, free of all the ghosts of my abusive past I still associate with where I live now, and which continue to haunt me at times. I imagine myself in my little house or apartment, or sitting in front of the ocean, listening to the waves and the gulls, finally writing the book I keep saying I’m going to write. And I’ll thank my Heavenly Father every day for presenting me with such a positive life changing choice. I never felt like I had choices before. Now I think I do.

Why God has waited until now, I don’t really know, but it’s probably because I wasn’t ready. I wouldn’t have appreciated it. Maybe he wanted me to appreciate the things I already have first, before blessing me with new opportunities. Now, when I see positive thinking memes or inspirational quotes, I actually pay attention. Yes, they are trite and can be shallow and annoying when nothing else of substance is being given, but they do seem to have more meaning now. Is that because I feel like God is finally smiling down on me so I can relate to them better, or is it because I’ve changed enough to pay attention?

Little gifts.

God shows up at the strangest times. Earlier today I was at the Laundromat, and as I waited for my wash, I found a small devotional book called “Fear Not Tomorrow, God is Already There,” by Ruth Graham. It was sitting right there on the table, on top of a bunch of advertising circulars. A few years ago I would have left the book there. Today I took it home with me and said a small prayer of thanks. I know God left it there for me on purpose. I’ve realized he is always trying to show you in small ways how much he loves you, but if you’re not paying attention you won’t notice. If you open your heart to God and just talk to him, like you’d talk to your best friend or a loving parent, your heart will begin to change and your faith will grow stronger in tandem with that–and then it’s possible your whole life might take a turn for the better too. It’s so simple–how did it take me so long to see this beautiful truth? I feel in my bones that the last half of my life is going to be when the harvest comes in–a harvest rooted in the pain of my past.

Is there a reason why we suffered so much?

One last thought. There’s an old Buddhist proverb: “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” Everyone who ever touched my life has been a teacher to me. Yes, even the narcissists. Maybe especially them. If it weren’t for them, I would not be who I am today. I don’t think I would be as deep or as spiritual or value empathy and kindness as much as I do. I don’t think I would have the same sort of relationship with God. Many of the most spiritual (not necessarily religious–that’s a different animal!) people I know came from abusive backgrounds. They suffered terribly and carried that heavy spiritual load all their lives, then finally turned to God because there was no one else. In pain there comes much wisdom. Maybe God allows some of us to experience more adversity so we learn to lean on him instead of other people–and then when we learn to trust him, he finally blesses us with people who can help us and love us unconditionally. No, we should never have been abused by our narcissists. It definitely wasn’t fair. But out of that kind of adversity we can learn so much about ourselves, about human nature, and even learn to help others who suffer like we did. And that is my greatest wish now–to help others heal.