Navigating the Landmines of Love

First written in winter of 2021– I needed to reread this.

Have you ever wondered if you missed out on a lost love?  Have you ever wondered if the circumstances or timing had been different, your life would look much better than you currently perceive it?  

I talked with a few close female friends, and every single one of them had a moment in their life where they wondered the same thing when remembering a lost love from long ago. 

Matters of the heart, especially when dealing with love, is such a complex thing.  It isn’t something that can be shooed away with a simple thought nor can it be pacified with a pat answer from a friend.  The heart goes on its detours, and it is hard to wrangle it back on track.    

Our journey is full of twists and turns, some of which we don’t see coming.  How did I end up here at the beginning of this year with a weighty heart and these questions on my mind?  

It all started with looking for a photo.  

Our school counselors had sent out an email to teachers over Thanksgiving break.  We were instructed to find a picture with Santa, preferably one when we were a baby or small child; we would also provide a more current picture with Santa if we had one. To get our students into the Christmas spirit, they would attempt to match our pictures on the bulletin board just outside the counselors’ offices.

Finding my baby picture with Santa was easy.  I had just come across this photo over the summer as I was cleaning out my garage.  My last photo with Santa was with a guy I dated years ago.  We were in Brookwood Mall.  He personally knew the Santa character and thought it would be fun.  I knew I had kept the Polaroid; however, it wasn’t in my photo albums.  I didn’t think much else of it.  I thought I’d just submit the one photo and be done with it.    

Around Christmas time, before falling asleep one night, I thought of another photo that was taken by that same guy from years ago.  It was a White Christmas in Alabama that year.  We have seen very few of those, so it was special.  We opened gifts from each other near my fireplace.  It was just the two of us—our own special Christmas.  Snowflakes were falling, and like a kid, I wanted to run and play in it.  I pulled on my snow boots, slipped into my jacket, and draped a scarf around my neck.  He followed me outside and observed, taking pictures of me, which he always did whenever he had the chance.  He had a good eye with the camera.  That one picture of me playing in the snow was a favorite of mine.  He had captured my youthful, playful side that day.  He was watching me, and I was happy.   

Within minutes of recalling that memory, I remembered where the Santa photo of him and me might be.  I am a keeper of meaningful cards and writing from family, friends, students, and the few I have dated where there was a meaningful connection.  With at least 25 years’ worth of these treasures in one place—about four piles high in a cabinet drawer— I knew finding this one picture wouldn’t be easy.  

As I surveyed the piles of memorabilia, my eyes caught a glittered booklet—something he had made for me.  As I pulled it out of the middle of one of the large piles, it grabbed everything in that one place that was from him: his emails I had printed, cards he had given me, and one of his guitar picks– it all fell at my feet.  The Santa photo was in that same pile.  It was almost like I was meant to find it.  It was like a time capsule for me, buried by years and found like treasure.    

Something in me knew this was a dangerous endeavor, to reread old love letters from him. As I glanced through them in the attempt to avoid resurrecting old feelings, my eyes caught an email about a story he wrote to me in October 2010.  For some reason, I decided I would read that one email. 

The story was about Orpheus and Eurydice, but he had intentionally written it as if we were the two characters.  Reading it was like entering a time machine.  It also triggered me, for so much of what he said was a prediction of our future 10 years later.  Some of the things he said were a bit exaggerated (after all, it was written as a fictional story); however, there were more truths inside of the story about him and me (gone our separate ways) than I’d have liked to have accepted.       

His email read more like a prophecy than a made-up story– his last line being that 10 years would pass and I would look for him, only to find his ghost. 

I was almost mad at him.  He didn’t finish the story and tell me what to do once I entered these haunted memories– the present void of love. 

I realized I had to add to the story for myself, moving forward. 

I’ve heard it said that a small part of ourselves is attached to the familiar no matter how painful or inefficient it is. We tend to over-romanticize what really is and/or was.  We remember the good memories; we forget the bad.  Just like when someone dies.  At their funeral, we are not stating their mistakes and mishaps of what they did to or in our life.  We celebrate the good parts.  God has a surprising nature attuned within us of goodness, grace, forgiveness, and unconditional love: Somehow our brains, hearts with its heartaches, and emotions are hard-wired to those memories of people when they were good and at their best.  My good friend Jamie (an original expression of Keats?) puts it best: “Imagined melodies are sweetest, and the men we love are mostly imaginary.” I suppose we make things better in memory where they might not have been as great if we were to return to the actual state of when things unfolded in the present.  At least that’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself of.      

