Losing My Grip

 

822ec-holding-hands

Do you still remember the first time we held hands? I do. I will never forget. We were walking alongside the river. I had seen you walking there on numerous occasions previously. I would pass you and see you ambling along, completely lost in your own world. I would lean against a nearby tree and watch you as you would stand on the riverbank and gaze out across the flowing river. I would stare at the back of your head as I concentrated on working out what you would be thinking. Occasionally you would take out your ‘phone and take pictures of the river before standing once again in silent contemplation. You wore simple, sensible outdoors attire for these frequent walks. Your only concession to glamour was the scarlet scarf you wore about your neck. You were a creature of habit always taking this walk in early evening at the same time during the summer and then on the cusp of dusk through autumn and winter. You did it every day and each day you would spend some time staring out across the flowing water.

Once in a while you would make this walk with a friend and it was through her that I plotted to get to know you. You and your friend would both drive to the car park and then meet by the café on the edge of the car park and the path that wound along by the river’s edge. I noticed how you always arrived and left independent of one another. It was as if your friendship relied on being contained to this walk and nothing else. After seeing this ritual on many occasions I saw you drive away but your friend went to the café. This was my chance. Taking a replica of the scarf that you wore I entered the café and interrupted your friend as she stood in a short queue.

“Excuse me,” I smiled, ” I was walking along the path and your friend dropped her scarf, I have it here.”

“Oh thank you,” your friend replied and smiling took the scarf from my hand.

“Not a problem, did you enjoy your walk?” I asked pleasantly.

“Yes it is a lovely spot here isn’t it?”

“Absolutely and no matter what the weather or the season there is always something different to see,” I explained. She nodded and using my customary charm I found myself sat with the friend and enjoying a warm drink together. It was in the course of that discussion, a polite conversation on a chilly autumnal late afternoon that I learned your name. Once armed with this information and remembering the other shards of your life that your friend had mentioned in innocent reference I soon tracked you down on Facebook. There I worked through your profile, admiring your photographs and finding more about you. I spent time checking through the films and books that you had liked. They were not many, only a half a dozen in each category and I noticed that Memoirs of a Geisha was one of your favourite books. I knew this book and also its author. As I worked through the pictures I saw the ones of the river where you often stood and I beneath each one you had posted the same quotation which you attributed to someone who I knew was the author of Memoirs of a Geisha.

A little later I saw you stood contemplating the river once again and this time I walked up besides you.

“Never give up for even rivers someday wash dams away,” I said. You turned and smiled at me.

“Arthur Golden,” you answered naturally recognising the quotation and referring to the author of one of your favourites books.

“Correct,” I smiled, “is that why you look out over this river every day, to give you hope?” I asked.

You looked at me as if evaluating whether you should admit me to your confidence. Your did not take long to decide.

“Absolutely. It gives me hope that by looking on something so natural and beautiful as this that it will wash certain things away.”

I knew from the way you had answered that there was more to tell but now was not the time. We talked a little while and then I left you to your contemplations. After that you always said hello and we stood and talked as little by little I was given entry into your world. From standing at that same point we moved on to walking along the river bank as we got to know one another. I took care to walk in step with you. I knew the places you liked to stop and enjoy the view, since I had watched you do so on many times before. Like other fragments of your life that I had learned, I had memorised this and used it to stand with you and comment in an appreciative fashion about the river, the trees and the way the light would strike the surface of the water. Carefully, like the skilled artisan that I am, I would peel away a piece of your life and add it to my own as I grew to know more about you. You spoke of work, your home life and your interests. I noticed you never met your friend for a riverside walk again and it appeared that I had supplant her as your riverside companion. Each time we would walk, talk and then have a drink in the café as my knowledge about you grew. I ensured that I said the things I knew would bring about the best response from you. I knew what to say to make you interested and attentive. I could tell, for I had seen such looks before, that the way you looked at me meant more than just companionship.

Then after perhaps two weeks, maybe a little more, as we strolled along that peaceful riverbank I reached out and took your hand in mine. You did not hesitate. There was no resistance and you allowed my larger hand to engulf yours as you slipped your hand into mine. The movement was natural. You looked at me with a smile and I saw the light flare in your eyes as you felt my power surging from within. You did not let go of my hand once on that walk. In fact that became your signature. The fact you always loved to hold my hand. No matter where we were you would take it and hold on, even twisting your movements to avoid letting go. It was as if you had vowed that whenever you took my hand you would not let it go until I decided. I saw it as your signal of intent to care for me. It was a marker, your way of telling me that no matter what happened you would always be by my side and ready to care for me.

