This morning I was getting ready to put the finishing touches on a post about boundaries. I’d been convinced that things were going well with Mark because we had put some boundaries in place that protected us from hurts, while allowing for a modicum of a relationship with Mark.
He has been quite pleasant.
In the back of my mind, I’d been wondering if it’s really about boundaries.
Everything I’ve read about narcissists would indicate that a narcissist doesn’t respect boundaries. A narcissist goes through life looking for a source. Boundaries be damned. A narcissist doesn’t respect the needs of others, therefore, it would stand to reason that a narcissist would completely ignore any boundaries that a source might set.
I wanted to be able to explain this turn of events. Continue reading →
At 2:00 a.m., those voices in my head can be pretty loud.
We made Spritz Cookies on Sunday. They’re my favorite Christmas Cookie, and my brother’s, too. And now, they are Jenny’s favorite.
When two people decide to get a divorce, it isn’t a sign that they
She pinned the boutonniere to her grandfather’s lapel and walked him out to the backyard. His seat was in the front row of chairs under the canopy. It wasn’t the kind of wedding where the guests or groom weren’t allowed to see the bride before the ceremony. In fact, the bride had been scurrying around taking care of last minute details while dressed in the batiste gown she’d made and embroidered.
There’s a post rolling around in my head. I keep trying to avoid it. It’s going to make me write it. It’s about why I believe divorce is the only way to survive a relationship with a narcissist.
They hadn’t seen him in three weeks. On Friday night, they spent over five hours with him. When they walked in the door, at the end of the night, I did a quick scan to check for rapid blinking, slumped shoulders, nervous pacing or shell-shocked expressions.
Yesterday marked three weeks since
Will’s genetic coding includes a large dose of pyrotechnics. He was interested in matches at an early age. Because I liked living with a roof over my head, I opted to teach him about matches when he first asked. I figure the more kids have their curious natures addressed, the more they’ll learn, and the less potential problems we’ll have. Better he learn about matches while I’m with him, than while he’s sneaking around by himself in the garage, surrounded by gas cans and lighter fluid.
I’m looking out on the pond. The tall grasses framing the pond barely sway. The butterflies dance from the tips of the grasses and occasionally dip to skim the surface of the water. The pond is so calm it is difficult to discern where the grass meets its reflection. The quiet is heavy in a comforting, secure way. I feel safe and serene and untouchable.
