some days all the injustices mount up and the situation in reality, including the positivity, the growth, the strides forward, are really fucking difficult to see from the vale. i’ve come a bloody long way. the doubt is part of the healing, i get it, but the big picture gets eroded by the boredom and minutiae of mid winter lack of sun, long stretches without laughter, too much same same and the sense of exisiting rather than living. at these times i find myself slipping backwards into bleak and the heartsick sadness. i don’t feel at all brave or big or that i have come a long way. i feel instead like my wheels are spinning. this has come about because last night i went out to a new place in town and its inauguration, with my ex husband and his best mate. i’d been cooped up inside without fresh air for ten days while i was recovering from covid. why not head out? but the whole evening felt limp, and i shouldn’t have gone out. people i once called friends were there, the ones who now treat me at best like a ghost and at worst snigger amongst themselves as I pass, all because of my abuse and it’s fallout and their provincial values/ their complete lack of understanding. i shouldn’t care, they’re not particularly kind or good people at the heart of it, but i do. it’s difficult not to. i live in a tiny medieval village, and ostracisation is a very nasty social punishment, a hangover from the Middle Ages, deployed with particular skill by grownass women here. It’s the same tactics the bully girls at high school use in Australia. however, they seem to grow out of it by age 15.
outraged and gagged by this – as it is a futile undertaking to confront someone who has their mind made up and will likely provoke a reaction that is of no benefit – i find journaling it out helps. writing open letters to them, like the one below, is a way up and out of the well of anger, which is what manifests from isolation, loss and the grieving of it all.
to the small minded women in my tiny italian town, who ostracised me right in the thick of a global pandemic, while i was far from anyone i felt i could trust in that moment, as damaged and existentially shaken as i was, right after i’d left my abuser. one of the worst offenders is you. you know who you are, though you’ll never read this. you will salute my ex husband and everyone around me, except me, treating me as though i am invisible. it’s humiliating and noticeable – that’s your intention. people comment. you used to be my friend. a nearly-forty-year-old woman who really should know better. you lost your mother and your father while you were still so young, and for which these tragic events alone i would have thought you’d become someone instilled with the empathy you were shown. you’re a pivotal role model in the village – or your profession and position would assume you to be. instead your treatment shows a cruel side.you are petty, you have no grace and you are without class.
lesson: intelligence does not beget kindness.
i’d like to ask you this: does it make you feel big to make someone feel that they are not worth the simple human kindness of acknowledgement? does it make you feel like a whole and good woman to know that your actions actually add to the pain and ptsd that is already an overflowing laundry hamper in someone who has been abused and living far from her family. does that even enter you anywhere? nothing? no? is your inner world so bleak that you have to actively carry out spite to cause another human being pain? for what am i being punished? because I called you out on a lie? other than that I am someone who has done nothing at all untoward to you, i was someone who considered you a friend. i was abused and i had my life upended because of the terror cause by my abuser. i left, i returned, i left, and you judged me for that. may i remind you that you are in a profession where you have been trained to help women who have been in similar situations. sometimes you will be the frontline contact a woman bereft will seek out. i see your posts advertising the anti violence hotline, the resource websites, the safe houses. I imagine you will have been trained in subjects like love bombing, hoovering, triangulation and isolation tactics. did you skip those classes? these things don’t affect you directly, do they? what if it had been you? i understand that’s a redundant question because the retort would be, “it’d never be me, i’d never let that happen to me.” but what if it had been you? put those shoes on, just for a minute. i’ve also said, more than a few times: i’d never do that, i’d never be that woman who got beaten up, coerced, bullied, sexually assaulted, stalked. i’d never let anyone mistreat me. but i did, which makes me far more an expert in the field than you could ever be, unfortunately. and it makes me much kinder and more sensitive, also to myself. no, i am not a victim, i take ownership of my life and where certain decisions led me while i was sorely vulnerable. it also has made me not accept any bullshit whatsoever aimed at me. so here i am calling you and your pack of cronies out on cruelty, which, if you had been listening during your training, you would understand colludes with the abuser and his tactics of cruelty.
