Knowing the Narcissist : A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 32
Dear A,
I don’t know how to hold on to you any longer.
Those were my last words to you. After yet another all nighter of flaring tempers and cruel accusations, you had at last resorted to violently abusing me, appeasing the monster within, finally letting loose upon me the raging fury that I’ve through the years come to know as the essence of you. I was expecting it. It was a matter of time I guess. Still, I don’t know how to hold on to you any longer after that. Truth be told, I never knew.
Your nickname for me was a projection. You chose to name me after the savage storm that whirled rampantly around us the first time we met, whipping strands of my long red hair into your face, making your coat flap in the strong gusts of wind, forcing me to hold on to you tight from the very first. You became the uncontrollable whirlwind spiralling violently into my life that night, and through fleeting moments of hesitation I sensed your primitivism, your absence of a cultured layer; I was appalled at the darkness of you, I was enchanted with your choosing of me. The overwhelming sensation of needing imminent escape was there too, I knew in my heart what you were; I moved even closer; you see, I had been looking for you too. Therefore I willingly invited the chaos of you into my life, the random blowing and shattering of me into millions of shards and tiny pieces; the storm gaining strength and then again, loosing force, closing in on me and leaving me far behind; again and painfully again. It was all there from the start. I somehow knew. Yours was the kind of icy wind that would chill me to the bone. Yours was the kind of ferocious storm that would leave nothing behind. Inexplicable, raw, true to its destructive core.
We were both addicts you and I. You to power. Me to pain. A perfect fit of damaged goods, formed out of the same abusive clay, differing only in how we coped with our childhood wounds. The predator and the victim. Together we set about the daring journey of unraveling our past, reliving our twisted paths, moving deliciously slowly through the intricate steps of the glorious dance of complete destruction, savouring the sweet taste of pure annihilation, turning into flames and ashes as we progressed, uncannily repeating the patterns we both knew so well.
You unsettled me deep within, you touched the untouched. You burnt a scorching hole in my safe existence, stealing my laughter and my joy, tearing me apart, punishing me harshly, controlling my innermost being, putting an all too high a price on love and pulling the strings of life and death in our eternal struggle.
I readily offered myself to you at the altar. Submissively I shivered with pain and pleasure in front of you, giving up my soul to the emptiness of you, loosing sight of all times but the present, crawling in the dust, mortally wounded by your horrendous assaults, bellowing in the wind from the pain of it all, not making the slightest sound as my dry lips repeatedly tried to form those devastated sentences that consisted of my begging and pleading with you.
You were my destroyer, I surrendered to you; you were my saviour, forcing me to kneel in front of the pain of the past. You punished me for what was in your nature, I felt gloriously alive reliving the highs and the lows of my childhood, being able to truly feel again, finally finding the love that is the only love I know of. So who actually victimised whom? Who was the parasite, the emotional vampire; who was the abuser and who was the abused? Who fed off whom? Who sought redemption from whom? You who could not feel, I who could only feel with you? You who will always be that vast empty space in universe, sucking all object matter into you; I who will treat my lessons learned like precious pearls, wearing them close to my heart, moving on eventually with more insight, trying to undo the damage of the past?
It’s all so quiet here now. Even ferocious storms will eventually abate, the utter calm in the aftermath of our viscous tosses and turns is in a way peaceful to me. I miss you still. I still wake up with the thought of you, I still fall asleep with you on my mind. But my all consuming need for you is gone.
I don’t forgive you. I never will. You wounded me deeply. You hurt me irreparably. You poisoned my heart, you taught me to hate.
I forgive you. I always will. You brought me back to my beginnings, made me confront my fears. You taught me what love is not. You set me free.
You on the other hand will never be free. My cage can be opened through self awareness, your bars will never be removed. I choose through my emphatic nature to search for happiness now; that is not a choice for you to make. You will be forever pacing there in your self made imprisonment, your vision clouded, the beauty of life and love escaping you.
I don’t know how to hold on to you any longer. Those words still echo within me having now finally let go.
