“When you record these sad events in your letters, please describe me exactly as I am. Don’t tone things down or exaggerate them out of hostility. If you’re being fair, you’ll have to describe me as someone who loved too much, but who wasn’t wise about it. I was not easily made jealous, but once I was tricked and manipulated, I worked myself into a frenzy. -Othello, Shakespeare – Act 5, Scene 2. Modern Text
“Tell them I loved, not wisely, but well.” Even a month ago I was a woman who took a measure of pride in this phrase. I felt that it spoke to the intensity of which I was able to love. Even a month ago, I thought of myself as a woman who hadn’t always picked the right men, but loved them anyway, to the death. To the pain. The men I had fallen in love with saw both extremes of my being. The wholeness of my acceptance, the radiance of my love and affection, the strength of my loyalty. The woman gone mad, the widow rending her clothes and throwing herself on the funeral pyre. When faced with the loss of them, my darkness was a moonless night, my grief a vacuum that sucked the very life out of my life. Lilith, the unwanted. Woman scorned.
Even a month ago I found myself thinking, well, yes. I was completely crazed, wholly unreasonable, extremely destabilized. And yet, they should take this as a compliment, because it showed the true depth of my feelings for them.
I have recently received some clarity on this matter. Well, that’s not exactly true. I have been receiving clarity on this matter for decades, it has just only recently reached its conclusion. Having spent the past year in Trauma Reprocessing Therapy, it has been necessary to open these old wounds. Deeply open them and dredge their murky depths. The journey down this rabbit hole has been treacherous, painful and dark. It’s also been wholly necessary, in order to heal myself. There is no journey too dark, there is no price too high to pay. I will press on, because my soul is worth it.
The trauma bond is one of the most powerful emotional bonds on Earth. Trauma bonds can be positive. One example of this, I have an out-of-state friend. This past summer we both found ourselves terribly destabilized and struggling. She was more open than I about this on Facebook. Suddenly, despite the fog I found myself in, a single beam of light was able to find me. I reached out to her. We found ourselves in very different situations, but we were in the same unfortunate place mentally and emotionally. Quickly we were messaging daily. Speaking plainly, conversations that others would cringe to read, about how bad we were actually doing. It was a terrible time, to be sure. And yet, there was a comfort in not being there alone. Happy to say, we are both doing much better now. We sat in the basement together and we were was not so lonely, together.
A positive trauma bond is a connection over a shared experience. This type of bond benefits both people involved.
The rest of my story is not about these kinds of trauma bonds, though. The rest of my story is about trauma bonds that are built upon a foundation of emotional abuse. In this type of bond, only one person is benefiting. Trauma bonds are the reason you can’t understand why your friend won’t let go of that guy who treats her so poorly. I’ve been that friend.
Trauma Bonding is typically associated with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. There are certain psychological buzzwords from time to time and it does seem the term “narcissist” is currently one of those. I don’t care to overuse it, for this reason. There is an entire range of personality disorders referred to as “Type B” which encompass those who have a few narcissistic characteristics all the way over to Psychopaths. Narcissistic Personality Disorder is just one stop on this spectrum. Even within that diagnosis, there is a range. Covert Narcissists are able to hide their dysfunction for quite some time, for instance. Others knock the definition out of the park from day one.
Type B personalities are characterized by those with a lack of empathy, primarily. An excessive need for admiration, disregard for the feelings of others, an inability to handle criticism and a sense of entitlement.
The real proof that you are dealing with a Type B is the cycle of abuse they bring to a relationship. Both men and women are capable of being Type B and it is not confined to romantic relationships. There are narcissistic parents, narcissistic children and narcissistic friendships. There are narcissistic bosses. It can show itself in any area of your life. The cycle of abuse is as follows: Infatuation, Devalue, Discard.
Infatuation (also referred to as Love Bombing) is the part that hooks us, also the portion of this cycle to which we struggle to return, later. The reason Infatuation hooks us, so completely, is because we are presented with the illusion of finding our soulmate. That soulmate can be obviously wrong for us in several ways, but the depth of feeling, the emotional intimacy connection is so great it is not only possible to overlook your mismatched ways, but even come to believe that fate has brought the two of you together in order to make you better people. Be wary of those who give you razor sharp attention from the beginning, implore grand gestures and rush to establish emotional intimacy in which deepest fears, insecurities and secrets are exchanged early and often. Be wary of it, for it is dangerous. You’ve known this person a very short period of time and have already given them all the information they will ever need to manipulate and destroy you.
