The narcissist cyclic web

I see…patterns, and cycles which repeat themselves, are likely to continue doing so.

I made a choice not to get spun around in another loop around the track.

In the last year, my confidence took a swan dive, but I found a route back.

It started off mildly enough. They’ll lean in as if they’re listening to you, but really, they’re just intensely studying the myriad of ways they can make you believe that their presence in your life can solve all of your problems. My father is a master manipulator. He knows when to charm, and when to be vulnerable enough for you to drop your guard. Truthfully, he never shares anything that’s truly personal. If you really take stock, you’ll hear the same 5 stories on repeat. They’re on cue, you see. They’re his ‘story’ and he’s sticking to it. This is the Oscar-winning version of his life narrative, that will make you consider him endearing enough to believe the lies scattered amidst the truth.

It helps me to see why I was so prone to believe their tale. It took me years before I could separate myself from the narrative that my father had spun around me, with me inside, as a part of the character that he had carefully pieced together. I was never present for my own sake, but rather to promote the facade that worked along with his self-image.

I have now had every type of narcissist in my life. I asked myself today, what are the odds of this? Quite high, actually. My own psychology was primed for being accessible to theirs. I have only now seen the connection. There has always been a direct line between how my father viewed and treated me, and how I viewed myself, and allowed others to view and treat me. Manipulation had been so normalized that I did not learn how to defend myself against it. Even as I write this, I still doubt myself, saying, no, I am the crazy one. He is fine, but, me, I am the crazy one. I wish I could wish it away so lightly. I can’t. It is a self-serving psychology that will make him twist truth, perform (well, act, really), and invalidate any version of me or the truth that combats his own self-image. This is done with the charm of a genie, alluring and ever so subtle.

I had to come to terms with the fullness of being both genders, so I gave each of them their own moment to shine. As a woman, I had never understood the shame, disdain and discomfort I felt because of what I was called…woman. I had to embrace all that was woman, and get to the root of these feelings. It was at the core of this period of uncertainty, that the first exploitative relationship occurred…my first battle with narcissistic abuse as a self-aware adult. Fortunately, I got out of it within a short enough timeframe, but there were still threads of the pattern quilted to my soul.

Within the last year and half, I experienced another bout, in the valley of my decision to call out the man in me. Instead of continuing to keep him silently skulking in the shadows of my psyche, I chose to free him…to be seen, outside. I thought it would have meant just a few rainy days, but instead it was a torrential downpour of microaggressions, projection, invalidation, and being emotionally sidelined.

At these formative points, where I was the most vulnerable, I was also more receptive to the inroads that manipulators and narcissists often take to latch onto me. It isn’t my fault that people can be deliberately unkind, unempathetic and selfish toward others. However, it IS my fault if I allow them to have access to my mind, body and emotions that they shouldn’t have.

No part of me could survive without disciplined boundaries…neither the man, nor the woman. I had to begin to ACT firmly, decisively and without doubt whenever I was confronted with manipulative tactics from others. I had to believe myself, my experience, and act accordingly.

I want to leave you with some resources if you feel like you have dealt with or are currently dealing with a narcissist. Firstly, let’s get a definition in place. There is a difference between pathological narcissism and people who are self-absorbed. It’s not the same. So, to be clear, I’m referring to someone who has Narcissistic Personality Disorder. This is a mental condition in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, troubled relationships, and a lack of empathy for others.

If you feel like you are in a relationship with someone like that, these are resources that helped me -> Dr. Ramani on YouTube, and there is this book also, which is a short but brilliant read that works you through and out of it.

#janberry #fruitofdivine #writing #author #creativeprose #hybridhumans #hyxh #selflove #healing #knowthyself #lovingself #peace #joy #soul #spirit #soul #evolve #evolving #sexuality #spirituality #duality #theinsidestory #genderidentity #genderexpression #gender #masculinity #femininity

In The Eye of The Storm

You know, I sure have never seen the inside of the eye of the storm, but you’ve heard the stories, right? That…in the dead center, if you were to stand there, it is deathly calm, and there is a barricade of wind stopping the destruction from entering that very middle.

I imagine that they call it the eye of the storm because of way that the swirling pattern looks from way up high…birds eye view, way up high where there is no destruction, just a bird looking down at a pattern, swirling forward.

