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

The Now...with Gusto

My two grandsons, ages 6 and 7, and I beat-feet riding a longer distance than usual on our three bicycles to outrun an incoming thunderstorm.  Old Grandma, in my mind's eye, looked a bit like a hippo paddling a storm tossed lake with gale force winds swinging the canoe as I huffed and puffed and pushed to pedal the bike...all the while muttering, Dear Power Above, please don't let me keel over.  The little men with determination on their side pedaled with great strides and periodically stopped to give Ol' Grandma a chance to catch up.  The dark clouds swept closer and the wind kicked sand and dirt into small swirling dervishes as we strove to keep-on-keeping-on until their apartment was reached.  Worn out, but full of the joy of camaraderie, we put the bikes away and waddled inside.  They and their mom had been invited to an amazing blue-ribbon resort, The Yellowstone Club, and they were full of eager anticipation for this delightful summer adventure to begin early the next day.  With their trip, I would find myself using my free days to handle a few chores I'd put on the back burner.

 

Following an office cleaning job, my energy levels dipped and I drug myself home to lounge in a hot bath.  Suddenly the pulled thigh and knee muslces roared into raging leg cramps.  As I worked with different body positions, I spoke with the Power Above, imagining what the newspaper headline might be the next day.  "Elderly women rescued from tub by paramedics responding to the forlorn cries of her two dogs and cat."  Not so much over my plight because they have a most well adjusted connection with the All That Is, but lamenting the absence of a thumb to open the pet food cans.   Moments later, I was delivered from the agony and climbed tenderly over the edge of the tub.  Less than graceful, certainly, but functioning.

 

The next day I helped pack my daughter and her sons' van and bid them a "high ho, Silver...and glorious adventure."  My to-do list of an apartment to clean and two vehicles to detail was successfully completed and I celebrated with six ounces of "hard" lemonade, a gift from my youngest daughter and her fiance.   An ace bandage and the alcohol had wonderfully delivered relief to my antiquated body parts.  I settled onto my reclining piece of furniture with a small meal.  However, the sun, heat and missing a couple of food portions in my enjoyment of accomplishment found me in very intimate coherence with a bathroom lavatory.  Once again expressing my plight to the Power Above, I evaluated that I could tidy myself and crawl to the livingroom couch, but could I re-clothe my bedraggled body in the process with my knickers having been rather unceremoniously discarded.  Within a few brief moments, I found enough strength and willpower to dress in a semi-appropriate attire and make my way to the haven of the sofa, promising the Power Above never to become schnockered like that again.

 

Vernon Howard states that living in the Now is being mindful of actions and thoughts that we so often slot as running on autopilot.  He suggests being aware of even the smallest styles of movement and body functionings.  "Watch yourself as you turn the door handle, walk, and follow through with tasks."  The same is true for conceptions.  James Allen wrote an amazing work called As A Man Thinketh.   People "themselves are makers of themselves by the thoughts they choose and encourage.  The sum of a man's thoughts are his character and character influences the conditions and circumstances of his life." 

 

So this "now" should be experienced as new with each passing segment of time.  Awareness of this amazing biological machine and the challenges of this physical domain keep the spirit alert.  We really are connected to a grand Universe and there exists a large scale map with an overview.  Gabriele in the movie, "The Prophecy," has returned to his path as an angel and says to the hero of the third in the series, "there is a plan...get used to it."  I love this set of movies.  Enjoy this now...it is a spectacular bestowal of Grace.

 

                                "I went to the bookstore and asked the saleswoman,

                                              'Where's the self-help section?' 

                                 She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose." 

                                                             ~George Carlin

 

Libidinal Investment

Working on my own path in this old world, I had an experience with a spouse I believe to be a psychopath and his nutter-clan.  Why the categorization?  The definition and offshoot emotions explain my state of present mind and the ordeal from which I am "recovering."  What an odd word, "recovering."  Because in reality, it was simply a well placed and powerful wake-up call to reclaim and restate myself.

