Do you believe that the truth will always come out? Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes my faith in truth and justice is tested to the limits.
But surely, one day....the truth is always victorious.....right?
I'd like to say I'm a believer in karma. I certainly want to believe in it, but there are just some things which happen in this world which make me question the whole ethos upon which 'the justice system' is built.
How is it, that the so called 'justice' system sees a man get away with murder simply because he has the financial means to hire a team of top notch lawyers? Anybody who witnessed that particualr trial, or has since researched the case, would surely be horrified at what can only be described as a most shocking example of how money talks, to the detriment of any human decency.
The fact the accused then went on to write a book which describes (hypothetically of course) how he actually managed to get away with it, well, it's just staggering.
I wonder if karma will ever bite that particular individual on the backside? It remains to be seen. But will the truth ever be known? In this case, it seems not. I feel for the families of the victims.
Because, there's never, ever just the one 'victim', is there? Each victim is loved and cherished by somebody. The ripple effect dictates that the victims loved ones become victims too, and so it goes on......
The example given above is, of course, an extreme one. But then, we witness such examples on all too regular a basis these day, do we not?
Examples of 'cover ups' can be found in the Daily news, if you look hard enough. It's just a question of what you choose to believe. The truth, or the spin?
I question everything these days. Some may say I question things too much and look for problems or untruths where none actually exist. I prefer to think that life has simply taught me to treat everything, and everybody, with caution.
When presented with a sensational news story, I will always now try to look behind the headlines, and gather more information about what really might have happened.
I also try (wherever I can), to apply the same rule of thumb in real life. Maybe it's a result of the things I have experienced, but I do tend to look for 'means' and 'motive' in almost every situation I encounter.
I was once told that I added 'Sarah spin' to everything I said. I spent a long time pondering this 'accusation'. Was I 'spinning' tales about my situation?
What is 'spin' at the end of the day?
It is certainly not the plain and simple relaying of a tale, or the recalling of an event. But spin is not necessarily sinister either, it's probably just the way of the world. The trick is to recognise it when you see it, and moreover, to recognise the motivation behind the spin.
In the examples cited above, it is clear where the 'spin motivation' lies. It is there simply to distract us from the truth. To divert our attention and prevent justice from being served.
To relate spin to my own situation and my account (in the book) thereof, is trickier. I'll leave that for the reader to decide.
All I can say is this: Fiction is far more transparent and fragile than the truth. The truth does has a habit of coming out....eventually, and karma does invariably reach all those who deserve it. And with the truth, comes justice. And that, in turn, brings peace for the victims, and (over time) their loved ones.
We just need to be patient.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Money, Money, Money
Can anybody really imagine what it might be like to win a huge amount of money?
I think we all dream about it all the time (well, I know I do!). But can you seriously imagine what it would be like to have that much?
It would scare me half to death, and somehow I don't think I'd be telling the papers.
The thing is, money brings out the worst in people, it truly does. One sniff of it, and people start crawling out of the woodwork. And when it comes to money, people can turn ruthless. I know this from first hand experience.
It seems to affect our powers of reasoning. We turn into jealous crazed monsters at the thought of somebody possibly having something that we want, but just can't manage to get for ourselves.
I've learned some tough lessons of my own regarding money. I've learned you should be careful about who you trust. Even those in 'authority' are not always what they profess to be.
I've felt despair because of lack of money, and seemingly endless financial demands.
But I keep telling myself the same thing;
Money can't buy happiness. It may be an old adage, but it's a very accurate one. It can't buy happiness,nor can it buy peace of mind. And you won't sleep better at night with a full bank account, knowing you've taken that money from somebody who trusted you.
I'm under no illusions that book writing is going to make me a vast amount of money. I won't be giving up my day job any time soon, that's for sure!
I'd be happy to get through life knowing that I don't owe anybody anything, I reckon that would be enough for me.
That, and a clear conscience. The knowledge that I have never deliberately screwed somebody over for their money.
Fraud is my dirty word for this week. Sadly, it's all around us. It taints all those it touches, and it is born of greed and self interest.
So, let's ponder the words of one far more sagacious than little old me, just for a minute ;
Buddha
Worth remembering, don't you think?