without connection, it’s just beige old survival mode with cognitive musings that there must be something wrong with my insides. the trope most often dressed in spiritual garb, that everything we could ever require beyond food, water and shelter is found on the inside of us – strength, resourcefulness, love – is a tired one. it’s not wholly untrue, but i’m a firm believer that the inside for some of us (probably most of us, post-pandemic) needs a kickstart or some sort of regular injection of validation from the external. having worked in the veterinary industry and animal shelters I was sorely aware of death by pining kitten/puppy syndrome: nutritional needs met, but not with a loving connection. they need play, joy, kindness to ignite theirs and then they flourish. and just look at how well a houseplant will do without some form of external resource other than light and water, in comparison to how that plant thrives under the care of someone with a “green thumb”, who perhaps sings to that plant. deeply connected, consistent, compassionate external support is key to healing the inside.
in the case of domestic abuse and its fallout, the inner world becomes simultaneously a sanctum of all resources based on retreat and safety, and the source of all relived horror, so the external, and how it presents plays a vital role to feathering the internal to aid in healing. and it’s a precarious balance of trust in which there is no guarantee that it’s safe. that can only be proven with time, consistency and action, which the same can be said for healing the inner world. in my situation, and that of friends who have been through similar experiences, we’ve noticed an overarching theme of people giving up, and the looming sense that sooner or later that was going to happen. and so we do the pushing away when we begin to see the signs of it happening again, and we retreat from the hurtful exterior to the still-raw interior.
i’ve posted ad nauseum that healing takes different forms and takes the time it needs to take, and that it will tend to trigger some folks’ impatience and outright exasperation. this can take the form of advice that is unsolicited, or suggestions from a place of not understanding (due to not having lived the experience), and that kind of “help” doesn’t actually help a person who needs a soft place from an external source to rest the heavy load of their vulnerability. or worse, offer that safe, soft place only to whip it out from under them at the last moment because healing is taking too long. it is shattering, then expected, and up go the walls as they reach a point that they’ll either cut you out of their lives or simply out of the emotional equation because they realise you’re not safe.
an important point to note is this: their trauma isn’t about you and your traumas. it’s not a competition, and a person going through the healing, still raw, does not want to know right now about your relative who died 20 years ago and how that made you feel – not in this moment of crisis, and very much not for comparison’s sake. if you love and care for someone who has been through abuse and has come out the other side and is going through the shaky pushpull of healing in whatever form that takes, here’s a list of dos and don’ts if you intend on being on hand for someone who is going through the unDisney business of healing:
the very important don’ts when supporting a loved one through their healing:
don’t remind them that hopefully they’ve learnt their lesson.
don’t proclaim to them it’s their karma.
don’t tell them they’re accountable for their actions, their reactions, that it’s their fault or that it takes two to tango
don’t say things like, “you made your bed, you can lie in it.”
don’t promise that you’re a friend, that you’ll be there, and then say that you can’t be involved. love and friendship are verbs. you show those things by doing the actions, not by saying that you’re doing them.
don’t fill silence with platitudes or spiritual reasoning.
don’t get angry at their triggers or try to fix them, and then get angry at them when you realise they can’t be fixed.
don’t ever call them stupid, crazy, or any other names, and don’t compare them to others.
don’t judge them for the fact that they are intelligent and therefore how could they have let themselves be fooled? that’s another example of victim blaming.
don’t remind them of all the things you’ve done for them. believe me, after they’ve come out of their experience of abuse, what you’re doing isn’t going unnoticed. it’s deeply appreciated. sometimes we find trouble with the words to express the graititude adequately. part of our healing is learning how to accept that we are worthy of the basic kindnesses shown to us, that we are all deserving of. to be told “look what i’ve done for you”, then, is like rubbing our noses in it, and we already have had that done to us by our abusers.
don’t give unsolicited advice unless you have had a similar experience, or you are a trauma informed coach or therapist.
don’t invalidate their experience as “not as bad as you’re making out”, or exaggerated, or that the moods are to seek attention or play the victim, or that it’s all in the past, or that there was growth to be had in it.
don’t brush things off as being dramatic. if a person fears for their life, has been shamed with revenge porn, or been threatened in any way, these things are serious psychological damagers. self harm and harm from the perpetrator are two very real directions of threat. if you think your friend or loved one is in danger, or in a very bleak place indeed, please call the police or a doctor.
don’t invalidate any feelings or needs or actions or rituals that make the person feel safe (i still check under my bed, lock the end room, check that windows and shutters have been secured, and that space below the stairwell is empty and the door to it locked).
