(Those of you who follow me know that I've been out of the blogland loop for awhile. I've been trying to reacquaint myself over the last few days, and I've been doing a lot of reading. Over at Jonsi's blog, she posted a month ago that she won't be blogging for awhile. Although I'm very delinquent in my response, I have to write it. It has to be said.)
So, this one's for Jonsi and all the Jonsies of our world. Those kind, loving and brave, brave, brave souls who reach out, care for, love and hold on to we grown children of abuse. I identify here as an ACoN, Adult Child of Narcissists because it's an easy little acronym to type. But what I really was when I started trying to crawl out of the hell that my 'parents' caged me in could be described in so many more words.
If you've ever read or seen the last Harry Potter book/movie, I wonder if you identified as I did with the last piece of Voldemort's soul - that horrifyingly maimed and disgusting infant-like creature on the edge of death that Harry and Dumbledore find in the King's Cross train station of the last act? That's what I felt like when I crawled down into the cannon that would slingshot me out of the Crazymaker Clan. I was convinced that I didn't deserve happiness, peace, serenity - that the sky would come crashing down around me ears and that I would be to blame. I was convinced that I was worthless. I felt worthless. I looked worthless.
There was no help for me, as far as I was concerned. I knew that I wanted out because it was so, so, so painful, but I was pretty sure that I would never feel... good again. I was willing to settle for a lack of pain, but I thought that was a best case scenario.
These feelings of worthlessness and all their attendant horrors; these are what my allegedly loving, supposedly close, practically perfect in every way (except for that pesky Vanci who refuses to stay in line) family had spent my entire lifetime teaching me to feel. This is what they wanted me to feel. A well trained in willing victim; that's what they made me.
People often ask me how. How? How did I get away? How is it even possible? (And those cynical souls among us, who often soon enough reveal themselves to be Minions to Narcs or themselves Undercover Narcs, this is where they always ask, "Well, if you were able to remove yourself from it, could it really have been that bad?") Some people, normies themselves or other children of Abuse who are looking for a roadmap out, though, they really want to know.
The answer to that is complicated and highly individualized for each of us, I think. Some of us don't really even have an answer. That's okay. As we say in AA, it doesn't matter how you get here - it matters THAT you get here. For me, though, a big part of my answer is this:
I had someone who convinced me to let him love me.
My DH doesn't blog. He doesn't type, Facebook, email. After 14 years, I've finally gotten him to text. He can google search when absolutely necessary, but that's it. Which is fine, we all have our strengths. But it's meant that he's not out in this blogland with me, reading your posts and giving me perspective on them.
But Jonsi's been here since before I got here, and that, my friend, has been a huge help in my journey. Seeing a non-ACoN's reaction to some of the things that we've talked about, reading the absolute certainty with which you've been able to drill straight through to the core issue of the problem that most of us out here share - that are parent(s) abused us! Well, Jonsi, let's just say that if you and my DH met, you'd find that you're two peas in a normal person pod.
For me, when I got out of crazyland, and as I've stayed out it's been vital to my growth, to my healing to know that even when the deeply-implanted-in-my-head voice of the Narcs, the Abusers, the Minions starts its constant loop of putting me down, telling me I'm worthless and unlovable, I can turn to the other voice that's there: the person and people who love me. My DH. The Jonsi's. Even when I knew, absolutely knew that it was impossible for me to be loved, for me to be lovable, DH, like Jonsi (and I'm sure others have different people in their lives like them, at least I hope so,) these are the people who did their damnest to convince me otherwise. To show me that I was good enough. Even that I deserved love.
So, to Jonsi and all the others out there who love people like me, thank you. From the bottom of my formerly shriveled and now-full heart, thank you for being you. Thank you for fighting for me when I wasn't able to, and for telling me that I had an absolute right to defend myself. Thank you for re-teaching me what love really is.