I think we all dream about it all the time (well, I know I do!). But can you seriously imagine what it would be like to have that much?
It would scare me half to death, and somehow I don't think I'd be telling the papers.
The thing is, money brings out the worst in people, it truly does. One sniff of it, and people start crawling out of the woodwork. And when it comes to money, people can turn ruthless. I know this from first hand experience.
It seems to affect our powers of reasoning. We turn into jealous crazed monsters at the thought of somebody possibly having something that we want, but just can't manage to get for ourselves.
I've learned some tough lessons of my own regarding money. I've learned you should be careful about who you trust. Even those in 'authority' are not always what they profess to be.
I've felt despair because of lack of money, and seemingly endless financial demands.
But I keep telling myself the same thing;
Money can't buy happiness. It may be an old adage, but it's a very accurate one. It can't buy happiness,nor can it buy peace of mind. And you won't sleep better at night with a full bank account, knowing you've taken that money from somebody who trusted you.
I'm under no illusions that book writing is going to make me a vast amount of money. I won't be giving up my day job any time soon, that's for sure!
I'd be happy to get through life knowing that I don't owe anybody anything, I reckon that would be enough for me.
That, and a clear conscience. The knowledge that I have never deliberately screwed somebody over for their money.
Fraud is my dirty word for this week. Sadly, it's all around us. It taints all those it touches, and it is born of greed and self interest.
So, let's ponder the words of one far more sagacious than little old me, just for a minute ;
There is no fire like passion, there is no shark like hatred, there is no snare like folly, there is no torrent like greed.
Buddha
Worth remembering, don't you think?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
An important Anniversary
I remember the end of April 2007, my marriage was in its death throes. Life was pretty stressful, and it seemed my world was an amalgam of uncertainty and trepidation.
Then, at the beginning of May, something happened which completely took my mind off my own troubles, and made me realise that being a parent is a true blessing, and something we should never take for granted.
A little girl, the same age as my eldest daughter, disappeared whilst on holiday with her parents and siblings in Portugal. That little girl touched my heart, and following her story has, in many ways, changed my view of the world.
We all know her name, everybody on the planet knows Madeleine's name. The media furore which surrounded her disappearance was unprecedented, and will go down in history as the catalyst which sparked massive debate about the media, the power of the internet, and freedom of speech itself.
The intricate ins and outs of this case are widely available to those who wish to dig a little deeper than what's reported in the mainstream press. Following the case has certainly been an eye opener for me, in terms of discovering the shocking reality about how much the public can be manipulated by the press. Thank goodness information can be disseminated globally via Google and internet fora. For anybody who is interested, it doesn't take long to compare and contrast what's reported in the main stream press, to what's actually (and factually) documented in the witness satements contained in the Police Files, which were released to the media when the case was (prematurely) shelved back in 2008. More interesting to discover, is what's not been reported in the mainstream press.
My heart breaks for a little girl who was let down by those closest to her, and then again let down by the prodigious 'machine' which was created in her image. The person who needed help most has been forgotten amidst the PR, litigation and mud slinging from both sides of the fence.
Many books have been written about Madeleine's case, books which look at both sides of the story. But, one of these books 'The Truth of the Lie', written by the former Investigation Coordinator, Goncalo Amaral, has been temporarily banned from sale (pending a trial) following an injunction brought by Madeleine's parents.
Why?
Their argument, is that the conclusions in the book are detrimental to the search for their little girl, because he reproduces the theory that she most probably died in the holiday apartment, and that her death was covered up by her parents.
Now, whether or not these conclusions are correct, is entirely a matter of interpretation. The book details the police investigation as it was experienced by Amaral himself, as well as those in the team of detectives with whom he was working. It doesn't profess to be the gospel. It is a man relaying his own experience of the case, and the conclusions that he and his team arrived at.
Do we not all have the right to document our feelings and experiences as we lived and breathed them?
This is, after all, just one mans summary of the investigation. It's not fabricated or embelished, it sticks closely to the information in the police files. So why has it been banned?