don’t tell them to forgive their abuser. they know that route and the whys and wherefores, so you don’t need to do nudge that at them; they don’t need to forgive. and if they ever do, it will be done on their terms and in their time.
don’t fear the triggers. don’t judge the triggers. don’t judge the person for having panic attacks. don’t get angry at them for having panic attacks… they really don’t know they’re going to have them, i assure you. sometimes we get good at being able to see the signs that can lead to them – sometimes. but triggers can be set off from hearing a song, a place name, a smell, a raised voice, or how you react to something they say or do. with triggers there can be a few days lead time of anxiety, or they can flash in an instant. remember that they pass.
don’t say, “wow your premenstrual symptoms are bad this month”. just don’t say that ever to a woman, seriously! it belittles her, turns her into a pile of emotions at the whim of only her hormonal chemistry. she’s a thinking, feeling human being that might be triggered, or might actually be pissed off at you for something you said or did.
don’t take the silence or the depression and anxiety personally. it’s not about you.
don’t lose patience. walk out and take a breath of fresh air. in the instance of abuse and violence and the story surrounding it, this isn’t about you. you can’t fix it. your story of how you fixed your trauma doesn’t pertain to their story. your feelings are valid, too, and there will be time to take the limelight. unless asked directly about your experiences, in this moment it’s not about you. right now your loved one needs to be shown love to displace the terror, not hear “yeah, I have trauma too.” seriously, that is not helpful, and they are depleted and they cannot fill your cup, and they’re not expecting you to fill their cup. they just need you to be there.
don’t expect apologies for outbursts borne from triggers and panic attacks. a victim/survivor does not need you to demand an apology for their triggers. they will likely feel like shit after an attack and will likely work through their own inner processes in their own time if and when they feel safe and secure. then they might want to talk to you about the feelings surrounding the outburst. if you badger or are mean and impatient, they won’t feel safe enough to be vulnerable with you. they owe you nothing in terms of the story of abuse. they have every right to feel protected and safe with you and if you cannot provide that then, as previously stated, you need to be honest about that. don’t ever make out that it is their fault and that they’re too difficult to love.
here’s what you can do in the support of your loved one while they are healing:
learn to differentiate triggers from other real moods and pms! triggers lose their effect with therapy and within a place that allows for healing. after a forest fire has died away, look how green the new shoots are when they growth returns. in that moment they need to be tended to, not introduced to fire again.
during a panic attack, remind them that you are there with them. hold them, let them out of the embrace, let them cry, shout, whatever. keep safety in mind – if they want to bolt out the door don’t stand in the doorway, keep them talking, ask them to stay. ask them to wash their face to induce the diving reflex, which is what happens when a mammal submerges its face in the water – heart rate slows and hyperventilation returns to normal breathing. when you’re sure they’re coming down, try again with that hug, and make it last as long as they want it to.
be a soft and sacred place to fall. that means, be consistent. hold the space of trust open so that they realise they can lay their vulnerability at your feet and they know they can let themselves be themselves, without repercussions, shifting sands and consequences. they don’t need you to try to fix that for them. unless asked, they don’t need your opinion or advice on what they tell you. if you feel that you can’t be that in full (we are only human) then help them to find a trauma informed professional who can fill those spaces that require impartiality.
be clear, apologise and take accountability if you don’t understand something, and especially if you lose patience with them.
treat them as sacred beings (anything going through a type of metamorphosis is sacred and vulnerable in its nature) and ask things: ask permission. ask if you can run a bath for them. ask if you can hug them, or give them a massage. ask if they’d like to watch a movie or listen to music or go for a walk. this fosters their agency to make a tiny, easy decision without having to make a full-on big decision. they are little questions that can be answered with yes or no, that make them feel worthy and deserving of the love that is being shown to them.
listen to them. and i mean, really listen, like your life (and theirs) depends on it. listen to how they speak and what they are asking or telling you. you don’t need to do or say anything to fix it, you just need to do the listening.
show up. bring tea and poetry, or the newspaper or a novel, or chocolate, a houseplant. open a window. light incense, a candle. bring things that create brightness and change the energy for the better in the house.
when there is nothing to say, when there are tears, when the fatigue overcomes, when it is bleak: just be there. this, too, shall pass.