Coming back down to the vantage point of INSIDE the storm, in the eye, there is calm, and there is clarity. Being this eye, and being this calm…seeing your storms clearly, makes a world (or a whirl) of difference.

This month has seen me activate many new levels in my life – moving on to a new season. Rest assured that the season I have just come from is adamant that I must either stay in it, or be so bothered by the moving storm that I shift my focus away from the calm encircling my vision. I see the truth of where I am standing and seeing that, it makes the storm swirl around me BEYOND the barrier of wind.

Let me bring this into focus for you.

My father…not quite the man people think he is..least of all him..is an abusive and manipulative man, who has chosen for all of his life, to plaster on the face of good works, and of being a ‘good’ Samaritan, rather than face himself in the mirror. Deep down he knows that this masquerade will eventually push to the far corners of his world, everything that he has tried to keep close.

The more that I leaned into my own personal healing, was the more that I saw and became strong enough to bear the weight of who he really is, as a man, and as a human being. I was able to really feel the weight of the pain my inner child felt – the defenceless little girl he abandoned to someone else’s care whilst he lived a mere 15 minutes away and neither called, nor visited. I was able to put into proper perspective that whilst he may not admit to himself that he is an angry, wife beater, I am only responsible to myself for telling myself the truth of what I saw in him as a child where there was another story spilling out like blood onto the floor. Every smiling, self-congratulating thing that he has ever said to himself about himself is lost behind the whirling lies that he has created in his own life. He has projected the evil he saw in himself onto my brother, and like the sweet and affable person that I do miss, my brother sapped it up and became the monster that my father pretended that he himself was not. They both could have healed, but my brother trapped himself in his pain whilst assuming my father’s lies.

In the last year, I’ve seen how powerful we humans can be, whether or not we understand that truly, we create each and every circumstance in our own lives. I’ve seen my father, spit lies from his mouth, whilst the truth of his soul creates circumstances that match the weight of his burden – the burden of lies. Rather than manifest healing, by admitting to himself, “Me..I am that monster,” instead, he has never, not even once, acknowledged nor admitted to any of his wrongs. Rather, everything is all everyone else’s fault – his wife LEFT him, the government is terrible, his neighbours are atrocious and all the ‘other’ people are assholes.

For a decade, I chose to remain here and live with him, mostly to stay close to my nephew, but also because I chose during that time to focus on my own healing, rather than activate whatever vengeance I could have harboured for the man. Instead I learned to both love him, flaws and all but also, see him in his whole truth, at the same rate that I saw myself in all my own truth.

The brunt of my healing, now completed, I can move on, and have chosen to. I told him I was moving. The next day he fell and burst his head. I cleaned the bruise, patched it, encouraged him to seek medical attention, but instead he spiritedly walked around the neighbourhood telling everyone how he fell, seeking their pity and lapping up the attention he got over his fall. It was quite convenient that this fall should happen when he learned that finally he would be left alone to face his own demons.

Spiritual Sabotage
Realising that he was continuing to sprout the narrative that I would, as I had done before, go for another long haunting stretch to my other places, Grande Riviere, and Tobago but return for a spell at some point, I reminded him a few days ago, that no, I was leaving, for good. I’m leaving. I’m not returning, not soon, not ever. He had a seizure yesterday morning.

Now, I did the right thing, and called the ambulance, attended to him, made sure he got to the hospital and everything related to his care yesterday. However, in my spirit, where I have chosen to pull truth up every time I am facing the option of lies or truth, I’ve seen how powerfully this man’s manipulative grasp is wanting to extend into me. It was not enough that I was merely a punching bag for his weak ego all my life. Now, that he is losing grasp and he can see in my eyes, that I’ve seen him in the fullness of his true self, and am no longer drinking his Kool-aid, his spirit is now entertaining a slew of antics.

The doctors discovered nothing in his blood, X-Ray, CT-Scan or ECG to confirm that a seizure should have happened, or would happen again. This was entirely manifested by the storm raging around his own denial, about himself.

In clarity and calm, I see his storm raging around me, along with everything else form my past that has tossed itself into the winds in the last two weeks and wanting to hold me bondage to the family and life that I am leaving behind when I move out of my father’s house at the end of this month.

I won’t crash his narrative. I will play along until I am just not there to be a part of the play anymore, and whatever story is left behind will be his to tell, and re-tell.

