A Silent Jolt

“Your loyalty was only ever determined by opportunity..”

‘This is really not nice‘, you say….with no hint of irony.

After so many years:

  • hiding your crippling self loathing behind false masks of charm, vivaciousness, achievement and talent;
  • manipulating everyone you meet to feed you with constant admiration, attention and preferably adulation, though you’ll seek and take a negative reaction rather than make no mark at all;
  • lying pathologically without conscience and often in grandiose fashion, to suit whatever it is you wish to do or make someone believe or feel about you, even when it would actually suit you better to tell the truth or the ’truth’ lies so manifestly elsewhere;
  • believing your own lies and feeling no remorse or guilt about them, their impact on people you supposedly ‘care’ about and how ridiculous you look simply ignoring or denying the truth when you’re outed;
  • belying no startle reaction when confronted with your lies. There’s no anxiety, fear or shame where there otherwise should be;
  • deflecting your lies onto other people or situations. Someone else is always responsible for your misleading actions. Or your invented/exaggerated illness, operation, accident…..…. caused you to ‘lose focus’;
  • surrounding yourself with ‘enablers’, family members, friends and colleagues who you’ve groomed to support your questionable behaviour, again through lies and manipulation, so that you can rely on them mopping up after you, defending your pity plays and even chastising whomsoever attempts to unmask you;
  • using anyone, including your own children, to assist you in justifying any misleading situation, which you see as not that big of a deal really;
  • feeling entitled to constant attention, affection, adulation and sex from those you have invested time in grooming, charming (and devaluing), though you ignore their feelings, needs, desires and achievements;
  • devaluing other people’s achievements when their successes drive your insecurity complex insane;
  • claiming that you’re easily bored to justify living by an entirely different moral code than the rest of the boring population: You think that degrading lesser mortals with smug sarcasm, thinly veiled as ‘only joking’, triangulating friends and partners into paranoid competition for your attention, provoking rage for your personal amusement through ‘fake’ controversial opinions, expressed for the sole purpose of bringing your chosen opponent down a peg or 3 ….you think these things make you some kind of charming and eccentric maverick…. No…… they make you a self-serving, manipulative arsehole.

After all these years, wearing your multiple masks in carefully distinct territories, maintaining your brain-washed enablers’ worship of your obvious lies and manipulations, allowing your ever-increasing need for attention (of any kind) to consume you, I guess it doesn’t feel ‘very nice’ to be ignored by your chosen ‘chief’ provider of narcissistic supply. Not that you can or will ever question your accountability in my having reached the end of the line. Despite slowly chipping away at my every effort to love and support you, by rewarding every truth I spoke (during hundreds of hours of intense conversation) with another lie. You will simply bad mouth me, play the victim and move onto the next empath who crosses your path. You cannot be alone, without supply.

Your loyalty was only ever determined by opportunity, like a 6 year old who forgets they had a play date when another friend crosses his path with a bag of treats. Whats the beef if you lie and cheat when your head gets turned by a random opportunity? You were only going for a treat after all. No big deal. You don’t want to grow up and be accountable. You just want your way.

I’ll tell you whats really ‘not nice’ honey. Discovering that final betrayal: another reckless and unnecessary lie. You choosing the high risk option, when the truth was banal and uncontroversial. You deciding to risk causing me substantial hurt (again), by fabricating yet another elaborate story, this time around your own child, simply to ‘justify’ being out rather than free to make a phone call and all of which was later compounded by a virtuoso performance of ‘how wonderful if feels to be able to be so straightforward with you my love’ …… The truth, that night, would have looked as simple and unequivocal as this : “I’m invited to ‘x’ birthday party tonight, so can we talk late, or would you prefer tomorrow?” Yup, definitely worth jeopardising my already limited trust in you for that….

My rage at you carelessly pushing me beyond where even I can find a half convincing excuse for your actions, fell silent in the absence of words to describe my pain or the will to fight. You are not worth fighting for. I’ve made so many excuses for your bad behaviour, accepted your obvious lies and given you ‘another chance’ time after time. I’ve sold myself short to a demented chameleon.

via Daily Prompt: Jolt

Dun

Sudoku, faut cu

Thats really all I can write.

Police phares calling

My mind is falling

Failing.

Gaslights burning

Stomach churning.