lastly, you can’t pour from a leaking cup. consider seeking out a therapist for yourself. you are equally as deserving of support as the person you are supporting. it can be tough to carry the stories you’ve heard and the fallout of the trauma from cruelties inflicted on someone you love. fill your cup first.
when you think you’ve done all the excavating you can do, sifted through the deep therapeutic muck to the shiny new self (selves) beneath, at what point do you actually know you’re ready to apply that headroom thinky stuff to actual practice? because at some stage it is going to have be put into practice, whether it be for friendship or dating. if it’s not a technique that is made applicable, all that self work remains locked up in theory. for me, ready or not, my intuition together with my newly acquired healthy boundaries would have to be taken out for a test drive. it was that, or wall the fuck up and accept my lot as a hermit. and honestly? on the heels of my first experience in the dating game, the hermit in me wonders what the fuck was that all about.
it had been over 18 months post-narcissist before i bit the bullet and went on a date. the person seemed “just right”: we had mutual connections that came in handy for cross referencing (which both of us did); we’d had a similar upbringing, parallel experiences and we worked in the same field. besides all that, he seemed really nice. on the first date, still not realising i’d worn my hope goggles out in public, i was completely impressed – read smitten – by the warmth and intelligence of this person. and yet…and yet… there was something. my gut niggled me and from the first date there were two potential red flags (a potential red flag is an actual red flag, by the way) and in hindsight, looking back at the original messages not long after we’d begun chatting, there were overlooked niggles that i see from this end of the experience were also enormous red flags.
during the date, i caught myself out consciously setting that niggle aside as being part of a genuine “vulnerability,” mostly because i didn’t completely trust myself with what i was feeling. was it really a red flag? or had my sensors been so utterly burnt out by abuse that any normal human behaviour/vulnerability/misfortune/personality quirk could be mistaken for a red flag? and yet my gut knew that in questioning myself, that in itself was a red flag.
we continued dating, both of us wanting to take it slow. the first couple of weeks were fun, and yet i was still collecting tiny and not-so-tiny incongruities, subtelties and then outright warnings that, when i brought them up, they were initially and reactively shot down, turned around, and the raised accusatory voice would trigger a fear reaction in me, and then he would own it and apologise for it. we’d talk and i’d take accountability for my reaction. the pattern would generally go like this: i’d confront something i needed to speak up about, he would arc up and, a) deny it completely, or b.) say he didn’t mean it like that and it’s likely just because he’s from the south and part of that culture is to be reactive in that way, or c.) turn it around and retort “yeah but you do this, this and this…”, all of which would invalidate what i was actually trying to say, belittle me and trigger me into a fight response, to which he would in turn react badly, including calling me crazy. then, cooled down, i would write out the scene of what had occurred, he would actually read it and seem to understand, apologise profusely, and we would tick along until the next time it happened. i would also apologise for my triggers to his reactions, own that accountability, beat myself up for not being as ready for this as i’d thought i was, and for my reactions that seemed completely out of character for me.
i was living and dating post-narc. this fight-flight reactivity complex post traumatic stress disorder, i understand from attending therapy, comes from the fallout of having been physically, sexually and psychologically abused by the great manipulator. on a theoretical level, i understood all that. on the physical level, the body remembers all those things and is still shooting to kill when it feels like it’s under threat (raised voice, outright gaslighting, excuses). how do you convey that to someone who just turns it around and says, “you’re not the only one with trauma? i have trauma, too!”
no, i’m not the only one with trauma. i am the only one with my trauma and can only speak into mine, from my experience. he was making my trauma his, and invalidating it into some sort of “my trauma is better than yours” comp, which i’ve since come across in a couple of other people who were tenuous friends at best, and who i’ve also shed from my life. i could only hold space for the person i was dating and his trauma, and that is all i asked for in return. i certainly didn’t invalidate his trauma, but in the end he was perfectly ok with invalidating mine. and you can’t make someone understand, no matter the lip service that they’ll never give up and that they love you. if you have to continually fight for the golden connection of understanding, it highlights incompatibilty and, unless you’re willing to swallow the lot and lose your self, it will be an unwinnable fight. one that isn’t love.
