Round and Round We Go – The Circular Conversation
The dim light of the living room lamp cast long shadows across the hardwood floor, turning the cozy space into a battlefield. It was past midnight, and the city outside their apartment window hummed faintly with distant traffic. Elena paced back and forth, her bare feet silent on the rug, while Marcus sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the coffee table as if it held the answers to the universe. The air was thick with unspoken words, the kind that had been building for weeks—no, months. Elena’s heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anger and desperation fueling her every step. She needed the truth, needed him to admit it, to see how his lies were tearing them apart. But Marcus? He just sighed, his face a mask of weary frustration, convinced that her endless probing was the real poison in their relationship.
“Marcus, please,” Elena started, her voice trembling but firm. She stopped pacing and faced him, her dark hair falling messily over her shoulders. “Just tell me the truth. I saw the messages on your phone. ‘Can’t wait to see you again.’ From someone named ‘Alex.’ Who is Alex? Why are you hiding this?”
Marcus looked up, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, a gesture Elena had once found endearing but now saw as a stalling tactic. “Elena, we’ve been over this. Alex is just a colleague from work. It’s about that project—the one I’ve been staying late for. You’re reading way too much into it. Why do you always do this? Jump to conclusions?”
Her frustration bubbled up like steam from a kettle. “Jump to conclusions? Marcus, the message had a heart emoji! And it wasn’t in your work chat; it was in your personal texts. You’ve been coming home late every night this week, smelling like perfume that’s not mine. Do you think I’m stupid? I deserve the truth!”
He leaned back, crossing his arms defensively. “See? This is exactly the problem. You’re so paranoid. Every little thing turns into a conspiracy with you. Remember last year when you thought I was hiding money from our joint account? Turned out it was just a bank error. But no, you had to accuse me of all sorts of things. It’s exhausting, Elena. Your trust issues are what’s ruining us, not some imaginary affair.”
Elena’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She felt a hot flush creep up her neck. How could he twist it like that? Make her sound like the villain? “That bank thing was different! You admitted you forgot to tell me about the transfer. And this isn’t paranoia—it’s evidence! I wouldn’t be like this if you were honest from the start. Just admit it, Marcus. Admit you’re seeing someone else, and we can figure out what to do next.”
He shook his head, a small, bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Admit what? There’s nothing to admit because nothing’s happening. You’re the one creating drama out of thin air. If you trusted me, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. But no, you snoop through my phone, invade my privacy, and then act like I’m the bad guy. How am I supposed to feel close to you when you’re always suspecting the worst?”
The words stung, and Elena felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to let him see her break. “Privacy? We’re married, Marcus! We share a life. If you’re not hiding anything, why lock your phone now? You never used to. And don’t turn this around on me. The problem isn’t my trust; it’s your secrecy. Tell me who Alex really is. Is it a woman? A man? Just say it!”
Marcus stood up abruptly, his height towering over her, though he kept his distance. His voice rose a notch, laced with irritation. “Alex is a guy from the marketing team. We’ve been collaborating on pitches. That’s it. No hearts mean anything romantic—people use emojis all the time. You’re overanalyzing because you’re insecure. And yeah, I locked my phone because last time you went through it without asking! This is a cycle, Elena. You doubt me, I pull away, you doubt more. When does it end?”
She threw her hands up in exasperation. “It ends when you stop lying! If Alex is just a colleague, show me the rest of the conversation. Prove it. But you won’t, will you? Because there’s more there. I know it. Your late nights, the way you smile at your phone when you think I’m not looking—it’s all adding up.”
He paced now, mirroring her earlier movements, his frustration mirroring hers but twisted into defensiveness. “Show you? So now I have to prove my innocence every time you get a wild idea? That’s not a marriage; that’s a courtroom. You’re the judge, jury, and executioner. No wonder I stay late at work—it’s peaceful there. No accusations, no interrogations.”
Elena’s chest tightened. Peaceful? Was that a slip? “See? You just admitted you prefer being at work over being here with me. Is that because of Alex? Or whoever it is? God, Marcus, I love you, but this is killing me. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. Just be honest so we can move forward.”
He stopped pacing and faced her, his expression softening for a split second before hardening again. “I prefer work sometimes because here, it’s like walking on eggshells. One wrong word, and boom—argument. You’re the one making it unbearable. If you’d just relax and trust me, things would be fine. But no, you have to dig and dig until you find something to blow up.”
The circle was closing in, and Elena felt dizzy from it. She sat down on the armchair, burying her face in her hands for a moment. “Trust you? How, when everything points to the opposite? Let’s go back to the beginning. The message: ‘Can’t wait to see you again’ with a heart. That’s not professional. Explain it without blaming me.”
