I've had a bit of a revelation, and I thought I'd share in case it helps another mama in a similar situation.
For the past two years (since dd was conceived), I have been undergoing a continuous and repeated mind f*&k. It's been really hard for me to separate this man and all his tumult (alcoholism, lack of responsibility, lying, facade-presenting, narcissism) from me and my life beyond him. Somehow it keeps creeping back in, and I have felt seriously infested by this cancerous entity that is his presence in my life.
I've done strong boundaries. The boundaries are good, but they haven't been enough for me to feel truly safe and free and at peace. I've done trying to picture myself in a healing, protective bubble that he cannot penetrate. I've done trying to see the situation in a different light (seeing him as ill and injured rather than just plain evil). I've even done trying to see him as normal and us as just "two people who have made mistakes" (I don't recommend this one unless you're really sure it's true. While it would be much more convenient to believe this is the case, for me, it was just buying in to the mind f*&k. Goodness knows I'm imperfect, but the issues that are happening here are almost exclusively HIS issues.)
So here's what came to me tonight: an image. Not of me in a bubble, but of him--in a plexiglass box. Him railing and fighting against this invisible box, and yelling and screaming at me that it's my fault that he's in there and that he can't get out. Him trying to assert to me what his rights as a father are, how I'm supposed to help "facilitate" his relationship with his daughter at all costs, to squeeze her in the box with him. This is exactly what is going on. And the thing is, this whole time, I haven't truly appreciated the plexiglass. I've seen the man railing and blaming, and I've bought right in. I've felt the fear, I've felt the frustration, I've taken on the supposed obligation I have to negotiate with him and put up with his communicative onslaught that just stresses me out. But, while that plexiglass box--while his issues--are keeping him from behaving like a father and taking care of what he needs to take care of, it is also a symbol of just how separate I really am from all this.
He can't get me. He can wail and rail and blame me, but he is the one who's trapped in all this, not me. Heck, he was trapped long before I even met him. I can set my boundaries, I can make arrangements to protect dd's interests, and I can just walk away from this tragic, angry man stuck in his little plexiglass box.
I really, really like this image. Can you tell?
Oh, and another thing I did a while ago that helps a bit... I redirected all his email into a separate folder from my regular email, and then tried to think of a name that would dilute my sense of fear and revulsion. I decided on "Snuffleupagus". Now, before I read each email from him, I am forced to picture a lumbering, dopey, tuskless woolly mammoth. The absurdity of picturing the ex this way instantly dismantles my natural fight-or-flight response to seeing I've received an email from him.
Just thought I'd share those little tricks for those of you who are enduring your own mind f*&ks. And, seriously, hugs to all of you.
For the past two years (since dd was conceived), I have been undergoing a continuous and repeated mind f*&k. It's been really hard for me to separate this man and all his tumult (alcoholism, lack of responsibility, lying, facade-presenting, narcissism) from me and my life beyond him. Somehow it keeps creeping back in, and I have felt seriously infested by this cancerous entity that is his presence in my life.
I've done strong boundaries. The boundaries are good, but they haven't been enough for me to feel truly safe and free and at peace. I've done trying to picture myself in a healing, protective bubble that he cannot penetrate. I've done trying to see the situation in a different light (seeing him as ill and injured rather than just plain evil). I've even done trying to see him as normal and us as just "two people who have made mistakes" (I don't recommend this one unless you're really sure it's true. While it would be much more convenient to believe this is the case, for me, it was just buying in to the mind f*&k. Goodness knows I'm imperfect, but the issues that are happening here are almost exclusively HIS issues.)
So here's what came to me tonight: an image. Not of me in a bubble, but of him--in a plexiglass box. Him railing and fighting against this invisible box, and yelling and screaming at me that it's my fault that he's in there and that he can't get out. Him trying to assert to me what his rights as a father are, how I'm supposed to help "facilitate" his relationship with his daughter at all costs, to squeeze her in the box with him. This is exactly what is going on. And the thing is, this whole time, I haven't truly appreciated the plexiglass. I've seen the man railing and blaming, and I've bought right in. I've felt the fear, I've felt the frustration, I've taken on the supposed obligation I have to negotiate with him and put up with his communicative onslaught that just stresses me out. But, while that plexiglass box--while his issues--are keeping him from behaving like a father and taking care of what he needs to take care of, it is also a symbol of just how separate I really am from all this.
He can't get me. He can wail and rail and blame me, but he is the one who's trapped in all this, not me. Heck, he was trapped long before I even met him. I can set my boundaries, I can make arrangements to protect dd's interests, and I can just walk away from this tragic, angry man stuck in his little plexiglass box.
I really, really like this image. Can you tell?

Oh, and another thing I did a while ago that helps a bit... I redirected all his email into a separate folder from my regular email, and then tried to think of a name that would dilute my sense of fear and revulsion. I decided on "Snuffleupagus". Now, before I read each email from him, I am forced to picture a lumbering, dopey, tuskless woolly mammoth. The absurdity of picturing the ex this way instantly dismantles my natural fight-or-flight response to seeing I've received an email from him.
Just thought I'd share those little tricks for those of you who are enduring your own mind f*&ks. And, seriously, hugs to all of you.







So, I needed this today.. thanks for the constructive thinking!
