The moments I have his full attention feel like the sun only shines for me. His attention is not fading — it is either there or not, on or off, on me or on other women. At the end, even his negative attention warms me a little — some weak sunrays behind the cloudy sky were better than nothing, I lie to myself.
Emotional abuse — on our daily agenda.
Physcial abuse? The bruises, the scratches next morning? No problem, let`s work it out together, I suggest.
I collaborate in my own destruction. Mostly by not letting you go. You neglect me, you destroy me emotionally, you don´t care, you go to other women; friends, you call them. I cannot endure it. More often than not it is me initiating the physical abuse, keeping you hostage, when my abandonment wound is triggered.
One morning I wake up and you are not there anymore. You don´t answer the phone.
You left? No, this cannot be true, my eyes wide open while feeling fear that my biggest nightmare has turned into my reality. Later, you explain: “They said: don’t tell her, just leave.”
Nothing what once helped me to self-regulate seems to work anymore, no amount of walking, diving into the ice-cold ocean, asking for help can sooth my nervous system. No solace.
Where is he?
My heartbeat is racing at fullspeed. The following hours, days, nights — can time be measured, I ask myself, I spend in survival mode, lying on the floor, my body twisting and turning in pain fighting with my demons. I am screaming at them, hating them: Why are you doing this to me? There cannot possibly any lesson in it, impossible. What`s the lesson?
My mission for months has been to convince you: I am all you ever wanted. And it is true — you love me, you did everything for me, fulfilling the smallest and my biggest wish. However, me asking, me demanding your vulnerability turns me into your biggest enemy. The monster in you is treating me like crap. You betray, you lie, you control, you have power — I stay.
WHY? Why would I not go?
Trying in vain to change him, explaining myself and selling myself only pushes him further away. He finds comfort in the niceness of the smiling women, while he dies under my constant complaining and relentless critique.
I could not be abandoned, this had to be prevented at any cost. Of course, you had to fit into my picture of a man who would be emotional available.
I counted roughly 12 moves in the recent years. No wonder after his invite “you are the one I have been waiting for, why don´t you move in and give up your flat”? was I flattered and a full yes. This is my home now, forever, I decided. Still a way to go until I change the furniture, until I change him, but I am committed to turn the apartment into a palace and the man into a potential version of him. Since long he wanted to have a helping hand for some fresh air in the flat, he was just waiting for the perfect woman, he said.Here I am. You waited for me all your life. I will remind you, in case you forget one day.
Having a nag for interior design, my longing to belong and for a home make me deliberately overseeing the legacies of other women. The leftovers in the kitchen, the ready-to go toilet bags in the bathrooms, clothes from his longer than 10 years passed away partner? Closing my eyes about what`s right in front of me, was my coping mechanism to escape in the imagination of how wonderful things are.
Indeed, I started out from a place of self-love, I deserve to live in a palace being adored by a king. It is also true, that my inner system whispered already after one month: Please, find yourself yet another place. Pleeeease.
It took me 1,5 years to do so and only because, he announces — from the safe distance of me being on another continent: “There is no way back for you to my apartment. Not even one night“
“But this is also my home”, I sob, questioning if I understood correctly?
He has done me a favor.
Cleaning the mess
Hearing his clarity from remote is the catalyst for my own clarity: No more begging. I now close this chapter gracefully and start confronting myself with my own mess.
With clarity, things can shift, energy can move.
From then on practical things go fast:
First, I book a return flight to Europe, without having a place to stay.
Second, I manage to rent a flat, in the unthinkably crazy property market of Mallorca, without any proof of income.
Next, I remove all my personal belongings without seeing him. We never meet again, I insist.
This is the cure. It`s the only way. From day one I treat the separation process like an addiction. Having an abandonment wound, he represents my drug AND my dealer, who doesn`t provide for me anymore. — After all, you don´t have a chat over coffee with the guy who sells you heroine while you go cold turkey and you don´t go in a pub when you just chose sobriety, do you?
I set boundaries towards him, towards my friends, towards my concerned family: What is going on? Something really bad must have happened ….and all so sudden ?
“Don’t ask me, I don´t speak about it” , I inform -everyone.
The Sobriety is the Liberation
Even with these boundaries, there are enough triggers waiting for me at every corner. Nearly everything reminds me of him, of us -of the three of us: my body is shaking and tears are streaming down my face, knowing the moon is looking at me.
