Lovefraud: Deliberate Cruelty From Someone Who Is Meant To Care

Last week I found myself in an intimidating situation that required me to put all my skills of resilience in to practice. I was in the hands of a professional person who should be there to care for others. I was in a hugely vulnerable position, yet instead of receiving care, I felt myself being belittled, bullied and threatened. The person dishing out this particularly cruel treatment was a senior doctor in a private clinic, where I am a patient. A few years ago I would probably have put up with his behaviour, or brushed it off as being just something I mis-read – but not this time. Not now. Not ever again.

So I thought I’d share my story here on Lovefraud.

As you already know, I had a health scare that was resolved a couple of weeks ago. Whilst I was given the all-clear at the time, the doctor said it would make sense to arrange for a biopsy to double-check and to put my mind at rest; purely, he reassured me, because of my family medical history (mum had died of breast cancer at the age of 44). The straight forward needle-biopsy would be done under local anesthetic and would take less than half an hour. So last Thursday, I trotted off to the clinic expecting a purely routine, simple procedure that would prove beyond doubt that I have a clean bill of health.

I felt chirpy, relaxed, and perfectly ready for whatever they wanted to do – a marked difference from my previous visit where I was uptight, frightened and full of dread. They’re a great bunch of people there, and I chatted away happily to the receptionists and also to the technician who came in to explain the details of what was going to happen.

All fine, all good, all dandy – everything made perfect sense (although I felt a little unnerved by the technician’s statement that nobody can be sure that the lump is not cancerous until the tests are completed in the laboratory) and I went in to the doctor’s surgery feeling calm and prepared.

Just When You Least Expect It

I am making a point of telling you this, because I am keen to make it clear why I felt so totally blindsided by what happened next. The friendly technician (Thomas), thank goodness, was still in the room when the doctor arrived. The very moment he walked in, though, the atmosphere changed. The smile went from Thomas’ face, and I felt him tighten up as the doctor criticized everything he had done to prepare me. The cleaning and sterilization wasn’t correct, the anesthetic wasn’t the right one… even the fact that Thomas had allowed me to keep my shoes on was wrong!

Bear in mind I’m lying half naked on a table, my arm above my head with my breast covered in yellow iodine – and here was this so-called professional (who hadn’t even had the courtesy to greet me or even give me a smile) throwing disapproving comments to the friendly technician who had done everything he could to put me at ease. It was a hugely uncomfortable atmosphere, and I felt myself stiffening. I was in a physically vulnerable situation, but there was no way I was going to let myself be bullied by this rude man.

So I started chit-chatting to break the tension. The doctor was sitting next to me but still would not look at me – although I was looking straight up in to his eyes. Can you guess what I saw? The familiar empty, cold and emotionless expression that sent a shiver of recognition down my spine.

I knew how important it was to get this biopsy over and done with, so I kept on looking at the doctor and kept asking questions. He asked me to point out the lump because he was having difficulty finding it on the ultrasound. When I moved my hand towards the area he huffed, rolled his eyes and told me off for accidentally touching a part of my skin. “Now look what she’s done” he spat at Thomas “we’re going to have to sterilize all over again!”

It carried on like that for a good few minutes more. I asked what he could see on the screen and said to him that I’d been told that there was nothing to worry about

“Well, Madame” he sneered, pushing the scanner just a little harder than necessary in to my breast “it doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me – you have lots of cysts, but this… this is something quite different!”

Deliberate Cruelty

He seemed to take pleasure brandishing his power, and deliberately making me nervous. It was working on Thomas, but it wasn’t going to work on me. I kept my focus strong and refused to look away from his eyes – still keeping my expression relaxed and my breathing regular as he picked up a huge needle and brought it close to my breast.

“And now, Madame” he said, fixing me with cold eyes and a straight face “you have to shut your mouth and shut your eyes”

Taking a deep breath and maintaining eye contact, I calmly said no. “I can give you silence” I said “but I am not closing my eyes”

“Well you have to” he replied, a little taken aback by what he probably saw as insolence “I have to work in silence and it annoys me if a patient watches what I am doing. I must instruct you now to close your eyes and keep your mouth shut while I do my work. I need you to do this or I cannot do my work”

“And I need someone who can reassure me and put me at ease” I replied, still staying calm, still smiling, and still fixing him with my gaze “this is my body, and I would like to watch what is happening”

With that, his mask slipped. Blinking furiously, he threw down his instruments, stood up, huffed and puffed and spat out the words “I won’t work in this way Madame, you’ve ruined it. You’ve messed it up, this is your problem. I am leaving – good day Madame!”

And with that he flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind him like a petulant teenager, leaving Thomas and I open-mouthed in the silence that remained.

So that was the end of my biopsy. I sat up, covering myself as best I could and looked to Thomas for some kind of explanation. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but still the whispering questions had already threatened to surface “Is this my fault? Could I have handled this differently?” – but those questions were instantly silenced when I saw Thomas’s face. He was mortified.

“I am so sorry Madame” he said, reaching out to touch my shoulder “this is nothing to do with you. He is a very difficult man and we have had many problems with him. He’s the same with all of us, it’s very bad”

“But this is not right!” I replied, tears of frustration pricking in my eyes and uncontrollable shakes by now beginning to show in my hands “It’s not right that he’s allowed to do this! Why is he in this job? How can he be allowed to treat people this way? It’s totally unacceptable!”

And then came the response I have now become accustomed to hearing

“But he’s our boss. We know it’s wrong, but what can we do?”

Standing Up For What Is Right

This monster works in a clinic that specializes in detecting and treating breast cancer. My heart sank, imagining how many people – staff as well as numerous vulnerable patients – this so-called professional is bullying and criticizing every day of his life. How many people leave the clinic feeling a little less confident, a little more worthless, and in some cases physically abused. People who go there expecting help and support in their darkest moments, and end up feeling belittled and humiliated! But because this man is an educated, revered professional, nobody is standing up to him – so he gets away with it!