Do we not all have the right to question certain events, and the way in which are presented to us? Are we not allowed to ask questions and demand honest and truthful answers?
How does one book stop people wanting to get to the bottom of what happened to Madeleine? Surely we should consider ALL possibilities, not just the one her parents insist we should believe?
Of course we should!
Today is the Anniversary of the Carnation Revolution in Portugal. It's the anniverary of a day upon which freedom and civil liberties were peacefully restored to an entire nation.
It's a day for celebrating freedom of speech and freedom of expression.
Nobody should be gagged for voicing an opinion. Even if others find their opinions abhorrant, they are still entitled to them.
As for the case itself, I wonder if we'll ever really know what happened. That little girl no longer has a voice, so it's up to others to speak up on her behalf. And it's up to us, the public, to listen to all the arguments, and draw our own informed conclusions.
There are two sides to every argument. I'm glad to be living in a day and age where I have the capacity and the tools which enable me to look behind the media spin, and make up my own mind.
Forca Portugal!
Then, at the beginning of May, something happened which completely took my mind off my own troubles, and made me realise that being a parent is a true blessing, and something we should never take for granted.
A little girl, the same age as my eldest daughter, disappeared whilst on holiday with her parents and siblings in Portugal. That little girl touched my heart, and following her story has, in many ways, changed my view of the world.
We all know her name, everybody on the planet knows Madeleine's name. The media furore which surrounded her disappearance was unprecedented, and will go down in history as the catalyst which sparked massive debate about the media, the power of the internet, and freedom of speech itself.
The intricate ins and outs of this case are widely available to those who wish to dig a little deeper than what's reported in the mainstream press. Following the case has certainly been an eye opener for me, in terms of discovering the shocking reality about how much the public can be manipulated by the press. Thank goodness information can be disseminated globally via Google and internet fora. For anybody who is interested, it doesn't take long to compare and contrast what's reported in the main stream press, to what's actually (and factually) documented in the witness satements contained in the Police Files, which were released to the media when the case was (prematurely) shelved back in 2008. More interesting to discover, is what's not been reported in the mainstream press.
My heart breaks for a little girl who was let down by those closest to her, and then again let down by the prodigious 'machine' which was created in her image. The person who needed help most has been forgotten amidst the PR, litigation and mud slinging from both sides of the fence.
Many books have been written about Madeleine's case, books which look at both sides of the story. But, one of these books 'The Truth of the Lie', written by the former Investigation Coordinator, Goncalo Amaral, has been temporarily banned from sale (pending a trial) following an injunction brought by Madeleine's parents.
Why?
Their argument, is that the conclusions in the book are detrimental to the search for their little girl, because he reproduces the theory that she most probably died in the holiday apartment, and that her death was covered up by her parents.
Now, whether or not these conclusions are correct, is entirely a matter of interpretation. The book details the police investigation as it was experienced by Amaral himself, as well as those in the team of detectives with whom he was working. It doesn't profess to be the gospel. It is a man relaying his own experience of the case, and the conclusions that he and his team arrived at.
Do we not all have the right to document our feelings and experiences as we lived and breathed them?
This is, after all, just one mans summary of the investigation. It's not fabricated or embelished, it sticks closely to the information in the police files. So why has it been banned?
Do we not all have the right to question certain events, and the way in which are presented to us? Are we not allowed to ask questions and demand honest and truthful answers?
How does one book stop people wanting to get to the bottom of what happened to Madeleine? Surely we should consider ALL possibilities, not just the one her parents insist we should believe?
Of course we should!
Today is the Anniversary of the Carnation Revolution in Portugal. It's the anniverary of a day upon which freedom and civil liberties were peacefully restored to an entire nation.
It's a day for celebrating freedom of speech and freedom of expression.
Nobody should be gagged for voicing an opinion. Even if others find their opinions abhorrant, they are still entitled to them.
As for the case itself, I wonder if we'll ever really know what happened. That little girl no longer has a voice, so it's up to others to speak up on her behalf. And it's up to us, the public, to listen to all the arguments, and draw our own informed conclusions.
There are two sides to every argument. I'm glad to be living in a day and age where I have the capacity and the tools which enable me to look behind the media spin, and make up my own mind.
