Tag Archives: psychopathy

Take a Chance on Me

Take a chance on me. Who?

Who am I talking to? Who is it that needs to take a chance? What do the lyrics of the song say?

If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown,

Honey, I’m still free. Take a chance on me.

I loved Abba. And I loved the film Mamma Mia using Abba’s songs. The lyrics fitted the plot quite well. Okay, it was cheesy. The plot was thin. The acting, hmmm, predictable. But for a light-hearted romantic tale with some beautiful scenery thrown in, you could do worse.

And Julie Walters. Who could forget her rendition of the song? She wasn’t about to give up on the guy she had her sights on.

He looks terrified. But she keeps going. She’s willing to take the risk of asking him to take a chance.

So, what about me, then? Should I be getting out there doing a Julie Walters and targeting some bloke?

Err, no thank you. There are things I have to do first.

Who needs to take a chance on me?

I do.

I need to learn more about myself.

take a chance
questioning self

It’s a strange thing to reach this advanced stage in my life and come to the conclusion that there are things I still don’t know about myself. In my last post, I wrote about vulnerability. It isn’t a weakness. It’s the greatest strength humans possess – this willingness to be open and honest and take one’s chances in life with the people we meet.

But, see, the problems creep in when some of those people we meet don’t possess the same strength. They have ulterior motives. They hide them from you because they know if they were open and honest about what they had in mind, you’d run a mile. So they pretend to be something they’re not. Like the wolf in Red Hiding Hood featured in another previous post.

So, what’s a girl to do?

Keep Going

take a chance
four human endowments

How can we make the best of these attributes? It takes so much strength to overcome the negatives that sometimes come your way there are times when it’s easier to give in. You might think, ‘Is it all worth it?’ ‘What’s the point?’

The point is, what’s the alternative? You have to keep going. Don’t listen to those negatives in your thinking, telling you the bad stuff. You already know the bad stuff. The objective is to get out of the bad stuff.

take a chance
negative thoughts

I write from the heart. It’s who I am. I have all the tools I need to get out of the bad stuff and move on. Of the four endowments listed above I have conscience; I have independent will and I have an abundance of creative imagination.

I’m working on the self awareness.

I’ve identified areas of weakness.

You’d think I had all the confidence in the world if you knew the things I’ve done, the jobs I’ve had, the activities in which I took part. I won’t go into them all here and now. It’s enough to say I was never afraid to be in the public eye. Acting. Singing. Teaching. Selling my artwork at craft shows etc.

In the past I have had confidence to do many things. But when the aforementioned bad stuff comes along what happens to all that confidence?

It gets knocked out of you.

It’s a long haul upwards from the pit of overwhelming despair you find yourself in after years of emotional and psychological abuse. But, I’m hauling. I’m hauling.

I know some of my weaknesses. I make excuses for people who treat me badly. I don’t listen to my gut instincts telling me that something is wrong. I think I can make everything be okay when it’s obvious the situation is past redemption. I don’t like quitting when I should really walk away. I don’t have strong enough boundaries.

I’m finding out who I am.

take a chance
be yourself

Women of my generation learned from their mothers that the right thing to do is hang on in there when the relationship with the significant other faltered.

They didn’t have the pill in those days. They didn’t have the internet where all manner of information is readily available. They didn’t have the freedoms of women today. Many were completely dependent on their husbands.

Girls wanted marriage and a home of their own to start their own families. And in order to have those things it was necessary to have a good man to provide them. How lucky they considered themselves if they were Bobby’s Girl. If they wore his ring. If, if, if . . .

Girls grew up wanting to be chosen by the lad they had their eye on. My generation wasn’t taught how to be choosy instead.

So, here we are, then. Keeping going, recognising my own limitations so I don’t go and make the same mistakes all over again. Putting those boundaries in place. Learning how to recognise fakes and users.

Getting ready for whatever comes next. Writing from the heart.

take a chance
take a chance

The pretty birds have flown, Celia. You’re on your own now. You’re still free.

Wow!

 

(Leave a comment. I’m happy to hear from my readers.)

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/take-a-chance-on-me/”>Take a Chance on Me</a>

Silence is a dirty Yellow

Silence is supposed to be golden. Golden implies something of worth: a treasure. And I do think of silence like that, sometimes. I appreciate the quiet of a shady forest and a few snatched silent moments with a cup of tea at home after a busy, noisy day.