I understand that I am the first person this man has actually walked out on. Good, so he’ll remember me. Because I’m also the first person who is going to stand up, speak out, and make certain this man is held accountable for his actions.

The experience shook me enormously. For the next couple of days I found myself bursting in to tears for no apparent reason. But you know what? I’m now back on track and taking the first steps towards dealing with the authorities who are responsible for this man. I’ll let you know how I get on.

In the meantime, my biopsy has been rescheduled with another doctor for Friday 13^th April – lucky for some, and super-lucky for me. Well, at least that’s what I’m choosing to think in any case!

Original link to Lovefraud here

Lovefraud: They Just Can't Understand - Why It's So Hard To Explain The Truth To Others

This week’s post is based on recent experiences and inspired by this comment posted on a previous article – “the eyes see only what the mind knows” (thank you ‘woundlicker’). It’s the on-going subject about how on earth we can open other peoples’ eyes about the psychopaths who live and breathe among us. My recent experiences have highlighted, yet again, how tricky it is for people to get their head around this kind of information – let alone accept that they have been duped!

I often think back to the early days after I discovered the truth about my ex, and how puzzling I found it when people just didn’t seem to believe me when I told them what had happened. No matter how many reams of black and white evidence I had to support my claims, no matter how many times I repeated the story, and no matter how many ways I explained how a psychopath works (based on what I learned after the event) they would still ask questions that left me open-mouthed and speechless. “But surely he must be feeling absolutely terrible, and he must be missing you so much now – do you think there might be a chance you will get back together?”

I remember every time a question or statement like that was made – in all innocence, of course, because they were only trying to understand the unthinkable truth – I felt the emotional blows to my chest and my stomach as if they were real. Over and over, the shame and guilt would be relived as people screwed up their faces trying to make sense of what I knew to be the truth “but surely, Mel, a bright and intelligent person like you, surely you must have known something was going on?”  “How can anyone tell so many lies for so long – it must have been exhausting!”  Many times I felt like screaming out loud… although on most occasions I decided that calm responses would serve me better in the long run! Yes, I am bright and intelligent (although there were times I began to wonder whether perhaps I might have been better understood had I been deemed slow and dim-witted!) and yes, lying is exhausting for the likes of normal people. But as everyone here knows, we’re not dealing with a ‘normal person’ – these people simply don’t tick the way we do!

We’re NOT All The Same!

As is often discussed here on this site, we don’t know what we don’t know… and the fact is, in order to learn new things, people need to find something – anything – to connect with something they already know. It’s like finding a foundation stone, or a solid piece of ground from which to start…. The difficulty with explaining the psychopath, though, is that while they may look like us and often come across better than many normal people, that is where the likeness ends. So people who are doing their best to understand, automatically link the appearance of a normal person with what they know to be the behaviours of a normal person – specifically themselves, or people they know. And unless someone has already been targeted by a psychopath, the idea that such ‘creatures’ exist and influence others in such a negative way is often pooh-poohed as being far fetched. As if such a notion is as ridiculous as early childhood fears about bogeymen and monsters under the bed.

I remember many times feeling certain that well-meaning people were quietly calling my own sanity in to question “well, you’ve been through an awful lot – perhaps you’re over-reacting a bit? It’s understandable, of course… I’d do the same… but perhaps, you know, it’s not as bad as you think…?” I knew at the time that they meant no harm. That their kind eyes and hugs were meant to reassure me… but each time I heard words like that, it would be another kick in the teeth and I’d shut up and hide myself away even further – becoming more and more determined, absolutely resolutely and passionately determined, that some day I’d tell every detail of my story so that I would be heard and believed. Certain that in doing so, not only would I vindicate myself, but that my actions would also provide others with a platform to identify with and make sense of their own experiences. I’m coming to realize, though, that this is just the start.

The Parasitic Predator

In my professional career, I work in the field of leadership development. This means that I am regularly exposed to top-level directors and managers within large organizations. According to Robert Hare and Paul Babiak’s recent study of more than 200 executives, nearly 4% scored at or above the traditional cut-off for psychopathy. Dr Babiak uses the phrase ‘parasitic predator’ to describe corporate psychopaths, saying “They are parasitic in that they are looking for a host to support them. A big company is an easy place in which to hide” Couple that with the fact that many leadership skills can arguably be translated in to psychopathic traits, it makes even more sense that this level of professionals could indeed include around four times the number of psychopaths than research suggests we should expect to find in every day life. In the corporate world where profit is king and ruthless decision-making can be viewed as a positive if not necessary attribute for successful leaders, it makes perfect sense to me that psychopaths should be attracted to this arena.

It also makes perfect sense to me that, with an increasing awareness about psychopathy thanks to the work of people like Dr Robert Hare, and the growing audiences on sites like Lovefraud and I Am Fishead, people are finally starting to wake up and smell the coffee. Not as much as I’m sure most of us here would like – but it’s a start. Take for example the scathing resignation letter by Greg Smith, the executive who worked for nearly 12 years at Goldman Sachs. Whatever the gentleman’s reasons for writing the letter, he clearly stated the existence of unethical, immoral and callous tactics that he alleges were used by employees of the firm. Regardless of where the ‘blame’ lies, I for one am pleased that truths like these are being aired – allowing people more opportunities to vote with their feet, and also to become curious as to what is meant by a bad or ‘toxic’ culture. Along the old adage that no publicity is bad publicity, I buy into the idea that the more these issues are talked about, the more people can choose to find out more – and that, surely, can only be a good thing.