Now 10 years later when he has resurrected in my thoughts and heart, he would tell me to move on– no regrets– and yet I cannot help but feel an agonizing ache inside that things will never be the same for me.  I’ve walked through a rite of passage where I am forever changed.  For he was the tool God used to show me what love is and what it isn’t and to appreciate who I am so deeply within my very soul.  He’s the one who has pushed me to unbury life’s losses and triumphs, getting to the core of who I am and what I want to be in a relationship.   

Like his name, he would live up to it: supplanter and deceiver.  You see, I was supposed to be the teacher, but he was the teacher for me.  I’d have to say if he learned anything from me at all, I got the better end of the deal.  I was the luckier one.  I recently reached out to the person that brought us together, which I believe was divinely guided.  She explained why, and I expressed the impact the pairing had made.  I conveyed my gratitude to her because meeting him changed my life forever.     

A time capsule tucked away and set aside until a divine time set by God… as a teacher.  I pondered over the findings in the pile.  Why now, God?  It’s too painful.  

That was the point.     

Navigating and processing…not rushing from the pain but accepting it, feeling it… 

This is important. Don’t move on too quickly from here, or you will miss the lesson.  

Be willing to look at the negative feelings of the self without judgment.  The triggers too.  Sometimes these are just arrows pointing us to unhealed parts of ourselves, steering us in the direction of becoming a better, whole version of ourselves.  May we all attain a place where we live more free, surrendered to the aches and pains of life with the capacity to see the hidden gifts within the various life traumas we have been through. Too many times, we see trials as bad and happy times as good when many times, it is through our trials where we learn who we are and who we must become in order to move from surviving to thriving, even when life makes no sense at all.  

This life was never intended to rummage through the ghosts of our pasts to see what we can call forth from the grave of the dead. And it’s not the avoidance of old ghosts either.  We make the best decisions we can at the time we make them. What is back there for me or you?  What’s ahead is where the focus must remain.  

Sometimes in sensitive situations, I force hard truths into black and white.  Most of the time, this comes from the ego or a wounded place, so I have decided that I will write from a place of intuition, a God-given part of me I have too long neglected and not trusted– a God-given supernatural power that breaks down illusions, mind’s lies, and fabricated insecurities we find refuge in.  We want answers.  We want a straight “yes” or “no”, and though I believe our lives turn and deal in absolutes of what once was, is now, and will be– for those things, we live in a black and white world; however, it’s the emotions and feelings that deal in ambiguity where the mind overworks to make sense of things and can suffocate the life out of our highest being. 

For me, I remember what matters most: I could not hide from him nor could he with me.  Even if we tried to, it wasn’t a state we remained in for long.  We pulled toward each other in the greatest of ways where this wholly surrender brought freedom of thoughts, even the ones scariest to admit to the other and to ourselves.  The truths of our hearts and in our hearts were laid bare before each other and God, but mainly for ourselves.    

I could not hide from my beloved, and he could not hide from me.  What we had was raw and lovely.  I will reflect on what good his memory brings to my life.  We are separate yet connected forever, and that is something beautiful I will cherish for the rest of my life.  He is a part of my story, and though bittersweet in the end, it’s the tender, messy part that feels like chaos in my emotions yet makes more sense than most things in life.  It’s not a black and white story; it was a relationship filled with ambiguity, and I suppose it is the one that will leave a mark on my life like no other.  We were supposed to meet.  We were meant to meet– this, I believe, by God’s design.         

Stars break apart, yet cannot.  There is a pull.  Maybe he is my North Star amidst the map of vast galaxies where all others will pale in comparison– my North Star where I will find my way to the one who fits me best.  Yet scariest of all, my high standards have only become higher, for I cannot and will not settle for less than what I believe was the most beautiful of loves I have known in this lifetime when I could be most myself.

Photo by Apricitasart on Instragram

Two Faces : One Name

As a continuation from Part II of my blog on “What Narcissism Looks Like in a Relationship,” boundaries should make a person respect you, because after all, you have some.  Narcissists know you are better for having boundaries; it reflects something about your character– something they seem to lack from a place of authenticity. 

As the narcissist works to erode your boundaries, and if you budge on one of those a bit, now it is something they can use against you at an opportune time.  To them, changing your mind or changing your thought process on a once held boundary opens you up for suspicion.  Even if they know deep down you changed something because of them or for them, it won’t matter.  Now you are inconsistent and are not to be trusted.  