But there’s a place for everything. Staying silent when you ought to speak out against a wrong is cowardly in my opinion.

silence is dirty yellow
should you always keep quiet?

I don’t like having to keep my silence. But at the moment it’s probably the best way to go. I’ve taken down some of my previous posts in an effort to do what I hope is the right thing. At this moment.

silence is the best answer
keeping it simple

Words are powerful things. And you never know how somebody else might twist your intent. Words taken out of context are tricky. It’s quite possible that someone could make it look as if you said exactly the opposite from what you intended.

It’s so hard to stay silent when you’ve so much to say.

But needs must.

silence
Oh, I have plenty to say . . .

I have to carefully consider my options. Things are afoot. The very thought of those things makes my throat tighten. My stomach churns. My guts are all in a twist. I want to shout stuff from the top of the world. I want everybody to take notice and hear me. I want them to understand.

But I have to stay silent.

silence scream
I’m screaming, I’m screaming . . .

Please know that I’m not a coward. There is a very good reason for my silence at this time. I’m taking informed advice. I have to admit, it’s good advice. I can’t have things my way. I must do what’s sensible under the circumstances.

silence not a weakness
be patient

I’m exercising more strength in remaining silent than climbing to the top of the world and screaming my head off. You cannot begin to imagine what a hardship this is for me.

But I’m trying to find the positives in my new stance.

silence instead of rage
enigmatic silence?

I’m going to be very beautiful indeed, in that case.

There are a lot of lies being bandied about. My immediate reaction is to put people straight. Why should I have to suffer in silence? Don’t I have the right to tell the truth?

Yes. But not now. And not here.

silence and lies
the silent lie

I would rather have the freedom to tell my truth. Writing, as you know, is what I do when I feel well enough. I need the cathartic effect of writing my truth and it’s been taken from me. For now.

silence and struggle
writing as catharsis

My day will dawn. This I know.

I’m good at waiting. I’ve had a lifetime’s practice.

And when that day comes I’ll break this enforced silence on the subject at the heart of all these vague references. Friends and followers, bear with me, please.

I will not be silenced forever.

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Creativity block.Emotional abuse

Where’s my creativity?

(Edited) I removed this post from public view in May 2015. Now I’m in the right place to re-release it)

I have a creativity block. I’ve posted on creativity before. In the early stages of my CRPS I was in so much pain I had no energy to write fiction. Constant pain and exhaustion, not to mention medication-induced nausea, put paid to creating new short stories or plot ideas for novels. I know about physical pain.  At the time I wrote that post I didn’t know a lot about the other kind of pain.

creativity block
saps your creativity

It’s been nearly two months since the cruel discard. In that time I’m learning to cope with losing my relationship, my home, my life in my adopted country and all the friends I made there. I miss my home and my friends. I want to have my own furniture around me. (I’m still staying with friends in their home) I long for the warmth of the climate in southern France. Cool breezes in the east of England don’t help the pain of CRPS. I miss distant mountains and blue skies, Languedoc vineyards and villages. I miss writing my Wednesday Vine Report here on my website. I miss choir rehearsals on Monday afternoons with wine and gossip at the bar in Capestang afterwards.

But I don’t miss him.

His verbal cruelty killed that. His cruelly callous treatment of me has ensured I never want to set eyes on him again. I don’t miss his face. I don’t miss his voice. Both were impostors. Both were lies.

I still yearn for the way I thought it used to be even though I now know it was all a pretence on his part. I still grieve for the lost dream.

But I don’t long for him.

My personal creativity block

I long for ME. The person I used to be. The one who was excited about her writing. The one who was full of ideas and couldn’t wait to get them down.

But my brain is crammed full of unpleasantness.

writefromtheheart1
what if it’s broken?

My heart isn’t in the right place. I want rid of the nastiness so I can concentrate on healing. I think it’s going to take a long time to break the creativity block. I’m going to have to get it out of my system before I’m free. Whenever I try to free my thinking from this frustrating situation, I’m disappointed. Free thinking doesn’t last long. I keep coming back to the same old, same old that’s troubling me. It’s like banging my head against a brick wall.

creativity brick wall
if I bang my head on it enough will I break through?

