She’d had the filing cabinet since college, or maybe even high school. It was a bland almond color and it leaned to the right under the weight of all the files. It was a struggle to open the drawers. When she did, the drawer scraped against the metal sides of the cabinet, opening to reveal a mess of papers, their crumpled corners poking out of worn manila file folders.
There was no real organization to the drawers.
She had categorically filed in the beginning, but the sheer number of papers now prevented an orderly system. The drawers of the two-drawer cabinet could not hold any more folders. She was considering buying a larger cabinet.
Each filed note or paper represented a hurt, a slight, or a rude comment. She hadn’t filed based on intent. There wasn’t a drawer for intended hurts or a second drawer for accidental digs.
On rainy days, when the kids were busy playing, she’d go into her bedroom and slowly open a drawer. For some reason, she couldn’t resist re-visiting the hurtful comments written on the worn pages.
Not because bad attention is better than no attention.
Not because she relished the role of victim.
Not because those papers were a testament to her true self.
She read them to remind herself of what she did not want. She read them as a way to immunize herself from getting into another relationship where she allowed herself to be treated the same way.
She’d pull out a few pages and touch the words as she read…
“You make a better girlfriend than a wife,” read one.
Another tear-stained note read, “I know you are trying, but this just isn’t good enough.”
She unfolded another sheet and found scribbles that said, “If you tried harder, you wouldn’t have these issues, and we would be happier.”
_____
She closed the drawer when the kids called out to her. She walked out to the living room to find them laughing at each other while they played a third hand of “Uno.” She said she’d join them right after she wrote down something on her list. She walked out to the kitchen to write filing cabinet on the list. On the way, she walked by the picnic basket that she kept under the possum belly cupboard. She’d never used the basket for a picnic. It was beautiful to look at but not at all functional for packing treats to the park.
She looked inside the empty basket and discovered it was just the right size for new brightly-colored file folders. Whatever artwork wouldn’t fit on the walls of their home could be gently stored in the basket. The love notes from the kids could live inside their own red folder, waiting for her to pull them out when the kids reached the age where she wasn’t their favorite person anymore. She could tuck letters from friends and birthday cards with happy messages inside a bright orange folder. There would be a kelly green folder for loose photos and keepsake postcards from trips.
The basket would serve as a treasure chest of love and pleasant thoughts.
She created new folders for the filing basket, while she burned the old folders one-by-one, in the wood stove.
Tags: child of narcissist, divorce, narcissism, narcissist behavior, narcissistic behavior, NPD, proactive, survive
Liberation. Yes.
It’s about damn time. (As a matter of fact, you said that to me once.)
Pat,
I know. I know.
Now, if I should find a renegade file that I tucked somewhere else because I didn’t have room in the cabinet, I’ll just put it in the fire without opening first to read.
Susan,
Yes! Liberation.
And like so many other things, I’m realizing liberation is a process.
Jesse,
Living new days, breathing lighter, replacing painful words with kind words . . .this post is so good!
Thanks!
Lynn
Lynn,
I notice the shift in the energy when I visualize burning all those painful words.
It’s magical. Really.
We all need a wood stove sometimes don’t we? Words can be like daggers striking us at our core. They can, in fact, wound us, make us question the way we do things, our very being. As we are removed from the wrath of the person’s harsh tongue, we are able to look at the situation with new eyes. From the outside looking in can realize deep down it’s not about us, or what we are lacking. It’s the other person’s insecurity. It’s their need to make others around them feel small, not worthy, not important.
There is no need to revisit those hurts, because they are unfounded & not genuine. The great thing is one can create great new words. We can wrap ourselves in them. These words would say you are enough, you are a great mom, a great writer. These words would remind you that you are deserving of grand love, one that only seeks to compliment you. And if there are tears hopefully it would be in reflection of these words.
I love the use of the basket, it trumps the filing cabinet in my book!! Every drawing, notes of encouragement are highlights in a day, that put everything in clear perspective.
You really burned them, didn’t you? Either way I’m going to pretend you did and say that the wood stove weather has been waiting for you.
There are things that you’ll never let into your life again because it would affect W&J, and you’ll never let that happen. Trust.
xxoo
a
Kira,
I love the power in your comment.
I hope anyone who finds this blog – who may have been hurt by harsh words – can see that they don’t have to listen. They can find new, positive words to define who they truly are.
You are a wonderful resource for the healing process.
Thank you! ;)
Alyson,
Thanks!! for that!
Because when I start to slip, when I forget that I can find positive words, I have to remember to re-frame in terms of W and J, and how they are impacted.
That’s always the ticket for me.