Forca Portugal!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A Narcissistic Sociopath
I was sitting with my therapist the other day. We were (as usual) discussing my ex and the book I have just written 'Web of Lies - My Life with a Narcissist.' She made an interesting observation.
She told me that although she's never met my ex, she would describe him as a 'Narcissistic Sociopath'. This description actually send shivers down my spine. I'm no psychiatrist, but the word 'sociopath' is scary to me. It conjures up visions of Ted Bundy or Charles Manson. Surely I didn't marry one of those?
My therapist smiled and tried to reassure me. As with all personality disorders, there are varying degrees of each. And it's perfectly possible for a person to suffer 'complex personality disorders', which to you and me, means there is an overlapping of disorders.
She got me thinking, so I researched a bit about APD (Antisocial Personality Disorder) and was amazed to discover the similarity with NPD.
Put the two together, and you surely have a recipe for disaster.
No wonder my shrink can't wait to get her hands on the book!
Profile of a Sociopath
* Glibness and Superficial Charm
* Manipulative and Conning
They never recognize the rights of others and see their self-serving behaviors as permissible. They appear to be charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victim as merely an instrument to be used. They may dominate and humiliate their victims.
* Grandiose Sense of Self
Feels entitled to certain things as "their right."
* Pathological Lying
Has no problem lying coolly and easily and it is almost impossible for them to be truthful on a consistent basis. Can create, and get caught up in, a complex belief about their own powers and abilities. Extremely convincing and even able to pass lie detector tests.
* Lack of Remorse, Shame or Guilt
A deep seated rage, which is split off and repressed, is at their core. Does not see others around them as people, but only as targets and opportunities. Instead of friends, they have victims and accomplices who end up as victims. The end always justifies the means and they let nothing stand in their way.
* Shallow Emotions
When they show what seems to be warmth, joy, love and compassion it is more feigned than experienced and serves an ulterior motive. Outraged by insignificant matters, yet remaining unmoved and cold by what would upset a normal person. Since they are not genuine, neither are their promises.
* Incapacity for Love
* Need for Stimulation
Living on the edge. Verbal outbursts and physical punishments are normal. Promiscuity and gambling are common.
* Callousness/Lack of Empathy
Unable to empathize with the pain of their victims, having only contempt for others' feelings of distress and readily taking advantage of them.
* Poor Behavioral Controls/Impulsive Nature
Rage and abuse, alternating with small expressions of love and approval produce an addictive cycle for abuser and abused, as well as creating hopelessness in the victim. Believe they are all-powerful, all-knowing, entitled to every wish, no sense of personal boundaries, no concern for their impact on others.
* Early Behavior Problems/Juvenile Delinquency
Usually has a history of behavioral and academic difficulties, yet "gets by" by conning others. Problems in making and keeping friends; aberrant behaviors such as cruelty to people or animals, stealing, etc.
* Irresponsibility/Unreliability
Not concerned about wrecking others' lives and dreams. Oblivious or indifferent to the devastation they cause. Does not accept blame themselves, but blames others, even for acts they obviously committed.
* Promiscuous Sexual Behavior/Infidelity
Promiscuity, child sexual abuse, rape and sexual acting out of all sorts.
* Lack of Realistic Life Plan/Parasitic Lifestyle
Tends to move around a lot or makes all encompassing promises for the future, poor work ethic but exploits others effectively.
* Criminal or Entrepreneurial Versatility
Changes their image as needed to avoid prosecution. Changes life story readily.
Other Related Qualities:
1. Contemptuous of those who seek to understand them
2. Does not perceive that anything is wrong with them
3. Authoritarian
4. Secretive
5. Paranoid
6. Only rarely in difficulty with the law, but seeks out situations where their tyrannical behavior will be tolerated, condoned, or admired
7. Conventional appearance
8. Goal of enslavement of their victim(s)
9. Exercises despotic control over every aspect of the victim's life
10. Has an emotional need to justify their crimes and therefore needs their victim's affirmation (respect, gratitude and love)
11. Ultimate goal is the creation of a willing victim
12. Incapable of real human attachment to another
13. Unable to feel remorse or guilt
14. Extreme narcissism and grandiose
15. May state readily that their goal is to rule the world
(The above traits are based on the psychopathy checklists of H. Cleckley and R. Hare.)
