The Promises state that we will realize God is doing for us what we can’t do for ourselves. Actually changing us. Does it work? For me
anonymous sex partners
This Is What It’s Like To Date An Actual Narcissist (And You Never Want To Do It)
Originally posted at: http://thoughtcatalog.com/%tc-coauthor%/2016/07/this-is-what-its-like-to-date-an-actual-narcissist-and-you-never-want-to-do-it/
Last winter, I ended a relationship with a man who I came to realize was narcissistically abusive.
Our six-month partnership began with the “love bombing” that characterizes any relationship with a narcissist. He lavished me with constant attention, meals, and gifts. Within a matter of weeks, we developed an emotional connection that made me feel as if I had known him forever.
Although I had always been a skeptic when it came to romance and relationships, he insisted we were soul mates.
But in textbook fashion, the love-bombing phase ultimately gave way to one of gradual and inevitable “devaluation.”
When disagreements arose, he would increasingly erupt in anger, unleashing a torrent of often alcohol-fuelled verbal abuse against me.
During one argument, I remember realizing with matter-of-fact detachment that the man who claimed to care so much about me was willing to say absolutely anything – maybe even do anything – in order to hurt me, in order to “win.”
Yet I struggled to reconcile this behavior with the person I believed I had fallen in love with.
How could such a charismatic and compassionate man – a health care professional who presented himself as a “healer” – become so angry and hurtful behind closed doors?
This cognitive dissonance ultimately made me doubt my own perception and even my memory of what had happened.
Besides, he would always apologize – sometimes even breaking down in tears – blaming the verbal assaults on his ADHD medication or the alcohol. Then he would accuse me of not being “supportive” enough.
I became convinced that if I just tried harder, things would go back to the way they were.
But, eventually, it seemed as if any perceived slight would upset him and even enrage him, especially if he had been drinking: a flat tire, misplaced keys, a client cancelling, the barista making his latte too slowly.
I walked on daily trails of eggshells, praying that nothing would happen to ruin his fragile mood.
I stopped confronting him with things I was unhappy about, knowing that he would either explode in anger or stonewall me by emotionally withdrawing or leaving his own apartment – once for hours.
By this point, we were practically living together, and I had become consumed with the relationship. I worked from home more often now (his home). I rarely saw friends or colleagues.
But the constant waiting for the other shoe to drop, the persistent feeling that things were never completely stable began to far outweigh the intermittent reinforcement that kept me tethered to him. I was finally able to end the relationship — on the third try.
Characteristically, he made more excuses and insisted I was to blame.
I should have made him give up alcohol. I should have spent more time with him instead of working on my damn Ph.D. I was too cold and heartless to “fight for love.”
But, the important thing was: I was free. Or so I thought.
As I entered therapy and began to pick up the pieces of my self-esteem and my heart, I naively expected everything to fall back into place.
Thus, it was especially painful for me to realize the first hard truth about narcissistic abuse: that an abuser will never, ever acknowledge or take responsibility for the pain they have caused you. Especially if they are a narcissist.
Although you thought you had left the crazy-making and emotional invalidation of the relationship behind, you get to experience it all over again once the relationship is over.
Because the only other individual in your toxic relationship – the only other person in the world who was “there” and saw it all unfold – absolutely refuses to accept your version of events.
Instead, they continue to make excuses and minimize their behavior, attempting to “hoover” you back into the relationship.
Despite blocking the narcissist from my phone and Facebook and never once responding, he continued to contact me for months after the relationship had ended – by email, letter, a different phone number, and even online sites it hadn’t occurred to me to protect, such as LinkedIn and Pandora.
But most insidiously of all? Eventually, the abuser pretends as if nothing ever happened.
Five months after the break-up, the narcissist announced in an email that he would finally leave me alone. He ended the message with: I love you.
Basically, it didn’t matter that this man’s behavior had constantly made me feel unstable and unsafe because he “loved” me.
And now he had finally decided to stop months of unwanted and unreciprocated contact…because he felt like it.
That is when I learned a second hard truth about narcissistic abuse: that the abuser always gets the last word. That the abuser is the one who gets to decide when the abuse stops.
Only they get to carry out the ultimate “discard.” Because they don’t just require the upper hand during the relationship, but all the way until its bitter end.
I wish I could say that I have moved past all of this, but I am still coming to terms with the realities of narcissistic abuse. And yet, I still have hope.
Just as I am a bit of a skeptic, I am also a rather stubborn optimist.
I am hopeful that someday, it really won’t matter that my abuser will never take responsibility and acknowledge the pain he caused – because I will be able to validate my feelings and perception of reality, for myself.
I am hopeful that someday I will get to the point where I get to decide that the abuse is over. That eventually it will all just be a memory, as will the constant fear of him unexpectedly showing up at my door.