Marcus sighed heavily, sitting back on the couch. “It’s casual talk. Guys at work use emojis too. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re projecting your fears onto innocent stuff. Remember when your ex cheated on you? That’s where this comes from, not from me. I’m not him, Elena.”
Her head snapped up, fire in her eyes. “Don’t bring up my past! This is about us, now. You’re deflecting again. Every time I ask for the truth, you blame my history or my ‘paranoia.’ It’s a cop-out. If you’re innocent, why not just show me the phone? End this right now.”
“Because it’s the principle!” he shot back, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. “I shouldn’t have to. A healthy relationship doesn’t require constant proof. Your demands are what’s pushing me away. Maybe if you worked on your issues, we’d be okay.”
Elena stood again, her voice rising to match his. “My issues? You’re the one with the secret texts and late nights! This isn’t about my past; it’s about your present. Admit it, Marcus. Admit there’s someone else, and let’s deal with it like adults.”
He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. “There’s no one else. How many times do I have to say it? You’re hearing what you want to hear. This argument is pointless because you won’t believe me no matter what.”
The frustration was palpable now, a living thing in the room. Elena felt like she was screaming into a void, her words bouncing back unchanged. She tried a different tack, softening her tone, desperate to break through. “Okay, fine. Let’s assume you’re telling the truth. Why the perfume? Why do you come home smelling like jasmine when I wear lavender?”
Marcus groaned. “Perfume? It’s probably from the office—someone’s wearing it. Or the elevator. I don’t know, Elena. Not everything is a clue in your detective novel. You’re making mountains out of molehills, and it’s frustrating as hell. I feel like I’m on trial for being human.”
“Human? Hiding things isn’t human; it’s deceitful!” she countered, her voice cracking. “I want to believe you, but you give me no reason to. Show me the messages, and I’ll drop it.”
“No,” he said flatly. “Because even if I do, you’ll find something else. Last week it was my ‘shady’ lunch receipt. Next it’ll be my gym bag. It’s never-ending with you.”
Tears finally spilled over, and Elena wiped them away angrily. “It’s never-ending because you never address the core issue! Your secrecy breeds doubt. If you’d just be transparent, we wouldn’t be here.”
“And your doubt breeds my secrecy,” he replied, his tone weary. “See? Circle. We’re stuck because of you.”
“Me? You’re the one circling back to blame!” She paced faster now, her mind racing. How could he not see it? It was so obvious to her—the lies, the deflections. But to him, she was the nagging wife, the problem child in their marriage.
Hours seemed to pass in this loop, the clock ticking mockingly on the wall. Marcus’s frustration manifested in short, clipped responses, his body language closing off—arms crossed, gaze averted. He felt trapped, like no matter what he said, it fueled her fire. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Trust him like she used to? The more she pushed, the more he retreated, convinced her insecurity was the real enemy.
Elena, meanwhile, felt her desperation morph into despair. She loved him, or at least the man she thought he was. But this version? The one who twisted every fact into an attack on her character? It was infuriating. She tried logic: “Let’s list the facts. Fact one: Late nights. Fact two: Locked phone. Fact three: Suspicious message. Explain them without blaming me.”
“Facts? Those are your interpretations,” he said, shaking his head. “Late nights: Work deadline. Locked phone: Privacy after your snooping. Message: Innocent banter. Your spin makes them suspicious because you’re looking for trouble.”
“I’m looking for truth!” she exclaimed. “Why is that so hard for you?”
“Because your ‘truth’ is a lie you invented,” he retorted. “The real truth is you’re unhappy and projecting it onto me.”
The argument spiraled deeper. Elena brought up their honeymoon, how open they were then. Marcus countered that she changed after her promotion, becoming more controlling. She accused him of gaslighting; he called her dramatic. Round and round, frustrations mounting.
Elena’s hands shook as she spoke. “Marcus, please. For once, see it from my side. Imagine if I had those messages. Wouldn’t you question?”
He paused, then: “Maybe. But I’d talk, not accuse. And I’d trust your explanation. That’s the difference.”
“No, the difference is you’re hiding something!” she insisted.
And back they went. The night wore on, voices hoarse, emotions raw. Elena’s desperation peaked in pleas: “Just tell me the truth, and we can fix this.”
Marcus’s frustration in retorts: “The truth is you’re the problem.”
Elena took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside. “Remember our first big fight? About the car accident. You admitted you were texting while driving, even though it was minor. You said honesty was key. What happened to that Marcus?”
He looked away, jaw clenched. “That was different. It was my fault. This isn’t. You’re comparing apples to oranges to make me the villain.”
“No, I’m showing you changed! You used to value truth. Now you dodge it.”
“Because your ‘truth’ is skewed! You twist everything.”
