This article is the second in an ongoing series by author, Quincy.
Acceptance is agony.
It is the rawness of having no other option but to live beyond the realms of your, once, idealized, loving relationship–recovery, healing, growth, strength, hope–all will bestow their grace upon you, but you will not give a flying fuck.
At this very moment, your heart is actually hurting. You can feel it now. If you press your fingertips against your chest bones, you likely will sense their attempts to soothe the pain, but you cannot accept their kind gesture. They do not understand.
Having to go from one extreme of a perceived norm of routine and maybe even happiness, to a festering hole of anguish and despair–accepting that you were lied to for absolutely no reason and that every second of this obsessive fervor to be better, prettier, smarter, more indignant with passing moments, determined to be unscathed by, yet, another asshole–all lead you to the same end.
Yes, you will probably wake up only hours after you finally fall asleep tonight, sweating, nauseous, staring at the blank screen of your phone and hating yourself for feeling so weak, for wanting validation via his groveling and empty promises and probably acting on that weakness and then feeling worse when you’re only met by silence (because he’s probably with her).
Unfortunately, you’ll be expected to take care of yourself still and go to work and function as a normal human. The phrase “I can’t adult today” likely came from another survivor of a shit-head narcissist. And to this end, you will always only feel worse.
You will always only feel worse until you just don’t anymore. I don’t mean to rob you of any hope or of your immense struggle to heal when I say that. But it really is that simple. I know you can’t fathom that right now. That’s okay. I couldn’t either. You won’t for a really long time, in fact. But it will happen.
For me, I knew I’d never succeed with no contact. I wanted to, truly. But I wanted to feel loved more. I had to burn, neigh, bomb bridges with the lying, cheating scum that occupied my thoughts. I had to risk my own life and happiness in order to free myself from his grip. He had to hate me before I could love myself. And it worked.
I didn’t have time to check his Facebook or think about who he was sharing his bed with. I was spending seven hours a day driving around aimlessly hoping I’d be able to figure out where to park my car that night, hush my puppy’s cries of boredom, curl up, and escape the hell of the day. I had no money. I cashed in spare change and lived off of canned soup from the dollar store. If I found a place to shower where I wouldn’t be recognized, that was a good day. I stopped checking my mail box knowing piles of bills and repo letters were wagging their judgmental fingers at me. I stopped responding to texts. I needed to disappear. I never existed as myself before, anyway. I wasn’t going to finally exist when my life was in ruins.
Hope abandoned me rather quickly. That was a bummer. I cried for hours on end, then was too tired to cry, then was too jaded to cry, then I got really, really angry. So what if my douche-bag-deputy-chief-ex was a Quantico graduate and connected to every criminal and cop in the state? “I dare you to find me and hurt me, you asshole!”, I’d maniacally declare. I got a rush from the thought he was so afraid of me–of the knowledge I possessed and of the evidence I had to destroy him–so much so, that he would not ever contact me again. It made me feel better about myself. He was silent and didn’t reach out because I gave him no other choice, not because I wasn’t good enough.
This isn’t to say I’m happy; far from it. But I have my own sense of closure. It took a really long time, but I can honestly say that I know he is chained to inhumanity and his existence truly is eerie. By our own human definition, he has no soul–no conscience or sense of guilt. And I am not the kind of girl to be enraptured by a ghost.
I recently listened to a YouTube video from actualize.org. It spoke of change. That we are all given gifts or moments throughout our lives to completely redefine our existence. It spoke of heroes–all heroes, the archetype, etc., are given a choice: remain where you stand as good or give everything up–life, love, family, career–to be great.
Your life sucks right now because you’re meant for so much more. Be great. My ex never had a chance against the authenticity of my suffering, and neither does yours. Go figure–the one thing that denies their existence fuels our survival. Survive now. Live later.