Because it’s a tough job getting people in senior positions to understand and accept exactly how damaging continuing actions of some of their peers can be – to the staff, to the culture and ultimately to the business. I came across a specific case last year, where it was perfectly clear to me that one particular senior person was creating havoc within her department. She was one of those people who knew all the right things to say and could turn on the charm at any given moment. Her bosses adored her, believing her to be the best thing since sliced bread, and her peers admired her business knowledge (marveling at her experience and buying her rather off-the-wall strategy for the business). Her team, though, was terrified of her. When I asked them on a confidential one-to-one basis how they would describe the culture, their eyes would dart around the room, they’d shift in their seats and they’d ask me how confidential their answers were going to be kept. After a great deal of reassurances, I got the truth – both barrels. As these people talked, words such as “fear-based” “abusive” “bullying” and “controlling” came out time and time again.

That, in my opinion, was bad enough. But when the performance of this particular department was actually scrutinized for factual proof of performance, it turned out that the results had plummeted since this lady had taken over – despite her consistent and eloquent affirmations that her plan was working! I found it baffling to understand how she was able to maintain her position – and what was stopping her peers and her immediate bosses from seeing through her performance. Until, that is, I started talking with them and really hearing what they were saying.

I Thought It Was Me!

Yes, they’d heard the rumours and had of course realised that the figures were not stacking up to the original plan. They also knew that it was difficult to stand up to this person in meetings, as she would shout people down and baffle them with long-winded justifications about what she was doing and why they need to stick with the plan.  The entire team, not just those who worked under this person, had learned to walk on eggshells around her. This had been going on for so long that many of them had simply given up any idea of questioning her tactics – because it had become just too draining and too much hard work. “And anyway” whispered one of her peers when the truth started to emerge “I thought it was just me! I thought I was the one being stupid! I thought that I just wasn’t bright enough to understand the plan!”

It was a Homer Simpson “Doh!” moment for me. Well of course people are going to find it hard to stand up to people who are highly likely psychopathic – in exactly the same way it was difficult for me to break free, or even realize what was happening. Even after the truth became clear, there has still been (and continues to be) a long journey back to health and self-respect. So I can fully appreciate that it may seem the ‘easier’ route to just let things continue, particularly in the workplace where (in many cases) you can leave it all behind when you leave at the end of the day… better the devil you know eh?

Well no actually. The devil you know is certainly not the best option in my opinion. Because if we don’t stand up and do something when something is clearly wrong, well then we’re giving the message that this kind of behaviour and culture is ok. It’s in these kind of places that the good people tend to walk away when they realize what’s happening. These are the kind of places where the workforce that is left is emotionally shut down and just there to get through the day rather than being there to develop enthusiasm and passion for the business.

But you know what I’m realising? I’m realising that when people begin to understand and consciously embrace positive team and leadership behaviours, the ‘devil you know’ is suddenly left out on their own – because they can no longer thrive or manipulate when their peers and bosses are learning about honest and open communication. When the team trust each other enough to say “no” whenever inappropriate behaviour creeps back in. When they are confident enough to ask each other to explain the detail when something is not clear. With those behaviours becoming second nature, the psychopath’s manipulation and mind-games are suddenly ineffective – because fear is replaced with trust, silence with questions, and uncertainty with passion.

And I’m learning that there is no need to point the finger or even use the word psychopath – which, in a corporate environment can create some pretty big responses. No. The fact is, the more we as ‘normal’ people learn to step up and say “yes” to the good stuff (the things we like, that are healthy, that enable us to grow as individuals and as a collective) and say “no” to the bad stuff (fear, control, manipulation and deliberately confusing word-smithing) the less psychopaths will be able to thrive among us.

And you know what? It only works 

Original link on Lovefraud here

Lovefraud: Authenticity - Finding Peace In Being Real

This week I’ve been thinking a great deal about how we move back to authenticity after having lived in a false reality with a sociopath. After all, like so many of us here, when I was in the grips of that particular relationship, I believed that everything was real at the time. More than real in actual fact – it was all my dreams come true! So now, I’m wondering, how do I know – really know – whether I’m living in an authentic way or once again falling in to a contrived existence that is nothing more than imagination or self-deception? Yes it’s true that I am physically free from him (and have been for nearly three years thank goodness) but am I really free from the thought patterns that had me trapped for so long? Can I really trust myself to distinguish the differences between make believe and reality?

Well, I’ve been given the opportunity to find out for sure. Four weeks ago I discovered a rather suspicious lump just under my left arm. Hot and cold shivers shot through my body the second I found it, instantly triggering memories of my mother who died from breast cancer at the age of 44. Luckily, I happened to be on the telephone to a friend when I found it. A friend who witnessed my shock and also recognized the fear in my voice. A friend who let me know that it was real. That I wasn’t imagining it. And that it was something I couldn’t ignore or pass off as being just something I’d made up – I couldn’t kid myself that it was nothing to get excited about. Nothing to worry about. It was a red-flag, and this time (unlike so many other kinds of red-flags I had pushed aside or explained away when I was married to my ex) I was jolly well going to do something about it.

The Witness

Having a real-time witness to my shock discovery played a huge part in what happened next. Looking back, I believe now that the very fact that another human being heard my instinctive response at the very moment it happened, helped me to stay focused and real and do something about it. Because regardless of whether or not the lump was anything dangerous, the fact that I was scared was enough to prompt action. I went to the doctor the very next day.

This made me think about how different my actions had been when I was living and believing the lie. Each time something shocked or hurt me, I would argue in my head that it was nothing serious – repeating the same old excuses that “He didn’t mean it” “He’s stressed and tired” “This isn’t what he’s really like” and probably the most harmful excuse of all “You’ll be ok, you can handle this – you’re fine, it’s nothing, ignore it”

The thing is though, whenever anything like that happened it would always be in private. Or if in public, the put-down would be so subtle that nobody else would notice, and I would question whether or not it had actually happened in the first place! I became used to rolling with the blows – emotionally and spiritually, I never had to deal with physical abuse – and numbed myself to the shocks.

