Narcissism and Therabra

I love answers. No, I am in love with answers. Okay, I am obsessed with them. My obsession with answers has led to many a long night and several unpleasant conversations with those who refuse to supply them. Mothers. Boyfriends. Teachers. Rabbis. Sadists. You name it – they have all pissed me off at one time or another for not giving me an answer. This insatiable need for answers fuels my passion for puzzles (provided there is an answer key), and is the source of the joy I feel when I fantasize about being a detective or a spy and talk into my shoe when no one’s looking. I also think this may be why I truly like to do research, family therapy, and math. Ah, math!! Can you say, “Algebra”? Algebra is the most beautiful math ever. Every problem is like a game that not only has one definite answer but one that can be double-checked! So, if you take the time to check an answer and you discover, as I usually do, that you are right, then hold on to your nasal lobes because you get to experience the discovery of the answer twice! Twice! That kind of joy doesn’t come along every day, you know (even an algebra instructor has weekends off). And we all know, if we think at all, that kind of certainty is not easy to come by. But with algebra, you actually know you found the right answer every time. As you can see, for me, finding answers like that is rather therapeutic in and of itself. In fact, I think we should give this scintillating process a name: Therabra.

With what you now know about me, you can imagine the intensity of my climax when, after five months of beating myself over the head with grief and just about to give up on sanity altogether, I had a synchronistic moment in this holographic universe that was nothing short of brilliant. Are you still with me? I have wracked my brain over what transpired with Stephen in Korea, trying to put the pieces together. Each time I made some headway, but I kept getting swept back up into the emotion of it all because, well, it just didn’t come together in a way that I felt able to accept. Lots of things just didn’t add up, and after five months of going over this with a fine-toothed object with fine teeth, all I had were scattered pieces of the puzzle and severely overused tear ducts. And why… couldn’t… I… just…let it go? Because -stay with me people -I need answers! [If you didn’t get the right answer to the question, then you need to go back and reread the first paragraph about– oh, uh – now.] For those of you who are up to speed, or on speed, picture this: I am feeling ever so down – weeping incessantly into my pillow, armpit, or random scraps of toilet paper and unused paper towels. I try to sleep, but I can’t. I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t seem to wrap my brain around the relationship that officially ended nearly SIX FRIGGING MONTHS AGO. I am at the end of my rope. So, I go where I always go when I am depressed – good old B & N – and get myself a soy tea latte and head for the psychology section to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. There I am. Looking like Droopy Dog standing in front of the shelf, and I can barely focus well enough to even make out one of the titles of the hundreds of books in front of me. I am exhausted. Hopeless. I force myself to look up – because I have to at least pretend to be looking for a book -and, viola, there it is! One lone, single copy of a little paperback book that asks, “Why is it always about you?”

Now, you might think that I thought it was about me, but you’re wrong. While I am definitely guilty of narcissistic tendencies, this book was in my hand in seconds because that question was the one that I asked my ex-boyfriend, former title holder of "love of my life", repeatedly during our relationship. That’s why I grabbed it. I seriously only meant to give it the once over and move on, but I was immediately taken in by it. And hour later I found myself seated in a wooden chair, agape, my cold tea on the floor next to me, the book in my lap, and my eyes glazed over. Yes, it was an easy read, but more to the point, it was a mind-blowing read. It was as though someone had been there with me through the relationship from the beginning to the end. There were some things in there I had literally said or written to him and to others about him. All the questions I had about his behavior were all answered in this book. Yes, it felt good to know that I was not alone and that I was not crazy and that other people had suffered the same kind of confusion, heartache, and grief that I did by giving their heart to someone grossly narcissistic. But more importantly, every singe question that had once kept me up at night now had an answer. Case closed. By the time I finished the book, I could cry no more. I felt this strange calm come over me and all the emotional distress dissipate Praise Jesus, Mohammed, Moses, Dean Martin, and whomever Mormons dig!! I had been given my answers. It all fit together perfectly.

Am I saying that he is incurable? I don’t know. That’s up to him. Maybe he’s just growing up and it’s a natural part of his adolescence. I don’t know. But I do know that it was very painful to be in love with him and to be betrayed by him, especially when he doesn’t get it – and never did. But I do. Especially now. And do I think that something greater than my conscious self led me to that spot to see that one book at that particular time? Absolutely. And do I still love him? Completely. But does it hurt anymore? Not at all. And would I allow myself to fall in love with him ever again? Never. More importantly, have I figured out why I had to go through it at all? I think so. After all, I have my own narcissistic tendencies. Ah, but it’s probably nothing that a little Therabra can’t fix.

But truly, the best part of finding this book was that I now feel forgiveness. At least, I think it’s forgiveness. But, what is forgiveness? If it isn’t excusing someone, then what is it? Is it about not taking things personally so that you can detach from it emotionally? Because that’s what happened here. I mean, how can I take anything that happened personally when it was never about me to begin with? Well, whatever it is, it feels good. It feels good to be able to love someone without carrying anger in my heart any more. So whatever F-word that is, I’ll take it.

BTW-Doggy Diapers and Solar Powered Christmas Lights -the next big things to hit your local Shopping Channel! You heard it here first.

Love and Light.

Ima B. Yootifull