How to explain

The pain.

I talk about reflecting

But I’m dun with it.

Sista’s fecked it.

Im tired of this confusion.

Dun with your pollution.

This ain’t love.

Scrabble you say?

F*ing take it away.

Take your fake sudoku intellectualism

And stick it up your twisted chism.

Bonne nuit.

Bonne vie.

Dun.

“I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.” George Bernard Shaw

What is it that makes you cling on, when every hair on the back of your neck is standing up screaming at you to RUN? Or is it, rather, that you just cannot, ever, walk away without:
a) knowing everything that there is to know about why you’re ‘losing’ and;
b) some community / public recognition of your ‘wronged’ status, following you as you exit left ?
Focussing squarely on emotional attachment as experienced and expressed by those of us outside of any spectrum of clinical behavioural disorder (so minus the narcissists and socio/psychopaths, whose ‘attachments’ are wholly perverse and without emotion):
There are those, so confidant and certain of themselves, with whom no-one ever gets beyond that first strike. These are the tigers amongst us. Fiercely proud and rarely hesitant enough to concern themselves with how their relationships and break-ups might impact their ‘image’ or ‘reputation’
There are also those, generous of spirit, amongst us, who show varying levels of empathy in giving everyone a second, third and sometimes fourth chance. Always looking for the good. Coaxing it out if necessary, with every ounce of bounty in their bones.
Then there are the doormats, who will put up with any level of shit. Supremely low levels of confidence and feelings of inadequacy, borne from years of social and or emotional exclusion, are often behind this disjointed appreciation of any attention they are shown.
Somewhere between the doormat and the empath, lies a mutant tiger (all too frequently tigress). Perfect prey for the hunter. She knows her days are numbered. She knows the hunt is on. But she spends her last days trying to outwit the hunter, unravel the plot to trap her and expose the injustice of it all, when she could escape with her life if she ran.
Today’s blog  is my plea to all bright but battered mutant tigers out there. For gods sake, give up! Stop analysing and then analysing again. There’s only pain, no gain, in knowing every detail. Take care of yourself before you no longer know what you care about and drop the need to be ‘right’.
Something a private detective, I once tried to hire, said to me after taking careful note of my story, stuck with me:
“Can I just ask you”, she said. “So if I can get this ‘proof’ of what you already know to be true, what are you going to do with it? Will it change anything?”
That was the day I became a cat.

 

Authenticity

The world is askew, said he
Tis you that ain’t true, said me
Let me wallow, he berated
In the lies I have created
Follow blindly behind me
Allow me to deceive you kindly
Gently caress your needy soul
Destroy you from the inside
Charm you into the black hole
Le vide
One plus one equals three, said he
I’m so sorry, I can’t see, said me
Boring correctness, he debated
Unlike the jazzy truth I have created
Skip blindly aside me
Permit me to guide you to the edge
Air-kiss your ailing soul
Beguile you on the outside
Push you into the black hole
Le vide…….in which we hid a while
Serendipity nudged me awake
Not the night terrors
Not the heart tremors
Not the crushing deception
Not the all consuming grief
Walk with me, said I
For I shall empower you with my faith
Reveal the ecstasy of authenticity
Of autonomy
Extract you from the black hole
La joie
The world is as new, said he
Tis you who’s chiming true, said me
Let me wallow, he meditated
In the truth we have located
Authenticity

Fay’s Story

There was once a little girl named Fay
She was gracious and kind in every way
With her flaming red hair
She attracted more than one stare
As she quick-stepped through the passage of childhood.
As she blossomed through school and beyond
Fay struggled at times with le Monde
Her sweet nature betrayed her
And fed her bounty to that charismatic stranger
Blind to the mask, she strode on.
When she awoke to the truth, Fay was thirty-one
Browbeaten, confused and a mum
Despite a decade of devaluation
She kept schtum for fear of humiliation
And crawled into a private pit of ‘make-do’.
Submission, Fay learned, did not curry favour
It just fuelled verbal aggression and sulky behaviour
In the interests of the kids, she could take it
Until the day she understood they wouldn’t make it
She knew.
So she ran, that young woman named Fay
Still gracious and kind in every way
She began her new life
With no-one calling her ‘shitty wife’
She’s dancing again, is flame-haired Fay.