I believe that for a long time since discovering the truth, I still kept myself numb. It was a useful survival tool. “Comfortably numb” became a way of ‘being’ that got me through the bad days and gave me the strength to fight the never-ending stream of seemingly impossible battles. Without him in my life, though, the numbness was helpful and directed purely at finding a way through for me and for my son – when I lived with him the numbness was, quite literally, senseless.

Too Sensitive?

Over recent months I’ve sometimes wondered whether I’ve lost some of my fighting spirit. I seem to buckle and smart at the smallest things that in previous years I would never even have noticed. I am much more willing to start a conversation and raise my point when I feel hurt or upset. I am also paying much more attention to the way I respond to situations – and asking whether it is a real or learned reaction. Do I reallymean that particular response? Is it a genuine emotion? Or is it just because I’m afraid, or unsure?

What do I mean? Well, for example, I sometimes find myself prickling or bristling at the tiniest innocent comment – only, incidentally, when the comment comes from a close friend. So then I start to wonder whether I’ve become a big softy? Have I become too vulnerable? Have I just lost the plot when it comes to reality…? No. I think the answer is something much simpler than that. I think the fact is that in the wake of the sociopath, my inner guidance system is now so highly tuned that I pick up on the tiniest words or gestures that could possibly cause upset. In the ‘bad old days’ I would have deliberately ignored those signs. These days I’m acutely aware of so much more – and far from being a bad thing, I think it’s a very good thing indeed. I believe it’s another step in the healing process.

Because, if something ‘prickles’ now, I have choices that I never allowed myself before. These days I can decide whether or not the gesture/comment was deliberate. If it was, then I can choose whether or not to highlight it and talk it through with the other person, or work it through myself. If it wasn’t, I can decide whether I’m actually ‘upset’ by what happened, or instead perhaps just feeling fearful that another person is so close to me that a tiny thing can cause me to recoil? Does that level of closeness and trust make me once more vulnerable to the deliberate manipulation that my ex used against me? No, of course it doesn’t – because first of all my ex was nothing like any of my friends. They are real, he is a sociopath. And secondly, because now I am so keenly attuned to what helps me grow and what squashes my soul, I’m sure I will never again succumb to the ways of anyone who wishes me harm.

As I’m sure you can imagine, the past four weeks have provided a wonderfully fertile ground for seedlings of doubt and fear to take root. And this time, rather than push them away or ignore them, I decided to share them with people who were around me and who could help. I also chose to share my discovery with my son – thanks to the advice given by a very wise friend. I hadn’t wanted to tell him anything, on the assumption that the lump would turn out to be nothing at all. “And then what?” she questioned gently “Do you want to do the same thing to your son as happened with your mother? She kept it from you until it was too late. I think you’d be wise to trust him and share your concerns”

Share The Truth

So I told him. We hugged. We cried. We said it would all be ok. And we also acknowledged the fact that the truth was out. Nothing was hidden and the trust between us grew even stronger.

I’ve learned that it’s ok to share feelings. It’s ok to share fears. It doesn’t pay to keep things hidden away. I’d done that for far too long. There is far more peace in just being real.

The medical examination was on Friday of last week. Regardless of the results, I’d decided that we would have a celebration in the evening. A delicious meal with family and close friends, to celebrate the next part of this adventure called life – whatever it may mean.

At just gone 16.30hrs I received the news I’d been waiting for. The lump is benign, and I am clear and healthy. Tears of relief rolled down my face, and my shoulders finally relaxed. They, along with my neck, had been held tight over the previous few weeks – more so than I had realised. Now I could let it all go… and I did.

My son? Well, along with the huge bear-hugs and tears, he thanked me for telling him in the first place, and for giving him the opportunity to share and to care.

I’m truly blessed to have such wonderful people around me. I am lucky to have so many opportunities to grow my spirit. And now, now that I have another ‘all clear’ I feel lighter and clearer than ever before.

Have I lost my fight? No… far from it in actual fact. Now there is no need to fight – in it’s place there is a desire that I now know for sure springs from love and acceptance. It’s a desire to reach out and to share. To join with others who have survived their own battles. To say ‘enough is enough’ and to slowly and gently move back to authenticity. Slowly and surely shining as each of us reclaim our loving, beautiful, innocent selves. After all – that’s who we all really are, isn’t it?

With extra love, blessings and gratitude. Thank you.

Original link on Lovefraud here

Lovefraud: When Love Isn't Real - The Shame Of Deception

I’ve just travelled back from the UK today, and during my journey I read an article that made me sit up and take notice. It’s the story about a teenage girl, Gemma Barker, who created three separate male aliases in order to dupe her female friends in to sexual relationships with her. She had made enormous efforts to develop and maintain these aliases. She succeeded so well, in fact, that not only the victims but also their families were fooled in to believing that Gemma was a boy. Whilst it’s claimed that she suffers from autism spectrum disorder and ADHD, the judge still called her “Cunning and deceptive” and the report states that she showed no remorse when handed her sentence. Ring any bells?

The thing that really struck me, though, was a quote from one of her victims who was 15 or 16 at the time. Gemma was 18, so legally an adult. Saying that she felt “repulsed and dirty” after learning that the boy she loved was actually her female friend, the victim goes on to say

“Nobody understands what it’s like to be told that the person you love and want to spend the rest of your life with isn’t real. It’s like you have disappeared. I just want to stop hurting” She also asks the poignant rhetorical question I know many of us will have asked ourselves: “What did I ever do wrong to you?”

