Keeping It Real

Looking back to my narcissistic relationship, what saved me, was my sense of humour. My sense of humour and my anger at those to whom I had reached out, who had been totally flippin’ useless. I had to survive long enough to finally speak my mind.

I eventually found a really good trauma counsellor. The first thing he had to deal with was my fury at the psychologists, to whom I had reached out over the years for help.

Loads of letters after their names, but as my mother would say,

“Just no common sense.”

My counsellor had made me a lovely card and signed it from, “Just another b%$#y psychologist.”

Gee I thought, this guy really does get it. I had become furious with him too, a few times, but he was amazing. He taught me about trauma and he had rapidly cured my flashbacks. Unfortunately he had inadvertently allowed me to retraumatise myself on my first session but we both learned as we went along.

Too much talking about it, had just put me right back there. It is only now four or five years later, that I am able to speak and write about things more fully. This is how I continue to heal and to some extent, vent my frustration.

My counsellor understood my anger and had given me the space to vent and also to mock the little twerp, thereby I had started on the long road to recovery.

His crocodile tears

He did bring up the word forgiveness a few times but had stashed it rapidly away, upon seeing the look on my face.

I find most of the people, who troll on about forgiveness to me, have clear areas of unforgiveness in their own lives. I would rather be an honest sinner than a pious one. I found a way to pray for him and that is still as far as it has gone.