Everyone has a Photographic Memory...some lack film... ~anonymous

Time with a man that I believe to be a psychopath and his extended other-worldly family members, led me from the paralysis of shock in what I had chosen and allowed into my life, through a maze of recovery.  But, the word recovery is not altogether accurate.  I came out the other side of the surreal nightmare as a different "me."  It was as if the naivete of  my delicate aspects of compassion and empathy had undergone compression as coal does when forming a diamond.  

 

My entry into this fun-house experience of frightening preternatural behavior began with my marriage; the one I jumped to embrace as I romantically and hopefully expected love in later life with all the trimmings.  The relentless surprises from the onset of our marriage, following the whirlwind courtship, proved extremely costly as I worked to bestow balance to the tsunami of needs and never-ending financial crises from my spouse and his family members. 

 

Looking back, I gave as freely as they took; as if there was a replenishing cycle from "on high" that would eternally fill the empty bank coffers.  Believing the familial love and basking in my unity with the clan, I jumped as a key player in a trained animal act to supply any missing ingredients to this sad "toxic cocktail" (Sandra L. Brown).  The anguish and out-of-place-and-time feel developed from being so quickly used, devalued, and discarded (Lisa E. Scott).  I had been no more than a tool of convenience to a traveling troop of grand actors as they paraded across the stage of my life and inner goals. 

 

The goodnesses of decency, love, and sacrifice for the greater picture had been surreally cut from a connection to me, the being, and devoured by the clan as an entree from the menu.  There is a skit from the TV sitcom, "Everybody loves Raymond," where the beleaguered wife describes her dysfunctional in-laws as a "traveling freak show that pitches a tent outside her home."  That was my take on the reality into which I had placed my roller coaster car in this carnival.

 

Two years past the timeline mark of being discarded, I have journeyed far within myself as I've sought answers and the ticket office to comprehension.  This beast of psychopathy and turn of directions for living left a deeply embedded scar as if I had been unwittingly vaccinated.  My immunity from contact with this attenuated organism has produced a state of nonresponsiveness to this disease of ponerology, the theological doctrine of dark wickedness.  But just hopefully I AM still a compassionate, bright, and aware presence.

 

Checking my email, I found a question from a lovely person from a forum to which I belong.  She was puzzled by the "unfriending" of an individual when her response to a post was simply questioning a written thought.   Facebook is such a strange land.  It reminds me of much of my life and especially that time with a narcissist.  Always wary of how I present myself...I find that even two years out, I watch my responses a bit.  I like many authors, page and forum creators, and even individual posters very much, however, I think ego for people who have attained an essence of familiarity is highlighted.  And the "unfriending" on this social network has struck me many times as traumatic. 

 

Being so "damaged" as I was in the beginning with the psychopath...and truthfully, as Sandra Brown writes because of the attraction for both me with my own baggage mixed with this entity and its need to be appreciated, I have found myself at times feeling adrift.  These forums are marvelous, and yet, there comes a moment when we have to be prepared (in my way of thinking) to figure out just who each of us (me, in this case) is on the inside, and how we want to proceed.  It sounds so simple when I write it, but it's full of unknowns.  I'd like to say I know exactly who I am, and where I am headed, but I'm just beginning...AGAIN.

I finished watching the movie, "Another Woman," with Gena Rowlands, Mia Farrow, Gene Hackman and many other well known actors.  It deals with a relatively accomplished woman who finds herself not really happy with the choices she's made in life.  That's a bit how I feel.  Did I manage to hide it before the psychopath?  Was that just the wake-up call?  But, somehow in dealing with "putting it out there" for all to see, trying to reasonably assess responses, and continuing on, I think it must really have to do with finding our own strengths and acknowledging that we have every right to be who we are.  Unconventional or not.

Sounds simplistic when put down in words.  Did we on that "unfriended" list do anything wrong?  Perhaps not at all.  I do believe that PTSD has affected me...and just maybe all of us.  AND if Brown is correct, it's to be a lifelong condition.  I used to take negatives from the "ether" so to heart.  Now - and I hope I haven't become too much in line with the psychopath's modus operandi - I look at my "intention."  I suspect I am now and perhaps forever "screwy."  I tread lightly at times with others because I don't always agree - especially as we each are living and picking up the pieces at our own stages and pace.  I know I do not look at life as I did in my enthusiastic vivacity before the psychopathic encounter.  Maybe that's not a bad thing.  BUT, I will say that we must each be as honest with ourselves and our thoughts/responses as possible...for ultimately it isn't even about the acquisition of data to make sense of the ordeal.  We are learning to be authentic once more.

There seems right now to be a huge amount of energy spent on dealing with plagiarism.  I have written a couple of little books and I make a pittance...but truthfully, they simply allowed me to say what I had and felt I needed to express.  I am not those written works.  And yet, that is in itself naive because words of valuable impact touch other's souls as the ones writing them reach from their most genuine essences. 

Monetary exchange seems always to pack a punch.  I not long ago noted a beautiful thought:  "the universe doesn't require us to toil."(unknown)  We seem to be operating from a place of concepts dealing with exchange.  There IS exchange, but it may not appear as strictly equivalent.  I am returning more and more to looking at my intent when communicating.  AND I find that even with all my faults, absurdities, idiosyncrasies, and oddball beliefs, that I'm not such a bad person.  I'm just a plain- Jane human being with no particular credits of fame and right now looking at finding more income within  some parameters I have created myself.  I have only gingerly toyed with the idea of romantic liaisons.

I am smiling as I remember the movie, "The Mirror Has Two Faces."  In it the rather strange male lead wants a relationship of mutual trust, respect, love and he feels it can only be found on the elevated mental and emotional plane of health if sex is not part of the mix.  He proposes to his lady-friend, another college professor, and with her prospects for romance with a capital "R" being low to nill - she feels herself to be oh-so less than attractive as a woman - she accepts. 

While the hormones remain at bay, she quips to his friend that the relationship is all so " sanitary."  As the attraction between the couple grows from genuinely "seeing" the other, the idea of sex becomes less than ethereal and passion begins to develop.  He remains afraid to add that ingredient, fearing the amazing zest and friendship will dissipate as in past experiences.  She, on the other hand, longs for the unifying adventure where all the walls fall.

Maybe that is what we who find our way to forums and networking sites seek.  A freedom of expression and openness.  But, the feel of closeness may only be imaginary because we need more than a two-dimensional representation of our humanity.  "Faith always contains an element of risk, of venture; and we are impelled to make the venture by the affinity and attraction which we feel in ourselves." ~ Dean Inge