 

Scientology in my family and extended family members brought the awareness of this belief system to me.  MUCH of the data and processes do work.  Having said that, I feel that power and a segregatory element of socialization offers a rather well-tread path of control.  We all want to belong, to find that brotherhood of like minds.  And we seem to desire a connection with decency, on the whole.  I watched a very interesting interview with Jason Beghe on his experiences in Scientolgy, and he has now departed that organization.  He made a rather remarkable observation, one that hit home: many of us get involved to help others.  His physical affectations and choice of colorful adjectives in the interview reminded me so of myself when attempting to fathom what happened to me in the aftermath of a narcissist/psychopath in my recent history.  He repeated numerous times the statement, "I just don't get it."  He was speaking of many levels...most of all, I suspect, of what went wrong.  Where did the ideals fall short?  How did that drive to be of service to humanity take a surreal fork in the road?  Where did loyalty to the organization (or in my case, the clan) override the desire to aid mankind?  Why did a choice have to be made and why couldn't the call to help humanity fit with the goals of the organization? 

 

One of Hubbard's famous ideas is that of the "stable datum" - the principle that confusion sits at the base of uncertainty and insecurity of self must be reached.  Too much information brings a condition of disordered thoughts and a hodgepodge of reactions because the initial point of questioning the unknown part was not comprehended.  I agree with this.  In dealing with the aftermath of horrific upset, many of us mortals find ourselves on shaky terrain because our own beliefs and place of being finds us in less than grounded territory.  Our visions seemed tilted and the directions we took to engage in actions and group connectivity faltered.  We felt that communication had been in play and that our highest interests of kinship with the attraction of community had found agreement with "reality."  But, not just any reality, the entity or substance from cumulative choice and like beliefs.

 

And therein lies the rub.  To maintain this "reality-entity" one must offer his own thought processes to the alter of agreement, all for the common good.  Doctrines keep that definition of the "common good" in line with group leadership's belief systems.  Perspective determines the outcome.  This is no doubt the reason for our confusions when we assign ourselves to collectives.  Even within the smaller aggregations of families, we find that our feathers are ruffled, on the lower end of the emotional upset scale, and our worlds of personal ethics blasted on the highest levels of anguish in colliding beliefs.

 

Fear of loss tends to keep us in place; even in the very groups which were joined with the hope that THAT anxious concern of danger would be put aside in the camaraderie of togetherness.  So what happened?  As I muse and assess my own life situation with an evaluation of my place within spirituality, I suspect that emotions overflowed the banks of reason.  I will give Hubbard his due in that this life and associations appear formatted as a game.  The stakes exist as  emotional investment.

 

Just why is emotional investment such a powerful control mechanism?  I have the feeling it centers around idealization and the libidinal investment.  Libido is not just about sexual action.  The definition includes "instinctual psychic energy that is expressed in conscious activity."  As we who seek answers take the bits and pieces of the montage of our lives and sort with information from others, this particular definition makes awareness of Hubbard's friendship with Aleister Crowley all the more fascinating.  Thelema, Cowley's created "religion," was one that rivalled Baal with heavy emphasis on sexual interplay.  This is the reason Sandra L. Brown, author of Women Who Love Psychopaths, tells all to "stop sleeping with dangerous men."  Bonds are cemented and the mind will work feverishly to execute a rationale.  So, too, in group liaisons. 

 

How and why is this appropriate in my own path of evolutionary awareness?  For me, time with a psychopath set a battle scene that assaulted my core belief systems and spirituality of being.  Reason SURELY entails perspective.  Cause, intelligible motive, and inference along with exercise of mental capacity, all, lay the foundation for sanity.  This is a complex weave of life-threads and the tapestry must include not only our own expressive display, but a reverence for differing designs.  Diversity should be encouraged and coupled with cognizance of the effects spreading as ripples in the pond. 

 

I am reminded of Ursula LeGuin's "Turn of the Lathe," where the protagonist awakes every time from sleeping to discover a "new reality of life."  The world changes each time the cycle of sleeping and waking occurs.  The hero is an ethical presence and as he discovers "the truth" of this "reality," he tries valiantly to save the therapist who has at first attempted to aid him, and then began to use him to alter the world for his own determinations.  In the end as the therapist finds himself faced with a landscape of charred and burning earth, he goes mad at learning that he, too, is a creation of the hero's.    As George Bernard Shaw said,"I never thought much of the courage of a lion-tamer.  Inside the cage, he is at least safe from people."