I live in truth, and in the eye of the storm, I see the storm clearly. The storm will die away if you just, stand still…stand still in truth.

Lies, even the ones that you tell yourself manifest a chaotic life… a loveless life, a frenetic and stressed life as you focus so gingerly each day on preserving the lie, that you don’t realise that you are swirling around and around and going nowhere.

Five years ago, I stepped out of the storm of my own life, and it has increasingly given me the peace and clarity to stay out of storms entirely.

It is as quiet today, as it was the yesterday and the day before that, here in the truthful eye of the storm.

He Touched Me

The male security guard at my primary school. My uncle that I lived with. The male neighbor at my aunts house. The male neighbor at Ms Elaine’s apartment, where my mother and father left me when my mom went away. The man sitting next to me in the cinema. The older boy at the park from the neighboring primary school. My Additional Math teacher in high school. The teenage daughter of my father’s friend. One of my former best friends.
 
They all touched me, inappropriately, without permission, violating my trust and spirit.

I didn’t start to unpack all of this until I was an adult. I delayed even the feeling of it. I just pressed pause, and came back to it at 24, when, as an adult, I began to voraciously read about sexual abuse, sexuality and sex. Around that same time, I began to cry, often…crying all the tears I never cried. I cried for myself and all the young girls that were touched. I cried for the woman I had become, and cried for all the times I hadn’t cried before. When I finally released the pause button, the river came down and it lasted many years.

I unburdened fault – it was never mine. I released shame – it was never mine.

At first it was through logic, which is where my masculine energy always wants to start. The statistics and numbers had proven that there was nothing particularly special about me. My weakness and femaleness were more perceived than actual. This happened to more girls and women than were ever reported. The numbers were alarming. 1 in every 3 women. In some countries and regions, it was higher..every woman..1 in every 2 women. 

For a while, I still blamed it for who I became. I would think for a long while that it had made me gay, back when I needed something to blame, because my sexuality was a problem I needed to solve. I healed..the tears helped, but it was really forgiving myself and being truthful with myself about the experience that helped me close the scars. I forgave myself for feeling like it was all my fault. I told myself the truth that for a long while I really did hate men and I felt unsafe. It helped me own the feminine energy within me that needed safety so that I could understand how to nurture it within myself and my relationships. I resolved my masculine energy that felt powerless to protect myself. I admitted that it did break a part of my spirit and soul, and that it would take me many years to rebuild. I could never have fixed that which I had not admitted was broken.

In the midst of this uprising, so many voices are clamoring. They’re saying, “Look at my pain.” So many of us have suppressed our pains because no-one around us seems to think that they’re important enough to stop and acknowledge it..to acknowledge us. When we see that black lives thrash around in their anger and pain, we feel the familiar hauntings that we ourselves have turned away from. We are faced with all the feelings that we have minimized. We are confronted by the regret we feel for telling the ones that have dared to speak up that they are exaggerating..overreacting.. Everyone wants their pains validated now, because ripping the bandaid off of one scar tends to make the others bleed. There is so much..pain.

I write this for Toyin. I say her name like the day I said my own name in the mirror one day, “Jan, it’s not your fault..but you still have to own the feelings that came with it.”

Feel your pain lovelies..your anger too. You are worth every moment of your abated frustrations and tears.

– JanBerry. 16Jun2020. 8.25am 

What is the HARD WORK?

So I asked myself, what is the HARD WORK? To me, there is so much that needs to go behind the excellence which brings about progressive growth…and it‘s the work that seems unimportant and ‘airy-fairy’ but it’s the substance that breaks you into new levels of self and shapes your character for success.

– JM™

Obzen

Obzen

She loves rock..hardcore, only, no soft rock..and the word she found to describe me is also the name of a rock song – Obzen – her feeling in the middle of numbness.

For her, it meant that she had considered herself aware of her freeness but had caged herself in still, choosing to stay in this meaningless place for far too long.

And so when I came along, I could see the disillusioned hurt in her eyes. I didn’t try to save her, I used to compulsively do that…always on ‘the mend’. I think my own broken childhood made me project onto others the savior I had needed back then.

So, I didn’t try to save her. She didn’t need saving. I treated her beautifully, and somewhere along the way, she saw her own beauty.

And now she’s outgrown this place and gone away..my obzen, a reflection of the moments that make this life worthwhile.

janberry © 22Apr2019 12.49am