The goal is to move you closer to who they are, double-minded in thought and action.  This is so that once you confront them about something they’ve done, they can bring those inconsistent things up about you, and in turn, nothing is ever truly addressed or resolved about their questionable behaviors.  Hence, you will never get anywhere with a narcissist when you try to bring up something that they have done.  Your questions will be dodged, your concerns and feelings won’t matter, and you will feel depleted after you’ve engaged them on the subject. However you go about trying to engage the narcissist for answers, you will never get full transparency.  They will make you feel like you don’t deserve it nor that you’ve earned that rite of passage into their life– and all because of your doing!  You will always be held at arm’s length as they must protect their persona at all costs.  

As in the case of a narcissist, they work undercover as they are two different people in one– who they present themselves to be versus who they truly are.  They juggle these two faces within and of themselves.  It is the epitome of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  One version seems kind and charitable; the other is a stark contrast of the ugliness most wouldn’t want to associate with in their life.  You can’t risk that the good side of them is greater than possibly the bad side as you will never know who you are dealing with on a moment-to-moment basis.  Who wants to live with that?  In the battle of self in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Hyde’s evil side eventually overpowers Jekyll’s good side, the one he had practiced for the majority of his life.  In other words, mix in a little evil and know that you have turned over your soul; you’ve signed up as a member and accomplice with the devil. The devil is the author of confusion, and I have found that nothing is more confusing than being with a narcissist.  

There is no way to sugarcoat this: With the way a narcissist operates, they are bound to a sort of enchantment and trickery.  They use their deceptive charm as they work their craft, one person to another.  In my case, the narcissist was able to navigate through many women at a time with the help of social media and dating apps.  These means of technology only highlighted and, eventually, exposed his problem.  With the handy options to hide and/or restrict bio information, comments, and followers, he played me and regulated how I showed up in his social media life; anyone from the outside looking in would surmise that he was single, available, and unattached to another.  Of course bringing up any of this made me look like the jealous, controlling girlfriend as he called me “petty” for focusing on such things, although his deliberate actions were proof that he knew what he was doing. 

If anything, narcissists deal in barriers, not boundaries.  They will plugin phrases to program you into thinking more like them on certain things or by way as a warning to condition you so that you don’t do certain things they find disapproving:        

-“I didn’t like it when my ex…”

-“Can you take trips on your own? My ex got so upset when I didn’t travel with her.” 

-“When visiting family, do you think the other always has to be there, because I don’t.” 

-“Most women want a boyfriend but can’t understand that I need a lot of alone time and want to be left alone.” 

What a negative approach when revealing one’s self and starting a new relationship with someone!  Instead of building fresh with a new person, narcissists reveal only those contentious moments from previous relationships.  As far as their past, you will only hear of negative mishaps, never the positive that brought them joy and fulfillment because, truly, I don’t think they experience those components of a relationship. They can’t. They lack true intimacy with another person because they aren’t acting from a place of authenticity about who they are nor in their intentions in the “said” relationship. And as they are who they are, I believe that because of their own shadiness, they believe that everyone else must be just like them!  They already enter into an arrangement not trusting you because they know deep down they are not to be trusted!  Because of their chosen lifestyle, they lack the ability to connect to other humans and can never experience true oneness with another fellow creature in the world.    

Photo downloaded from Unsplash

Part II: What Narcissism Looks Like in a Relationship

Supposedly, there are three common stages that someone will go through with a narcissist: idealizing, devaluing, and discarding. From most of my reading on the topic, it is defined as a cyclical pattern that will continue in those order of stages as long as the other party chooses to stay on that hamster wheel.  

In my experience, it is hard to say that each stage had a start and end period before it moved to the next phase.  For me, the three stages seemed to work so closely together, all three could happen in any given moment; with a narcissist, a seemingly joyful, happy moment could quickly turn into one of the most upsetting encounters you never saw coming.      

Instead of referring to this next part of my blog as a particular “stage” that the narcissist cultivates with a vulnerable party, I want to focus on what seems to be the narcissist’s strategic goals or motives in the initial stages of the relationship: 1) to establish a connection as soon as possible to keep you around, and 2) to test and eventually erode your boundaries so that they have control over you.   

First, I will give an example of how the narcissist quickly and strategically works to establish a connection with his or her target.      

