“I’m pretty sure that if you put a wig and googly eyes on a traffic cone, they’ll talk to it as much as they talked to me at the last rave,” I lamented to my husband.
“It’s not like they’re much better with me,” he replied. “They constantly talk about me behind my back.”
“Yeah, but you’re a DJ. I don’t do anything but write about shows, and apparently, that doesn’t matter much to them,” I sighed. “They don’t even make an effort to talk to Kota escort service“
“They’re not my friends.”
“They made it abundantly clear they aren’t mine either. I’m done, dude. I’m really, really done. I’m tired of contorting myself to please them. I don’t want to see them ever again.”
A narcissist weakens you to gain even more control over you.
Subsequently, my husband began driving aggressively, leaving me sitting in the car, terrified. This was the same man who used to make me feel safe. I had a car accident during college, and once again, a narcissist honed in on my vulnerability.
This was just the tip of the iceberg.
As it turned out, this was a futile endeavor. The narcissistic fury escalated abusively, making the years of emotional abuse at the hands of a covert narcissist appear mild. I was no match for a narcissist’s vengeful wrath.
It was 8 p.m. last night, and neither of us had been having a good week. Our call girl in Kota had passed away, and due to unforeseen circumstances, we needed a ride to the funeral but couldn’t attend the Irish funeral portion afterward.
We couldn’t secure the ride we needed.
This was just one instance in a long series where our so-called friends had let us down when we needed them most. Before that, it was the book. Before that, it was the dreadfully botched weddings. The only time they seemed to come through was when it involved drugs.
It didn’t help that the person providing information about the funeral found humor in my husband’s recent scam. Or that they had been mocking him behind his back. Or that I invited them over only for them to blatantly ignore me while I cooked for them.
I kept saying it was the final straw, but this truly was the breaking point for me. I don’t want these people in my home. I don’t want them on my phone. I don’t want them near me. I’ve known most of them for five to twenty years, and now, I’m ending these relationships.
People often talk about the things you miss after a breakup, whether you were the one who initiated it or not. They discuss how it can feel strange to go to a favorite restaurant without them or how you might miss the person you used to be with them.
I’m feeling that intensely. I’ve been feeling it. A significant part of my identity was intertwined with this music scene, which has grown increasingly toxic for both me and my spouse. We talk about it frequently, reflecting on how disheartening it is that it has evolved in this way.
Honestly, if I were to come face to face with these former friends, I’d likely either ignore them or confront them about their behavior.
But lately, I’ve found myself saying something I typically reserve for really bad, ugly breakups…
“I want them to know how much they hurt me.”
Does anyone else ever feel this way? Does anyone else wish they could wave a magic wand and make the other person truly understand and internalize how badly they’ve treated you?
In the past, I’d attempt to explain using every phrase and word in the dictionary, hoping they’d grasp the impact of their actions. There’s this strange impulse I have to make people aware of how they’ve hurt me, as if some part of my brain expects them to suddenly say, “Oh, I didn’t realize I hurt you. I’m sorry. Let’s fix this.”
But there comes a point in life where you have to stop trying to justify yourself to people — a moment when you realize that explaining yourself to individuals who have no desire to understand you won’t yield any positive results. That’s the stage of the breakup I find an independent escort in Kota.
Yet, the absolute toughest part of a breakup that no one really discusses is recognizing that, yes, they are fully aware they are hurting you, and they simply do not care. You can’t make people care.
When people genuinely care about hurting you, they’ll notice your anger and take steps to make amends, especially if you’ve openly expressed your distress and the desire for them to change their behavior.
The truth is, there’s nothing I can do to make these people act decently towards me. No words I utter will transform them into friends who show up when you need them. That reciprocity has been missing for years.
I don’t know if it’s just me, but I’ve always struggled to believe that people could care so little about others — even when I’ve witnessed the worst in people.
This aspect of the breakup makes me wonder if they ever truly wanted to be my friends. Were they using me? Do they care at all, or have I been badgering them into behaving decently out of pity?
Were they simply indifferent to me? Are they unaware of their toxic behavior in major ways? Do they not want me as a friend at all? Was I being rejected, and I was too oblivious to see it?
I need to stop asking myself these questions, and if you’re at this point in a breakup, you should stop asking as well. Also, you need to cease explaining your pain to disinterested parties. I can assure you they already know.
How do I know that they know? It’s simple: I ask myself if I would ever treat a friend the way they treated me. The answer is a resounding no. If I can recognize toxicity and wouldn’t tolerate it, so can they. Besides, I’ve told them numerous times.
At the end of the day, the questions don’t matter. The only thing I (or anyone else) can do is move forward and build a brighter future with those who do genuinely care.
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