It’s heart-breaking isn’t it? The shame of deception runs deep. Left untreated it can grow, multiplying like a cancer in the soul of those whose only crime was to love someone else. People who trusted what they were being shown, and treated the other person with care and compassion – while the other person just looked on and laughed. While in some cases there may not be any physical scars, the emotional and spiritual damage hits hard in every case. It is far more damaging – and can last so much longer.

I would have hoped that in this day and age, perhaps there might be a little more understanding and compassion for people who have been duped. After all, there are plenty of stories. Accounts from people who have been deliberately deceived and misled. People who, like us, gave all we had to people we believed and loved with all our heart.

You know what, though? Reading through some of the comments that have appeared online after the article, I am disheartened that so many still seem more focused on blaming the ‘stupidity’ of the victims, or urging us to ‘take pity’ on the person who deceived the girls. For many people, I know it may seem hard, almost impossible to believe that someone can get away with such a deception. But for those of us who’ve been there, once we work through the pain and shame, we know we were not to blame! We know we were not stupid, gullible, needy, blind or any of the other stinging veiled questions that stab at our soul as we try to make sense of what has happened.

It’s not just deception in romantic love that causes the pain. The hurt of betrayal can hit just as hard when it’s about relationships of trust between friends and family, or perhaps misguided loyalty to bosses or colleagues. Whatever the connection, when hit with the cold hard truth, the horror can be almost overwhelming.

And… in the same way that I had absolutely no comprehension of these sorts of behaviors before it happened to me, I guess the question is how on earth can we reasonably expect other people who haven’t ‘been there themselves’ to have any level of understanding? Well? It’s a reasonable question…. But then, in recent times I‘ve realized that our natural propensity to be reasonable and understanding is just another of the ways people are exploited while predators continue to thrive. It’s by thinking “Oh, they’re just under pressure!” “Well, you know, we all make mistakes!” or “It’s ok, I know they didn’t really mean it – I won’t say anything it’s not that important” that the abuse is allowed to continue, right under the noses of ‘reasonable’ people who just can’t begin to comprehend that the attacks are deliberate!

It’s the same reasonable, caring approach by ‘normal’ people that keeps these heartless creatures free to continue what they are doing. It’s also the thing that hurts the victim time and time and time again – because there is no reason behind why these predators do the things they do. There is no explanation. They’re just like that – and they’re darned skilled at what they do. And that’s all there is to it.

So, these days I’m becoming stronger and more determined in what I am now beginning to see as a crusade to educate and help others. Yes, the numerous judgments and barbed comments from people who don’t know what they’re talking about can grate and often rattle me. But you know what? I’ve also decided that there is little or no point in getting frustrated at those people. It’s fair to say that we don’t know what we don’t know…. It’s also fair to say that I now have an unreasonable passion to do something about it whenever I come across a situation where people are being hurt and the perpetrators are getting away with it. I’m determined to help people remove their blinkers and recognize that yes, there is such a thing as ‘bad people’ who live among us. It’s tough. Because it means inviting people to consider that they have been conned. That they, too, have been taken in by someone who tells lies as easily and effortlessly as you and I breathe.

The more I get to understand this subject, the more I believe that the self-righteous outpouring from people who have never been in that situation, stems from fear. The fear that perhaps, in the same shoes, they may not be quite so streetwise as they’d like to think. Perhaps they are not as invincible to the surgically accurate deceptions of a person who does not have the same emotional wiring as we do. A bit like children hiding under the covers when they’re afraid, it’s a good short-term fix but it doesn’t get rid of the bogeyman!

The thing is, though, hiding away or going in to denial will never get rid of the bogeymen – or women. All of us here know that from our own experiences. I’m determined to do all I can to ensure that ‘first hand experience’ does not remain the only way to be certain that the person who is causing the harm is usually a harmful person. I know there’s a long road ahead – I also know it’s a road that’s well worth travelling.

Original link on Lovefraud here

Lovefraud: Saying "Yes" Without Reading The Small Print

This week my post is inspired by a throw-away comment from my son. We were sitting in the kitchen, eating vegetable soup together while he downloaded a new app for my iPhone that will allow us to stay in contact more easily when I’m in the UK. As is often the case, the carrier has updated their terms and conditions so, before I could complete the download, I had to agree the changes.

“You don’t really want to read the 55 pages of new terms and conditions do you Mum?” asked Dylan, just checking the seemingly obvious before checking the “I agree” box. I laughed and shook my head – of course I didn’t!  And that’s when he said “Did you know that’s the biggest lie that people tell – not just once, but time and time again?”

“What is?” I replied, not quite getting where he was coming from “What’s the biggest lie?”

“Well, it’s like this” he continued with a smile on his face “We tick boxes saying that we’ve read and understood any number of terms and conditions, when in actual fact we’ve probably not even read a single word – let alone the countless pages of legal jargon that we’re expected to confirm that we’ve absorbed and understood!”

Hmmm… OK, I’d never thought about it that way. And it got me thinking further. I couldn’t help but make the link between my son’s observation and my own experiences in dealing with people where I ticked the mental “I agree” box without going through the terms and conditions. How often I’ve said OK because I’ve believed that what is being offered to me is…. well, exactly what is being offered! How often also, that at some point or other I have been disappointed to discover that actually, what appeared to be one thing was in fact something entirely different.

Relationship Agreements?

Imagine, then, that we could actually be offered a full set of legal agreement papers right at the beginning of any new connection. I’m not talking about a pre-nuptial agreements here, because that deals with how things are to be sorted out in the unexpected event of a split. No, I’m talking here about the possibility of having a legal description, associated risks, and possible side effects when entering in to a relationship with the person in front of you. I wonder what might be detailed? Would it be like a CV (another of the worlds’ biggest lies according to one of my favourite quotes “the closest to perfection a person ever comes is when he fills out a job application form”) where there would be a list of experiences together with references – both good and bad? Would the document include personal feedback or a scoring system from people who have already been involved with that person – and if they’re no longer a part of their life, provide the details of what happened? Might it be a list of beliefs, values and priorities? A set of requirements expected of the other person, or perhaps a vivid account of their hopes and dreams?

