I’m plugging along, making sure my shoe laces are tied, minding my manners, remembering to cross my t’s and dot my i’s, when suddenly Mark swoops in and screws up my happy parade. For a long time, Mark had me convinced that my little parade didn’t matter. My parade was simply the precursor to his main event.
Because I grew to believe he was right, I still occasionally forget that my parade – stuff, projects, life – is important. It’s when I forget that my stuff is important that I let him send me into a tailspin.
That’s our history.
I start to veer too far of course – his course – and he has to yank me back to where he thinks I belong.
Even though this blog is proof that I have learned why I react the way I do, I still have work to do on my reactions to his swooping in and yanking.
Those grooves in the pathways of my brain (the grooves that create the ingrained, repeated behaviors) are pretty deep. I’m guessing they must be Grand Canyon-like.
So when Susan sent me that cut-to-the-chase comment, she got my attention. Why was I thinking that I needed to continue to decompress after a Mark episode? If I could cut the tipping down from 48 hours to 30 hours, why couldn’t I cut it down to 10 minutes? Can I do a better job of quickly associating a new episode with all the other episodes filed in my brain’s crinkled file folders? It’s not like all the episodes aren’t the same.
It would sound like this: “Hey, there he goes again. He has done ‘that’ 1,327 times. The outcome is always the same. Done processing.”
I hit the stop watch, and I come in under 17 seconds.
And still, there is that tiny corner, buried under the files in my brain. At this point it is covered in dust and cobwebs, not unlike the crawl space under my house.
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I only go to the crawl space to change the furnace filter. I had to do that yesterday. I detest that job. Going down there reminds me of a scene from ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ – all cobwebs, damp musty darkness, and the possibility of some crusty long-dead pirate-y guy coming out from behind my furnace with spiders crawling all over his body. (If I lived somewhere where the climate is friendlier, would I even have to change the damn furnace filter?)
I change the filter every three months. I do the prep work first. I unwrap the filter, put on gloves, grab the flashlight, and sweep the webs from the entry to the space. Then I take a deep breath, dive in, crawl on my hands and knees the 12 feet to the furnace, switch filters, and hightail it out of there.
I hit the stopwatch at 17 seconds.
Done.
*Of course I have been known to walk around the back yard, exaggeratedly brushing off invisible spiders and webs for 5 minutes after exiting the space. (I’m sure the imaginary crawly things are the worst.)
I don’t have to do that job again for another three months.
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Back to the seldom-visited crawl space in my brain. It has a little tattered, dusty note nailed to the corner that reads, “What if he changes?”
I hate that note.
The next time I see that note, I’m going to torch it.
Haven’t I learned – by now – that he’s not going to change?
But mostly, I don’t trust myself. I’m afraid that if I don’t allow myself time to process what he has said or done, then I’ll screw up, say something to jeopardize the situation, or make things worse for the kids.
Perhaps I should associate Mark with the creepy crawl space.
Get in.
Get out.
Be done.
It’d be nice if I could expect to only have to deal with him once every three months.
I have to tell you a strategy that has been working for me since I have been separated from my narcissistic ex. It has only been several months so time will tell if the strategy has real staying power. But I’m sharing it with you anyway. Before any interaction with him I tell myself “he is a narcissist, he can not change, he has no empathy, he only sees me as an object”. And here is the kicker: after I have mentally prepared myself as described, and then when he is in front of me, I PRETEND that he is a normal human being!!! And presto! Every time, he believes my act!! He totally buys it! And he acts like a perfect saint every time!
Not only does the strategy appear to positively affect his behaviour, but it has the added bonus of preparing me mentally for the times when he will act like the a-hole that he truly is. I know these times are a-comin’, but damn it is nice to be treated well in the meantime!!
Maybe it sounds duplicitous of me to pretend he is normal. But hell, if you can stomache it, why not try to beat them at their own game?
I hasten to add that the only reason I keep interacting with him at all is the fact that we have children and he has access to them. Otherwise, I would never maintain a relationship with him.
That is ingenious! Really. When considering the fact that you aren’t dealing with a rationally thinking individual, who would even argue whether you are being duplicitous or not. One could even argue that this whole charade is for the sake of the children.
It’s rather comical when Mark and I are in the same room. We are both nauseatingly civil to each other. There isn’t any snarky banter or nasty words of any kind. All the nastiness is now coming through emails and attorneys.
I think that’s why it’s kind of funny when the kids get off the phone and say, “Yep, he’s acting like everything is fine, again.” Cuz that’s what he does – he ACTS like things are fine, but his words – through correspondence – prove otherwise.
That is how he operates. And I just keep paddling along knowing that another letter is due from the attorney.
I’m grateful that there have been only a couple ugly scenes with the kids. And they weren’t the kind of hair-pulling, screaming fits that he is due. I’m not a good screamer. Although I could be. I’ve just never tried. ;)