For more information go here
She told me that although she's never met my ex, she would describe him as a 'Narcissistic Sociopath'. This description actually send shivers down my spine. I'm no psychiatrist, but the word 'sociopath' is scary to me. It conjures up visions of Ted Bundy or Charles Manson. Surely I didn't marry one of those?
My therapist smiled and tried to reassure me. As with all personality disorders, there are varying degrees of each. And it's perfectly possible for a person to suffer 'complex personality disorders', which to you and me, means there is an overlapping of disorders.
She got me thinking, so I researched a bit about APD (Antisocial Personality Disorder) and was amazed to discover the similarity with NPD.
Put the two together, and you surely have a recipe for disaster.
No wonder my shrink can't wait to get her hands on the book!
Profile of a Sociopath
* Glibness and Superficial Charm
* Manipulative and Conning
They never recognize the rights of others and see their self-serving behaviors as permissible. They appear to be charming, yet are covertly hostile and domineering, seeing their victim as merely an instrument to be used. They may dominate and humiliate their victims.
* Grandiose Sense of Self
Feels entitled to certain things as "their right."
* Pathological Lying
Has no problem lying coolly and easily and it is almost impossible for them to be truthful on a consistent basis. Can create, and get caught up in, a complex belief about their own powers and abilities. Extremely convincing and even able to pass lie detector tests.
* Lack of Remorse, Shame or Guilt
A deep seated rage, which is split off and repressed, is at their core. Does not see others around them as people, but only as targets and opportunities. Instead of friends, they have victims and accomplices who end up as victims. The end always justifies the means and they let nothing stand in their way.
* Shallow Emotions
When they show what seems to be warmth, joy, love and compassion it is more feigned than experienced and serves an ulterior motive. Outraged by insignificant matters, yet remaining unmoved and cold by what would upset a normal person. Since they are not genuine, neither are their promises.
* Incapacity for Love
* Need for Stimulation
Living on the edge. Verbal outbursts and physical punishments are normal. Promiscuity and gambling are common.
* Callousness/Lack of Empathy
Unable to empathize with the pain of their victims, having only contempt for others' feelings of distress and readily taking advantage of them.
* Poor Behavioral Controls/Impulsive Nature
Rage and abuse, alternating with small expressions of love and approval produce an addictive cycle for abuser and abused, as well as creating hopelessness in the victim. Believe they are all-powerful, all-knowing, entitled to every wish, no sense of personal boundaries, no concern for their impact on others.
* Early Behavior Problems/Juvenile Delinquency
Usually has a history of behavioral and academic difficulties, yet "gets by" by conning others. Problems in making and keeping friends; aberrant behaviors such as cruelty to people or animals, stealing, etc.
* Irresponsibility/Unreliability
Not concerned about wrecking others' lives and dreams. Oblivious or indifferent to the devastation they cause. Does not accept blame themselves, but blames others, even for acts they obviously committed.
* Promiscuous Sexual Behavior/Infidelity
Promiscuity, child sexual abuse, rape and sexual acting out of all sorts.
* Lack of Realistic Life Plan/Parasitic Lifestyle
Tends to move around a lot or makes all encompassing promises for the future, poor work ethic but exploits others effectively.
* Criminal or Entrepreneurial Versatility
Changes their image as needed to avoid prosecution. Changes life story readily.
Other Related Qualities:
1. Contemptuous of those who seek to understand them
2. Does not perceive that anything is wrong with them
3. Authoritarian
4. Secretive
5. Paranoid
6. Only rarely in difficulty with the law, but seeks out situations where their tyrannical behavior will be tolerated, condoned, or admired
7. Conventional appearance
8. Goal of enslavement of their victim(s)
9. Exercises despotic control over every aspect of the victim's life
10. Has an emotional need to justify their crimes and therefore needs their victim's affirmation (respect, gratitude and love)
11. Ultimate goal is the creation of a willing victim
12. Incapable of real human attachment to another
13. Unable to feel remorse or guilt
14. Extreme narcissism and grandiose
15. May state readily that their goal is to rule the world
(The above traits are based on the psychopathy checklists of H. Cleckley and R. Hare.)