Creativity needs space. Space in your mind. And in your heart. Space in your intelligence. The right side of my brain where creativity comes from is all tied up with thoughts of what am I going to do? Where am I going to live? How am I going to be able to manage on my own? Do I stay in England or go back to France? What if he continues being awkward and refuses to pay me for my half of the house in France we furnished together?

creativity
my brain is overloaded

There’s no room left for creativity. Right now all I can write about is pure non-fiction: the stranger than fiction facts that have brought me to this place in my life. Until I’ve dealt with it and feel confident I can settle into a new life I’m stuck in this dark place. Fictionless. I can’t even read any.

On the website Insights on making ideas happen by Mark McGuinness there’s a list of things to help overcome creativity block. I’m concentrating on number four.

4. Personal problems.

Creativity demands focus — and it’s hard to concentrate if you’re getting divorced/ dealing with toddlers/battling an addiction/falling out with your best friend/grieving someone special/moving house/locked in a dispute with a neighbor. If you’re lucky, you’ll only have to deal with this kind of thing one at a time — but troubles often come in twos or threes.

Solution: There are basically two ways to approach a personal problem that is interfering with your creative work — either solve the problem or find ways of coping until it passes.

For the first option you may need some specialist help, or support from friends or family. And it may be worth taking a short-term break from work in order to resolve the issue and free yourself up for the future.

In both cases, it helps if you can treat your work as a refuge — an oasis of control and creative satisfaction in the midst of the bad stuff. Use your creative rituals to set your problems aside and focus for an hour, or a few, each day. When your work is done, you may even find you see your personal situation with a fresh eye.

I can’t comply with Mark’s first suggestion. I’m unable to solve the problem. As I write, I continue to depend on the goodwill of friends to put their roof over my head. Himself simply does not care about the situation he has deliberately caused.

And so I’m going to keep on writing about it. Maybe this will help break through the creativity block.

surviving the discard
writing as catharsis

I’ve already made a tentative start to a new non-fiction book. FOLLOW CELIA to see how I progress.

Don’t be shy. Leave a comment. I’ll get back to you. Your email remains private.

Edited: Password protected since May 2015. Password removed October 2017

Creativity restored and third novel: The Sandman and Mrs Carter published on Amazon.

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Passive aggression. Is it psychopathic?

What is passive aggression?

passive aggression
smile to your face; dagger in your back

Passive aggression is nasty. It’s what manipulative people do to hide behind. You can’t call them out on being openly objectionable. They’ll say you’re being silly; you’re looking to create bad feeling where none was intended. There you go again, over-analysing everything.

You can’t point out that they said they would do A and actually what they’ve presented you with is B because they’ll just deny saying it in the first place. You didn’t hear them properly. You misunderstood.

When they say they’ll be an hour, they’ll be all day. When they say they lost all track of the time, they’re covering up what they were really doing: being passive aggressive.

I’m no expert on psychopathy/sociopathy/narcissism. I can only speak from my own experience of being on the receiving end of confusing behaviours. I’ve still a lot to learn and, as I’m going along, I’m also learning more about myself. You’d think I’d know what was what at my age. It’s embarrassing to have to admit I’ve been duped into putting up with unacceptable behaviours for 10 years. I guess the old saying rings true: there’s no fool like an old fool.

But when you’re targeted at my age chances are you’ve been selected by a dysfunctional person who has had a lot of practice in duping partners. He’s a master. He’s learned which buttons to press. He has all his answers and excuses on the tip of his tongue. He knows which ones will work with you. For him, it’s a power game. He’s letting you know who is in charge here. He’s only ever going to do only what he wants to do. Don’t try to insist he does something that isn’t on his agenda. He’ll find enough displacement activities to last till this time next year. And don’t ever try to stop him from doing something he’s decided to do. Or you’ll be punished. But not in ways you’d expect.

passive aggration
you have to know how to recognise it

Always being late is a classic passive aggressive behaviour. Procrastination is his middle name. Promises? Forget ’em. He’ll dodge those promises and keep on ducking and diving all the while making it look as though you’re the one being unreasonable. And all the time he’s doing this he’s making it look to everybody else as if he’s the ideal partner, loving and kind. In reality, he is unable to form an emotional connection with you. He cannot deal with any problems in your relationship. He would rather simply walk away.