Frustration surged in Elena. She felt like banging her head against the wall. How could he not see the pattern? His deflections were textbook avoidance.
Meanwhile, Marcus’s mind raced. He loved her, but this? It was suffocating. Every conversation turned into an interrogation. If he showed the phone, she’d question the deleted messages (there were none, but she’d assume). It was lose-lose.
“Let’s try this,” she said. “Hypothetically, if you were cheating, how would you act? Late nights, secretive phone, defensive arguments. Sound familiar?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Hypothetically, if you were insecure, you’d accuse without proof, snoop, and push away your partner. Sound familiar?”
“Stop mirroring me! That’s not helping.”
“It’s the truth you won’t face.”
Round they went again.
She sat beside him, touching his knee. “Marcus, I don’t want to fight. I want us. But I need honesty.”
He pulled away slightly. “Honesty? Like admitting your paranoia is the issue?”
Tears flowed freely now. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re relentless.”
The argument continued, layering frustration upon frustration, an intricate dance of words that led nowhere.
Elena stood in the middle of the living room, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to hold in the fragments of her crumbling composure. The clock on the mantel ticked relentlessly, marking the passage of yet another sleepless night. It was now 2 a.m., and the argument had started hours ago, sparked by a simple glance at Marcus’s phone while he was in the shower. Now, it had ballooned into something monstrous, a vortex of words that sucked them both in deeper with every turn. Elena’s eyes, red-rimmed from unshed tears, fixed on her husband with a mixture of pleading and fury. She needed him to see it—to acknowledge the cracks in his story, to admit the truth so they could finally mend or move on. But Marcus, slumped on the couch with his head in his hands, saw only her relentless pursuit as the source of their misery. To him, she was the architect of this chaos, her doubts a self-fulfilling prophecy that poisoned everything.
“Marcus, listen to me,” Elena said, her voice steady but edged with desperation. She stepped closer, her bare feet sinking into the plush rug. “I didn’t want to snoop. I really didn’t. But when your phone buzzed and I saw ‘Alex’ pop up with that message—’Last night was amazing, can’t wait for more’—what was I supposed to think? You’ve been distant for weeks, coming home late, barely touching me. Just tell me who Alex is. Be honest, and we can work through this.”
Marcus lifted his head, his expression a mask of exasperated patience. He rubbed his stubbled jaw, a habit that used to charm her but now just seemed like a delay tactic. “Elena, how many times do I have to say it? Alex is a coworker. We’re on the same team for the merger project. The message was about the presentation we nailed yesterday. ‘Amazing’ referred to that, not whatever your imagination is cooking up. Why do you always leap to the worst possible conclusion? It’s like you want there to be a problem.”
Her frustration ignited like a spark on dry tinder. “Want a problem? Marcus, I’m trying to fix the problem! If it was just work, why the heart emoji at the end? Why delete the thread when I asked to see it? You’re acting guilty, and it’s making me crazy. I love you—I don’t want to believe this—but the evidence is staring me in the face. Admit it so we can stop this circle.”
He sighed deeply, leaning back against the cushions as if the weight of her words was physically pressing him down. “Evidence? A emoji and a deleted conversation because I hate clutter on my phone? That’s not evidence; that’s paranoia. Remember when you thought I was hiding Christmas presents last year and it turned out to be nothing? This is the same thing. Your trust issues are the real issue here, Elena. They’re pushing me away, making me not want to share anything because it’ll just get twisted.”
Elena felt a wave of heat rush through her, her hands clenching into fists. How could he flip it so effortlessly? Make her the villain when she was the one fighting for clarity? “Trust issues? Maybe I have them because you’ve given me reasons! Like the time you ‘forgot’ to mention that weekend trip with ‘friends’ that turned out to include your ex-coworker. Or how about the credit card charges for dinners I wasn’t at? If you’d just be transparent, I wouldn’t have to question everything.”
Marcus stood up now, pacing the room with slow, deliberate steps, his frustration mirroring hers but channeled into defensiveness. “Transparent? I am transparent! I told you about the dinners—they were client meetings. And the trip was work-related; I didn’t mention every detail because I didn’t think I’d get interrogated. But that’s what happens every time. You question, I explain, you doubt the explanation, and round we go. It’s exhausting. I feel like I’m married to a detective, not a partner.”
The word “exhausting” hit her like a slap. She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Exhausting? Try being the one in the dark, Marcus. Try wondering if the person you vowed to spend your life with is lying to your face. I don’t want to be a detective—I want to be your wife. But to do that, I need the truth. Who is Alex really? A woman? Someone from your past? Just say it, and let’s deal with it.”
