Hi, how are you? Not as well as you’d like, I am sure. Life is hard, girl. Its not easy to yearn for something that is always elusive. Like a father’s love. No man can ever fill that “daddy hole” in our heart.
As you know, I’ve married four men. Over the years I have had countless relationships too. I always believed that they could give me what I needed, wanted, yearned for. They were just as broken as I was. All I got was more abuse, infidelity, alienation from my children, and more addicted to drugs.
I drank, drugged and sexed. Anything to numb the shame and pain of who I thought I was.
This last marriage almost killed me. I ended up taking prescription medications.My psychiatrist gave me prescriptions for Xanax because of the severe anxiety fromcomplex post traumatic stress disorder I was suffering with. I had intense vivid nightmares, anxiety, insomnia, I was so hyper-vigilant it hurt to go outside of my prison and be around people. I became agoraphobic almost, a recluse.
After finally escaping the marriage for the last time, I went to a domestic violence shelter, from there I was able to obtain my own tiny apartment with the agencies help .I was finally “safe” from him, but not from the demons. I started drinking along with taking the anti-anxiety medication and the pain medications prescribed for the intense physical pain I developed. Then, I slowly began abusing the meds. I was in full relapse. Suicidal. I was alone, abandoned by “christian friends” due to their lack of getting it…The process of isolation from support had begun early in the marriage, at this point in time, I had lost most everyone I knew, and I did not trust at this point either. So, when I relapsed, of course, I had no support. I was utterly alone. I was in a prison of my own making. I withdrew from everything and everyone. My tiny safe haven of rest become a prison cell.
It was my Maker and I. I had lost everything and I wanted out of this life.
It was then that I began to cry out to my Creator in a new way….I yearned for Truth….I yearned for Love.
You have heard it all before. (You have heard all the sermons, been to countless rehabs, 12 step meetings, you could teach it, preach it.) I didn’t want to hear it anymore.I wanted to hear only from Him. Nothing else would do. He showed up when I surrendered my mess….ALL of me. I had finally hit an emotional bottom so deep I could not go any deeper. Surrender your deepest, darkest messiest parts of you, because that’s the stuff He took to the stake. He knows all, surrender all….yearn for your Fathers Love. It’s all there, even for you….even in your prison cell, wherever you are, He is there.
I love you my friend….hugs…LL
For those of us who grew up abused and learned how to simply survive
We simply can’t quite comprehend the mysterious concept called ‘thrive’
You see, we’re still angry at our abusers…but are told to forget and forgive
Now, as adults, we’re not sure how a good, normal life should be lived
To duck the fists as best you and cry inside over all the verbal assaults
Hear on a daily basis how bad we are and a list of our many, many faults
‘Big kids don’t cry you know’ and if you do cry they’ll just hurt you more
We wished every day we were bigger and old enough to walk out the door
To hear the words ‘What is WRONG with you?’ for the thousandth time
‘Why are you so stupid and BAD?’ and ‘Why can’t you do ANYTHING right?’
It doesn’t matter how you behave…those are all the standard abuser lines
We know it doesn’t help to try for perfection; know we’ll never win the fight
A child cries: ‘Daddy, please, please stop! Why are you in my bed tonight?’
‘It’s because I love you so much, my precious child; don’t worry, it’s alright’
They became adults who are broken inside; raped in more ways than one
Now they are grown ups who don’t trust love because of what he’s done
Grateful that you made it through, got big and walked out that door
Then the new abusers come and your existence seems normal once more
You’ve been well groomed, you see…just from learning how to survive
You try hard to learn how normal people ‘do’ this hard thing called life
Drama and trauma are familiar; some find only bad relationships
With lovers who like to ignore and abandon…or humiliate and hit
You see, new abusers fit right in to that well-worn place in your heart
You wish every day you could find courage; wish for a brand new start
You’re older now, wiser in the ways of people…but so wary of them all
One day you see the pattern you’re living; get sick of hitting the same walls
You’ve got battle scars earned all on your own; scars of your own making
So you start seeking help and begin to heal; tired of being skilled at faking
Finding help with some kind of addiction if that was the way you coped
You stop trying to control or react or hide; you learn how to heal and hope
Letting go and letting God are foreign concepts you struggle to grasp
Claw your way out of your pit but still secretly convinced you’re BAD
We land a broken mess and find people who will help us to heal
We learn there are thousands of new ways we are allowed to feel
More than ‘scared, mad, sad, or shamed’; new feelings keep you sane
You meet people who have found wisdom and will patiently explain
Some days getting up seems too hard; many more tears than smiles
The going often rough and scary on your journey; many long, hard miles
Then slowly laughter starts to come again as you heed freedom’s call
That wounded inner child says: ‘Hey, maybe I’m not so bad after all!’
