I found Someone

I found Someone

I found someone who knows what my anxiety looks like, someone who can understand what is running through my mind just by a glance, someone who knows that my silence means I am drowning and the way my face looks when I am using every inch of strength not to fall apart.

I found someone who will reassure me, even if it means doing it every day or every hour because he wants his peace to be mine.

I found someone who isn’t tired by my mind because no-one is more exhausted by it than myself.

I found someone who will do everything in his power not to be the cause of that anxiety; someone who smooth his hand over my knuckles when they’re white with frustration, someone who will rub gentle circles over my stomach when it is tied up in a thousand knots and feels like crashing waves of the ocean.

I found someone who will run his fingers through my hair when my head is so full of terrible thoughts with no route that can be severed, that it feels as if my mind is fighting against my skull, desperate to get out.

I found someone who will be my calm in the storm, my steady, my rock.

He makes me feel as if I can tell him anything, no matter what time of day or night. He’s someone who will fight sleep just to smooth the creases in my brow.

I found someone who will hold me so close to his chest that I feel his warmth radiate throughout my body like a safety blanket making me wondering if he is actually real.

I found someone who will listen to the mess of my thoughts, who will not tell me that I am “over-reacting” or “paranoid” or “overly sensitive” or any other number of things which make me feel bad for feeling bad.

I found someone who knows how to stop my rage because he knows how to walk in the minefield of my wounds. Whose only goal is to help me through whatever thought is gripping me- no matter how real or imagined or so over-analysed it feels as if it will be the thing to break me.

I found someone who will be the hand pulling me to the surface when i feel as if I am drowning and will shield me when the hurricane hits.

I found someone who is not afraid of my darkness but someone who has become my light, someone who has given me life, someone who has kept me alive when death seemed the solution.

I found someone who made me care because he cares and so I cared about not hurting him because to think of him in pain was an excruciating thought in my mind.

I found someone who doesn’t give me more reasons to doubt, to fear, to obsess. He is someone who i can see into and see more than myself reflecting back. He is someone who will not let my trust issues become magnified, who will not make comments without thinking, who will not joke about things which could turn my world to dust… because he knows me…. because I know him.

I found someone who doesn’t need to be told when I am feeling anxious because he feels me in his soul. Someone who knows it merely by my quiet features, my silence, and the emptiness that takes place and crushes me. He is someone who hears my screams when my mouth is shut and sees my tears when my pain becomes unbearable.

I found someone who understands that i won’t tell him how I am feeling because sometimes the sunny day is not what is in me. He is someone who will suggest hugs after events which cripple me because he knows that to be with him in his arms is my happy place.

I found someone who will slip his hand into mine at social events so I don’t feel invisible yet exposed all at the same time afraid of being afraid for no reason and every reason.

I found someone who makes me feel heard, important, adored and makes me feel at peace, at home with him.

I found someone who knows that anxiety is not who I am. It is just what became a part of me from the trauma Imposed over me.

I found someone who loves me even during the moments I can’t love myself… because he understands me.

The sweet girl in me found him and she is now visible. Because he deserves the sweet girl. He deserves the baby girl. He deserves what is hidden away from the world.

I found someone who deserves me and so he is sacred for me.



“Katia, I must hurt you. Do you understand me?
I must hurt you because I have to. It is something that I have to do. It is part of my who I am. It is my need.”

I heard those words contrasting with the beautiful sight of the sun coming through the curtains in his bedroom. Was it Sunday morning? Was it Friday?
His eyes were dark, his expression of hate, frowning he stared me, his hand locked around my neck. His face close to mine watching my reaction.

“Your life depends on me. Do you understand ? I can kill you any time. I can kill you, Katia. I can and I will if I have to. I know you don’t believe me. I know you don’t phantom it, but it can happen.”

Again, the sun cutting through the curtains made such a contrast. Why don’t I fear his words?

Numbness took over my whole being as a fog, clouding my thinking. I feel the energy leaving my body and it feels cold. It is palpable. He is draining me and he is empty. This has been home for me. This emptiness of empty people trying to create a world out of what I have.

If I could tell the world just one thing, it would be that this isn’t ok. To worry about tomorrow and not to worry is wasteful
and useless in times like these. He wants me to be made less but I won’t be made useless. I won’t be idle with despair as the truth closes upon me.
I will gather myself around it for light that my truth shines does the darkness most fear.

My hands are small, I know but they’re not his. They are my own and I am never broken. The poverty of his spirit stole my golden dreams but it didn’t steal my laughter. As the heart ache comes to visit me, I knew I wouldn’t never get even. I will fight, not out of spite. I will fight for someone I don’t know. I will fight to find him as someone must stand up for what’s right.
‘Cause where there’s a man who has no voice. There ours shall go singing.

In the end kindness didn’t matter. In the end loyalty didn’t matter. In the end hope enslaved me.
I will get down on my knees, and I will pray
I will pray to a God who has forsaken me.


