I must think that old saw is true, because I think that’s my plan. I’m turning over all the ugliest rocks, looking for the very darkest place apparently, because it must be my core belief that there is no dawn except just beyond it.
This blog, this train of thought is at a standstill at the moment. I’m researching, reading that nasty old textbook “The Evolution of War,” and the good news is I give it fifty-fifty that that the ultimate darkness I’m looking for is in there. As dark as I find my own inner life, I am forever an adorable child: Chapter Five is Cannibalism and War. I really hope it gets better after that. That was tough. I wanna tell you about it, but I need to process, finish the book, maybe restart.
That’s my inner life, a huge part of it, and so it’s personal. On a more personal level, though, maybe the darkest bit of that is here too. Perhaps you’ve seen me trying to understand my life, relitigating specific traumatic arguments from my recent life, trying to interpret it in terms of feminism, or my own gender liberation . . . in the most recent personal blogs, maybe smarter folks than me have already seen it . . .
I’ve been to the doctor’s, something going on, I exercise and feel awful, I’m napping all the time . . . bloodwork and all, doctor’s found nothing, wants to treat my depression. I think the realization has been coming, I think this fatigue settled in when I began to see it, and a few weeks ago, an online friend helped me find the word for it. I have no powerful psychopath in my story, no single, sick clever manipulator . . .
. . . that’s why it’s taken so long to put it together that I am a victim of narcissistic abuse.
I’ll be processing that for a while.
No one bad guy, a team effort of sorts, but I’ve been doing what a victim does, leaving all the power in the hands of the abuser, trying to find a solution within myself, or begging the abuser to understand and save me instead of what they are engaged in. Plus of course, probably ignoring the abuser’s other victims. The narcissistic abuser requires all of everyone’s attention.
Those squeaky wheels will get no more grease from me for the time being.
The fatigue is first and foremost mental, intellectual. I can barely read, let alone write. My apologies if anyone is waiting, I got nothing cooking.
Take care, everyone, and thanks for reading
Aug. 6th., 2018