When I connect to his Being; I see a wonderful man, a kind man, with a big heart.
My fantasy about our soulmeeting was in reality build on sand and crushes, like a sandcastle, captured by the ocean, wave after wave.
Returning also my tears of salt to the ocean, I finally start crying, screaming, being hopeless, still loving him, leaning into the longing, allowing the missing him, the fear, the hatred, the disgust.
The grieving cycle interrogates me: Who are you now? What do you want? In your life? What are you creating? What makes you get up in the mornings, if not the next shot in form of addictive hot and cold behaviour? What is love? What excites you? How do you create ecstasy? What are you not giving up anymore when you relate again? Can you be compassionate with yourself?
The grieving also has an invitation: Enjoy the liberation.
In the beginning it is hardly believable for me, that I don´t have to force myself to go to meetings with him and his female friends anymore, sitting with them, nicely put together, smiling and pretending to be interested in conversations about what they experienced together while they exchange sexual energy in front of my eyes.
No more bumping into the next female friend when I go with him to the beach, no more fear, when he looks at his phone, when he drives to work. No more abandoning myself, when he abandons me. What a relieve!
No more waiting, for the knife cutting through my belly, when he drops me -pregnant- at the airport at an early morning hour and meets her for breakfast in a hotel on his way back. “Yes, I planned it, but I didn’t want to spoil our evening before. You would have freaked out, asked questions and I just wanted to look at the stars and moon with you on this warm summer evening”.
Our unborn child`s name is Luna.
No more enduring the pain when the birthday of a former partner pops up on his calendar, while he is in hospital with me for the miscarriage. His gaslighting words are: “Come on, don´t be so hurt, about me texting, it is just a birthday wish.” One, of so many.
I am the mirror -and- pain in the ass of — his addiction to women.
To avoid my own codependency to men, I first try to be ok with things which I am not, until finally becoming a beggar: It`s all ok, if you`d just tell me the truth, just talk to me, say it, speak it out. I am gradually lowering my bar. I am so understanding for his childhood wounding causing his strategy and he is trying after all, isn`t he?
Finally I plead for at least only a glance from him, at least be here when you are here, at least -hate me, beat me, abuse me.
And his women, my sisters? In some cases we pretended being polite, mostly we ignored or disliked each other. “The war between you is not my business”, he says, unable to take responsibility as a partner about what he is creating as a people pleaser. Around certain man, sisterhood can only exist if all women involved chose to drop the competition over men`s attention, I believe.
Today, when I see women, like me, trying so hard to look good, to be amicable and orderly, not daring to make a mess, not speaking up in order to receive the man`s attention, I sigh, I feel free: I am not playing this game anymore. No pressure, to be the chosen one anymore.
A walk in nature, a dip in the ocean, a good read and going to all the places without being affected of people exchanging their energies and being enmeshed with each other.
What a relieve! Standing firmly in my own personal bubble of space.
The main driver of working myself out of my victimrole in the drama I co-created, could only be generated from my unbearable pain caused by my wounding. It is very clear to me, that it is my full responsibility to take care of that. No blaming. Checking, what do I want to create in my life and moving on is the only way.
It is a choice. I lean in, into the aching questions of: Why was I so occupied with his business instead of minding my own? Why was I unable to leave? What was missing in my own life?
As I chose to start accepting my reality, I start feeling small doses of peace. From there I am embracing aliveness again.
I love languages, I love teaching languages, why not applying for a job I would like? 2 weeks later I am offered a contract. Finally I make time for my little nieces to fulfill her wish of learning her first Spanish words.
I am back on my Yoga mat — how come I suddenly stopped practicing after 13 years?
I am back to showing up for close friends, surrounding myself with loving, emotional available people.
I coach and hold space for people, supporting them on their journey.
Choosing what deserves my attention sets energy free for new creation.
Thank you for leaving me, when I couldn`t.
_____
Anger Work:
Rage Clubs: https://rageclub.mystrikingly.com/
In which ways are you manipulating with your sexual energy or allowing being manipulated? https://whitewidow.mystrikingly.com/
Women circle:
I could not have gone through that without my evolutionary sisters.
I am committed to be such a sister for you. Book a coaching sessions here. alicebelz@gmx.de
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