He stopped pacing and met her gaze, his blue eyes flashing with irritation. “Alex is Alexander, a guy from accounting. Male, married, boring as hell. The heart was probably autocorrect or something—people use them casually. You’re blowing this up because you’re insecure. If you trusted me, we’d be in bed right now, not doing this dance again. Not doing this dance still.”
Elena’s heart pounded, a mix of anger and despair. She could feel the circle closing in, the same points repeating like a broken record. “Insecure? That’s your go-to blame. Every time I point out something suspicious, you call me insecure. It’s gaslighting, Marcus! Show me the phone. Prove Alex is a guy. End this.”
“No,” he said firmly, crossing his arms. “Because proving it once means I’ll have to prove everything forever. That’s not how relationships work. Your demands are what’s breaking us. Maybe if you worked on yourself, saw a therapist or something, we’d be fine.”
She laughed bitterly, though there was no humor in it. Tears welled up, and she blinked them back fiercely. “Therapist? For what, believing my eyes? Let’s go back to the message. ‘Last night was amazing.’ What ‘night’? You were home with me last night, watching TV. Or were you? You stepped out for ‘a walk’ at 10 p.m. Where did you go?”
Marcus threw his hands up. “A walk! To clear my head after our last argument about the groceries or whatever it was. The message was about the work night before— the team dinner. See? Twisting again. You’re the one creating these gaps because you don’t trust.”
The frustration was building in her chest. She paced faster, her mind racing through memories, trying to find a way to break through his wall. “Trust is earned, Marcus. You’ve lost it with your secrets. Remember our honeymoon? You promised no lies, ever. What happened to that?”
He sat down again, looking defeated. “I haven’t lied. You’re the one changing the rules, turning promises into traps. This is why I hesitate to tell you things— it always blows up.”
” Hesitate? That’s admitting you hide stuff!” she shot back, her voice rising. “See? Circle. You hide, I doubt, you blame my doubt for your hiding.”
“Exactly,” he said, pointing at her. “Your doubt causes the hiding. If you trusted, I’d share more.”
Elena’s hands trembled as she sat on the coffee table facing him, close enough to touch but feeling miles apart. “No, your behavior causes the doubt. Let’s try this differently. Suppose I had a message like that. Would you just ‘trust’ me?”
He paused, then nodded. “I’d ask, but I’d believe your answer. Not this endless loop.”
“Because you’d see the truth! But you’re not giving me that.”
“Because there’s no other truth! You’re inventing it.”
The argument spiraled, frustrations mounting. Elena felt like she was drowning in his deflections, her desperation growing with each loop. She recalled a flashback to their early days: Marcus confessing a small white lie about liking her cooking when he didn’t, and how his honesty had brought them closer. Now, that man seemed gone, replaced by this evasive stranger.
Marcus, in his mind, saw her as the changed one—once fun and spontaneous, now a constant critic. Her probing made him defensive, making innocent things seem guilty. It was a vicious cycle he blamed on her.
“Let’s list it out,” she tried, grabbing a notepad from the table. “Point one: Late nights four times this week. Explanation?”
“Work,” he said flatly.
“Point two: Perfume on your collar—jasmine, not mine.”
“Office smell. Someone’s wearing it.”
“Point three: Locked phone, new password.”
“Privacy after you snooped.”
“Point four: The message.”
“Innocent.”
She tore the page in frustration. “Every answer is a dodge! Admit there’s more.”
“There’s not. Your list is biased.”
Hours passed in this dance. Elena’s voice hoarsened from pleading; Marcus’s from defending. She threatened to leave; he called it emotional blackmail, proof of her instability. She begged for honesty; he insisted he was honest, her perception the problem.
As 4 a.m. approached, Elena collapsed into the armchair, exhausted. “Marcus, I can’t do this anymore. The circle is killing me. Just see my side.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Your side is the problem. If you saw mine, we’d stop.”
Silence finally fell.
Nothing was resolved.
49 thoughts on “Round and Round We Go – The Circular Conversation”
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Mr. Tudor,
Could circular conversations be used as a tactic to salami slice us into not challenging or questioning the narc anymore because we want to stop the madness?
Yes.
Ugh! I knew it. Thank you, Mr. Tudor
If I had a dollar for every time I lived this… And now my daughter is living it, I wish she’d read this and grasp what she’s dealing with.
Circular Conversations. Ugh! The worst! So infuriating. I found myself becoming very annoyed while reading this article because who hasn’t been there with a narc? You captured it so maddeningly perfect, HG. I hope I never find myself in a circular conversation with you. Haha!
Dear Mr Tudor,
Classic playbook scenario.
Women instinctively know, however, remain in denial. She just wanted him to admit his guilt to prove her instincts were right, so exhausting going round n round in circles. Sadly, their marriage was over ages ago.
