Stockholm Syndrome

In 1979, I was eight years old and this song was climbing the Billboard charts by a band called Poco.  Strange how I felt an uncanny attachment to the song, long before I was to ever grasp or comprehend the notion of “romantic love”.

Years later, today in fact, the words still reverberate in my head.  I wonder it the song wasn’t some sort of ominous  foreshadowing of things to come.  Just change the gender and it all fits.

Tonight I’m gonna break away
Just you wait and see
I’ll never be imprisoned by
A faded memory

Just when I think I’m over her
This broken heart will mend
I hear her name and I have to cry
The tears come down again

It happens all the time
This crazy love of mine
Wraps around my heart
refusing’ to unwind
Ooh-hoo, crazy love…Ah ha

Count the stars in a summer sky
That fall without a sound
And then pretend that you can’t hear
These teardrops coming’ down

It happens all the time
This crazy love of mine
Wraps around my heart
refusing’ to unwind
Ooh-hoo, crazy love

Tonight I’m gonna break away
Just you wait and see
I’ll never be imprisoned by
A faded memory

It happens all the time
This crazy love of mine
Wraps around my heart
refusing’ to unwind
Ooh-hoo, crazy love…Ah ha

Tonight I’m gonna break away

Oh if breaking away were only so easy.  It’s not that simple.  For folks who are ignorant and lack the knowledge of the processes;  the very underpinnings for the love-addicted and/or the dynamics of traumatic bonding that happens in an abusive relationship, I suppose it seems as simple as “just leave.”  Pfffft.   Well someone just slap me silly if I could have just left.

I feel raped of what I had, the part of who I was before I met him.  He did not kill me with his violence:  repeated infidelity, lies, verbal abuse, manipulation, physical brutality or emotional neglect. But I now have come to realise he did kill a part of me and I don’t know what to do about it.  There is also the culpability of my part in the dance; what I played in the relationship’s course, which is even more painful and difficult to look at.

There is a lot to grieve.  When someone suffers violence or another extremely traumatic event, they are no longer that person they were before.  Often, they must grieve the person they used to be.  The wounds left over capable of healing; sometimes are so deep and painful that only God can reach.   I believe that’s where I am now.   I am no longer the person I was before I met him.   I have to grieve that version of Lexi, she is gone and I will never be her again.   I became broken.  The good news is that when you become shattered, you can pick up the pieces and put yourself back together in a more whole way than you were before.   I have to rebuild my life.

Grief is not just limited to death, nor divorce.  We grieve for lost love, for what could or should have been.  We grieve for the loss of a family dynamic, a familiar family unit.  The parting that takes place  can often times be as final as death.  What compounds things is knowing that our loved one is out there living and breathing, somewhere.  No sense of closure.

Sometimes, we must press forward, despite that much desired need for closure.  With empty pockets, but a bit of hope as our compass rose.

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2 responses to “Stockholm Syndrome

  1. I understand your pain, I truly do; only someone who has been there can fully understand. No one understands why you didn’t “just leave” and I did leave, only to go back, time after time until he left me, again. But I didn’t believe he was really gone, it was just the way we were, it was our dance, one of us would call the other one, he call to see if I wanted something to eat or I’d call to ask about something my truck was doing.

    He’d come back, full of regret and apologies, he’d have had an epiphany and make all sorts of promises all of them lies. I knew they were lies but I’d lie to myself and tell myself this time he meant it and let him back in.

    Only this last time he moved in with someone else and he reached a new level of cruelty; I thought the pain would surely kill me.

    I have a blog containing all my research on sociopath’s and narcissists you might find some helpful information and I would like to know how you are doing. I care. I did the dance like his puppet for 10 yrs, I know I am not the person I was, that kind of abuse and pain changes a person.

    It does get better, its been a year for me and I still cry, still hurt but I think I am over him, I think I am strong enough to resist him now and you will be too some day.

Go ahead, make my day :)

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