The handholding created this marvellous connection between us. I felt your love and admiration flowing through this handhold and in return you got to savour my brilliance. It was a fantastic connection that had been fashioned in high heaven. The moment our fingers entwined the connection was established and we both got something from it. That was why it worked. That was why we worked. That was why I worked you as I did.

I took full advantage of that but then I think you wanted me to didn’t you? That was why you always held my hand until you let me down. It was only once and you let go. You were never supposed to let go. You never had before despite everything I did, you always clung on. You always gave me that reassurance but then you took it away. I realised that you had no choice but to let go but you still let me down when you did it. I can never forgive you for that. Ever.

Sometimes I can still feel your grasp sliding from mine, the fingers slipping by and then.

Nothing.

Lightning does strike twice.

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38 thoughts on “Losing My Grip”

  1. HG, when I read posts like this I can’t help but think that you are able to love and accept love. I think at these moments you are more vulnerable and drink up the love offered to you like a starving man looking for sustenance. The handholding is a very intimate and loving gesture and I think you know that and want what it promises and when she takes her grip away, whatever trauma happened to you when you were very young is triggered and it hurts so much to face that. I love these kinds of posts, HG.

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  2. Thank you HG for reposting this one! I always get something out of your writings. I know a lot of the new readers have never read it . Depending on where I’m at in my healing I always get something different from them when they are reposted. This one was always one of my favorites and it continues to be! You are a magnificent writer! Please do not ever stop. Xxx

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  3. Thank you HG for posting this one again. I know you do this for your first time readers, but I always get something different from them the second time around. Perhaps this is because I am at a different point in my healing? This one was one of my favorites and it continues to be so today! You are a magnificent writer! Please don’t ever stop! Thank you! Xxx

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  4. Dear John Brzenk,
    If you don’t want the victim to leave and the volunteer doesn’t want you to leave, then why the break ups?

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      1. Thank you for responding HG. Could you please give an example of intervening act?
        I read fury again last night, yes after I red S&N (i like that. Kinda like S&M)and I wondered also if someone mirrored your behavior when devaluing starts, such as you ST them, they ignore, you deny an O, they don’t care, you physically assault, they fight back…etc…how would you mentally take this and what would you try to do to resolve? Oh and one more thing, since you’re my new N proxy can “our” song be Strangelove by Depeche Mode? Pleeeaaaasssseee?

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      2. An intervening act would be one party having to move away or dying.
        It is unlikely that someone would mirror my behaviour because they are not conditioned or programmed to respond in that way. I choose those who are conditioned to respond in a different way, the way which suits me. If someone did mirror me in order to deprive me of fuel I would shift manipulations until one broke through and found the fuel.
        Yes our song can be Strangelove, it is one of my favourites.

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      3. I guess that means that we are never ever ever getting back together (Taylor Swift). So you yourself would find no pleasure in being challenged by someone who tries to defy you?
        (Not rhetorical)
        On the way to Dr. M I will listen to our song then. It will put me in the correct state of mind evoking memories of when I was like you. 😗

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  5. Great post. HG, with the appliance letting go of the narcissist grip resulting in massive injury, will there be future hoovering from the appliance? By the way, I watched “Play Misty For me” film for the first time. Obviously, the man was a narcissist but the woman was insane. Talk about taking codependency to the highest degree of psychosis. I felt confused in the beginning as to which took the appropriate label (s).

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  6. HG, is this a description of a N that each time hopes the outcome will be different , that there is this one woman that can , be the different one , so the outcome will change ? Or is this a description of a predator that lives for the thrill of the capture , to prove time and time again they are lovable ? But knowing that you are going to enjoy the discard equally as much as the seduction and you are aware of this from day one ?

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    1. One hopes that this time it is the one. Yes, there is also the thrill of the capture as well as that reinforces so much that we need. If the devaluation and discard occurs then we will take satisfaction from the fuel obtained from it, but there is the hope that this time we will not be let down.

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  7. This one is also one of my favorites. 😃😃😍. I dont think that this post is to pretend and get fuel. I think its sincerity expressing feelings, wishes and desires.
    Its a very beautiful post❤️

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  8. As much as I hate being touched, I love holding hands. Something feels so secure in the grasp of palm and fingers. I know now it is an illusion too. It doesn’t start that way. It ends up that way.

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      1. re·con·nais·sance
        rəˈkänəsəns/
        noun
        military observation of a region to locate an enemy or ascertain strategic features.
        “an excellent aircraft for low-level reconnaissance”
        synonyms: preliminary survey, survey, exploration, observation, investigation, examination, inspection; More
        preliminary surveying or research.

        Call it what you will, it reminds me of a cat pacing back and forth….watching his prey.

