Letter to myself back when I was still married to Narcissis…

I wrote a lot during my ten-year relationship with a clinical Narcissist. I found this letter the other night and can see the clear mind I found when I drowned the noise in my head with music and found a still place where my honest voice could be heard.  There were three points in time when I came to a crisis point and left the relationship, I was almost always questioning. I returned twice until I finally disengaged myself entirely. This was written nearly 10 years ago to the day. It is a rant but possibly holds some glimmer of interest for those ‘seeking’ or may help others with similar concerns in their relationship. I wrote this after waking from a terrible nightmare and oddly enough it was after I did have a serious car accident that my inner voice won over my fear and I left the relationship for good (there are a couple of the songs I was listening too linked, it was a Pearl Jam evening.) Please remember this was in the past.


All that I love, all that I have lost, all that is lost, can be found here in the silence. In the quiet, in the beauty that is no sound. Music pulls suddenly, wrenches my heart to a place of intense truth. Tears that stream the night; my dream, the car full of people I see falling, falling so far so deep into the water, plunging silently into the depths, sinking with no fear, but there is no way out. No way to escape. It is just down, down into the cold quiet bottomless sea. Endlessly living out the same lie, avoid eye contact, avoid sharing our truth; it is safer you know (eye rolling sarcasm). They do not see me, they do not wave. Do they know what danger they are in? I want to scream. To scream!

My loneliness reminds me of the depth of my pain and isolation, of my inability to smile in the sunshine. Sorrow fills my heart and my eyes. Where do I turn to find the certainty? Is there ever any certainty? How is it that one moment can seem determined so sure, the next lost in the sea of infinite and harmful ‘what if’s’? How do we find ourselves in this world of change and growth? If nothing ever stays the same how can we remain whole? How do I find myself in this immense and endless ocean?

I must seek out the fearlessness; it is OK to make mistakes. We cannot get it right unless we try all avenues. We cannot live in fear and uncertainty! How can we live like that? That is where we find depression, anxiety, despair, and eventually madness. I want to make love face-to-face eyes wide open staring into the heart of my lover. Not cowering in the dark with tears on my cheeks while my lover fucks my body and my soul curls up into an ever-tighter darkness.

I seek absolute but I cannot find it. Absolute. Absolute. The word hammers in my ears a metronome, the pulse of my fearful heart. What does it mean to be human? Are we doomed to be alone and in isolation even within a room full of people all talking all smiling, it seems to me so devoid of life, so devoid of feeling. Is anyone really saying what they mean or is it a continuous competition to say the most remarkable, memorable thing?

 It all seems so pointless, so utterly without point.

With our backs to the wall where can we go? Where do we find safe arbor or safe passage even for the briefest of reprieves, seeking stillness? When we find these moments it seems too hard to carry them on through and into life. To adapt, in our seeking of origins and purest life, when we change on the inside, is it obvious to the outside, can we ourselves find sufficient language to explain it? I find it so hard, I just want to be free, to sing, to move, to create, to learn about our ways, to learn about our minds, to work with holism. Truth seeker, I want to be kind, don’t want to hurt anyone. But I want to be free. I can’t stand the boxes anymore. I want to open my heart wide, let it soar, breathe and live!


Yet there is love such sweet deep love. In a body which smells and tastes so rich and deep, a mind textured and layered with so many complex and intriguing insights. If only I could maintain my sense of connection all the time and not lose sight of what and who I am and what does not need to touch me. It does not need to touch me. Slow it down. See his words for what they are, don’t let them confuse and disorientate. I want the children to remain together. I know I will lose my step-son if I leave, can I remain strong enough for him, my son and myself? How I want equality, I want to understand and be understood. Walking together not apart or behind….walking together not apart or behind….

I want to be heard and loved, I crave sensualness, love and beauty. He says ‘love is not enough’ but for me it is the only thing of importance.

Within these weary times, is this the time to say goodbye, yet when he asks I am terrified, (is it a trick, a trap for me to fall into?) a huge gaping hole appears before me I see us alone and all the hard work being worth nothing. Yet to remain, to constantly monitor my every thought before speaking, walking on eggshells to avoid his anger and grief, the oppression of his selfishness. This is no way to live. A friend observed that he watches me all the time, that this kind of controlling love is suffocating and too heavy to bear, that he cannot open his heart to me because he cannot see beyond himself. She is right.

I am surrendering to the quiet. I need quiet and healing. I cannot continue without it being this way. I simply ache for stillness.

Time to hear the silence and reclaim myself.


Let it wash over me.


I adore the power of sound to create poignancy. That through sound we can find stillness. Music creates a trance state, the stillness within the music, stillness within the dancing. I love how in this place thoughts are born. Little seeds eager to grow, bursting with life and direction. Lushness is an elixir shaping things into intense and shattering beauty.

I just want to burst forth into life. To feel strong again, content, creative, intelligent, to have ideas that can come to fruition.

Is my heart open? Or is it just safer to remain in the shadows for fear of hurt. Terror surrounds me. I get so anxious when I think of full potential and the ability to really truly love. I cannot open my heart; I am in fear of him, his ability to inflict pain makes me question his ability to express empathy, to love anyone other than himself. I am in terror and I need love, absolute beauty and love to entice me out. I need to be worshiped and honoured before I can allow myself to open and offer my absolute. I do not feel safe here. I can pretend all I like but that does not change a single thing. It makes me less open and more distant from my truth and my life. I do not serve him or myself through this pretense. What is the next move? Endlessly confirming how I feel in writing does not tell him a thing. Withdrawing more describes separation. I am so afraid. I walked to the edge, he asked me to come back so I have, but I am aching for the edge, I only returned out of fear, fear of him.

 words by errant satiety

(postscript, I feel the need to mention to clearly state that this was not a D/s relationship, there was no open communication about control. If there had been the scenario might have been different. The reality of this particular relationship was unhealthy control, not given or mutually agreed upon.)




A word can carry much meaning, weighted with memory that awakes strong emotion. This word, so special to me, held close and secretly, quietly revered. My earliest memories attached to it of a woman who could be trusted who loved me and named me such. My paternal Grandmother, of all my family the one I am like. She died when I was three years old and passed to me a family heirloom a perfect and beautiful china doll with real human hair that had been passed from mother to daughter for a few generations. My Grandmother never had a daughter and so she wanted me to have her treasure, and in my youthful wisdom I named her ‘Precious’ to remind me of what I had been to Rose, my Grandmother. I have no idea what my older female cousins or my brothers received but I clearly remember being lifted up and sat high on a bench by my father as he told me that Rose had passed and presented me with what I knew was her greatest treasure and a source of great sadness. I have never had a girl child so will hold onto my treasure until such a time as there is a girl child close to me that will understand. Rose used to say I had Faery blood like her and then she would erupt into her musical laughter that intoxicated everyone around her. It was our spirits that met. She spoke to me as if I were an adult not a small girl. No one else has ever called me this; I’ve never spoken of it until now yet out of the blue someone used this word to describe me today. It touched me deeply, softness entered me, a quiet, a time of nourishment; a moment of reaping my uniqueness and allowing myself to love me, to say ‘I am precious’.

The positive attributes of precious:
1. Valuable
2. Valued
3. Not to be wasted or treated carelessly
4. Greatly loved or treasured by someone
1. A term of endearment for a beloved person

Do you have a special word? If you don’t, try mine; borrow it, feel its contours, let it touch your heart and mind, see if it leads you to your own nourishing word that sets your heart on fire like a jewel kissed by sunlight.

Words by Errant Satiety, image borrowed from a local florist.