Of course, this is all just creative musings on my part. But then again, I wonder though… if there really was an imaginary set of terms and conditions that was offered to us each time we struck up a new relationship (friendship, business, romantic or anything else) – would we really take the time to go through the small print? Would we…? Or would we just skip through to the end and tick the “I agree” box so that we could just get on with it? Well, I know that just a few years ago I wouldn’t even have taken a second glance. These days, though, knowing what I now know through my own experience, I am tempted to believe that I would go through every last detail with a toothpick!

Personal Terms And Conditions

It made me giggle, imagining how my own personal terms and conditions might have developed over the years. How, before I learned about predatory people I might happily have signed on any agreement without question“Yes, I’d like to get to know you, I believe what you’ve shown me, and I’ll commit to this relationship wholeheartedly – in fact I’m looking forward to it!” And, being the kind of person I was – well, actually, the kind of person I still am in many ways – having made the commitment I would never even have thought about reneging on my promise!

These days, while I may well be willing to sign, I would certainly include a caveat that might read something like this: “Yes, ok, I like what I am seeing and hearing and, assuming things continue along these lines then I’ll be very happy to share my time and experiences with you. And… be assured…. should at any point any of this change, or I discover that what you’ve said is untrue, or you have misrepresented yourself in any way, then all previous agreements between us are absolutely null and void with immediate effect”

So these days, yes, absolutely I will keep my side of the bargain. One hundred percent. The difference is, though, now my answer is never just “yes”…. It’s always “yes… and…” because I will never again allow myself to be trapped in a situation that is damaging to my health and well-being. Never again will I remain so focused on my commitment “for better or worse” that I allow the worse to take over while better becomes a distant memory! Never again will I allow myself to be swayed by silver-tongued reasoning that excuses a behavior or situation that I know deep within is a bad thing.

I know for a fact that I went in to the relationship with my ex as an open and trusting spirit, fully prepared to give myself to what I believed was the promise of a fulfilling, loving, and life-long relationship between two people who loved each other and chose to spend their lives together. I hadn’t recognized that within his terms and conditions, any mention of the word ‘spend’ literally meant spending on himself…. Love, trust and material goods were going out (from me) and coming back in (to him). He’d ‘pay’ me with his usual smiles, cuddles, displays of devotion, and constant assurances that our life together was perfect. But in reality he was stripping bare every asset he could find and systematically destroying any spiritual, emotional or financial security. It was me who was left spent. Dried up, worn out, and on my knees.

I remember right at the beginning that there were enough subtle warning signs – the ‘small print’ if you like. His hand-wringing guilt when he admitted that he’d wracked up ‘a few debts’ before we met. His tears when explaining his unusually long string of failed past relationships – and the numerous troubled and unbalanced partners he’d encountered along the way. His sadness at having been denied access to his two small children. Perhaps the most telling, though, was when a couple of close friends advised me to check out his version of events – one even went so far as to tell me she thought he was either an angel or a devil, she wasn’t sure which. But I was hooked by then and I brushed all of these “red-flags” aside, dismissing their concerns as unnecessary over-protection.

So yes, I reckon it could be a good idea to have a set of legal terms and conditions that should be read though, understood and accepted before engaging in any new kind of connection – on whatever level. That way, even if things turned sour, at least the original agreement would be there in black and white. And if any of the points had been violated by the other person well, we could walk away with our head held high knowing that we’d done our best. That we’d kept to our agreement, and that the ‘bad stuff’ was not our fault. Instead of which (as so many of us have experienced) we have been left feeling high and dry; consumed with overwhelming emotions of shame and guilt, together with endless “what if” questions stabbing and pecking away at our very soul.

I don’t know whether having a terms and conditions ‘blueprint’ attached to everyone would actually make a difference. I do know I’ve found it quite interesting to consider the possibility! I also know that next time I’m invited to tick the box, sign on the dotted line, or agree to a load of complicated legalese, I will most certainly remember my son’s words and have a wry smile on my face while I at least take a good look at the headlines…. Well, it’s a start isn’t it?

Original link on Lovefraud here

Lovefraud: There's Always A Gift - Even When The Situation Seems Hopeless

It’s been a funny old week for me. I am within spitting distance of completing a final piece of the jigsaw that releases me from my past – infuriatingly it’s still so close and yet so far. Over the past couple of years I’ve learned that some things just can’t be rushed. I’ve also learned that patience is indeed a virtue and that, contrary to the many messages I have been told throughout my life, I’ve realised that now I do possess it… in bucket loads! True, I still might kick and sulk a little when I’m required to demonstrate that particular skill – but there is no question. I can do it, and when necessary, it’s something that I’ve found can be exceptionally useful. Funny, don’t you think, since there are many times I can remember when I couldn’t possibly have imagined the value of patience!

And this is what brings me on to the theme I’d like to explore today. That is the one of finding hidden gifts when they’re not expected. The subject of expecting one thing and receiving something else. The topic of judging a book by its’ cover – and often picking up the wrong novel as a result!

What am I talking about? Well, I’m talking about what happens when we re-examine our own judgment and open up to the idea of possibilities that perhaps didn’t exist before. I’m talking about those exquisite moments when we think everything’s going wrong, but then all of a sudden it turns out that it was all for the best. The times when, despite careful planning or judgments, things just don’t go our way and we fear that we are doomed. Those same times when contrary to what we thought was good for us, there was an even better solution just sitting there waiting in the wings.