Yours
Catherine
17 thoughts on “Knowing the Narcissist : A Letter to the Narcissist – No. 32”
Vent Your Spleen! (Please see the Rules in Formal Info)
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
I love this letter. Is this the “Kay” in the YouTube series?
It’s not, Isabelle.
HG and Isabelle,
HG’s YouTube series about Kay and John was an intense example of a horrific physically abusive relationship.
I found the real-life clip when Kay was hyperventilating and John was emotionally manipulating her very disturbing and it gave me a visceral feeling of anger and repulsion – at him, mostly.
Later that day, I did some errands which involved going to a store to buy something. While in the store, the background music at one point was ‘Love will keep us alive’ by The Eagles, a slow, soppy, mushy love song from the 1990s.
As I was shopping and the words of the song and the ‘story’ of the song were unfolding in my mind, I also had the images of Kay’s bloodied and beaten face flashing up in my mind as well. It was like the two vastly disparate things – the hope of neverending love and Kay’s horrific injuries at the hands of her so-called ‘lover’ were blending together. The song actually invoked the memory of the recorded clip of Kay and John that I had watched earlier in the day.
Some of the lyrics of the song are:
Don’t you worry
Sometimes you’ve just gotta let it ride
The world is changing
Right before your eyes
Now I’ve found you
There’s no more emptiness inside
When we’re hungry, love will keep us alive
I would die for you
Climb the highest mountain
Baby, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do
Now I’ve found you
There’s no more emptiness inside
When we’re hungry, love will keep us alive
While listening, I suddenly loathed the song and thought it was ridiculous. How can love keep a person alive, in a practical sense, if they’re being beaten until they’re almost killed?
It brought home to me in a very stark way how the romantic lyrics and sentiments of such love songs are totally false and extremely misleading.
As I have stated on numerous occasions, many lyrics are written from the narcissistic perspective. It is our kind that frames the concept of love in a wide-reaching manner.
HG,
It’s interesting that you mentioned “the concept of love”.
When thinking about the lyrics of this particular song, I thought about the difference – and also similarity – between the ‘concept of love’ and the ‘reality of love’.
Sometimes the two become tangled up and difficult to distinguish as two different things. I think this is where empaths especially, can become focused on the concept and mistake it for the reality.
I think that empaths, in general, are more likely to believe in the ‘spiritual’ or idealistic concept of love. The love devotee trait.
Sentiments like “I would climb the highest mountain, swim across the widest sea”; “I love you unconditionally”; “my love for you is everlasting”; or “my heart will go on”, etc etc. These sentiments describe the idealistic ‘concept’ of love.
The reality of love is very different. There are no actual mountains to climb. A person’s heart doesn’t go on. The reality is that if someone doesn’t care about your well-being, they don’t and can’t love you, no matter how much ‘love’ you pour into the relationship.
The true instinct behind ‘the concept of love’ is probably closer to a trauma bond. That is, a bond that is based on instinctive self-protection to avoid potential danger.
An empath subconsciously recognises that she or he is in a dangerous, life-threatening situation and instinctively shuts down a negative emotional response (i.e. fighting back, an angry outburst, retaliation, etc).
What is actually happening is an instinctive fawn response to danger. It’s the body’s instinctive and automatic defense mechanism becoming activated to prevent further abuse. In this fawn response, the negative emotional reactions are suppressed while the positive emotional reactions are heightened. This happens subconsciously, and the empath may be unaware of their moment-to-moment, immediate and instinctive emotional reactions.
In the mind of the empath though, this ‘fawn response’ is rationalised as ‘the concept of love’.
Great example of some lyrics WN. Chillingly accurate!
There’s a song by Irving Berlin–“What’ll I Do”–that sounds perfectly like the experience of an empath after the Golden Period:
Gone is the romance that was so divine
Tis broken and cannot be mended…
What’ll I do?
When I am wondering who
Is kissing you
What’ll I do?
Feels like devaluation to me. Ah, love!
Thank you, Alexissmith2016, and, yes, I agree.
I would have guessed she followed your works …so pertinent.
