Tearing at the Fabric

Of the space-time continuum

Pain cycles

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Big tears again on the drive to work.

Last night I had dreams about my friend, whose son was killed almost a year ago, in a boating accident. I dreamed that three of her four daughters were also killed in separate accidents.

And with my own nightmares still active, about my rape, and the other women, Trinket and Leanne together, poking red-hot pokers into my body, laughing at my pain, not a lot of rest was had.

So, I contained my sobs after a meeting with my builder (bathrooms…am I doing this right?) and dropping the dogs off at daycare, and let it all out in the car.

And the old questions swirled.


What did I do wrong?

Why did I love him so much, and he just kept lying and cheating? Was I so bad? Such a terrible partner to him? Why did I accept this stuff? All that ‘love,’ all that amazing sex. Dropping out of university and moving in with him after just five weeks???? Coming back to him, after he effectively dumped me and sent me to the UK??? Who even am I?

I’m better now, having let it out. I have to vent it from time to time, or else I hold it in my body, and the aches get too sore.

I read the quote below, about love bombing. To remind me. To ground me in the now. In the knowledge I have about how this wasn’t what I lacked, rather what he keeps seeking from other women.

And it was SO me. So duped by his words, his notes, his messages, his constant attention. What a total dumbarse I was to believe that shit! He was next level with the attention, messages, hugs, softness, ‘love.’ This is the heartbreak…it felt real. So, so real.

In the beginning you did not perceive this as ‘love bombing’ or probably even heard of this term before. You were flattered that he/she was paying so much attention to you. There were all of those simple to complex gestures, be it compliments, love notes, many great text messages or phone calls, etc. – but it was as if it were a scene from a romantic movie. Guess what, basically that is all it was, a fictional scene with a role that was written personally for you by her/him that had no basis of reality. It was purely fictional to move you in a manner to continue to watch and allow the movie to play out in your life so he could receive the big payoff for his/her personal investment in you or to use you as the next source of supply.

Yeah. I still can’t believe that my life was a game. A lie. That he never gave a flying fuck about my safety or wellbeing. That he could leave me in so much pain, when I genuinely adored him.

Thirty fucking wasted years, supporting him.


Anyway. It is what it is. I did waste myself on a covert narcissist.

Who told me I was the only one for him. That we would one day find our way back to each other.

Damn. I ACTUALLY BELIEVED HIM! Thought we were special. That I was so lucky. Faaaark. It hurts so much still.

Can’t change it. Can only live well going forward.

I am practising mindfulness, and using the tools developed over the last decade to deactivate my trauma responses.

I’m exhausted.

Doing this ALL the damn time.

And I know it is just part of the work of being, for me now. This is how I must manage my life, my trauma, my emotions. It has not really got much easier with time, I’ve just accepted more, that this is it. I will do this forever, the cycles will never end, but my response is faster and more targeted now.

Anyway, and exhale, move forward, keep going.

I’m okay. I am going to be okay.

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