Fascinating Friends

I’ve been discussing this subject with friends this week. Friends who, by the way, I would never have had the opportunity to meet or make a connection with while I was married. Friends who are quirky and colourful. Friends who could possibly be described as a bit odd-ball. Friends who are genuine, open, honest and – most importantly – are comfortable in their own skin, and comfortable with me as well.

This week one of those precious friends took time out to drive me for three hours so that I could visit an old friend I hadn’t seen for many years. Sometimes it just happens that way. You have a close bond with someone and then somehow, for no apparent reason, you drift out of each other’s lives. Sometimes you never see that person again. Other times you may be lucky enough to pick up with them again further down the road. And if you’re really lucky, you find that bond is still there as if you only saw each other yesterday. Well, that’s what happened with this particular friend of mine last week. This was a friend I used to work with years ago. Early on, she and I became firm friends and loved sharing each other’s company both in and outside of work. It must be said that neither of us have had what could be called a straightforward life. We both understand what it means to overcome a number of life’s challenges and how it feels to be seen as someone ‘different’… as a result there was rarely a subject of conversation that was taboo. We could be equally happy exploring life philosophies as creasing up in fits of giggles over something utterly ridiculous – much to the amusement of those around us!

This friend of mine, I’ll call her Jane, has recently been diagnosed with a particularly nasty strain of cancer. I knew I just had to go and see her, even though nearly a decade had passed since we last saw each other. Arriving at her house – at the end of a particularly amusing and erratic car journey – it was wonderful to see her again after so many years. Smiling and giggling like teenagers, the friendly banter started almost immediately and the years melted away.

She’s feisty, strong, direct, and also incredibly brave. She always has been. But to see her last week, in the grip of a terrible disease that is slowly claiming her life, in my eyes she became the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her before. I honestly don’t know what I was expecting. I suppose that, since the death of my own mother from cancer, I was bracing myself for the worst. I suppose I was expecting to find someone who was either carrying on as if nothing was happening, or who was so sick that we wouldn’t be able to talk. I don’t know. But I do know that what I found was something that has touched me deeply and made me even more grateful that my life has been filled with so many wonderful people.

Facing The Truth

“I’m dying you know, Melanie” she said, fixing me straight in the eyes without a hint of distress “this cancer, it’s killing me. I’m going to die. But it’s ok. I’ve made peace, and I’m ok with it” Jane is one of the only people who call me by my full name, and as she addressed me I felt an incredible wave of love and compassion flowing between us. There was no hiding to be done. No judgments to be made. No good, no bad – just the truth. And, harsh though the truth may be, at the same time it was liberating. There was no pretense. Nothing to explain. And no room for embarrassment. Nothing but love, understanding and acceptance. Beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.

It’s very similar to the feeling I have when I hear other people sharing their experiences with sociopaths or any other kind of abusive relationship. When they finally say “yes, it happened to me as well” or “I am broken inside, but I know I’ll get better” or “I have to break free, I just haven’t yet found the right way to do it”. Just like my friend Jane, these are all statements of the truth – and many of them are statements that most people wouldn’t imagine could apply to the people saying or writing the words. People who are expected to be strong. People who are judged to be clever and successful. People who, as many thoughtless critics are quick to say“should have known better” when the truth comes out. People like you and me, who look perfectly normal on the outside, but who share a common bond of suffering that I believe ultimately allows us to become more understanding, complete and whole as human beings. It’s a bond that allows us to say “yes, I’ve been there seen it and got the T-shirt – and you know what? I made it. So come on, let me help you to make it as well”

And I don’t know about you, but for me I regard that as an astonishingly valuable gift. If I can reach out and give something to another human being… If I can give even a glimmer of hope to someone who is suffering… If I can make contact with just one other person and help them in some way… well, then all the rubbish times have been worth it. OK, at the time it all may have hurt like hell, and there is absolutely no way I could have said that what was happening to me was a gift. No way at all… In fact I’d probably have punched anyone who might have dared to put that idea forward! But now, now that I look back at where I was and who I was, and compare it with my life today… well, I can honestly hold my hand to my heart and be grateful for the gifts that have been given to me. This is what I mean by judging a book by its cover. My experiences with my ex, and also my difficult childhood have all brought me a barrow-load of pain and suffering. But at the same time, they’ve made me who I am, and brought me in contact with a wealth of wonderful people – friends and colleagues as well as audiences who seem to identify with what I have to say.

Could I have done that if I hadn’t been given the opportunity to grow and develop through difficult times? Well, I don’t know. It would be great to think that I could have become the ‘me’ of today without all that rubbish… but I have a sneaky suspicion that I was born one of those stubborn students who need to have lessons spelled out loud and clear… so perhaps not eh?

And as for Jane, well, last week she gave me the greatest gift of all. She showed me that it’s ok. That it is indeed possible to face death squarely and bravely, with peace and courage. And I am deeply grateful that she’s my friend and that she’s back in my life – however long that might be. As I said to her when I left, “I’ll be back you know, because I know where you live!” And as she said to me in return “I’ll always be with you, wherever you are”

I’ve discovered that really, at the end of it all, love and friendship are the only things that matter. These are the things that hold true. Everything else is just a passing phase.

Thank you and with love and blessings to all my friends here on Lovefraud.

Original link on Lovefraud here

Lovefraud: Dancing With Myself

It’s Valentines Day today – a day that, I’m quite sure, can generate bittersweet memories for many. If I choose to think about this festival only in association with the traditional interpretations of cupid, love, relationships, romance and all that entails then yes, I could indeed become sad and morbid myself. I might be tempted to dwell on the past and mourn the ‘what if’ scars that are the war wounds I usually wear with pride. It’s even possible that I might even fall in to the trap of once again berating myself for allowing myself to be duped…

Associations. Thoughts. Patterns. Behaviours. These are all fascinating tools that I honestly believe are here with an intention to serve us well – but that somehow often threaten to lead us a merry dance, unless we keep a check on what’s happening. Unless we stay aware of the results we’re getting. Unless we stay honest with ourselves about what is acceptable and supportive, and what is not.