I am hopeful that someday I will be able to trust people again.
Because, hard as it is, simply knowing the truth can also be beautifully freeing. And, for now, that will have to be enough freedom for me.
Grateful for Grace
We must not see grace as a provision made after the law had failed. Grace was offered before the law was revealed. Indeed, grace was offered before man was created! “You were bought, not with something that ruins like gold or silver, but with the precious blood of Christ, who was like a pure and perfect lamb. Christ was chosen before the world was made, but he was shown to the world in these last times for your sake” (1 Pet. 1:18–20 NCV).
Why would God offer grace before we needed it? Glad you asked. Let’s return one final time to the charge card my father gave me. Did I mention that I went several months without needing it? But when I needed it, I really needed it. You see, I wanted to visit a friend on another campus. Actually, the friend was a girl in another city, six hours away. On an impulse I skipped class one Friday morning and headed out. Not knowing whether my parents would approve, I didn’t ask their permission. Because I left in a hurry, I forgot to take any money. I made the trip without their knowledge and with an empty wallet.
Everything went fine until I rear-ended a car on the return trip. Using a crowbar, I pried the fender off my front wheel so the car could limp to a gas station. I can still envision the outdoor phone where I stood in the autumn chill. My father, who assumed I was on campus, took my collect call and heard my tale. My story wasn’t much to boast about. I’d made a trip without his knowledge, without any money, and wrecked his car.
“Well,” he said after a long pause, “these things happen. That’s why I gave you the card. I hope you learned a lesson.”
Did I learn a lesson? I certainly did. I learned that my father’s forgiveness predated my mistake. He had given me the card before my wreck in the event that I would have one. He had provided for my blunder before I blundered. Need I tell you that God has done the same? Please understand; Dad didn’t want me to wreck the car. He didn’t give me the card so that I would wreck the car. But he knew his son. And he knew his son would someday need grace.
Please understand; God doesn’t want us to sin. He didn’t give us grace so we would sin. But he knows his children. “He made their hearts and understands everything they do” (Ps. 33:15 NCV). “He knows how we were made” (Ps. 103:14 NCV). And he knew that we would someday need his grace.
Today’s devotional is drawn from Max Lucado’s Second Chances.
From Salads to Casseroles
Originally posted at: https://applyingmybeliefs.wordpress.com/2016/06/19/from-salads-to-casseroles/
For those that don’t know, there is an organization called “The American Society of Addiction Medicine” (ASAM). This organization and their website are primarily for physicians of course, but does have some useful and interesting information for us non-medical people. They have a short and a long definition of addiction on their website:
Here is the short version:
Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. Dysfunction in these circuits leads to characteristic biological, psychological, social and spiritual manifestations. This is reflected in an individual pathologically pursuing reward and/or relief by substance use and other behaviors.
Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one’s behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response. Like other chronic diseases, addiction often involves cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive and can result in disability or premature death.
This and the long version can be found here:
http://www.asam.org/quality-practice/definition-of-addiction
As I read this something quite odd struck me. This definition calls addiction a chronic disease, which I had heard before, but I had a new thought. I thought, “Why don’t churches look at this the same way they look at cancer, or heart disease or other significant chronic illnesses?” What is different?
As I pondered this, I came to a place I had come to before. At some level we in the church, mostly silently, believe that addiction is caused by sin, or even if we don’t struggle with that we are just plain uncomfortable with talking about glue sniffing or porn or hoarding or the many other addictions that are within our culture. And I also thought this, “Why don’t we also assume that heart disease or cancer are caused by sin?” There is much evidence that diseases like these are linked to the actions of our lifetime, for example colon cancer is linked to eating too much red meat to a certain extent; is this a product of the sin of gluttony at some level?
Anyway, my musing took me in a direction I didn’t expect, but felt the need to share.
In the church we care for each other. One of the great things churches do is to provide meals for those who have significant temporary troubles, including illnesses. We get a care calendar together and families volunteer to provide meals for a defined period of time. I was fortunate to be on the receiving end of this one time, as my wife recovered from some surgery. We had salads, and pasta dishes and chicken cooked many ways and of course the casseroles.
As I pondered this, I realized I had never heard of a church providing meals to a family who had put their son in a drug rehab. In cases of the major disease of addiction, which can devastate a family as deeply a cancer diagnosis can, the church doesn’t seem to provide care in this way. This could of course be partly due to that hidden thinking about addiction and sin from both the family affected and the church body.
Is this one of the reasons addicts and their families don’t recognize churches as caring places? Should churches endeavor to develop a care calendar for families affected by addiction?
What do you think?
Journal Through Recovery – Bonus Podcast #15 Another Human Being
Episode 15 – Another Human Being
Step five means admitting the exact nature of our wrongs to God, ourselves, and to another human being? Seriously? Another human being? You mean I have to do this again?
