Narcissistic abuse and recovery explored and explained through a true first-person narrative.
| Similarities Between Narcissists and Codependents & Trauma Bonding | September 10th, 2015 | After a considerable and revelatory walk around historic downtown Buffalo, we took the long way back towards the apartment. This brought us along a meandering path by the lake and into the back of the big parking lot, near the library. We crossed the lot and
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| Triangulation with a Member of a Narcissist’s Harem | Wednesday, September 9th 2015 was the day I met Scott and his son Doug at their Farmington estate. The day before, I’d tried a few times without success to reach Tina. That was a Tuesday. I hadn’t noticed it yet, but there was a pattern with Tuesdays. Tina was never
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| Impulsivity & Odd Habits | Narcissism & Histrionics | August 28th, 2015 | I had again driven out to Buffalo for what might have been our fourth or fifth “date.” It was a warm summer evening and Tina and I went for a walk. She led me along some wooded paths and down some almost-hidden concrete stairs that eventually
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It was one of our early dates. I’d driven out to Buffalo to spend at least a day and a night with Tina. Her mom was staying with Scott down in Farmington so we had the apartment to ourselves for the night. Tina didn’t seem to have much explored her environs and wasn’t sure where the nearest bars and restaurants
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| July 24th, 2015 | There were some false starts and cancelled dates and a week had gone by without any contact, so I’d given up on seeing Tina again by the end of July, but on a Friday at the end of the month I was going to Farmington to visit Donovan and I figured since I’d be in
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After a long night of heavy drinking, I’d spent the night at my friend Donovan’s down in Farmington. I awoke in the afternoon, still feeling the effect of the prior night’s revelry, but the blonde I’d met at Pizza Man the night before was my first thought upon waking. “What was that girl’s name I was talking with last night,
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“So, tell me more about Ireland,” the blonde said, lighting up another Marlboro 100 and absently flicking her foot over a crossed leg. “Do you have family there?” “Kind of,” I replied. “Hey. I just realized I don’t even know your name yet. I’m Dan.” I extended my hand. “Tina,” she replied, taking my hand in hers. It was warm
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I was two-months divorced and fresh back from an amazing trip to Ireland, the night I met Tina. I’d gone to Farmington to visit one of my oldest friends to regale him with tales of my adventures, have a few drinks and laughs. It was a warm June evening and the sun was just setting. I met Donovan at the
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