For more information go here
Jogging to beat depression.
Many of us have, at some time in our lives, suffered from some form of depression. I was diagnosed with the illness almost two years after the birth of my second daughter. To this day I'm unsure whether or no I was suffering from post natal depression, or just plain old depression, but either way the illness is and incredibly debilitating one. My symptoms were varied. On the physical side it was headaches, sleeplessness, loss of appetite, loss of libido. On the emotional side it was an extremely short temper, confusion, crying,and a general loss of interest in me and a feeling of failing as a mother. The worst thing though was the inextricable fear that I would somehow hurt my kids. Not deliberately, but simply by putting them in danger due
due to my lack of attention span. It was probably a completely irrational fear but it made me feel so insecure that I finally went to seek treatment. My doctor gaveme the standard medical treatment, but also referred me for therapy. It was my therapist who recommended jogging. I must admit that at this time I wasn't and avid jogger. I wasn't unfit by any means though. I had a cross trainer at home which I used regularly, but as the psychologist pointed out, you need to take exercise away from your home environment when you are depressed. Jogging go me out of the house, away from my family and allowed me to take some 'me time'.
At first it wasn't easy. I ran in short twenty minute burst and slowly built it up to forty/forty five minutes. This may not seem like much but it was the first time I was able to get out of the house and away from all my responsibilities to just concentrate on me.
Within a couple of weeks I was already starting to feel better. I looked forward to getting my running shoes on, plugging in my Ipod and just running away the stresses of the day.
Jogging for me has become a therapy. It's a well documented fact that exercise helps to fight depression, and I am testimony to that. When I stop exercising, I start to get low again.
Now, I'm not saying that everybody should do aerobics until they drop, but a nice, steady flow of cardiovascular exercise like walking, jogging, biking, or another form of low impact exercise is an excellent way to manage the symptoms of depression, while also promoting a healthy blood pressure level, a healthy heart, and bodily strength and endurance.
Yoga, forms of slow dance, tai chi, and other meditation-type exercise is also an excellent way to manage stress, anxiety and depression. These types of meditative exercises promote healthy bodily functions, a healthy state of mind, and mental focus, which are key factors in supporting a healthy sense of well being and peace.
Inactivity is one of the biggest perpetuators of depression and anxiety. The human body was designed to be in frequent motion, not to sit all day. So if you find you are inactive for any reason, go, get a drink of water, walk some stairs, or take a little walk outside whenever you get the opportunity. You'll be amazed by what physical activity will do for your mental state.
due to my lack of attention span. It was probably a completely irrational fear but it made me feel so insecure that I finally went to seek treatment. My doctor gaveme the standard medical treatment, but also referred me for therapy. It was my therapist who recommended jogging. I must admit that at this time I wasn't and avid jogger. I wasn't unfit by any means though. I had a cross trainer at home which I used regularly, but as the psychologist pointed out, you need to take exercise away from your home environment when you are depressed. Jogging go me out of the house, away from my family and allowed me to take some 'me time'.
At first it wasn't easy. I ran in short twenty minute burst and slowly built it up to forty/forty five minutes. This may not seem like much but it was the first time I was able to get out of the house and away from all my responsibilities to just concentrate on me.
Within a couple of weeks I was already starting to feel better. I looked forward to getting my running shoes on, plugging in my Ipod and just running away the stresses of the day.
Jogging for me has become a therapy. It's a well documented fact that exercise helps to fight depression, and I am testimony to that. When I stop exercising, I start to get low again.
Now, I'm not saying that everybody should do aerobics until they drop, but a nice, steady flow of cardiovascular exercise like walking, jogging, biking, or another form of low impact exercise is an excellent way to manage the symptoms of depression, while also promoting a healthy blood pressure level, a healthy heart, and bodily strength and endurance.
