Sometimes I find myself reaching inward, trying to touch that need for you. It’s only curiosity, an interest in knowing whether it could be rekindled even if I wanted it to. I don’t want it. But I wonder – could it ever claim me again? If I were to see you tomorrow, what would I feel? Sometimes I feel I hate you. Sometimes it’s only pity I feel. Underneath it all, I do feel a love, but it’s like the love of a sister to her brother. And only that this time. There is no passion. No desire. When I think of us together, the intensity we once felt, I cannot touch it. I remember it like I’m watching a film with different people, just actors, not us. It doesn’t touch me. Sometimes I think it’s my own psyche protecting me from the memory.
Someone who is recently sober said they realize they will never again feel the highs they got from being on drugs, that nothing in the natural world will ever come up to that intensity, but that it’s worth the loss of that high to never again have to feel the incredibly unbearable lows that always came after. I feel the same when I think of you, of our relationship. I will never feel that rush again. Because it was unnatural – like addiction to a drug, not love. But I am happy to let it go, never to be felt again, for the simple peace of your permanent absence from my life.
I was wondering why I suddenly feel down again, haunted by thoughts of Mac, when I had been doing so well. Then I remembered – I saw my NPD mom yesterday and she asked about Mac. I hadn’t told her we broke up because she is never interested in anything affecting anyone but herself, but yesterday she asked about him, because he had promised to do something for her and she wanted him to pay up. So I explained that we broke up and I hadn’t seen him in about a month. She asked why, so I explained he is an addict and was unable to stay off methamphetamines and alcohol, and that these things cause him to be abusive to me. Her response? “So you’re not worth quitting drugs for, basically.” I thought nothing of it – that’s how used to it I am. I just nonchalantly attempted to explain addiction to her, how it’s a disease and quitting isn’t about someone being “worth it,” but rather about so many other deeper issues.
My therapist recommended I write down the qualities of every man I’ve been involved with and look for any patterns. I found the following common thread – each one had a particular all-pervasive selfishness and interest only in their own needs being fulfilled. None had any interest whatsoever in fulfilling any of my needs. Sure, some said they wanted to take care of me or support me emotionally, and some would even get angry when they didn’t feel I was being vulnerable enough to them. But each one who made these claims or demands of vulnerability would become enraged when my actual needs didn’t match their expectation. They wanted to provide something specific that they wanted to give, not what I actually needed. And when I wasn’t able to match my need to what they wanted to provide, they hated me for it. This mirrors perfectly my relationship with my mother growing up. They say you may choose unhealthy relationships that mirror the relationship you had with an abusive parent in an effort to “fix” that problem by proxy. Seems to be true of me. So how does one stop? 
notthekindofgirl 