This morning I received a lovely email from a friend who has been a massive positive influence in my life over the past couple of years. She wrote to wish me a Happy Valentine’s Day, saying that she thought the occasion should be “all about telling everybody that you love, that you do!” And it made me smile. Because, once again, here was proof that love exists in so many ways – and that for me in any case, the love I have found outside of the romantic love I had valued so highly, has proven to be stronger, deeper, mightier and more fulfilling than I could possibly have imagined while I was still trapped in the façade I so desperately wanted to believe was ‘true love’.

Musical Movement

And I believe that my friend is right. I think that Valentines is about so much more than just the traditional celebration of couples. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t celebrate romantic love – I’m just saying that there is so much more to love that everyone can celebrate, regardless of who they are or what their relationship status.

Last night I was chatting with a French friend of mine who introduced me to a saying I had never heard before. We were talking about the perfectly normal difficulties associated with families, friends and work colleagues. We shared past experiences of letting people know when we had been upset, and what steps we took to protect the feelings of the other person in the process. The conversation continued, both of us describing more embarrassing moments, until we both ended up laughing and he said “On ne pas savoir sur quel pied danser!”which literally means “you don’t know which foot to dance on!” I thought it was a delightful expression that more or less says the same thing as our own saying “walking on eggshells” – which he found equally amusing.

And I began to think about dancing and dancers, and how delightful and varied they can be. The ballet dancer. The break dancer. Line dancing. Ballroom dancing. Latin. Spanish. Rhythm. Contemporary. Modern. Hiphop. Swing…. The possibilities are endless. As are the people who can choose to take part. Old and young, rich and poor, happy and sad, fast and slow…. It doesn’t matter. We all have our rhythm and we’re all part of this dance of life.

Yes, some of us may have two left feet – my ex always took great delight in telling me that I had no rhythm. For years, whenever we were at a party I would be the one glued to my seat while everyone was dancing and having fun. But you know what? I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter. We’re not here to dance for anyone else, or to anyone else’s tune. I believe that we’re here to dance for ourselves – for the love of our own life. Then, and only then can we share and spread that love with others. Rhythm or no rhythm, I have slowly learned to let myself dance for myself. I’ve learned to listen to my song. To find my beat. To let myself just “be” – without any criticism or blame, either from myself or others. There have been many evenings over the past couple of years when, alone and at home, I have cranked up the music and danced like nobody was watching – because of course they weren’t.

Freedom… And Gratitude

Let me tell you, it certainly didn’t come naturally to me! I was acutely embarrassed at first, but I didn’t understand why. In the early days I couldn’t move at all. I remember just standing there, twitching my fingers, hanging my head, and keeping my feet firmly placed on the floor. And when at last I finally did start to sway with the music, I couldn’t open my eyes. Then slowly slowly I started loosening up and as I did, I would find myself singing along with the music. As I sang louder, my movements became bigger. And as I lost my inhibitions, I stopped judging myself – and just let myself go. It was an extraordinarily liberating experience for me!

On one such occasion, I suddenly caught my reflection in the window. At first, though, I didn’t recognise myself. Because there, in front of my eyes, was… a dancer. OK, maybe not a professional or even an amateur performer, but there was no mistaking that the reflection in the window was moving smoothly and in time to the music. And, more to the point, that person was smiling and happy. That moment, although it may seem a minor thing, was a major revelation for me. I stood there, blinking. Shocked at the recognition of the free-flowing joyful person weaving her dance and so clearly lost in the moment. And all of a sudden the scales fell from my eyes. All of a sudden I realised that I had been judging myself as worthless and clumsy. That even though my ex had vanished from my life a good while earlier, I had still been carrying the memories of his judgments. I remember shouting at my reflection as fury, tears, relief, gratitude and a whole heap of other emotions exploded out of me

“It’s not true!” I shouted, fists clenched as alternately I hugged myself and punched at the air “It’s NOT true! I’m NOT useless… I CAN dance… I CAN, I CAN, I CAN!”  And yes,  in case you’re wondering, there are many times when I’m deeply grateful that I live in such a rural location – I’m not sure that neighbours would have been quite so understanding of my enthusiastically noisy revelations!

Back to the French saying about not knowing which foot to dance on. I think it’s a crying shame that so many of us here have had to experience such sadness and pain. My heart continues to go out to everyone who has been or is still in any kind of unhealthy relationship – yes, including an unhealthy relationship with themselves. I know I was one of those people. But you know what? I also understand that at the time, I did the very best I could with the comprehension and information that was available to me.

I may not have known which foot to dance on, and I may have been afraid of making a mistake or seeming foolish. But when I pushed things away, kept quiet and carried on regardless, I was doing those things to keep safe – or so I thought at the time. Does that make me wrong? No, I don’t think so. We don’t know what we don’t know, so I cannot sit in judgement about the errors of my ways.

What I can do now, though, is to be grateful for what I now realise. I can be grateful for what I’ve learned and who I’ve become. I can be grateful that I now know the difference between supportive and destructive behaviour. I can be grateful, also, that I now have the courage to make healthy choices. To top it all, as I’ve said before, I can also be grateful for my time with my ex. It may have been a façade to him – but for me it was real, and I’ve grown beyond recognition as a result.

So, Happy Valentines Day to you, ex-mate…. My dance with you was poisoned and awkward. Now I’m dancing with myself and with love – and with so many more beautiful people than I could ever have possibly imagined before.

Love and blessings to all here on Lovefraud – let’s keep dancing together.

Original link to Lovefraud here