“I have it all under control…” A series of one woman’s experience with a serial narcissistic, yet slightly-enlightened dude. (Chapter I)

When I started this blog in, I was in a wonderful relationship, working at a great place of business, and pumped to be able to share all this insight I had on life with others. I also decided to amp up the volume; purchased my domain for this site, and my online vintage shop was off to a great start as well.

I was at a point in life where nothing could bring me down. I was focused on my mission of helping others (boyfriend, family, friends, strangers) see the bright side of life, no matter what they were going through. I was determined to bring a platter of sunshine with me everywhere I went, no matter the detriment! I was practicing yoga nearly everyday, working out at my local gym, creating art, writing and everything seemed to be in a perfect balance. Sounds great right?

Unfortunately, life isn’t without it’s curve-balls… but without them, how would we be the pillars of strength that we are today?  

I’ve come to figure out that when one aspires for true personal and spiritual growth, scenarios unfold for us to implement everything that we have learned thus far. For me, as a writer, to sit here and tout: “be positive, the law of attraction is always at work,” or “be careful of your thoughts, they become things,” without truly going through the darkest of times in my own experience… who am I to give advice to anyone? The times when “positive thinking and happy thoughts” seem completely out of the question, are the times when “positive thinking” is truly put to the test.

Fast forward to 2017 with me… I used to think that I was pretty good at assessing other peoples energy fields, that I knew when something was a little or a lottle “off.” I had been feeling like something was off in the relationship for a while, and knew that there were things going unsaid, in order to save face. One day I decided to question the volcano of feelings that were about to erupt between the both of us, and it seemed as though he had no words to quell the situation, no reason for us to part ways, even though it was so obvious what was to occur in the coming moments. Without much verbal expression, we both knew that the relationship had come to an end, and all I had to do was haul my stuff out of there.

That night…. I cried, oh man did I cry. You know those deep cries where your nose is running so much you cant breathe anymore and you start hyperventilating for air? Yeah, one of those cries. 

Feelings of unworthiness, self-sabotage, self-questioning, fear, frustration, anger, pride, all erupted from my being, and I let the lava flow right into my heart. In the days following the breakup I enlisted the help of my brother to move the heavy furniture, and employed my not so healthy coping mechanisms of “cynical humor” to extinguish any left over feelings of remorse.

(I created the mandala below during that time.)


In the following weeks, I came to realize how strong that I am. I had been living at my boyfriends house, and I now had to get a storage unit for my stuff, and find somewhere new to live. (Turns out, you can’t live in a storage unit…. I asked) Considering the fact that I was not prepared to fork out the cash for a place of my own during that month, I had to move back in with my parents, into a home that I had tried to escape from (in vain) since I was 15 years old. Long story short, my parents had fought with each other since as long as I can remember. My mom often looked to me for advice, or to be her sounding board of sanity in all she went through with my dad. He always worked long days in construction, and would numb his every-day bodily pain with pain pills and alcohol. To my mothers’ dismay, he often lashed out at her and my brother and I, in attempts for control over everything that he was actually losing control of.

I had attempted to leave the household of my parents since I started my first job and had my own car at 15, and often stayed at friends houses or boyfriends houses. There was a time in which I even lived with my long-time high school boyfriend for about 3 years, simply because his household was downright peaceful, and had no family-stress to worry about!

Time for the self analyzation… was I running away from my families problems? or was I placing myself in “healthier environments” in order to preserve my sanity? Was there a lesson at home I was supposed to learn that I was avoiding? Whatever the answer to those questions may be, after the breakup with my recent ex, my only choice was to go back home and face the music once again… this time 12 years later.

In the last few days of moving my things out of my ex’s house, and into my parents I decided to post one of those “woe is me” post-breakup posts on Facebook. I’m sure everyone has felt the weight of a breakup or tough time in life, and the yearning to reach out to others, for some sort of interaction. I believe I posted something along the lines of…

“I’m really over the whole, “it’s not you it’s me, thing.”

This post garnered some attention from a random guy on my friends list who posted, “whats wrong?” So, me being the sucker for attention at that moment decided to message him my woes and sadness, after all, he appeared like a real “self-help guru” from his past posts. His every response was like speaking to the most enlightened being I had ever had ever come across; his every word was like fuel to my spiritual fire. He said things like “where do you go with your problems?” (Of course I said God) He asked me if I was self aware, if I was going to continue denying my purpose. (This part really got me in the gut) Denying my purpose? HOW COULD I!? At that moment I was so enthralled with this person who seemed to be so wise, and decided to hop up on my spiritual horse and ride this dust storm out, after all I wasn’t going to deny my purpose! (Whatever that may be…)

I had finally moved all my things into my parents house and was beginning to get all settled in. Of course I was still wondering about this seemingly enlightened being whom I had interacted with a few weeks back, and if there was a purpose for our interaction or not. I realized he had found me on Instagram and sent me a message with his phone number, and said that he wasn’t much of a “the messaging type” and to call him. I really went back and forth with this for a couple of days, weighing the options of whether or not I would lose anything from a simple phone-call.

(Catch the next article for Chapter II)


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