Hey icy cold wind that was my perception on you from our consult. Oddly before you said…” Hello I am H.G.” but then came that voice…it would warm a passerby on a cold winter night… even in the Arctic;) Not surprised voice over talent agents line up for you…my best friend is looking for V.O. British. You would sell their products or services like no other. You might give Sir David Attenborough or Morgan Freeman a run for their money!
Another aspect I contemplated about the Kay and John YouTube series…
HG often describes mid-range narcissists as walnut-balled cowards. This is because they are passive-aggressive and maintain a facade, while lessers are described as ‘what you see is what you get’.
In my family, which includes mid-range narcissists, there was never any physical abuse or violence. It simply never occurred. There was no physical pushing or shoving, no slapping or smacking – there was none of that. If it did happen, it would have been a shock and very startling. It would also be considered coarse, rough and ill-bred.
This does not mean my family was haughty or looked down our noses at people. It wasn’t like that. It’s just that physical actions were not used or even contemplated when it came to punishment or control.
In fact, my mother (a narcissist) would often tell me, ‘if a man ever hits you, make sure he only ever does it once’. She would be very clear about that.
I’m not condoning mid-range narcissists because I am fully aware of how damaging they are as well. Emotional and psychological abuse is very harmful and just as difficult to overcome as physical abuse.
Having said that, I was never frightened about being hit or smacked, having something thrown at me, having holes punched in walls, or being threatened physically. It also meant I would not tolerate being in a relationship with someone who was physically abusive – not for a second.
I think this is where perspectives are relevant with regard to what is meant by the word ‘cowardly’.
To my mind, someone who is physically abusive – whether it’s a man or woman who is physically abusive – to someone they claim to care about is cowardly and has shrivelled up balls. To me, it is the lowest, most cowardly, dumb, and base form of abuse.
Hey, are the letters to the narcissists back? I love them! Would like to write another letter (the last one I wrote about 4 years ago to my dad).
Oh Dear Catherine you and I are soul sisters. This letter brought me back to a moment in time I’ve been trying to forget ever since. Prayers for your peace.
Dear A? 🤔
Hi GP,
Good to see you here. Xx
Awwww Rebecca 🥰😘
Careful, gp. Rebecca is a gateway drug. She’s sweet and addictive and soon you’ll end up like me.
Allison,
I enjoy your witty humour 😄 xx
I was moved by this letter.
Very similar, except for the details – the red hair or the storm.
And except, that I’m not begging. You can only beg if you are a child or in a life-threatening situation – yours or someone close to you.
Otherwise, begging is pointless.
I’m not looking for happiness. It can’t be found. It comes and goes. I am happy with every diminishing ray.
I like contentment.
And I don’t regret hating. It’s a powerful and beautiful feeling. Love in the condensed form of despair and greedy longing.
I appreciate every emotion I was able to feel. I experienced the full set. The whole range, or the whole tapestry, as HG writes. With every shade, color and light intensity. I’ve experienced everything, except one (I don’t want to experience it). Now I can die in peace. I didn’t come into this world for anything else. I was just here for this.
I regret the disgust. A nasty, low-energy, sticky brown jelly that is difficult to shake off and difficult to get rid of. It leaves an ugly, greasy mark.
No sense.
—-
I don’t feel like writing letters to him anymore. It’s unnecessary. He became completely indifferent. Some man from the crowd, moving around funny and nervously, like a fly in a jar.
I look at you with empty eyes. Who are you and why do you think you might want something from me?
My power line stopped pulsing; the last hardened, forced lumps were already distasteful and hard to digest, right? They had neither smell nor color. A few gray, sterile, cold noodles with hardened cracklings and under-salted oil, which barely filled the stomach. So bad that they make you vomit.
You want to puke, I cook so badly. I lied and pretended to be a good cook. How could anyone ever enjoy this abomination, right? I’m just a worthless disappointment.
I don’t want to write to you anymore, every sentence is a fake and unnecessary effort. It’s still too much.
You won’t teach me anything new.
No, I won’t stand at your grave. Yes, I promised to cry… Stop blackmailing me. Yes, I lied. You’re right.
Don’t be boring.
Go now, in eternal peace, amen.