Yoga, forms of slow dance, tai chi, and other meditation-type exercise is also an excellent way to manage stress, anxiety and depression. These types of meditative exercises promote healthy bodily functions, a healthy state of mind, and mental focus, which are key factors in supporting a healthy sense of well being and peace.
Inactivity is one of the biggest perpetuators of depression and anxiety. The human body was designed to be in frequent motion, not to sit all day. So if you find you are inactive for any reason, go, get a drink of water, walk some stairs, or take a little walk outside whenever you get the opportunity. You'll be amazed by what physical activity will do for your mental state.
This is it
Here's a short story I wrote a couple of years ago. Just trying my hand really, before I got into the serious writing.
Would love to know what you think :-)
This is it.......
He knew it was close now, he could feel it all around him, drawing him, slowly but surely forwards. There was no going back from this point, and he felt no fear, just resigned acceptance of his fate.
Surprising how lucid he felt, his mind remained agile and free, skipping from one recollection to the next, up and down and all around, he was quite enjoying this final ride.
It was easier to keep his eyes closed, because then he could see for miles and with such clarity. When he tried to open his eyes all he could see was the halogen light above the bed, the watery profiles of the nurses, and the blurred yet visibly distressed faces of his loved ones. No, it was much better to keep them closed, and enjoy the views from the inside.
Suddenly he was surrounded by the familiar smell of summer, there was a warm breeze on his face, and the sun was beating down on his skin. He looked and saw the playing field with the children's playground in the distance, and he knew he had returned home, to that never forgotten place. He savoured the moment, inhaling the smell of fresh cut grass, looking at the dandelions on the kerbside. She was here, next to him on the bench, and she was smiling that wistful smile of hers, oh how he'd longed to see that beauty just one more time.
They would sit here for hours, it was their own special place. Here they could enjoy their time alone, putting the world to rights, sharing their dreams and aspirations. Young love in it's purest form, they had made plans whilst sitting on this bench, it was here that they laid down the foundations for their future life together.He had called her 'Treasure', for that's what she was to him, his very own pot of gold. He could never get tired of looking at her face, the flawless beauty of it, and he could listen to her voice for hours, the softly spoken yet determined words which fell from her mouth. She would sing to him sometimes, and he could hear her voice now, clear and enchanting, it was music to his ears.
Their wedding day had been the happiest of his life. She had radiated beauty, and he had felt as though he were the luckiest man alive. Life after the wedding hadn't always been easy. His job was demanding and not the best paid. He'd spent time away on business but she had never complained. She had poured her energy into making their home a special and loving place. The connection they had to one another was a once in a lifetime occurrence, it was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and had made him into the person he was.
And the laughter, how much they had laughed together! Her sense of humour was one of the things which he'd always found so endearing about her. She had the capacity to laugh at herself, and to find the brighter side of any situation. She had seemed to know him inside out, she had known exactly what made him tick. She had been his soul mate, his Treasure.
Just briefly, he opened his eyes. Shimmering, a face was in front of him. He tried to focus, for a brief second came recognition, it was his granddaughter.
Now he was back inside their home, the small terraced house not far from the city centre. He could see the furnishings, that old three piece suit with the threadbare arms, the gramophone in the corner of the room. They'd spent many hours listening to records played on that machine. He could smell the cake she'd baked that morning, and he felt the familiar rush of pain and fear.......he was back in 'that day' again.
He tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy now, he was right back there. The fear began to rise, he was powerless to stop it.
He heard the car pull up outside before it actually happened. He'd replayed this moment in nightmares over many years, but now he was actually here again, in the moment, re-living every detail.
Somehow his leaden legs carried him into the hallway, past the gleaming new perambulator she'd insisted they purchase as soon as her pregnancy had entered it's fourth month, three months previously. His hand was reaching for the door but he was willing it to stop, the door opened, and there stood the policeman. He never did remember that young mans name, but the face was etched on his memory. That look, a mixture of apprehension, pity and nerves.
Again, his eyes were open,just briefly. He became aware of a man in white, a doctor maybe, and behind him, a black shirt with a dog collar, but no face.
Now he was back, standing in the hospital corridor, hands shaking, heart pounding. The swing doors opened, and out walked a nurse, she met his eyes, but walked straight past. How long had he been standing here? he glanced at his watch, half past nine, when did he get here? How did he get here?