One day after work, the guy I was dating rushed over to my house on his way home.  He sat down opposite of me for eye contact and held my hands in his.  Without pause, he jumped right into the subject matter that was on his mind: what might be our hangups. He shared having some debt and not making a lot of money.  I found this very endearing, that someone trusted me with their private affairs; I appreciated his vulnerability.  

He asked me what I thought might be other hangups, to name my top three.  Of course this whole conversation caught me off guard, but I already knew what mine were with anyone I might hold a future.  At the time, I was not ready to be as vulnerable with him, but I reiterated the only one I had already shared with him– that I couldn’t have children and understood if he did not want to continue in a relationship with me since he didn’t already have children of his own.  He accepted this.  With genuine smiles and loving eyes, he rested in his attempt to “proclaim his love” of a highly foreseeable future together.  

Just to be clear, the narcissist will “insinuate” marriage within a matter of weeks.  We had only known each other for six weeks when we had this conversation.      

I think it is worth putting a startling fact and thought here about this very thing on marriage when you’re in a romantic relationship with a narcissist. The words “marriage” never came out of his mouth once in the year and a half I knew him. The literature on narcissism that I have read refers to this as “future-faking.”  I believe marriage was the furthest thing from his mind and plan for us.  This was more a bite for, Do you value me as worthy enough? Of course this is speculation, just like so much of what I will write here; for I cannot begin to fathom how or why a narcissist thinks the way they do, except I do believe they are seeking out a moment’s relief from their own self-loathing, grasping for anything to satisfy their hunger of affection, attention, and acceptance because of their own deeply rooted insecurities.  

To continue with my story, this nature of conversation did pressure me to share very intimate details about my family a lot sooner than I might with another individual.  For me, someone earns that privilege, but in order to bring balance to the relationship, I fearfully shared my other two concerns, which were related to my blood family, for when you marry someone, you marry their family as well.   

All of our greatest fears where a partner might think twice before continuing something serious were out in the open.  Sounds great, right? 

It is all part of the narcissist’s manipulation ploy. Think about it like breadcrumbs.  We are all hungry for companionship and intimacy.  These types of intimate conversations and disclosure of the most intimate parts of us bond us together, for better or for worse.  Naturally, we eat up those “breadcrumbs” thinking more is to follow only to find that everything from here on will be a challenge and wrapped in a continuum of conflict.  You will never know true peace with this person going forward, and the short-lived moments that are somewhat good will run on their timetable until any bit of happiness and comfort you may have found in the relationship is destroyed.  

You see, they have an agenda, and it is not in the name of love.  Love wishes to make the other person happy.  Your happiness is not even on their radar.  In fact, they are incapable of bringing any sort of peace and security to the relationship so that a healthy foundation is established. 

They intend to use you for what they need out of you to feel good about themselves.  That is their only goal.  They are like sucking vampires.  They live off of your light and what affections you shower on them.  You are an extension of them– a lifeline– where they can feel some worth within themselves.  

They see themselves as a victim in the world– of the highest kind– so much so that they cannot see that they have actually bought into a victim-mentality cycle where they are doing the very thing to someone else! Hence, they are unable to reflect and see themselves for who they truly are.   

And don’t you dare try to point any of this out to them, for they are highly sensitive to constructive criticism even when it comes from a place of love.  They have no problem dished it out but cannot stomach what is served to them! It will be an unmatched, unequal, nonmutual “give” and “take” type of relationship in every respect.  You will never be able to have healthy conversations nor given the chance to be understood.  

Because of their tunnel-visioned goal, they have a short fuse– little patience and easily angered– for what needs you may bring up to them at any given time if they have not obtained that main goal of theirs!  For any needs you might have or the need of reassurances —because you will question when their words and actions don’t line up— will be of no concern to them.  In fact, this is where the gaslighting begins: They will defensively react to your questioning of them and tell you, “That is your problem. This must be coming from someone else that hurt you, and that’s not my problem to fix.”  This hiccup of you expressing yourself (i.e. communicating) will irritate them so badly, you will wonder if the relationship is over, brewing more unrest within yourself.  

You will replay what or how else you could have said it, thinking that things would be so much better had you not brought it up at all.  You will take into consideration what they say (as any person does when in a relationship that matters to him or her) and will more than likely see a similar wound, happenstance, or pattern within your life (I will address later in more detail as it is very important).  You will acknowledge and accept there is some truth to what they are saying about you because, after all, if you are broken in that area within (as we all have areas), you will wonder if you are healthy enough to be in a binding connection.  

