I always end up sitting on that unknown “something sticky” on those bench seats.
Isn’t it ironic though, that lately my life feels like it’s become a three-ring circus.
I’ve got this recovery thing going on in the main ring. Which includes my shrink , Lee and my BFF, Tiffany.
In ring number two is the old Gypsy woman Maleva, from 1941 film The Wolf Man , who seems to whisper for me to grab her pentagram necklace for protection because a Narcissist, “the wolf” is always an imminent threat. As she yammers her famous line,
“even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers at night, can become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the Autumn moon is bright.”
Stupid gypsy, I went on a chat forum where garlic and charms can’t be seen and he bit me, and what’s more, part of me is liking his bite.
Then in a third ring there’s me trying to balance it all 10,000 feet up on a high-wire without any safety net below. Half of me teeters left, intoxicated by the wolf’s advances, the other half teeters right, recoiling as if to touching a hot pan on a stove.
BUT EVERYTHING IS WRONG.
Tiffany knows everything about me, we stay on the phone for hours during the week sharing our journey together. Lee knows little. I fear no judgment from Tiff. She’s made the same mistakes I have. Lee, there is a formality. I have never seen her teeter, much less free-fall. How can she help me? How can she teach me?
I think my trust issues with people are deeper than I thought. I can even trust my own damn shrink. Now that’s some kind of special right there.
This is scaring me, what is going on inside me….Lee pokes around too much with asking me what I’m feeling about this, or that, or the other thing. WTF? I feel like I’m being interrogated at times. “How did you feel when you showed me the photo of the gun up your snatch?” I’m like .... “I didn’t feel anything.” Was I supposed to feel something about it? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling, am I supposed to have specific feelings? Oh shit ! Well I’m not. Now I’m getting anxious that I’m not having feelings about something that I’m probably supposed be having feelings about.
When I let people into my real world, if I feel they get too close to me, I tend to run. Run from safety. I tend to sabotage things. Sometimes unconsciously, sometimes knowingly. I believe my shrink may be able to help me. At other more times, I feel she can’t do squat to help me. Right now I just want to be done with therapy. I feel like it’s a dead end. I feel it’s useless. Other than sharing anecdotes and trying to make Lee laugh, I feel like I’m not working towards any thing.
At least with my ex-Narc, each week I was working on lessons. How to give head, how to deep throat, how to rim, how to take the cane, the whip, the paddle et cetera. There was progress but I digress..
I don’t know what’s going on with me right now. So I have returned to what is familiar. Those old circus clowns. They scare me, sure they can hurt me. But they are a swamp I know well. I know every inch of that mother fucking swamp. But it’s a familiar swamp. I know how it reacts, and how to react to it. The type of pain that lays beneath its murky waters.