Familial Devaluation and Triangulation – Mining Field

Very often devaluation and triangulation are viewed as the narcissist bringing in a third party or constantly bringing in one of his exes to compare, contrast or simply to triangulate for the sake of triangulation. Usually, the same ex that he or she painted as a demon, which just adds to the confusion.

But how about when the narcissist doesn’t bring in a third party or an ex but instead uses his own children to devalue and triangulate you?

It becomes tricky; very tricky. Children are a very useful weapon for a narcissist because who in their right mind would criticize a parent for giving too much attention, too much assistance, too much of his or her time to their children?

Who would criticize the parent for putting their children first, cancelling out dates with you in the last minute because the child got sick, sad, arrived at home in a unstable mood, came back from her therapist and needs to talk to the parent about something but it is really nothing?

Who would point the finger on a parent who seem to be a good parent, who gives their children all he or she can and is willing to sacrifice him or herself in pro of their children?

Again, it becomes very tricky to discern the truth hidden among these blurry lines of never defined boundaries. It feels almost a “sacrilege” to question a parent’s way of relating to their children. Who are we to say that the way a person loves their children is right or wrong? We are outsiders, right?


We are outsiders who will always be kept as an outsider because you are damned if you get close and damned if you don’t get close. You are damned if you speak up and damned if you don’t. You are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. The division between you and them is palpable and whoever dares to threaten to clarify those blurry lines  in pro of a “normal” separation is seen as a threat… more so from a co-dependent empath like me because the accuracy in which I am capable of pinpoint the depth of a dark secret goes beyond of what most mortals can face without igniting the rage of futile self-defense. Death would me my sentence.

But it feels right and it is absolutely wrong.

My ex narc used everything, anything, everyone, and every situation to triangulate me. People, things, situations, thoughts… from humans to music, places, time of day, food, weather… EVERYTHING and all in between whatever we were living at the moment was well used to serve triangulate me. However, his best and most effective weapons to wound me were his adult children. They were his most effective tool to manipulate me, devalue me and triangulate me throughout our relationship. Many times I felt guilty for feeling jealous of him about the way he related to his daughters, particularly the oldest daughter, who felt more like his wife, controlling his every step, than his daughter. I felt she occupied a place in his life that doesn’t belong to her. Belongs to a woman.

Things got more complicated when I finally met them and after watching his oldest daughter in action, I quickly realized the bulk of the situation. She is a narcissist herself, one who controls the entire family, one who is abusive towards everyone (including him), forcefully selfish, to the point of eating all the eggs in one morning just to not share with her youngest sister, who she hates because the youngest took all the attention away from her. One who criticizes everyone without looking at herself, one who suffers of celebrity addiction, dressing, acting, living like a celebrity, mocking the Kardashians being the best at the worst type of subhumans that humankind has to offer. scum wrapped in a nice package of fakery. The embarrassment of the American culture at its worst for the world to see… In short: I sat and watched this undeveloped minion narcissist in action.

Meanwhile, he sat there and gladly took all the abuse from her as a martyr proven holiness. Obeyed to her every demand. Bent backwards to please her. The way I acted towards him; he acted towards her. A slave to her = him. A slave to no Master = me.

I was sure he was a co-dependent! I was sure he had a major co-dependency problem because not even me with my co-dependency issues, I would bend so low to that type of overt abuse……………………………………………………………………………………….. Yet, he did it with a dramatic satisfaction.

She nearly flanked out of college just because she didn’t care about it. Financial aid denied. He called me mortified. I told him to drop any help. If she doesn’t want to study, she is 24. No one can’t force her. He said he couldn’t give up on her. Paid $10k out of pocket and got her going. Bought her a brand new car until she ran her Mercedes Benz into the floor by driving until the last drop of gas was there, never doing maintenance, trashing the car out. Allows her to live in his house, allows her to control who walks in and out and when, pays all the bills, feeds her, pays for her gas…. and serves her narcissism and she serves him. Quite symbiotic narc exchange at its primal.

I could go on and on about their dynamic but that should shed light to my confusion. The same applies to the other two. He did and does the same but the staple of the situation is really the oldest daughter, because she is him in a female form. He – a child of abuse and neglect. She – a child of overindulgence. The other two fall somewhere between.

The war between these two narcissists with the daughter imposing her will over his made it easier for him to play the victim and hide behind the facade of “a good dad” when in reality he benefited from all the drama. It is all for his benefit… and they benefit from the largesse as it is the only thing that matters to them. The constant fight for the throne that they believe their mother once occupied.

The main fuel is to do more and bigger and more harmful to receive their recognition as if belittling the woman who is with him elevates them because no one should occupy that space in his life.

What space?

It includes belittling others so he can make his love for them bigger, better, special, “sacred”. To choose them over you even on situations when the ridicule of doing so was obvious to everyone but them… just to prove a love that he is not capable of feeling… just to make he feel better………….. just to wound me and savior the taste of my pain.

I served many purposes in his life, one of them was to make him look as a loving father, as he always and unmistakably choose them over me. I also provided him with the nectar of my pain to sooth his own pain. As he did to me, was done to him. As he fell below, he lowered me. As he ached, so did I.

In pain we met, in pain we left.