Sadly, while you were trying to learn and love this person through their own hurt and warped mindset of themselves (Sidenote: In this one particular case, he was a covert narcissist– one whose self-deprecation can be mistaken for humbleness), the narcissist has studied you and learned your triggers.  They save it up in their arsenal, so that they might use it against you when you confront them about something they’ve done.  They turn the tables in EVERY argument, so that they do not acknowledge or resolve any problems you have with them; you will begin to believe you are the broken one and that everything wrong in the relationship must be your fault.    

By calling out their puzzling, inconsistent behaviors, they go into overdrive because things aren’t going as planned and their patience runs thin.  They must have complete control of you but will make you feel you have lost control of yourself to think such outlandish things with your lack of trust in them and your doubts with their hot-cold attitude toward you.  They will test every hard-line boundary you hold to be true in your reality.  The ploy is to wear you down until you remove those boundaries all together.  For the narcissist, this isn’t about mutual compromises.  This is an assault to your rights and morals.  Each day, for weeks, maybe even months, you will have to restate what the boundaries are and why, just like you might to a toddler.  They will act like they didn’t hear you all the other times and think that a different day, situation, or circumstance means that the boundary is no longer in place and will test it to see if you really mean what you say.  They will work relentlessly at eroding your boundaries, especially if it’s in their interest to gain something that they really want. 

The interesting thing about this is when you first meet them, they seem to have NO boundaries.  Personally, they will have none of their own.  They will seem very open and carefree with just about anything.  Anything goes for them!  However, things will not stay that way.  All of a sudden they will have new, established boundaries in the relationship, except there will be no discussion or communication of what those are and when those went into effect.  This is where the insecurity seeps in.  It will make no logical sense why the boundary has been put in place.  As soon as you question the boundary, they will use this to control the relationship or enforce punitive measures, especially if it is something that seems to upset you. 

Your insecurities will bring forth a reaction: clinginess.  For me, I am an independent person.  I have been single for a long time and do not need another person or relationship in my life to feel fulfilled.  I slowly stripped away my boundaries, hoping that if I lightened up on mine, he would do the same.  BUT, the boundaries you each hold are two very different things: Yours will be your deep-seated beliefs and morals and normal reactions to protect what feels like a predator preying on you; they, on the other hand, will have boundaries that change and move with ebbs and flows, and the rings of fire will move in height and distance because the narcissist wants to see how committed you are to him or her– a warped idea of a relationship.  

Photo by Sander Meyer on Unsplash     

“Turning Page”

Written Winter of 2021/ First published 31 December 2021

This fiction/nonfiction piece marks the close of old loves. A new chapter awaits…

As I folded the clean, warm clothes from the dryer, music played through my Bluetooth kitchen speaker. I had selected a random playlist.     

The pause came between songs.  

Within a couple of piano notes, a few words, and the female vocalist’s timeless sound, I was moved.  It was a new song and yet was familiar, like my soul knew it deep down.  And like rushing waters, you invaded me: I was filled with overwhelming love; memories of you flooded my mind; and you possessed my soul. Something in me knew you knew, too.

And something about that realization sent me into an uncontrollable cry, anxious to rid myself of these feelings. I wanted to escape them and fast, but it was too much.  I was a hostage to my emotions.  I hurried through a list in my mind of what I could do to flip the moment to it’s just a song playing in my kitchen and I am good and I am strong and…   

It was beyond my strength– too powerful for me.  Instead of fighting a battle I wouldn’t win, I resigned myself to the moment fully.  I surrendered in hopes that in a few moments, I would go through some exercise where I would recover my emotions, clear my head, and move about my day as normal.         

I have never prided myself for being creative, but I have been known to underestimate my imagination.  It took me to a place where our footsteps walked together once before. Only once. Why this place, I don’t know.  I tried to stop this stream of consciousness; to exorcise you out of my system, I stopped my chore to write what I felt was taking place within me.    

***

I’m across the street from a corner of a place I know we’ve been before, together– this lifetime and maybe many others.  It’s the outside entrance of a quaint store in an artist town where trinkets are overlaid in fingerprints of friends, lovers, strangers. And I stare, not because I think you’ll be there, but because somehow I know our intertwined souls dwell here like ghosts, timeless and suspended between this world and the next.

The sun shines behind a building somewhere, and traffic carries on like the seconds that run to the next on my watch.  I feel its rhythmic beats against the skin near my wrist.    

