This is a long, and apparently Dutch-made, documentary about narcissistic abuse in a relationship.
At some point, the revenge gets mentioned, the fact that all aspects in your life become attacked and undermined, including your career.
People you know and even a few who you don’t know will be approached with bullshit stories about you. Many people will fall for the lies, which will often have an element of truth to them, making it very hard to defend yourself.
So don’t even try. People who instantly believe bullshit stories about you are not good to have in your life. Do your best to see other options instead of focusing on all the avenues that become blocked for you.
That is tricky. After many years of narcissistic abuse, your world has shrunk immensely and your thoughts have become trapped in a small circle. They go round and round, like leaves in a mini tornado.
It’s like becoming paralyzed to some degree. You often get completely torn down. You end up doubting yourself a lot and stop liking yourself and stop believing in good.
Only people who have been in this type of situation will understand this.
Don’t expect empathy from people who have no clue as to what it’s like. Don’t expect validation to come from anyone else but yourself. Acknowledge what you have been through and what it has done to you. Focus exclusively on your own well-being… because you really must.
Some narcissistic people who have also psychopathy engage in sadistic stalking as a solution for their inability to be in a normal relationship.
When I was living in Portsmouth, many or some of its inhabitants – people who didn’t know me – clearly had been made to believe that I might not be capable of doing things like directing people to a doorway and telling them to walk down a hallway or take the first door to the right. I’ve encountered other, similar strange beliefs a few times.
Was this really all based on England’s bonkers class thinking? 🤔
On one of the last days that I spent there, a small-minded man who runs a shop and was fully aware of my awful situation, and of some of the threats of physical violence that I had received, and who had at times loudly mocked my destitution and my declining health openly gloated about what was going on at the time and said to me that he and I had simply never gotten along. That made absolutely no sense. Admittedly, the person in question was an ugly little toad of a man. More mouse than man, so to speak.
My point is that from before the day I moved to Portsmouth, someone else already controlled the narrative about me.