;)
I am so glad you burned them Jesse. As I was reading this post on keeping them to remind yourself not to get in such a hurtful relationship, it made me think of some voice mails I have kept. These vm are so hurtful -from a family member. I have about 8 of them, she was angry beyond angry, really. I keep them to remind myself to be careful of her. I love her, she is family and I forgive her but I don’t want to forget. I do this to protect myself. I will not cut contact but I do have to be careful. The voice mails are my reminder. Too bad really.
I am so glad you are able to rid yourself of such negatives and fill that basket with love, life, and laughter!
Good on you Jesse.
When I read those comments, it re-emphasized how much of a clinical disorder this is. If it wasn’t an illness, not all comments, reactions, thoughts, insults, would be the same. We wouldn’t be here knowing exactly what another went through. It would be impossible to give it a name. As sad and destructive as this disorder is, it gives me some peace knowing that the reason for that behavior was not ME.
Marci,
I’m so sorry to hear about those voice mails.
What if…. you got rid of all but one voice mail, and just kept one for a reminder. What if… eliminating most of that toxicity made a difference?
It might be worth a try?
Zaira,
I SO know what you mean. That was the revelation for me when I discovered NPD.
To this day, when my kids are hurt by something Mark does, our mantra kicks in. It sounds like this, “It’s not about us, that’s about dad.”
I find this very powerful and hope that some day I will be able to “burn” the comments that have been made throughout my life. My comments, too, were from a family member like Marci’s painful comments. Although I’d like to think that they were not meant to be as hurtful as they felt, they have always been very painful and run through my head almost on a daily basis. Why is it that the not-so-nice things stick out so much more that the nice things.
You are the best and always spot on.
Debbie,
You know, more than anyone else, that I have a pretty large file full of those kinds of comments from family members.
I think of you and Marci, and I think of my babies, and I think to myself, “How can anyone say those words to a child or a loved one?” And I pray that I have never said words (or that I never will say words) that hurt my own kids, but does it go with the territory?
I don’t know.
I guess it comes down to intent. Those words are about the person saying them. I have to believe their intent is to feel better, or to compensate for ways they think they are lacking.
I know you. I know Marci. I know me.
Those words are not about us.
love you
Jesse,
I have thought of that…but I don’t know which one. She told me she left me one voice mail, I told her you left me more than that. There were 12, I let 4 expire. Each one has a different mortal wound to the heart. I saw her today with the other who was a part of the angry episode. It was sad because we have made up and tried to put things behind us but we are “different” we are not close (not that we ever were) any more. The pretense is gone, which is sad. I left with tears in my eyes. Oh well. You are right, I am sure, I should delete all but one. They are my reminder…”be careful Marci, love her, but be careful.”
Thanks :o)
Just read Debbie’s comment and your reply, Jesse. Very encouraging! Thank you both! I don’t always read all the posts because of time (Sorry). But I “caught” my name on Debbie’s comment (does this make me a narcissist? ha ha :o)) so I read it!
It is amazing what family can do to a soul. It can be good, bad, or ….fill in the blank.
Thanks again to both of you Jesse and Debbie.
Marci,
I always remember what a counselor told my mom – many years ago. Just because someone has a label (mother, father, grandmother, sister, brother) that doesn’t mean you have to love them.
We don’t have to take – or put up with – lousy treatment just because we are related.
For that matter, we don’t have to take that treatment because we are married.
So true Jesse! Very good advise, thanks! :o)
oxoxo
Oh Yay! Another positive step on the healing road.
Congrats!
Donna,
Nice to see you again, dear friend.
That healing road sure is long and winding, but the journey proves to be much better than staying put.
Happy Summer, Donna! ;)
I found you via Alyson Earl and the dress post. Then I read this and knew I was meant to know you.
The narcissist in my life was my Mother. She is gone 10 years this September and I am still finding the scraps of hurtful papers. To the firepit we go. I am finally at a place where I don’t need to remember.
Thanks for this powerful post.
Gwyn,
I feel for you. Hard to believe there could be any residual hurts, even when she’s gone, and yet that kind of mom can leave a big hole.
I wish I could have joined you for the burning.
Thanks for commenting.
I’m glad Alyson connected us. I like your site.
The day I told him I wanted a divorce, I later met my sister for dinner. She gave me a tiny notebook filled with nice things people had said about me. Because I had told her months before my secrets about my marriage, she knew I had so many bad, sad, hurtful things stored in my mind…things my husband had said, or refused to say. She told me to fill up the pages in the book with more nice things people say about me. I’m working on it. And I’m working on burning those files in my mind…it’s not as easy as it sounds.
Joy,
First, thanks for finding us and commenting.
You are so right, it’s NOT as easy as it sounds. Those grooves made from all those hurtful comments run deep.
Have you ever seen those birthday candles that re-light once you think you’ve blown them out? Some of my notes are made of the same stuff. I think I’ve burned them only to see them resurface again.
I’ve always wanted a sister. You are truly blessed to have such a caring, compassionate, thoughtful sister.
Jesse