If you love and trust someone, you wouldn’t give them reason to be suspicious in the first place.
Brilliantly executed Mr Tudor, thank you.
Hi Bubbles,
“If you love and trust someone, you wouldn’t give them reason to be suspicious in the first place.”
That’s a very good point. I remember Love of My Life Guy used to make me suspicious on purpose. He would use old photos. I’d be in his apartment and there would be a crumpled photo of himself and his ex taken years previously, ‘accidentally’ left out on the bedside table. Smooth, very smooth, triangulation by bringing up the past.
I knew he wasn’t seeing her, but it was done to keep me on the back foot, to make me think that he had been reminiscing, that he missed her or secretly wanted to be with her instead of me.
She was always the ghost at the feast.
My mum didn’t like him. He was too successful so she would pity play how he must look down on her. She would plant seeds of doubt in my mind too. Both of them triangulating for different reasons yet not actually for different reasons!
He was the only narc who made me feel that way. Wrong footed. I did ship out, it was linked to his ex and by my mum’s hand, so he ultimately became a victim of his own triangulation. She won her battle but lost the war, I immediately closed down any conversation about boyfriends after that.
Xx
Dear truth,
Sorry he did that to you, sounds like he was deliberately baiting you. Huge red flag. Your mum sensed it as well.
Not sharing information is very wise indeed. Good for you.
It always comes back and bites you in the bum. It never surprises me now what people remember.
Hi Bubbles,
“It always comes back and bites you on the bum.”
Amen sister!
Xx
Truth seeker:
With my ex, you had to learn “ narc speak.” He would tell me for two years when together daily that he missed our dog (not me ) but he urgently wanted to move back to California to be with the dog. (Not me. ) in reply, I offered to bring him the dog to be with him. Oh no, a million excuses. I knew he wanted me and to be back in my home. I drew a line. Since we split, he posts a blog with dozens of paintings and poems and songs to tribute to the greatest love of his life…. Our dog. Every week I think he sings about her being the greatest love of his life. He dedicates songs to her. He sings “ Little Betty, you are the one for me.” His Narc mother was jealous of this dog. I am not. I loved her, cared for her but she died at an old age under my sitting chair of a stroke. I was very sad to see her go, of course, I loved her. But my ex in his delusions claimed I killed her. Not one drop of sympathy for my kids or me. All about him. Th n he b came obsessed. Paintings, poems, photos, songs. ….. My son once joked after I played one of his love songs to Betty, as he has many…. “ well mom 🧑 f I never marry, maybe I could have a dog like Betty.” You see? It’s nuts! Sad in a way as they can’t express what they are feeling even doing.
With him what narc speak says “, I must proclaim my love for our dog not you as my pampered life with you was ended by you. I am angry as you won’t give it to me. So I will regularly tell the world I am in love with our dog not you. Plus it has the benefit as making me look like a do gooder who does good and it triangulates my mother who unlike you gets jealous and does more for me as a result. I hate you bitch!”
I get it. I understand narc talk thanks to our educator HG. Without him, I would have thought my ex is a weirdo psycho who is in love with our dead dog.
Hi Contagious,
I’m so sorry, the way you wrote this made me laugh. It’s important to look back on it and laugh I think. I have done the same with stories about my own narcs. I look back and it all looks so clear to me now, so obvious and often I can’t help but find some of the episodes funny.
I think the way you wrote this, the fact we can laugh when looking back shows that we got there. We healed.
Thank you for sharing this with me.
Xx
The amount of ways they can triangulate is astounding lol! 🤷♀️🐕🙄 Thanks for sharing Contagious and I know what you mean TS.. when we look back at the lunacy and are able to laugh, it does help a little!
Bubbles,
“She just wanted him to admit his guilt to prove her instincts were right, so exhausting going round n round in circles.”
Yes, and sounds like she wanted to fix him, or attempt to fix things in the relationship. This was exhausting simply to read.
If I had this much evidence, I would have exited the relationship – this conversation wouldn’t have happened in my ensnarement.
Hi WC,
I was thinking the same exact thing. I wouldn’t have had this conversation either. I don’t have these kinds of doubts about my narc husband. But he’s a victim narcissist.
But reading it did remind me of the many circular conversations I did have with him. They were exhausting and would go on for hours. I would repeat myself over and over but go no where. It was like I was banging my head against the wall. Eventually I “learned” to stop trying to get my point across because it wasn’t worth it.
Reading this article made me think about some things though. The first was when these conversations would happen, I was challenging him so it was still great fuel but also a challenge so he couldn’t let it go. The other thing I wonder is was it really my choice to stop challenging him or was this more conditioning? The circular conversations don’t happen anymore because I don’t entertain them. Once they start, I tap out. Was that my goal or his?
