Write it Out

My therapist and other knowledgeable people suggest writing as part of the recovery from emotional abuse. It’s definitely been important for my healing. With considerable time spent studying narcissistic abuse, I found that writing about it is nearly universal with victims, as though it is an instinctive healing behavior. Putting order to my thoughts and memories is the primary use

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Psychic Triangulation

Tina and I were introduced to one of Amber’s friends at their usual haunt, the Doghouse. Jessie was a heavy-set woman with native American or Hispanic features. She presented herself as a gifted psychic. She seemed very amiable and she and I were the only members of the party who weren’t drinking. Early in the night, she said “You two

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With Friends like These…

Summer, 2015, I was invited to a party at the home of my friend Rich and his wife, Thea. It was a bacon-themed party and everyone was expected to bring something bacon-related. It was mostly food, but Kevin Bacon memorabilia was equally acceptable. Tina and I were spending the weekend together in the little top-floor apartment of the Buffalo Hotel,

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Avoiding Dissonance

Cognitive dissonance is a state of conflicted thoughts, ideas or realities. Or, a confused, frightening mental conflict between evidence of reality and contrary beliefs. It’s a difficult, even traumatizing phenomenon that I believe my subconscious mind was trying to prevent by avoiding information that would bring the dissonance about. Tina had been staying with me at My Mom’s house, with

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Do I get to fuck your Girlfriend?

In my life, I’d observed on occasion, a witless or uncouth man come on to my date, but never with the frequency or astonishing level of disrespect I experienced when in public with Tina. We’d gone to our frequent watering hole, the Buffalo Bar and Grill and as was our routine, we were shooting pool and drinking whiskey. We struck

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Why???

Tina pulled something amazing out of me that I didn’t know existed and then she killed it. And when that special something was killed, so too was my capacity for love, affection, trust, faith and optimism. It’s as if my affection was an organ, bloodied and battered from abuse and it was raw and hurt to be touched. I didn’t

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