Devaluation is the key factor in creating a Trauma Bond. It is established by intermittent reinforcement. Your relationship was established on a 10/10 reinforcement. Each and every time you came to this person, you were rewarded. You have become unknowingly dependent on it. Your emotional needs are being met, dependably. All positive experiences. One day, without warning, this changes. One day you come to them as usual and have a negative experience. One that hurts you, just a little. Maybe there are a few in a row. You feel uneasy. This person has been dependable so far, though, and you’ve put a lot into this relationship by now. What is going on? You can overlook a few bad interactions. The problem is, from then on, you will never be sure – when you come to this person – if you will receive negative or positive from them. It becomes a mathematical equation you are unable to solve. You resolve to be on your best behavior, to do all the things you know please them, to get the positive interactions back. The ones to which you had become accustomed. Think of it like a vending machine. Every day at 3:00 you go get your snack. It’s a dependable part of your day. One day you go as usual, but the chips get stuck on the spiral thing. You bang on the plastic to see if you can jar it. Do you never use the machine again? Of course not. It’s always worked before. You put another .75 in the machine, push the button. Now you have TWO bags of chips. A few days later, the same thing happens. Only this time both bags of chips are stuck. Well, what do you do? Put another .75 in? Walk away? I mean, you paid for theose and if you walk away the next person will easily get them. Do you decide to never use the machine again? That is the question at hand. How many times does this need to occur and at what frequency before you decide you will never use the machine again? It’s the same principle, just replace ‘bag of chips’ with some assholes affection.
Time is the truth bearer. I now have the benefit of the rest of the stories. I didn’t have it during those times of being devalued, because I didn’t know for sure that things that wouldn’t turn around. It seemed worth my effort, in case it did. I didn’t know then that I would be unable to ever regain the affection to which I had become emotionally dependent. I know the endings to these stories now. 100% of the time I experienced Devaluation, another woman was involved. Obviously, I should have walked away as soon as the Devaluation began. It is painfully obvious now, but I do not fault myself for not knowing this at the time. Even in the cases when another woman actually surfaced, it seemed like it would be a quick match. Someone they had known for a few weeks versus the strength of a bond years in the making. It was not.
Discard is the final stage in this abuse cycle. You will be replaced. Had this happened before the Devalue stage, it would be a terrible shock that would bring about grief. You would still have your dignity, however. You would be facing the choice to walk on a more intact self-esteem. In that way, it would have been kinder. These people are not kind.
This cycle can and will repeat indefinitely, until YOU remove yourself from the situation entirely. This is a heartbreaking choice to make. None of the men I loved wanted me out of their lives. They still wanted me, exactly where I had been, but with the addition of accepting that they were in love with someone else and she now took priority over me. The pain of losing them entirely was so immense that I did try. I regret this, wholly, now. The vacuum that had replaced my soul was terrifying and dark. Had it been visible, you would have seen a fire that had smoldered out but was still smoking, in a tiny windowless room. The air acrid, the smell of it overpowering. In my efforts to regain the affection I once held with this person, my life was narrowed to a single focus, a tiny point of light; to the complete disregard of the loving people in my life and the things I had previously enjoyed. The choice between walking away and losing this person entirely vs. making some concessions, find some balance between pain and familiarity kept me awake at nights. Could you imagine expecting this, if the situation were reversed? Of course you couldn’t. Congratulations, you aren’t a Type B.
The heartbreak I suffered in college left me a changed person. Having endured a very dangerous suicidal episode until all hope was lost, I packed up my things and left there, finally. Long after I should have. I returned home, to Kansas City, where I continued to suffer and grieve through the dark night of my soul. After what seemed like forever, I felt good enough to return to the local community college and resume my education. One night I came out of my math class and a friend of 5 years was waiting for me. We had occasionally talked on the phone while I was away at college. I wrote him letters while he had been in the Army. He had recently returned from the service and started back at the same community college I was attending. He looked up from where he was sitting and said “Hey beautiful.” I felt a piercing stab of normalcy from his words. I’ve often, begrudgingly, had to admit that he saved my life during that dark winter. He was recently single. He took me dancing; he began to show up at my house. The connection, this new interest he took in me, breathed new life into me. It started to rebuild my shattered self-esteem. Within a few months, I was feeling like a much more normal me. I had been changed, but where I’d seen nothing but frightening darkness in my future, a new life began to form.