Leigh,
“The circular conversations don’t happen anymore because I don’t entertain them. Once they start, I tap out. Was that my goal or his?”
Narcissists (unaware, anyway) don’t think that far in advance, only moment to moment. It was you, recognizing a pattern but choosing not to perpetuate it.
Hi WC,
I do know since the narcs I deal with are unaware, they haven’t actually planned these kinds of tactics in advance. But I wonder if this is some sort of salami slicing driven subconsciously by the narcissism to condition me. I asked Mr. Tudor and I’m awaiting his response.
Leigh,
“…I wonder if this is some sort of salami slicing driven subconsciously by the narcissism to condition me. I asked Mr. Tudor and I’m awaiting his response.”
I’d be curious to know his response as well.
Hi WC
I get what you’re saying, and I know you’re correct. But if the salami slicing has taken place, as HG indicated it could, was it actually her?
Dearest Leigh,
I’m the same as you, I don’t do circular conversations anymore, it really does do your head in. They definitely hear you the first time, we must understand, to them, it’s a game.
Flip the coin, don’t give them what they want and see their reaction.
I do this a lot, when people say stupid things, I stop, then repeat the question back to them. Priceless!
Their startled “deer look” 👀 is a Kodak moment. Then comes the instant stuttered denial. Haha
You mention “conditioning”, deep down we probably are, learned behaviour from both sides.
“Was that my goal or his”? Once the narrative changes, the game changes, for both parties.
Self preservation wins, always
Dearest Bubbles,
“Once the narrative changes, the game changes, for both parties. Self preservation wins, always.”
Thank you so much for that! I’ve been beating myself up a bit and that was really helpful to read!
I do enjoy flipping the script on them. Sometimes its fun to watch how they react. LOL!
Oh, I’m behind, you two already talked about that.
Hi AV,
Did you see Bubbles’ comment to me? It was actually very helpful. It made me realize it doesn’t matter how I got to the point of not engaging in circular conversations. It only matters that the narrative is changed. It made me feel so much better.
Hi Leigh,
I just saw it now, great point!
Dearest Leigh,
Thank you lovely. I’m so pleased you found my comment helpful to soothe your soul. It’s true though, when it flips over to you, the whole conversation changes. A form of gaslighting, blame, along with their denial which causes you to question your own feelings and judgement so you are then the accused and are made to feel guilty about daring to question them. All your feelings and concerns are dismissed entirely.
They refuse to take ownership or responsibly for their actions.
That’s when you know they don’t care about you anymore and it’s only downhill from there. Save your breath, as it’s all pointless and only hot air
Dearest WhoCares,
She really didn’t know when to stop, did she ? It’s like banging your head against a brick wall and not getting anywhere.
The obvious was literally staring her in the face and not accepting it.
I feel it’s a human trait of wanting to be right and then say, “see, I knew it, I was right”. Self gratification !
Accept the evidence that’s right in front of you and just leave the bastard. Your relationship will never be the same again. Do it once, they’ll do it again.
I was exhausted reading it too haha
Even if you were to catch a bloke in bed with someone, they will still have the audacity to deny it. “It’s not what you think “
Hahahahahahaha
Bubbles,
“Even if you were to catch a bloke in bed with someone, they will still have the audacity to deny it. “It’s not what you think “”
Truth.
WhoCares & Bubbles,
Maybe they were looking for bed bugs ?
Pahaha!
Dearest AspEmp,
Hahahahahaha
The beds bugs they were looking for, were conveniently dickus in vagus !!!!!
Hello Bubbles xx
When I read your words, it made me think of….
“Love me tender, love me sweet
Never let me go
You have made my life complete
And I love you so
Love me tender, love me true
All my dreams fulfilled
For my darling, I love you
And I always will
Love me tender, love me long
Take me to your heart
For it’s there that I belong
And we’ll never part
Love me tender, love me true
All my dreams fulfilled
For my darling, I love you
And I always will
Love me tender, love me dear
Tell me you are mine
I’ll be yours through all the years
‘Til the end of time
Love me tender, love me true
All my dreams fulfilled
For my darling, I love you
And I always will”
Hope you and Mr Bubbles are managing ok xx
Dearest AspEmp,
Good ol Elvis, great song !
Managing well now, thank you lovely one.
I hope life is being kind to you AspEmp
As always
.
Then a golden period is over, devaluation starts, and a song can be rewritten to:
“Hate me harder, hate me bad
I won’t let you go
You have made me very mad
And I hate you so
Hate me harder, hate me true
All my dreams are killed
For my witch, I hate you
And I always will
Hate me harder, hate me long
I will rip your heart
For it now belongs to me
And we’ll never part.”