in the early days before i’d met him in person, i had been extremely open and honest about the abuse i’d been through. i wanted to be as transparent about the stalking as possible and in brief i had recounted what the evil excuse for a human being had done to me and other women. i explained that, unfortunately being stalked in person and online meant it wasn’t all in my past but rather it was being pushed continuously into my daily life, affecting everything from my work and income to how i conducted my exercise routine. i was not, “playing the victim” as he later insinuated after i ended the relationship.
what rushed everything towards the end of our brief time together, was that the stalker – the great manipulator – got wind that i was seeing someone new. cue revenge porn, threats of bodily harm and death threats sent to my date and the whole town. that’s grounds for anyone to hit the skids in a relationship. my new date, for all intents and purposes, was very generous with his time in phone calls and being there to report this (and he reminded me very often that he did this) and i felt responsible for this. guilty. he would assure me it was not my fault, yet that often came with a “but” and framed with just how difficult and traumatising it all was for him. and while, yeah, it’s gotta be a pretty tough to have that unsolicited stuff sent to you (really, believe me, you’re talking to the very person who’s been stalked for years, dude! i know, right?), let’s just remind ourselves of these two facts: i warned my date from the very beginning so he wasn’t stepping into territory unknown. it is not my date’s naked body all over the internet, it was not his body being filmed and photographed without consent or knowledge, there was not a pornhub account made in his name, and it was not his wanting to die from the shame because everyone, including clients, received those images.
let’s just – i don’t know – not passively aggressively victim blame, shall we?
the first wave of what was really happening hit me hard and i left one sunday night, late. we’d been cooped up in his house for two weeks with the stalker stuff hanging over us and the mounting passive aggressive shit from my date. he, just like the stalker, wanted me to stop remembering the negative and think of the good times. pick out the goddamned fly and just eat the fucking cream. i could feel myself shutting down, going into that deep freeze, and i just couldn’t take it anymore. i left in order to not lose the self i’d worked so fucking hard to get back. to him, i’d simply bailed. despite the possibility of the stalker being in town, he didn’t even call to see if i’d gotten home ok. he didn’t have to, of course, that’s his choice, like it was mine to leave. but the measure of the soul of a man can be poured out into simple actions of meaning. in the writing world, we might call this, “show, don’t tell”. it’s also called “walking the talk.” in any case, it solidified the fact that what i’d been seeing were indeed red flags.
through this, what i’ve learnt about myself and one of my boundaries: my need to be understood and to understand comes well before love. in fact I’m convinced it is part of what makes up a love that is running on all cylinders. compromise and incompatibility do not. after he said i needed to go to therapy (i already was, i still am) i suggested perhaps that might be what he needed to do. in the end, out of that conversation, he called me a nazi (to the stalker i was fascist), he said that it would take a saint to be with me and that i was a disappointment to him, and that I was playing victim…and so it seems i shall join the ranks of all those crazy exes, both his and those of the great manipulator. crikey, they could chip in and go halves in a polished granite memorial wall. in retrospect, though it’s a difficult fact to face, having had the stalker create havoc for our relationship invariably ended it and it simply meant that all of this came to the fore sooner rather than later.
this post-apocalyptic relationship is the rebound they talk about. my provisional driving permit. my training wheels. in this experience is the lesson on how to let only the right ones in – including vetting friends in the same way as potential partners – and salting the earth around anyone else. i won’t stay where i am not made to feel welcome, safe, or protected.
one tiny niggle early on is one red flag too many.
when dating, red flags come in all forms, and all shades of red, it would seem – some paler than others, and harder to make out through the rose-coloured tint. a full red flags list would be an exhaustive one; below is a list of 19 red flags, the very early ones that cropped up in my dealings several people throughout my life, signs that i wish i’d paid heed to sooner.
i’ll be posting a list of green flags, too. it’s important to juxtapose the light and positive together with the shadowy stuff. the genuinely good things need to be a contrast and reference point to look toward when learning how to shed the things i will never tolerate again.
taking no for an answer but punishing you for your no even a little no must be adhered to. no, i don’t want a drink. no, i will not give you my number. no, i will not invite you in. no, i will go home, thank you. if you’re not sure, that’s a no (from both sides). the great manipulator started bulldozing my little nos, and in the end would hound me to perform a sexual act that i would never do for anyone. just my no against that one thing was one of many, many nos. and that one no alone was fucking exhausting. in the end, i would compromise my other nos. it meant that other nos were pushed aside just so that one big no and the integrity that surrounded it stayed sacred. stick to your big and little nos, without justifying them. a no is sacred space and a complete phrase. it is a line not to be crossed. if anyone: a friend, a first date, a lover does not respect the no, or reacts horribly against it, remove yourself from the equation (safely). if you give in once, they will never, ever take your future nos seriously again.