The hardest thing for most survivors to learn is to let go of all the hate
We feel toward our parents and for all the others we met along the way
Hatred we feel so guilty to harbor; pure fury for all the years of abuse
Toward all who lied and hurt us; then threw us away, broken and used
Someone comes along to explain ‘Dear child, forgiveness is for YOU’
You CAN salvage something good from the hell that you’ve been through
You can let go of the hatred and pain; you CAN be free from your past
Truth slowly comes; forgiveness can bring you peace and freedom at last
The reality of a loving God is a concept you come to understand one day
You begin to let go of the hatred and pain…then one night you hear God say
‘I love you so much, my precious child…that’s all you need to believe.”
You finally learn to trust God and accept that forgiveness has set you free
For those of us who grew up in abusive hell; fought hard to simply survive
We can learn to laugh and grow and help others; we can and will learn to thrive
One day, as we heal, we will find freedom and peace by choosing to forgive
We too can discover that a good, normal life is an awesome way to live!
Welcome to “Postcards To A Narcissist”, a little corner of the blogosphere dedicated to helping survivors of narcissistic abuse have a safe place to dump and learn about hope and healing. The much referenced “inner child” of most children of narcissists is often full of beauty, innocence, joy and hope — but more often filled with guilt, shame, rage and pain.
The colors and crazy mixture of fonts in the site’s title “Postcards to a Narcissist” is representative of the jumble of emotions that we survivors carry within us. It’s representative of the anguish of our hearts — the site’s scripture is: “Oh my anguish, my anguish! I writhe in pain. Oh the agony of my heart! My heart pounds within me, I cannot keep silent…” Jeremiah 4:19. The torn and misshapen fonts also represent the jumble of emotions that are indicative of all that is scarred, scattered and shattered deep inside us.
The artwork above says it ALL to those of us who have suffered at the hands of a narcissistic mother. The empty-eyed woman with the hole where her heart SHOULD be (said heart being cracked and on a chain) who is up on a pedestal, absorbed with her own reflection in the mirror (even while pushing away the “peons” below her) and with malformed breasts without nipples that represent a woman who cannot nurse or nurture her own children.
This blog stems from my need…as a survivor, as a recovering adult child of a narcissist and as a woman who is FINALLY learning that I am a competent, gifted person…to get WORDS out of my head. My mothers’ toxic words (or ones from other narcissists I’ve known), my own negative “self talk”, my words of inner despair and anger, you name it. I also want to get the GOOD words “out of my head” and out to the world to perhaps help others who are survivors of narcissistic abuse. >> read the rest of a post that got too long!
Hi there people of the tribe…wounded by narcissists, in varying stages of grief, disbelief, healing and hurting.
I’m abandoning this blog again because I’ve moved onto a better mindset and don’t want to stay stuck in the problem but instead live in the solution. I am writing about a myriad of things on my writing blog and would simply prefer to use my time, energy and writing for something other than the subject of narcissism
(I’ve written a LOT on here and it’s enough to have that writing “out there” for others who are searching to find…and hopefully heal, learn some stuff and move on. Preferably also getting away from the narc in their life–or narcs if there are more than one, usually the case.)
I was pushed back here by a narcissist, and of course, the narc came flying in on the charm broomstick. It took me precisely TWO days to realize what I was dealing with…another victim narcissist. I taught him what I could (in one pass at the internet he became an instant expert on narcissism and started arguing with me about it.) So I let him win; his drama simply wasn’t interesting to me…nor was trying to fight with an unarmed opponent who blustered and paraded his pitiful ignorance like it was a good thing.
I wrote a post on my writing blog about not being able to see red flags through rose colored glasses and I realize now why I will most likely run into victim narcissists until the day I die.
I am wired to help, to care and to try to lift others out of the pits that others have lifted me out of. I will keep my rose colored glasses on and I WILL miss the red flags…but not for long. But I’m not going to hole up and try to avoid those in pain simply because they’re narcs…they just won’t get much of me and it certainly won’t last for long.
I won’t cast pearls before pigs, and then have them turn and trample me into the ground (that’s a scripture for anyone who cares to look it up.)
I wish you all the best and I will see comments from my blogging dashboard since I am online a lot, writing about joy and hope and pain and loss via poetry, short stories, articles and the like.
It is my deepest prayer for you all that you find healing. Ask Jesus into your heart, He’s the one who can heal you the fastest and in the best possible way for you! God has a perfect plan for your life, a plan to prosper you and not to harm you if you will but seek him with all of your heart (Jeremiah 29:11)
Blessings, my friends, thank you for all you’ve helped me through, for listening and caring, and helping me laugh during some dark times.
I commend you for having the courage to change your own life. Freedom rocks!
© Janet Byers, 12/23/2015
Mother, I wish you the gift of peace this year
Comfort for the critical thoughts that hold you captive
Throughout every day of the year; cruelty couched in concern
Mother, I wish you the gift of insight this year
That your eyes would open to see the wounded girl within
The one who is envious of all she sees; desperate for what others have
Mother, I wish you the gift of happiness this year
Accomplishment will never bring you the attention you crave
I wish you could feel the sheer abandon of truly childlike joy
Mother, I wish you the gift of healing this year
That your heart would open to the truth of the deep sickness
Residing in your soul, pushing away all those who try to love you
Mother, I give you the gift of forgiveness this year
I know you don’t know how broken and shattered you are
How you want to love but cannot; I forgive you, I will always care
For all who have been molested by their fathers. I never was but I do know how utterly devastating and painful it is; how hard to trust and heal. It is my prayer that you achieve healing and wholeness in your lives.