        The fact you did not tell her you “surveyed” her, tells me it was sinister, at the very least calculating, but that is no surprise to me.

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      1. I would find a person who observed me by accident and out of shyness endearing, perhaps taking a few days of figuring out how and when to approach me, however this blog, goes beyond that, I do see the romantic element of it, that is what the Narc hopes for. Notice though he goes to great lengths to create a false connection before he even speaks his first words to her, setting up the typical illusion from day one.

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  9. I always surprised about an effort during reconnaissance.
    I dont think i would ever be able to invest so much time and effort for that, because i love me more vs. spend my time on it..
    Dear defective person, is it possible to get the prey just kn a normal way, e.g. u see a girl, u like here and u go directle w/o gathering info/observations?
    U think it will not work? To ask her directly

    So u would save a lot of ur precious time..
    Or u get a pleasures from a foretaste?

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    1. My like is predicated on the need for fuel, that is what I truly like. I do not have the time to waste on just “liking” somebody in the hope that they will provide me with fuel if I am hunting down a new primary source. I have little doubt that if I needed to, I could, based on my considerable experience of these matters, go “off piste” and approach somebody in the raw but why use up time doing that when I can ensure that the battle is won before it is ever fought?

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  10. Indeed .. And a Stark reminder of the damage posting personal details on social media & the internet can do .

    It took me less than two hours to find out who Narcs new supply was . Friends, family, mum , dad , sisters & brothers ex husband,favorite colours ,music, food. likes & dislikes . Whats school she attended, age job & of course her photo’s ..

    And all with just a few CLICKs of my mouse 🙂

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    1. I post because I relate to HG and the things he writes. I said before no one should be surprised that this blog might attract like minded individuals.

      I am usually respectful of most of you who are able to accept the sharing of my perspective even if you don’t agree with it.

      It’s refreshing to find a person like HG whose ideas and thoughts and machinations closely mirror my own.

      I love his brutal honesty and the fact that he is a most brilliant and exquisite writer only heightens my respect and admiration of him and this space.

      I think we can agree to disagree but both bring something to the table in a manner that both encourages debate and promotes a certain respect.

      I could say the same about many of the people here who express disdain and disgust for HGs narcissistic modus operandi. I don’t understand why those of you have been hurt so badly would seek help from the very type of person who hurt you. But I find it incredibly fascinating and thus am glad all of you are here.

      You have your reasons and I have mine. I find your contributions to be intelligent and I enjoy reading your perspective So Sad.

      I am here because it feels like home. A home HG has graciously and courageously opened up to us. And I plan to stay as long as he will have me.

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      1. Thank you so much for explaining & your honest reply B&T .
        I really appreciate it . I was perplexed as to why you find it so ” exciting ” but I understand now .

        I found HGs blog after months of searching for answers , don’t to this day know how I stumbled across it but I did .. 🙂

        I hope this answers your question as to ” Why you don’t understand why those of us have been hurt so badly would seek help from the very type of person who hurt you. ”

        As you know HG posts as a self ” confessed ” narc ” abuser” emotional controller .. But also he provides the answers to those of who have been abused , the answers that we need to know for some respite /closure ?
        Seems odd doesn’t it .

        I have & won’t deny that this blog & HG has at least given me that simply because no amount of counseling has .

        As you say you we both have our reasons . Glad you feel at home as i do too .

        So sad

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  11. HG what’s your thoughts on this , this is a friends message as to why she thinks her N may have discarded her ??? I wonder if I’d be giving the ex far too much credit to imagine that maybe he pushed me away (and ultimately broke up with me when I wouldn’t do it) because he knew he was abusing me, and would continue to do so, and really didn’t want to hurt me anymore. He had said, “anyone would say this relationship is toxic and unhealthy and that we shouldn’t continue. And I don’t want to keep going down the road we’re going down, where the precedent is to treat each other like shit. I want you to be happy.” Sure, he was putting some of the blame on me, which he has to do to self-preserve, but I wonder if maybe he was tired of hurting me, and this was the only way he knew how to stop.

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    1. It is the presentation of false contrition designed to soften the victim up for the inevitable hoover.
      It is not because he knew what he was doing and wanted to avoid doing it again. If that was the case, why not avoid doing it in the first place?

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  12. I’m sorry HG…. but ahh…. im not to sure how much of a “skilled artisan” you are as compared to “STALKER” maybe???! Lmfao.

    Thats a wee bit creepy to know how much time you guys spend watching us to learn about us so you can move in for the kill persae!!!

    It actually also sounds to me like you might have actually “heart” broken??! Is this quite possibly the triggering event for your inner narcissist to come flying to the surface quickly and efficiently??!

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