We already were trauma bonded, because he found me in my trauma and saved me from it. Since we’d been friends, I already trusted him. I knew he had a reputation of being in many short-term relationships, I accepted this about him. As I felt my feelings for him grow and solidify, I believed I was the answer to his troubled love life. That it had been me, all along, who was meant to love him and make him whole. Knowing at 50 what I did not know at 22, I was Grade-A Prime Narcissistic Supply at that point in my life. My heartbreak, my vulnerability, my need for someone strong to save me. Do you know in cartoons where the wolf looks at the pig and sees a deliciously prepared pork chop? It was about like that.
Things were only good between us for 8 months. Then devaluation began. There were red flags that he had an interest in someone else, I just didn’t know who it was. That person never fully formed. We continued in this cycle of abuse through numerous others who never fully formed. I was able, each time, to regain his affections. The trauma bond I shared with this person was immense. Not only was our long-term friendship at stake, but the repeated – I almost lost you, now we’re back together – was emotional heroin to me. I already felt that I owed him my life. He had become too much of my life. To think of losing that, for good, was unimaginable. To think of a future where we would never talk, where I would never see him again was impossibly painful to imagine. I continued to struggle to find a balance that would allow him to remain in my life. I forgave numerous harms in these efforts, hoping that the bond we shared would return.
It didn’t work. It never did. The vacuum inside my soul returned. That very familiar pain. Although I knew it, intimately at this point, there was nothing comfortable about it.
After this relationship ended for good I grew a great deal. I found myself at yet another college. I found my life, again, filling and becoming whole and happy. This time, however, it was not due to another man finding me. This time, it was me that found me, and it was real.
I didn’t have the words I have now to describe my heartbreaks. If any Narcissistic Abuse Pattern had been documented at that time, I wouldn’t have known about it. This was before the Internet, the great giver of accessible knowledge. I only knew that I didn’t want to be in a relationship like I’d been in, ever again. I knew I had to change, had to do better, had to be wiser in the men I loved. A year later I met my husband. I knew he was not like them. He was love without pain, a love with someone wonderful and dependable (he wasn’t too bad himself. Ha ha, I kid).
Sadly, almost ironically, my pattern of abuse hurt my marriage too, over time. Although I had grown, had gained so much knowledge the years before I met him; my soul, a part of it, lay festering. It was this all-too familiar pattern of abuse. Although I had experienced wonderful healing at that time in my life, I was not completely healed. The fact that there had not been abuse, had not been trauma bonding in my marriage, over time, worked against it in a dysfunctional and counter-intuitive way. ‘You care about me enough to not abuse me’ slowly became ‘do you really care about me, if you don’t abuse me?’ For I was not fully healed, not the way I am now. It takes more than picking a good man to heal from a destructive pattern like mine. It lived inside of me, still. Resentment layered inside of me, over time. The resentment of someone not abusing you. If that isn’t the definition of dysfunction right there.
This is a source of great sadness for me now. What could have been, all along. I always had the power to have it. This was one of the factors that led to me re-starting therapy over a year ago. One of the factors that led me to sitting across from my therapist opening these old wounds to dredge them to the bottom. One of the factors that would lead to an unflinching accounting of my soul. One of the factors that would lead to my depressive episode this past summer. One of the factors that eventually brought me around to my full and complete healing.
I no longer feel grief or sorrow over my past loves. Those wounds have been cauterized, at long last. I swam down into the murky depths of my soul. I was the one to clear the drain I found there of debris. I was the one to face what was left, when the muddy waters receded. Broken pieces of the lives I would have lived with these men. The sharp shards of pain they brought me. The sorrow that almost drown me. The early traumas that set me upon this dark path in the first place. These took the form of a child-sized me. Hurting and so weary, trying to stay alive these many years. I protect her now. I am her keeper and she will never be harmed this way again.
I once believed that ‘loving well’ meant turning the other cheek and hanging in there until I felt valued again. That ‘loving well’ meant holding on to the point my life was measured in days instead of years. That this was an acceptable price to pay, for love. And that, if you refused to pay this price, it meant you didn’t really love well well at all. I have many people to love who have never expected such a thing from me. Likewise, I would never expect this from another person. This is my new definition for ‘loving well’. And it is worth the price.
My recent healing has issued forth the strongest, most vibrant, beautiful, bad-ass and real version of myself to date. This latest incarnation is one that those who devalued me will never know. Reprocessing therapy has replaced the beliefs I had of myself after these relationships. Where I once asked myself tearfully “why didn’t he love me” I now say – “he didn’t show me love, and I left him.” Where I once described these relationships as “he left me for someone” I now describe them as “he showed me intolerable cruelty, and I left him.” I was the one to throw the final punch. I was the one who lit the torch. May the bridges I’ve burn always light my path.
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