Ok, today will be a more positive blog. I am still grieving, I do have suicidal ideation, and I have run, as fast as possible, from my family, excluding my nieces. No matter what their mother has told them, I will be besotted until the day I die. Even if they turn into flying monkeys: I will click my ruby slippers twice and return to my home, my man, my amazing life.
Because I am just realizing the truth, I have made a few mistakes. One was telling my brother John that I had relapsed this week. He had text me that he was going to call me today, and right away I said:
“Okay, but no talk of Sarah, I have already taken a drink this week.”
Why? Why in the name of Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the angels and saints; WHY DID I TELL HIM THAT? My best friend warned me that he would be in touch the second his plane landed in L.A. He called my husband the day I slipped, they talked for twenty minutes. When I asked about the conversation? Dwain told me he wasn’t gonna bite, that I have already said my goodbyes.
I’ll tell you why I told him that: there is a very human need to be loved my your blood. So the first sign at his possible empathy for my truth? I go and give him my dirtiest dirt. His response? Nothing. No text back, and I am sure he is blabbing to the narc as we speak.
Here are five misnomers about narcissists and their flying monkeys:
- The narcissist loves you.
- There is hope for your relationship.
- The flying monkey will eventually see your pain.
- It’s “all in your head,” and finally:
- You can “fix” them with your love.
These are extraordinarily hard truths to swallow. If your narc is a family member, or worse, a partner, run for the hills and don’t look back. They don’t see you. They never did.
Michele Elkins-Hoffman is a writer who concentrates on the notion that we are all here to love and help one another. She lives in the sleepy town of Kleinfeltersville, Pennsylvania with her golden retriever, seventeen cats and pet raccoon.