I mourn within because it’s like you died– we died; I know I’ll never have that feeling again… when I was with you.

I linger before I turn away in an act of farewell.  I know I cannot stay– that our souls will remain and maybe someone passing by will pick up on a vibe of our love’s past and fall in love on that same street corner.  Except for them, they will make it.  They will make it and will love each other until life runs out of time.        

   

I sit in this moment. I don’t know what this is.  I suppose it doesn’t really matter.  All I know is I’m drawn to you and I haven’t even heard your voice in so long, or felt your touch, or sensed your gentleness with me– yet you are with me nonetheless.   

There at that store corner.   

Here in my kitchen.        

Ours is a soul tie, and we cannot be.  Not in this life.  Those are the saddest words I have had to type today.  That in finding you again, you would be the “turning page” to my next chapter in this life. Without you.

Ironically, I thought you would be the one to tell our story, where I never knew I would. For you loved me and I froze.  At the time, other stories preoccupied my mind; now you’re the only story I want to tell.  If I must.  

That’s all I have left: a story.

I will tell the story you’ve long forgotten, I’m sure. Like a specially wrapped gift, it’s been placed in my hands.  I know it’s mine as I gladly receive it with both arms open. I embrace it with a grin and am satisfied knowing what’s inside.  It is appreciated and in my care.  It is mine to guard– to watch over– much like I felt with you.   

Can we agree we will meet in the next lifetime where we are both ready?  And if we do, if we can, let’s love like another lifetime doesn’t exist– like ours is the last. For when we meet again, our young hearts and old souls will know.  We can meet on that store corner, but this time from that day forward, never take your eyes off of me again.  Place one hand in mine, and pull me closely, slightly into your body and wrap your other arm around my waist like we might dance and watch me surrender into your body’s frame.  You will like me better this time.

I can see us now on that day when we finally meet again. I am in your arms, and as you face forward, you tilt your head down as I turn inward where you feel the brush of my forehead against your jaw.  You keep me within your gaze.  We hear our breaths for one another, and you listen because that’s how you know I’m taken, completely, with you.    

Before I turn away from our store corner, I take one last look. 

Next time, my love.

As I walk away, under my breath I half-sing, half-say a verse to myself:        

“You have suffered enough

And warred with yourself.

It’s time that you won.”

I know you agree.

Original painting by Lorraine Christie  

“Turning Page” by Sydney Rose  

“Falling Slowly” by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová

An Up-Close Look on Narcissism in a Relationship

Have you ever been inside a traditional funhouse (House of Mirrors) at a carnival or amusement park?  The basic concept behind a house of mirrors is a maze-like puzzle. In addition to the maze, participants are also given mirrors as obstacles, glass panes to parts of the maze they cannot yet get to.  Sometimes the mirrors may be distorted because of different curves—convex or concave— in the glass to give the participants unusual and confusing reflections of themselves, some humorous and others frightening. 

This whole idea of a funhouse of mirrors is much like being in a relationship with a narcissist.  Being in a relationship with one will feel like a game.  They run the “funhouse” while you are the confused, disillusioned participant.  They gain entertainment in morphing your self-image, watching while you question your perception of reality, ultimately doubting one of your greatest gifts from God—your intuition.       

Upon entering a relationship with a narcissist, you will be in the idealization stage.  Everything with them will feel fun and adventurous.  They will be highly knowledgeable about the latest hot topics and will unshakably vocalize their opinions.  You will respect their confidence on such things.  They will seem to have a handle on their likes and dislikes, hobbies, and interests.  The conversation with them will flow freely and easily.  You amazingly will have everything in common—from the rudimental, fundamental, a shared deep-seated belief system.  You will think you have found your soulmate as NO ONE else you’ve ever met has quite “gotten you” like this person does.  It will feel like a divine set up from heaven.  

You will have entered what is called the “love-bomb” stage.  This is an important stage for the narcissist to establish a hold on you, to hook you into them.  Like a quick-start button, a foundation to the relationship will be established.  You will hear from this person often throughout the day by email and text; they will plan memorable dates, spending as much time with you as possible.  They will fill up so much of your time and mind that you will not know how you lived without them nor can you imagine them not being there.  Within a matter of weeks, they will want to introduce you to their closest family members—their parents and siblings— as they are convinced you are “the one.”  Within that same time frame, they will say I love you well before normal people could form such a connection.    