He forgets things ‘by mistake’. There might be a half-hearted apology but it won’t be sincere. Your personal belongings may go missing or even be broken and it’s such a small thing, isn’t it, why should you make a fuss over it? It’s just a glass candlestick – he didn’t see it there on the shelf. It’s only an ornament; you could always get another.passive aggression

If he feels slighted by you he will hold a grudge forever. Again, you will be punished. You might get the silent treatment. Either he completely ignores you or gives a one word answer. He will withdraw all intimacy between you. He is a sulking child who doesn’t know how to deal with adult differences in a grown-up way. Maybe he can’t cope with a real woman like you. Maybe he really needs a mother.passiveaggro5

 

Personal examples

In my previous post I wrote about the watering system that went into someone else’s garden rather than our own. I’d waited years for that to go into our own garden. He won a triple-dupe on that one by scoring ‘nice-guy’ points with a neighbour and being paid for the work at the same time as letting me down.

There’s a pretty resort I’d always wanted to visit just down the coast from where we lived. Every time we made arrangements to go something else would come up. There was always something he had to do first. That something would take the whole morning and then it would be too late to make the journey and be back in time for my stepson coming home from school. I never got to visit that place.

When he broke anything it was always just an ‘accident’. Except that it wasn’t. The things he broke were always items important to me. The glass candlestick was the one I’d bought to have on the table at the gathering after my mother’s funeral. If I had a favourite coffee cup it would be knocked against something and chipped. Another glass candle holder was the one my sister bought for me. He’d ‘accidentally’ spill chemicals on new bed linens I had bought. Drop china dishes and so on.

I had a Fire Dragon.

Duncan the Dragon
Duncan the Dragon

He sat on top of the log burner breathing his scented smoke. My sister bought him for me.

Nobody knows how he got broken. N said perhaps his son had knocked him over with his school bag. I don’t think so. What did I do? I wrote a short story featuring a broken ornament and how the ensuing ‘fix’ helped glue a troubled family back together. I sold the story to a UK women’s magazine.

Magazine artwork by Jane Stone
Magazine artwork by Jane Stone

When I look back at the time I was writing those words, I know now how much wishful thinking was going into it. The broken ornament was real: the hopeful ending was what I wish could have happened in my own life.

Why didn’t I act on my feelings? Why didn’t I read him the story and then tell him this was how I wished it could be for us?

Because he wouldn’t have cared. Actually, he wouldn’t have understood. There would have been another of those confusing conversations where I felt I had to explain human emotions to him. I knew there was no point. I was already conditioned to accept the way things were. His way.

I bet he was pissed off I’d turned a negative event into a positive and earned myself some money by selling the story. He wasn’t proud of my writing achievements. Never said so. He liked to tell me how well other people were doing instead.

Passive aggression is covert bullying

passive aggression
covert bullying

Look at the words in the illustration:

I could go through each one and give examples of how I tried to cope with all of them. N deployed each and every one, always shifting the goal posts so I never knew how I was supposed to react. I must have done the right thing most of the time: we were together 10 years. But as my usefulness wore out, particularly after my accident, communication became even more strained.

I changed tactics. I didn’t engage at all. I agreed with everything he said and walked away. Of course, I didn’t know he had his eye on his new woman to replace me so it wouldn’t have mattered what I did. There was only ever going to be one ending: the full discard with all its cruelty and callous tormenting.

passiveaggro1

The strange thing is I hardly care about the other woman. I guessed who it was straight away. I’d seen how she looked at him; knew she was available to him. In some ways I feel sorry for her. She has just what he needs next: someone to help him through his poor language skills. She’ll be able to get him into the foreign social security system. Maybe she has some money. She’d better be careful with that. When he has got from her what he wants the devalue stage will begin.  I hope she doesn’t persevere for 10 years like I did.

I wouldn’t want him touching me ever again now I know what he’s capable of.

But I do care about my stepson. I wouldn’t have walked out on him had I not been forced. The most terrible thing that can happen to a young child had already happened: his mother had died when he was only three years old. Now he’s sixteen and he knows the truth of what his father has done. And he knows it isn’t my doing that I had to leave. I hope to continue a relationship with him but it won’t be easy hearing about what his father is doing.

So is this passive aggression linked with psychopathy? Not all passive aggressive people are psychopathic but I think passive aggressive behaviours are one of a psychopath’s tools to manipulate their victims.

I should have made a stand right at the beginning. I should not have tolerated it. I deserve better.

disrespect(to be continued)

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(Edited. Removed from public display in May 2015. Restored November 2017)

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