impatience when they ask a question and, as you answer, it’s not what they want to hear, or they’re impatient with you taking your time telling your story. so, midway through your answer, they snap, “just answer the question”, throwing you off. they’ve been focussed on their impatience and the length of time taken and not on anything you’ve been saying. and yet, when they tell their story, you better bloody well be patient and not interrupt them, goddamn it.
i want to collaborate with you oh god. this must be in a boy’s own handbook somewhere; how many times have i heard this? no they don’t have any intention to collaborate. they’re using that line to hit on me. it’s a future fake method to hook. that is why people have agents, like linkedin. use them if you really want to work with me.
dissing political standpoints i am a feminist, and that fact has been dissed by way too many friends and partners. in fact, feminisim as a whole was on a first date dissed, by none other than a man (funny, that), and i have often been met with outright anger about the fact i am feminist. which cements the very reason why we need feminism. if anyone tries to squash my political standpoint, or inversely says that i am not feminist enough because i wear makeup, or shave, or was married, i will carve them with delight from my life.
spiritual blame framing the spiritual blame framer will try to tell you that your feelings or reactions are all about your ego, blaming what happened to you on karma, on your past choices, even on other people, and all the while framing their point of view as holier than thou; anything you feel (especially toward them) is dimissed as projection and they’ll make you take accountability when they will not take any accountability themselves when called out. fuck that, frankly, and fuck them and their giant ego (and put that on my karma account, in french).
seemingly innocuous questioning asking questions is normal social behaviour, but in a coercive relationship these will be framed to make you question your decison. simple examples from my life (and we start simple, because thats how the coercion starts): why cut/colour your hair? are you sure you need to go to therapy? you don’t need all that makeup on, do you? do you really like that person? do they really like you? do you really need to eat that? gosh, you do use a lot of face creams, don’t you? are you sure you need another glass of water? you pee so often. do you need to wear that bra? you say no a lot, don’t you? you’re a bit of a stronzetta, aren’t you? i bet you broke your ex’s balls, didn’t you? these are questions that will stem from the other person’s point of comfort / discomfort and personal choice and preference. they will often be coupled with “it was just a joke.” the difference between them and normal asking is that these types of questions are not conversational nor constructive but rather are passive aggressivly framed to make you question your own choices as an adult human being. you have the right to your past choices, to colour your hair, shave it off, grow your pubes long, wax ’em, braid them ffs without judgement from anyone. please do whatever the fuck you like with and to your body. as an adult it’s yours and yours alone to choose, as are the consequences of choice (except for trafficking/drugging/abuse/rape/revenge porn – that’s when your agency over your body has been stolen from you. that is never your fault). the little joys and triumphs that you should never feel guity about because someone else is questioning that, they are what make up the unique you. the above questions and how they are framed are simply passive aggressive reflections of the internal unpretty goings-on of the interrogator. real questions, at times of crisis and need for communication, and in every day checking in, sound like these examples: did you get home ok? what can i do for you? can i come over? can i cook for you? would you like to cook together? how can we communicate better? can you be really clear so that i can try to understand what you need to tell me? how can i help you? can i give you a massage? can i run a bath for us? these are just a few examples of questions that stem from a place of genuine service to love. they hold open a safe space to be vulnerable.
listeningand understanding in my experience, a good listener leads by the action of actually listening, not by telling you they are a good listener. in fact, i can say wholeheartedly that everyone in my life who has tried to coerce me into believing that they’re a deep and thoughtful listener has in fact their ears put on for decoration. those who truly listen and hold space are those people who “show, don’t tell”are still in my life, and, hey, i’m listening to them, too.