You will become addicted to this person.  Every text, I love you, and interaction will feed like a high. As you can imagine, this stage is short-lived as it inevitably results into a freefall as keeping this up for anyone is exhausting.  You will know when the narcissist has become exhausted because the memorable, planned dates will stop for no reason; they will start to ease out of the routine they have created, and little by little, you will feel starved for the same love and affection they once gave you.  

Photo by Daria Sizova

I Dreamed I Was in a Bookstore with You

I strolled among books in a place we once shared some moments, and my spirit felt yours among volumes of poetry.  Can the energy of you– us– be contained to a place? 

I wonder. 

And I imagine you are here and without hesitation and in one fluid movement, your forward steps and raised arm reach for me and you place your fingertips on the back of my neck as you gently comb them upward through my hair and you pause looking me in the eyes like you might kiss me but you don’t.  Your hand cups the base of my head like one might a small child and we dance to the tune of “Dance Around the Room with Me” like we had done many times before but this song we’ve never heard before and the music turns up at the chorus like it’s our song, forgetting we are in a bookstore. Forgetting we ever parted. Forgetting time.

As we stop dancing, you take one small step back so that we stand face to face with little distance between our arms’ embrace. Your eyes lift mine to hold your gaze and I relax my head in your palm and I know everything’s going to be okay…

“Ma’am?  Are you looking for something?” 

I’m startled by the salesman as I’ve perused to the front of the bookstore, not remembering how I got there.  “No,” I answered with a far away stare as I faced the man but looked through him like he was a ghost.  

I hurried through the checkout line and placed my items on the counter.  The same salesman made small talk as he checked me out.  I nodded and smiled out of politeness but didn’t hear a word he said.  

I was sure I’d shed off my grief-stricken heart once I made it outside of the bookstore.  I walked the parking lot to my car where the overcast sky with its grey hues mocked me.  The world became cruel that day when I realized I was trapped between two dimensions.  I was a ghost too, wandering between a dream with and a reality without you.  

Photo by KoolShooters from Pexels

To Only Want You

We were a premonition, 
your fire (my earth),    
a warming lullaby of laughter 
and destroying me, 

to only want you.  To only love you 
in this lonely world of nothing else.  

You were the intensity of extremes—
a paradox I was not accustomed to.        

Memory is a strange thing.  

I feel no anger or regrets.  
If anything, I accept.  I accept that 
you and I were meant to meet, to exist 
and walk this earth at the same time in history, 
to share a common purpose… 
can I just say—

I miss you.  

What do I want?  
I want to feel alive again, even if 
it means to burn.

Art print by Aykut Aydogdu

The Surrender

I thought to abandon you, the memory of you.  To go about a ceremonial purge to free myself of you.  I talk to you as if you are here and plead of you to leave, for you were only for a season, the lifetime of a leaf. 

I cannot live in the fantasies of maybe’s, what if’s, and what could have been’s.  For I was asleep when you were awake; now I am awake, and you are asleep. Maybe.

I try to shut off any form of communication that can get inside.  Yet you speak to me in songs, scenes, lines, photographs.  Maybe we share a similar muse.  I don’t know.  Then I think, even if you write a line from time to time that reminds you of me, I’m only a rented muse.

I hate poetry.  I hate a whole genre of literature because of you.  And the genre hems me in to its purpose to talk about it.  To teach about it.  For every poem reminds me of you.  To introduce it to someone is like a greeting.  Hello, again.  A sadness comes over me because the sting is felt each time.  To approach you again, to think of you.  Even if the poem is about something other than love, somehow, I find a way to relate it back to you—a phrase, a line, a word— a maze I follow to find you.  If the poetry is handwritten, my eyes follow the curves of each letter to find your signature somehow—like how your “h’s” have a v-shaped roof next to its chimney.  It’s your mark on the world where other eyes pull to its shapes. 

I’m not obsessed.  I say this then think of storytellers who try to convince their audience that they haven’t lost their mind; and as the audience, for them to make such a statement, we are sure to think they have.  Well, maybe I have. But at least if we all must lose our mind at some point on this earth, for me, you will be the best reason for doing so.  Losing my mind over you. Love.  The reality of things.  And even when I am 80 or 90 years old— closer to the end than ever—if my mind fails me, I think you’re the only memory that I will keep.  I’ll speak your name in my sleep; I’ll speak to you in my dreams; I’ll speak about you to every stranger that’s passing through; and in my dying breathes, you will be my last exhale. 