My girlfriend once caught a cheater. He said he slipped on soap and fell on top of her! True! Lol I said did he also accidentally slip in?
Dear Arya0901,
Brilliantly done lovely. Ain’t that the truth !
Lol Contagious! They really think we’re stupid, don’t they! 🙄
Dear Contagious,
Hahahahaha
Men always have an excuse, no matter how unbelievable, “she made me do it” blah blah blah
Apparently, “a dick has no conscience”
Yep. Another great example, thank you HG.
I tried to ask mum mum once (before I knew) something simple, like to text me if she was going to be late when we were meeting up. It was like trying to catch a fish with my hand! Absurdly convoluted. I see now, how dare I threaten her control!
Hi Jade and I pray HG :
My best friend is in town he worst situation and I don’t know what more I Can do to help her. I feel HG consult will fall on deaf ears. She is Austistic. Went to special schools had help since two. But since 14. She wants to smoke pot and do nothing. She will NT work , drive, go to school. She has regularly been physically violent, verbally abusive, cut, threatened suicide and has abused my friend to the floor. She has tried insurance therapy. Her daughter has been in and out of residential a ( holding cells). She has been tested and it’s been autism, borderline and now bipolar. She even attacked the puppy, smashes her house, bit her, blacked her eyes and body, smashed her car. Does nothing but sit in her room on her phone with demands and constant self pity. 21 in February. Social services in now involved where they come to the home with amazing programs from therapy to jobs. Her daughter wouldn’t attend therapy so this coming to the home 3 days a week is the best ever.
Her son, her family wants the kid kicked to the curb.
Me? Let social services try for six months. Best intense therapy offered. She can’t afford private.
But her job paid for five days for her to take a 4 day vacation to Hawaii. Her daughter had a meltdown kicking in doors, demanding pot and would not go.
I said get the dog a carer and GO, have fun. But she can’t enjoy a moment wondering if her daughter ir dead as she won’t respond.
I know her daughter is controlling and punishing her. And I told my friend to cut the cord and have fun for four days. But she won’t. She will worry nonstop.
My friend is Co-d and it’s sad. I have shared HG videos, and told her that her daughter is not a child anymore and that if someone threatens suicide regularly there is nothing you can do.
She keeps saying what if it was your kid and not your husband? I left a similar type. middle lower narc somatic. Reminds me of him. I don’t see her as bipolar. She had a MMRI at 18. No sign and was diagnosed at 18 as autistic and BPD.
It doesn’t change the horrid abuse. I don’t care if mentally ill, no one should be subject to abuse.
Advice folks? I am open as I don’t know how to help my best friend of 33 years. I am at my wits end too.
Maybe I will pay for HG consult but she tends not to listen. Very enmeshed. Very Co-d.
Hi Contagious, I am so sorry.
I wasn’t sure from your last comment re this if PDA was correct / if you’d mentioned it to your friend? I wonder if mixed with smoking dope too.. *pathological demand avoidance
Also with your friends reactions, I think sometimes you can lead a horse to water unfortunately…. Sometimes it’s just about being there, I think.
But getting the right help / diagnosis may help things…
The problem is she says she is interested in nothing. She did have a boyfriend who she centered her life around but her emotional outbursts, suicide threats and jealousy were too much ch for this also autistic young man she met at her special needs school. He ended it and she has holed up for moths crying about it and threatening suicide in between her violent episodes. If you met her, sh looks like a 5 ‘ 9” twigs d shy. She is skinny. But for my friends reports, you would never guess. But isn’t that the case if all DV. I am ready to support my friend to let social services take her is not other equally messed up father. But it must end. I fear this @ best treatment” won’t work. But my sting hard working god devoted person has suffered. She is not well physically or mentally. Life rd what kids can do….
Thanks for all replies!
Contagion,
If I may share my view: What your friend wants is a miracle, not an advice. She wants her daughter to become a different person. It’s not going to happen at least in near future, and I don’t think any therapy would work, cause her daughter doesn’t believe she needs any help. She wants to smoke pot and do nothing. That’s it. I see three ways out of this situation: 1. as you said in your comment- cut the cord, 2. continue to fight with her as it’s been happening for some time. 3. Accept her daughter the way she is, helping her financially, but leave her alone.