irresponsibility with money from state resources being used to fund offshore “family”, laundering dosh through the women who live in the country of asylum he claims to despise, the great manipulator continues to bulldoze through the lives of european women. the state pays him, he doesn’t work, and that gives him loads of extra paid time to stalk and threaten the women who catch call him out. and on a smaller, less pronounced scale – and a redflag nonetheless – the spendthrift whose cannabis and plastic statue habit were prioritised over having a vehicle off blocks and back on the road, and paying back debts to friends. going through a rough financial patch can affect anyone – the pandemic has been sore proof of that. but an overarching years long pattern such as a whole lot of little debts in sync with continued irresponsible spending? that’s a different creature entirely. have you are ever used in the excuse that sounds a bit like these: “but i spent my last penny on that jacket for you,” after having been told it was a gift, or “i feel bad i didn’t pay for dinner” but the person continues to spend on things that are clearly higher priority than their date/relationship? how a person treats the money they’ve earned is their business but if one intends on coupling with a person who regularly treats money and prioritises in this way, one will be in for very, very big financial problems later.
emotional immaturity the emotionally immature person name-calls and insults when angry: crazy bitch, nazi, fascist, slut, bitch, stronzetta, inhuman (this is an incomplete list bestowed upon me). need i state the obvious that this is not a safe and protective field in which love, understanding and trust can germinate? a person who lacks emotional intelligence also deploys sexism and sexist jokes. they can’t call a vagina a vagina, but, since you are female your righteous anger and outrage is likely because you’ve got your period, did you know? a person who proves themselves stunted emotionally will proclaim to be your hero but cannot show up for you when times get tough. when you pull them up on how that makes you feel, watch you become the big baddy. notwithstanding, you will be fully expected to show up for them. even when you’ve got you’re period.
unpredictability two or more different types of reactions to a similar event, depending on who’s around or their mood, creating the feeling of having to walk on eggshells. also depending on the wind direction, they can transmute from belligerent to saccharine in seconds, and back again. just like magic.
reluctance to make an introduction the friend or partner who doesn’t introduce their friends on the street so that you’re left looking at one another, smiling awkwardly, both of you waiting. sometimes, after the thrid time this happens, i’ll jump in and introduce myself. after several instances of being ignored, by narc partners and fauxfriends alike, i would invariably bring it up to be met with some limp excuse and certainly no apology. and it would happen again. it’s just plain rudeness. if they go to the effort of giving you varying excuses, why can’t they go to the effort of actually making that introduction? this is clearly a lack of respect. note where you are on the priority list and act accordingly. in other words, know your worth.
jealousy, retroactive or otherwise if there is any sign of jealousy – or instigating thereof – at all, ever, from man or woman, i shall remove myself forthwith. there’s nothing more poisonous than jealousy. i never used to be a jealous person but I have been instigated into questioning feelings where there should have been (in a normal healthy relationship) transparency. to be on the receiving end of jealousy, either overtly or passive aggressively by either a partner or a friend is horrendous.
checking-up-on and turning up unnanounced lots and lots of text messaging while you’re working. wanting to videocall after having been told you don’t like that…doing it anyway. showing up early on in the relationship with the thinly veiled surprise! interrogating you even “gently” over a jacket that looks too boyish and therefore they ask the question (again) “are you cheating?” these drop ins and checkups early on convey a serious lack of trust based solely in the insecurity of the person acting on those said insecurities. the wrongfully accused will find themselves in a continuum funk of fending off those “gentle” accusations and soothing someone who clearly hasn’t done that work on themselves.
crazy exes, stolen women and madonna/whore complex ask a narc what their exes did to them and then listen very well to the response: what you will be relayed is actually what they themselves did to the ex. it’s a confession through projection. a narc can only project outward and will never take accountability. they may do so partially, but usually with the addage, “because the ex was /they did/didn’t do”, because they cannot see anything they did as wrong that wasn’t in response to what that person did/said/didn’t do, etc. being fully accountable without making conditions for others, well that would be delving way too deep into the type of self work they can’t face. in my experiences, all the ex girlfriends had either been “stolen” (because, hey, we’re just objects of possession that are stealable, right?), or are “crazy” (the overarching label given to women who’ve had a gutfull and push back against coercion), and there will always, always be one woman that will have been placed on the golden pedestal, a woman who smelt the bullshit early enough to not have retaliated and was outa there boy-oh before she had to put herself through the futile and self-deprecating understand-me justification resistance dance. likely because, unfortunately, she’d been in a similar situation, recognised early enough, and understood from hard-earned experience that there was no “fix” for it. a normal, whole person, when you meet one (and lovelies, work on your beautiful selves and you will meet them, they really exist) if asked about their exes, will wonder if there was anything they could have done to have been a better partner.