Photograph by Marta Syrko

In Finding Him, She Found Herself

She was drawn to this place where they once shared space and time long ago.  It was dangerous to reenter as she knew it would open a part of her heart she had covered with the added years since the last time she saw him.  For to open her heart again with him would create a vacuum that sucks breath and life into a void of space where the spiritual transcends all things physical.  She knew it would be easy to open but harder to close—maybe even impossible to close— and that she would do it alone.  That there was no prescription for the gnawing hunger that would be there.  Nothing could nor would feed its appetite, for even if she could have him, she knew a place inside of her would be eternally insatiable; having him would mean wanting more of him. 

The pull ran deeper than anything she’d ever known.  It scared her then; it scared her now. 

Words streamed in her heart, an inner knowing she couldn’t escape: Love is as strong as death, unyielding as the grave. It feeds and takes and takes some more.  Even if one were to drown its flames of passion, it would be futile.  She had heard these words before; now she felt them in her bones and knew they were true.  

She entered.  As she glided among the marked gravestones, the grass folded like waves of hair and padded like a cushion under her feet.  And the trees.  They held a mystery all their own— long years of being and holding the secret conversations and moments of those who have crossed their path.  She stopped to listen. 

Oak trees draped in Spanish moss whispered their memory: While she took in that beautiful scenery, he always kept a few steps between them so he could watch her.  Although she never led on, she could feel when his eyes were on her; and to keep in time with his gaze, she spoke back to him with her petite hourglass frame, intentionally poised in each movement and step.  Then she turned toward his gaze to catch him looking at her.  He didn’t mind being caught.  There he stood with poised frame, fingertips tucked in his front jean pockets, the weight of his body mostly shifted to one leg, and his unshakable stare like she was a wonder he couldn’t fully comprehend. 

The memory enveloped her.  She welcomed with fear the flow of love and adoration she once felt for him.  It became clear to her now after all these years why she ran from something so beautiful and sacred.  It was his tunnel vision of her that scared her.  How could someone feel so much—so much for her?  And her worst fear then: How long would it last?  It would only be a matter of time before he would step out of the trance and realize she was just a girl, a girl with flaws—nothing special.

That’s all it took: One memory resurrected another, their shapes flip-booked in mind’s pages. 

She closely examined the contents—a life in review— with a feverish excitement and with worry.  What if I can’t remember?  What if I can’t remember everything?  She noticed things she didn’t see the first time around.  Where she once focused on certain parts she thought would be most important, she was surprised to find something new and fresh in another frame’s corner. 

Our memories.  They are all here.    

She thought she’d forgotten.  She had taken in more of him—the two of them—than she realized, a discovery with clearer vision.  One can appreciate the cursed gift of memories mapped side by side as a whole picture rather than how they unfolded, each destined moment reached one at a time. 

Each memory swaddled her into a cocoon of rest and warmed her like the first of morning’s sun, and yet unexpectedly, her relief was quickly followed by a terrifying realization she couldn’t deny: Her heart had deceived her for almost a decade.  Unconsciously or secretly like a separate entity unto herself, her heart had rehearsed their memories over the passing years, and ever since, she had been searching for him in everybody she’d ever met.

———————————————————————————————————————————–

I have been working on and off on this piece for months.  It is a difficult piece with its verb shifts and moods as the character struggles between her past and present.  It is still in draft stage and unfinished.  As a writer, I have come to realize that nothing written is truly in its final stage; it’s rather abandoned.  For now, I put this piece aside.  I hope you enjoy and can relate to that one person you’ve met that has changed your life forever—that one person who has changed how you view love and how you view yourself when in the midst of it.  And when those realizations and revelations come, I pray you have the courage to embrace what once was so that you are readily able to recognize and accept it the next time it comes—loving better and stronger with all intensity.      

The Eternal Kiss

Today I feel you near, more than the days before,  

more than the days where I could touch you. 

Even though we walk different paths, in directions away

from the other, everything in my soul runs back to you—

only you.

We were made from the same fabric of sinews and tendons,

forever patterned and weaved in each other.

Our fleshly eyes got in the way, and yet,

all we had to do was close our eyes to know.

Everything in me fights to and from you, and at times

I feel so strongly that you do too, with me.

Sometimes I even hear your faint whisper,

“Let me go,”

and my answer is simply the same every time,

“I can’t.”       

Painting image of The Kiss by Gustav Klimt (1908-1909)