Oh Arya:
It got worse. My friend had a 5 day vacation, all paid work event for 5 days in Hawaii. Her daughter age 20 packed but the morning of the flight attacked her and her property and would not go. My friend called me up crying. What if I leave and she kills herself? My life will be over? I know this manipulative brat won’t do it. I see what she does to my string obliviously Co-D friend. Harming her to get pot or whatever. I also see the kid is mentally ill. In and out of residents al treatments ; holding cells) since 14. The doctored don’t care. They switch her meds . She has been diagnosed autistic since two, BPD since 18 and now bipolar yet a prior MMRI did not show this not that mood stabilizers aren’t a good idea by not working. My best friend who was raised in abusive household when young in South Africa has a successful son who had also tried to help the daughter but who now says his mother is co-D and needs to evict her. I am with him. She is a DV victim. I think she has PTSD from all the violence of being beaten up, her dog harmed, her property smashed, her car window smashed,her embarrassment, the hiurific verbal abuse of being told you are hated, fat, the threats of suicide…..I feel it’s spilled over and effected me. Social services are now there. 3 days a week. But I told her, you can’t jump into the skin of your daughter and make her take the best help offered. Yes I divorced my narc husband different than a child BUTno one has to live with abuse. Period. End of. We have a right to happiness
Thank you for your reply.
Arya: you read my mind. I said the same. Her response is that she cannot accept the third option. My opinion is that something very bad will happen and she will be forced out. I wish and pray that is not the case but it’s what I suspect. While I hope these 20 year old social workers will help, I fear a personality disorder is in my place. And they are extremely difficult to change. DBThasbeen shown to be effective but my guess is like drug and alcoholics, you have to reach rock bottom to want it or look at skid row in LA, many cannot be helped sadly. What I Have learned as how little the USAputs into mental health….
Thank you for responsing! If anyone can think of anything I cannot, please respond. I might go pay for HGbur I fear he will say cut cords and she is a Co-sand will not…
Contagion,
How do you know that your friend is Co-ed Empath ? If she doesn’t accept 3rd option, she doesn’t seem like an empath to me, actually. It looks like she is dumping on your a lot of her problems and If it was me, I would feel very drained to hear all of these stories and negativity in her life. Idk, it looks like she is using you. But I might be wrong. I would distance myself from her, if I were you. There is not much you can do to help. Probably, it’s your savior part plays a role here. Anyway, wish you good luck with this situation❤️
Hi Contagious,
I think Arya’s made really good points already. I’d probably suggest being there in a supportive rather than advisory role but have strong boundaries and limits too. see if that changes things up a little and if not create a little distance. There is obviously no clear answer re her child and it sounds like everyone is doing what they can within budget etc for social services.
I do know as an empath it’s very hard to not help but sometimes I think we can be of more help by not getting dragged out of our own centre, if that makes sense? Try and trust that your friend will find a way. Like us withv our narcs and Ps. It’s shitty but only we can go through it and actually many of us ignore the good advice we’re given anywaysl.
If it was me I’d defnitely keep an eye on my savior side too. I know you probably know this, you’re obviously very accomplished and intelligent, but i think in emotional situations like this it’s so easy to take on more responsibility than is realistically ours… I hope that helps a little and isn’t patronising! She’s lucky to have a friend like you.. I can tell you’d do anything to help but I think we have to recognise when we’ve done all we can too.. it sounds like that’s where you’re at. 🩷
Dearest Contagious,
Your story pulls at the heartstrings, I’m so so sorry.
This poor autistic lass obviously has serious issues and it’s hard on those who care for them, especially family members. We can only do so much. It’s sometimes best to let the professionals take over, especially when it becomes violent and risks are involved.
I can understand your helplessness in this dire situation, however, it sounds like your friend feels it’s her role to be subjected to this abuse because she feels the guilt. Some people don’t want to listen or accept help.
Sometimes just being there as a friend and an ear is all they need.
We have a distant family member with similar issues (she’s never been quite right since birth) and not as violent as far as I’m aware). She does nothing but be allowed to sit in her room all day and watch TV and hurl abuse at her parents. Shes in her 30’s and lives at home. The parents don’t want to talk to us about her “condition”, however, complain about her all the time. They are under constant stress, however, at the same time her biggest enablers and martyrs to boot.
We just nod in all the right places and say nothing whilst they have a break before returning home to their biggest nightmare. So sad !
Carers burnout is very real and if your friend doesn’t take care of herself, then what?
While enjoying the view and excellent weather sitting at the balcony, reading this article, when I reach the word “cooking”, I’ve realized I left patties on kitchen oven…fuck..it’s good a smoke detector didn’t go off. I’m renting an apartment here, won’t be good. Patties went to a trash bin. Yeah, cooking is definitely not my strong skill.
I don’t understand Elena here. It’s obvious what is happening. No point to question him. I assume she left him and went to the penthouse to have some fun. Good for her.
I hate circular conversations, they were driving me mad. Just on and on and on. Glad it’s over now.
Thank you for another new article, HG. Your productivity is very impressive.
You’re spoiling us, Mr. Tudor!
Another fantastic article!
Thank you for all that you do!
You’re welcome.