© 12/8/2015 by Janet Byers
I have a human father, but I don’t have a daddy
The man who claims the title is a man who treats me badly
I have a heavenly father, they say he’s a loving dad
But I don’t understand why he let my father make me sad
Oh Daddy Dearest
Why do you touch me down there?
You tell me its because you care
Oh Daddy Dearest
You don’t act like the other dads
Your touch makes me sick and sad
I was just a scared little girl; couldn’t fight my dad’s hands
If God cared so much for me why didn’t he stop this man?
I needed a heavenly father to help me at night in my bed
The only dad that ever came was one who hurt me instead
Oh Daddy Dearest
I will never understand any of this
Shame runs deep from my first kiss
Oh Daddy Dearest
I wish you’d never touched me there
Your touch makes me sick and scared
The woman I am now wonders
If there truly is a God somewhere
My insides feel scarred and broken
And I need a Daddy who cares
Dear Father God
Show her your mercy and grace
Abba father, she needs your embrace
Dear Father God
Please heal your wounded child
Abba father, hold her for awhile
Oh Dearest Daddy
Touch and heal her heart and soul
Oh Dearest Daddy
Let your tender love make her whole
A Poem by Elia Wise
For children who were broken
It is very hard to mend……
Our pain was rarely spoken
And we hid the truth from friends.
Our parents said they loved us,
But they didn’t act that way.
They broke our hearts and stole our worth,
With the things that they would say.
We wanted them to love us.
We didn’t know what we did
To make them yell at us and hit us,
And wish we weren’t their kid.
They’d beat us up and scream at us
And blame us for their lives.
Then they’d hold us close inside their
Arms and tell us confusing lies
Of how they really loved us…
Even though we were BAD,
And how it was OUR fault they hit us,
OUR fault that they were mad.
When days were just beginning
We sometimes prayed for them to end,
And when the pain kept coming,
We learned to just pretend
That we were good and so were they
And this was just one of those days…
Tomorrow we’d be friends.
We had to believe it so.
We had nowhere else to go.
Each day that we pretended,
We replaced reality
With lies, or dreams,
Or angry schemes,
In search of dignity ….
Until our lies got bigger than the truth,
And we had no one real to be
Our bodies were forsaken.
With no safe place to hide,
We learned to stop
Hearing and feeling
What they did to our outsides.
We tried to make them love us,
Till we hated ourselves instead,
And couldn’t see a way out,
And wished that they were dead.
We scared ourselves by thinking that
And scared ourselves to know,
That we were acting just like them…
And might ever more be so.
To be half the size of a grown-
Up and trapped inside their pain….
To every day lose everything
With no savior or refrain…
To wonder how it is possible
That God could so forget
The worthy child you knew you were,
When you had not been damaged yet …
To figure on your fingers
The years till you’d be grown
Enough to leave the torment
And survive away from home,
Were more than you could count to,
Or more than you could bear,
Was the reality we lived in
And we knew it wasn’t fair.
We who grew up broken
Are somewhat out of time,
Struggling to mend our childhood,
When our peers are in their prime.
Where others find love and contentment,
We still often have to strive
To remember we are worthy,
And heroes just to be alive.
Some of us are healing.
Some of us are stealing.
Most are passing the anger on.
Some give their lives away to drugs,
Or the promise of life beyond.
Some still hide from society.
Some struggle to belong.
But all of us are wishing
The past would not hold on so long.
There’s a lot of digging down to do
To find the child within,
To love away the ugly pain
And feel innocence again.
There is forgiveness worthy of angel’s
Wings for remembering those at all,
Who abused our sacred childhood
And programmed us to fall.
To seek to understand them,
And how their pain became our own,
Is to risk the ground we stand on
To climb the mountain home.
The journey is not so lonely
As in the past it has been …
More of us are strong enough
To let the growth begin.
But while we’re trekking up the mountain
We need everything we’ve got,
To face the adults we have become,
And all that we are not.
So when you see us weary
From the day’s internal climb …
When we find fault with your best efforts,
Or treat imperfection as purposeful crime …
When you see our quick defenses,
Our efforts to control,
Our readiness to form a
Plan of unrealistic goals …
When we run into a conflict
And fight to the bitter end,
We think that winning means
We won’t be hurt again.
When we abandon OUR thoughts and feelings,
To be what we believe YOU want us to,
Or look at trouble we’re having,
And want to blame it all on you…
When life calls for new beginnings,
And we fear they’re doomed to end,
Wounded trust is like a wounded knee–
It is very hard to bend.
Please remember this
When we are out of sorts.
Tell us the truth, and be our friend.
For children who were broken…
It is very hard to mend.