making fun of you till the joke’s on them joking with one another is normal and healthy, but it’s a ginormous red flag if the joke is only on you, if it’s sarcasm posed as a question, if they’re laughing at you and not with you, if you feel belittled by that and speak up and they say “but i was only joking”, or ,”i didn’t mean it that way”, or ,”you’re too sensitive”, or (in the covert narcissist style), “i can’t ever say the right thing to you, can i?” if you try joking with them and they try to one-up you, or if they pull out inappropriate or private stuff or belittle you with your vulnerabilities, if they call you names that hurt and call that a joke. if it isn’t fun for you together as a united front, then it isn’t a joke, it’s just plain mean.
half truths and tall tales lies will always be seeded with some truth, and sometimes the half story will be entirely believed by the narcissist who’s telling them, or it’s such a practiced story and will have been told so often to others that it will “seem” like the truth to them. add in triangulation and you’ll be spoonfed poop and told it’s chocolate. long after i’d left, i realised just how much one particular story involving two of the stalker’s ex girlfriends had indeed been fabricated, and from the get go i’d had a feeling that something was way off the truth. it was based in truth, sure, but what he’d told me, the timeline, the circumstances surrounding it, all of it was so far removed from what actually took place. looking back on that (and dealing with narc types since) i can pick it now from a hundred yards: it’s in the subtle body language, the direction their eyes look when they’re recounting something, what their pupils are doing if they can actually look you in the eye, what their hands are doing, and it’s in the voice and the subtle tensions in the face/neck/shoulders.
excuses for shitty behaviour i’ve had cultural excuses, geographic excuses, islam, karma, relatives dying by the dozen, beatings, prison, terrible terrible exes. trauma trauma trauma. the old addage: hurt people hurt people. i have not been without my triggers, which frighten me with the way they blindside me, so i don’t doubt they’ve been horrendous to be around. and that’s why i actively work on myself, i go to regular therapy, i see a doctor, i am on a daily basis proactive in helping myself heal and thrive, knowing that this is lifelong work. so this is the thing: you can’t force someone to do it but if they’re not willing to go to therapy, and work through the trauma that they keep using as an excuse to stay victim, invalidate your healing, or belittle you? if they’re still pointing out your shortcomings and projecting their trauma onto you and insist you’ve disappointed them? leave (safely, of course. we’re all about getting out safely and softly). it’s not up to us as the partner to shoulder the entire burden of someone else’s trauma: “here take this…and this…and this…hey, you’re not holding it right, idiot!” in a healthy relationship we hold space, support, validate, generate a protective and safe zone without ulterior motive, transaction, whataboutery, oneupmanship, pressure or judgement, and be beside them while they get the help that heals – but it isn’t up to us to take it all on board for them because that’s a bottomless pit of despair for two.
issues with one or both of their parents freud got a few points pretty spot on. poop rolls downhill. if there’s an unresolved issue with their mother, if they haven’t done the deep work, there will be issues with their view of women / men and their relationships with them. if dad physically or verbally abused mum, or she was coerced, or was belittled or made out to be “less than” the man, that can filter down. without judgement, keep that in mind, ears and eyes open. remember, it isn’t the partner’s job to play the role of surrogate parent.
intuitionand gut feeling last but not least. the good old gut. in fact, this is the muscle we work on that is the foundation stone of our boundaries. the instinctual side. the spike of fright and the butterflies. it’s where anxiety hits, when we get a fright, go over a hill too fast in a car, miss that last step in the dark and catch ourselves. it’s our early warning system. it makes us turn around and look to see someone watching us. it’s the system that is telling us “wait” and “observe”. if something doesn’t feel right, it isn’t right. intuition is that beloved friend who stomps on our foot under the table when we’re about to do or say something we’ll likely regret. trust that instinct. trust it, seriously, trust it. those niggles you think could be red flags ARE red flags. your gut is throwing things at your head to get your attention.
ten green flags cannot cancel out one red one. even small seemingly harmless niggles will inevitably funnel down to one or more circles of hell. it’s easier to spot them earlier on and get out in time than ignore them and pay for doing say later..a single red one is the fly in the cream.
departure point 