Today I unpacked a box from Israel and found one of my homemade, inspirational posters that was dated “20 June 2013”. I can’t upload a photograph of the poster because it has David’s real name on it, inside a pink and purple heart, of course; but the poster says this:
What would I be able to accomplish if David were arriving today?
You see, after the narcissist David left me (discarded me), I believed he was coming back soon. He kept telling me that he could not and would not be coming back ever; but I refused to listen. I was deep in a total fantasy of denial because I was going to lose my mind if I let myself think for even one-half of a millisecond that he wasn’t coming back to me. I just couldn’t handle it that he was gone. I knew that any minute he was going to walk right through the door of our shared home, and everything would go back to normal. He was definitely coming back to me.
It made it worse that we were still in near constant contact with each other. I downloaded a computer program called MagicJack which allows any laptop to make international phonecalls for free. That way, I could phone him in Canada and we could talk until the battery died on his cellphone, which was usually a good 3 hours straight. Calls were dropped frequently, which irritated and frustrated David. Eventually he used that as his excuse to stop letting me call him. He told me he couldn’t talk to me on the cellphone anymore because the bad connection was too stressful for him, and then he ruled that I couldn’t write letters to him, either, because, as it turned out, he was working other targets. When he cut off contact with me, I was distraught. This was around the time that he told me that he had 2 years left to live. You can read about that here: Narcissist Will Fake His Own Death.
Anyhow, I was in self-preservation mode. I could not think about David not returning to me. I knew he was supposed to be with me and that somehow the entire universe was off-kilter and out of sync because he had disrupted the Natural Order. (And by Natural Order, I mean Divine Order.) David was supposed to be with me. David and I were supposed to be in Israel. Together. David and I were supposed to bring a holy child into the world. How could he have gone to Canada? It was wrong, just wrong, in every way!
I made all kinds of plans and schemes to get the narcissist to return to me. I wrote eloquent emails detailing the pros of returning to Israel and the cons of staying in Canada. I told him how much I missed him and how great our life was going to be once he returned to me. But he didn’t listen. Still, every 3 hour phonecall was an opportunity to convince him (delicately, softly) to come Home. There was another thing going on too: the Mania. I don’t know what was happening in my brain to my brain chemicals, but it was like a tidal wave when he would talk to me on the telephone. I got high from being on the call. I got high from having been on the call. I got high from planning for the next call. I got high from hoping he would return soon. I got high from imagining his return. I got high from getting ready for his return. My brain was drugging me because of my intense love for David.
I used to imagine that he was coming home right after Shabbat. You see, we wouldn’t talk for 2 days because of the time difference between Shabbat in Israel and Shabbat in Canada. After the 40 hours of radio silence, I hoped every single week that this time, he was going to tell me that his flight was on Wednesday. He was coming home to me. But every Motzei Shabbat, it was the same. He wasn’t coming home and he told me he thought that maybe he would never come Home. But I didn’t listen. I couldn’t listen. Because my heart would break.
When David would talk to me on the telephone and encourage me with brilliant Torah, I would get so excited. The mania would enable me to get all kinds of things done and to succeed in my labor-intensive cleaning jobs and to take care of my apartment and to get his room ready and to take care of myself and to cook meals. I could do anything when I thought he was coming Home.
I guess the opposite emotion must have been the grief. When the phonecalls stopped, I couldn’t function. I simply crumbled as a human being – only I didn’t die. It’s funny how heartbreak hurts so badly, but it really doesn’t kill you. Unless you’re old. Senior citizens do indeed die from a lonely or broken heart. I’ve seen that happen when I worked in the funeral home. When the body is old and compromised, a broken heart does kill. But unfortunately, I was young and strong. No matter how bad the heartache got, my heart kept beating for David. He was coming for me. I knew he was. Because if he were feeling what I was feeling, he couldn’t stand the suffering either and he would have to do something to fix it. He would have to send for me or he would have to come home. There were no other options.
Only, there was one other option, one that never occurred to me…
…and that was… that David wasn’t feeling the same heartbreak that I was feeling. David wasn’t grieving for me the way I was grieving for him. I never thought of that. And that was the flaw in my plan. The narcissist wasn’t grieving for me. David, he was never coming back.
“Remembering the Narcissist and the Mania.” is copyright © 2015 by Poorkitteh. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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