Over the Thanksgiving weekend my friend Kitty came in for a visit. Y’all remember Kitty? She’s the one who is still recovering from having left an emotionally abusive, manipulative, narcissistic Thunderdouche from Satan’s own anus.
It was great to see her, and I am please to report she is finally taking my advice (or has been worn down by my constant insistence) and is getting a therapist to help her heal from her 15 years with Thunderdouche. This is big news because she was really trying to simple MAKE herself be “normal” again by force of will. Part of the reason she (like others) try to do this is that victim blaming is so prevalent a message that she didn’t WANT to admit how much damage was done because that would make her a victim of abuse, and everyone knows victims are weaklings who should be scorned as much as pitied because they weren’t able to prevent the abuse.
However, she is finally ready to cut herself some slack and get therapy. This is an important part of realizing that being the target of an asshat with NPD does not mean that you “let” him hurt you, or that you “deserved it” on some level because you didn’t leave earlier.
I think what has made Kitty realize that she is hurt beyond what her emergency metal self help kit can fix is the fact she occasionally acts irrational about certain “trigger” things even when she knows it is irrational and is upset she is doing it WHILE she is doing it but CANNOT seem to stop it. This makes her feel wretched. Especially since her wonderful boyfriend, Good Guy, is the recipient of these turbulent acts. She knows she is punishing him for shit that Thunderdouche did and it is breaking her heart and starting to make her think she is a bad person.
Here’s a metaphoric example:
Kitty: It is raining. I loathe rain. I fear rain. I’ll stand at the window scowl at the rain with bitter resentment because I know I will get wet when I leave the house. If someone LOVED me they would make it stop raining.
Good Man: Here you are Kitty. I got you an umbrella! You need not fear the rain because YOU can keep YOURSELF dry and I will walk beside you cheering you on because you are wonderful and can do this.
Kitty: Fuck you and your stupid umbrella! MAKE IT STOP RAINING! *sobs*
Good Man: I am now perplexed. Perhaps I can move us to the Gobi desert? It will take a couple of years to get planned, though.
Kitty: NO! I wanna move there NOW!
Good Man: I don’t understand, Kitty. If I can’t stop the rain, will you stop loving me?
A few hours later Kitty will call me, explain what happened, and ask me WTF is wrong with her. I point out that since the emotional and mental abuse she went through was metaphorically waterboarding it makes perfect sense that she is terrified beyond rational control by metaphorical rain. Getting wet reminds her of how she felt like she was drowning. Her best hope for learning not to fear the rain is a good therapist who will help her re-learn that not all water is wielded by Evil People trying to pour it up her nose to torture her.
She ponders this, then asks, “Are you sure that my reaction to rain isn’t just proof I am the Bad Person that Thunderdouche said I was?”
I remind her that no matter how scared she has become of rain she has always, ALWAYS, even in the height of her rain-phobia, ran out into the teeth of a monsoon just to help me. This makes her cry, partly from relief and partly from sorrow that she cannot remember that aspect of herself and partly because she feels so helpless that she is now afraid of rain when she didn’t used to be. All of this heartache is because of the nightmarish “training” Thunderdouche did while he was trying to get her to perpetually bend to his selfish whims.
Seriously, I could kick Thunderdouche’s damn face it … and then throw away the shoes I wore because I would never get the shit stink off them.
Here’s hoping that Kitty finds a good mental health professional who will help her deprogram herself from all the fears and traumas Thunderdouche has instilled in her. Then she and Good Guy can live Happily Ever After without the long shadow of a goat blowing twatwaffle dimming their rainbow even a little.
I’m pro HEA.