There

Join me on a personal journey of resilience and growth as I defy age stereotypes and embrace life with a youthful spirit. I may be 66 years old, but I consider myself a 40-year-old trapped in this body. My journey challenges the notion of aging, and although my body reminds me of the passage of time, I refuse to conform to society’s expectations of what it means to be “old.”

Throughout my life, I have pondered the mysteries of my own experiences and wondered if others carry similar burdens of pain. How do they exude confidence and security while carrying unseen scars? Perhaps my story is not so different from others’, but it remains a topic rarely discussed outside the realm of clinical psychology or psychiatry.

My focus lies in moving forward and embracing a life free from unnecessary pain. The challenging and painful experiences of my childhood shaped my identity, leaving me with a sense of uncertainty and a longing for love and acceptance. I still feel and seek those very things to this day.

I will try to keep this brief, and I apologize for the length, but in order to understand me you have to know the THERE.

Most of my early childhood remains a blur in my memory. While most of my “memories are really stories shared, when prompted I will share them as my own memories, however reality is I don’t really recall them. However, there are only a few moments that stand out as vivid recollections. One such memory takes me back to a hospital stay during my childhood, where I found myself confined within, a “croup tent,” because of asthma. Another poignant recollection is of one Christmas, where I was coerced into consuming turkey, resulting in my cherished princess costume was ruined, because I became physically sick. Yet, amidst these memories, there are some which overshadows, and defines my entire childhood—the unforgettable experience of enduring sexual abuse at the hands of a neighbor. This nightmarish ordeal finally came to an end when fate intervened, and my abuser suffered a fatal heart attack in front of me. I choose not to drag up the details, some memories are better off left buried.

Years later, while undergoing counseling sessions, I grappled with the question of why I never revealed the abuse to my parents. It was during these transformative sessions that my therapist’s profound insight resonated deeply within me—I had instinctively shielded myself, taking every measure necessary to ensure my survival. Eventually, as an adult I did disclose the abuse to my parents, but their response fell disappointingly short of the support I yearned for. A written rebuke from my mother further solidified and justified the silence that had once served as my shield. In retrospect, it becomes painfully clear that if I had confronted the abuse at a younger age, the outcome might have been even more harrowing.

At the tender age of 17, I embarked on a journey of matrimony, driven by a strong desire to escape my childhood home. Looking back, I now realize that my decision to marry at such a young age was motivated by factors other than genuine love. However, I hold no regrets for my marriage, as it brought forth the two precious blessings of my life – my beloved children. Despite my past mistakes, I am immensely proud of the remarkable individuals they have become.

From the outset, our union was plagued with challenges. We lacked the necessary knowledge of what a healthy marriage entailed and how to treat each other with respect. I, being too young, and he, grappling with his own inner demons. We were ill-prepared for the intricacies of married life. As a result, our relationship ultimately disintegrated.

One of my greatest heartaches arose when my children chose to reside with their father following the divorce. It appeared that their decision was influenced by what I termed the “Disney Daddy” phenomenon – a lenient parenting style that contrasted sharply with my more disciplined approach. Unfortunately, my son presently has no contact with his father, while my daughter’s relationship with him is distant. It saddens me that they are unable to forge a stronger bond with their dad, but I recognize the complexity of parent-child relationships. I refrain from criticizing their father, as I, too, wish to avoid judgment for my mistakes. Both their father and I did the best we could with the resources available to us at the time. Admittedly, the environment we provided for our children was far from ideal, yet we tried to make the most of our circumstances.

While I won’t delve into the intricacies of my past choices, I want to highlight an important chapter in my life. During my first marriage, I made the decision to pursue a degree in dental hygiene. This was a significant milestone, as it provided me with the skills and independence to support myself. Dental hygiene was a true passion of mine, and I would have continued practicing to this day if it weren’t for an unforeseen challenge.

Unfortunately, I developed carpal tunnel syndrome. This condition caused numbness and discomfort in my right hand, making it impossible to perform the delicate tasks required in dental hygiene. I underwent various treatments, including surgery and weeks of physical therapy, in hopes of restoring my tactile sense. Despite these efforts, I was unable to regain the necessary sensitivity and was declared disabled. For almost 8 years now, I have relied on social security disability for financial support.

Although the numbness in my fingers has subsided over time, I still experience occasional pain and discomfort. I have had to make adjustments and develop new habits in order to live a normal life. Seemingly mundane tasks, like opting for grated cheese instead of a block or avoiding prolonged activities, have become part of my routine. Even signing documents or washing my car pose challenges, with the need to adapt my approach or seek assistance when necessary. While these adjustments don’t significantly hinder my daily life, they serve as constant reminders of the reasons why I can no longer practice dental hygiene.

During the eight-year gap between my first and second marriages, I embarked on a personal journey to discover my true self. I had the opportunity to date a variety of men, both kind-hearted individuals and a few less desirable ones. By the time I met and married my second husband, I believed I had learned valuable lessons from the shortcomings of my previous marriage. Approaching this new commitment, I was fully aware that marriage requires considerable effort and understanding. I acknowledged the importance of love and respect as fundamental pillars. I embraced the practice of questioning the significance of issues and mastering the art of compromise. These newfound insights, combined with the fact that my husband held a pastoral role in a small Pentecostal church, convinced me that our union would be lifelong. Little did I know, I was gravely mistaken.

Through personal experience, I’ve come to realize that being married to a narcissist constitutes one of the most toxic relationships imaginable. It wouldn’t be surprising if you considered me a jaded individual, as perhaps I am. However, my frustration is directed more towards myself than my ex-husband. One thing I’m certain of is my unwavering determination to never allow anyone to treat me the way I was treated.

Maya Angelou’s quote, “When people show you who they are, believe them,” resonates deeply with me. I’ve personally added the phrase “the FIRST TIME” for my own benefit. I vow to never again make excuses for bad behavior in the name of harmony. I refuse to turn a blind eye to what I’ve witnessed firsthand. Doubting my own sanity was a genuine concern when I was consistently told that events I had seen or heard never occurred. I endured this internal struggle, hoping to salvage my marriage. Playing the role of the “preacher’s wife” was especially challenging, considering the stark contrast between the pulpit teachings and the reality of my domestic life. Someone close to us even questioned why I didn’t seek a divorce, to which I shamefully replied that I had made a vow. How pathetic that response seems to me now.

It has been a little over two years since my divorce. Perhaps, by a spiritual intervention or by shear luck I made some very good decisions during my divorce. The first was hiring a highly skilled lawyer, which has proven to be an excellent investment. Additionally, I sought counseling to aid in my healing process. Another positive change was moving into a 55+ community, where I found incredible friends who have become my invaluable support system. Though my recovery is gradual, I am determined to understand the choices I have made, particularly in relation to romantic relationships. What is it about narcissistic men that draws me to them?

During my recent research, I stumbled upon a thought-provoking article that dives deep into the reasons why women tend to be attracted to narcissistic partners. While uncovering the underlying factors behind this attraction is significant. I realize that my primary focus should lie in discovering effective techniques to break free from this recurring pattern.

I believe this is an excellent place—a turning point per-say where I can move from the “there” to “here.” As I continue this journey of personal growth, I invite you to join me at charpage.com/area/here