And then the doors opened again, and he sees the doctor, still wearing scrubs. Time stands still as the doctor approaches. He starts to speak but there are no words, just the motion of his lips.
'critical'
'head injury'
'surgery'
'blood loss'
'baby'
Oh the baby, what about the baby? He comes to his senses as he feels the weight of the doctors hand on his arm. His lips are still moving...
'I need to know Mr Wright, I realise this is an impossibly hard decision for you, but if we don't take action now, we'll lose them both'
His head is swimming, his emotions overloaded. He recalls her excitement when she discovered she was pregnant, the elation in her eyes. She had involved him every step of the way, sharing her thoughts and her feelings with him. Holding his hand to her stomach as it grew, talking to him about the future as three.
He found himself nodding, just nodding, a wordless nod of the head, it was all he could muster. The doctor understood and turned away, he rushed back through the double doors.
Then there was darkness, but sound, as if from a distance, muffled voices....
'It won't be long now, he's comfortable'
Somebody was weeping.
Back in the corridor, he silence surrounded him, he was standing alone, wrapped in pain and loss. He was shivering, from the inside out, he knew it was over now, a light had gone out inside him, he just needed confirmation.
As he turned to the doors they opened once more, the doctor in the scrubs, beads of sweat on his brow. He walked slowly this time, head slightly bowed.
Behind the doctor, a nurse followed, walking slowly, her face full of compassion and hope. In her arms she carried a green bundle, a tiny form wrapped in layers of surgical blanket. As she drew nearer he could see a little pink face, eyes open and searching, they fixed on him, and in that moment he knew there was hope.
Familiar voices now, his son was close. He could no longer make out the words, but he felt the presence, and felt great comfort and peace.
In the hospital once more, the doctor in scrubs is leading him into the side room, the lights are dimmed, there is nothing but silence. His legs are shaking, he struggles to breathe, panic is rising. He knows what he's about to see, he's been here countless times, the lifeless shell, the beautiful form so familiar, yet now devoid, he can't bring himself to look again, he can't stand the weight of the pain any more.
His eyes are closed but he senses something different this time, the doctor is still leading him forward to the bed, yet suddenly the fear is gone. She's there, lying before him, his eyes are open, yet what he sees is not the battered and bruised form which has haunted him all these years. Light floods in all around him, warmth is radiating from the bed, he is drawn closer and closer to her, as she lies motionless.
He reaches out to her one last time, tears are burning his cheeks now. This overwhelming longing he feels, to touch her once again, to say goodbye once again. And has he reaches the bed, and looks down at her perfect features, her flawless beauty, the woman he loves, she opens her eyes, and she smiles that wistful smile. He's home at last.
In the distance, he hears his son weep once more.
Would love to know what you think :-)
This is it.......
He knew it was close now, he could feel it all around him, drawing him, slowly but surely forwards. There was no going back from this point, and he felt no fear, just resigned acceptance of his fate.
Surprising how lucid he felt, his mind remained agile and free, skipping from one recollection to the next, up and down and all around, he was quite enjoying this final ride.
It was easier to keep his eyes closed, because then he could see for miles and with such clarity. When he tried to open his eyes all he could see was the halogen light above the bed, the watery profiles of the nurses, and the blurred yet visibly distressed faces of his loved ones. No, it was much better to keep them closed, and enjoy the views from the inside.
Suddenly he was surrounded by the familiar smell of summer, there was a warm breeze on his face, and the sun was beating down on his skin. He looked and saw the playing field with the children's playground in the distance, and he knew he had returned home, to that never forgotten place. He savoured the moment, inhaling the smell of fresh cut grass, looking at the dandelions on the kerbside. She was here, next to him on the bench, and she was smiling that wistful smile of hers, oh how he'd longed to see that beauty just one more time.
They would sit here for hours, it was their own special place. Here they could enjoy their time alone, putting the world to rights, sharing their dreams and aspirations. Young love in it's purest form, they had made plans whilst sitting on this bench, it was here that they laid down the foundations for their future life together.He had called her 'Treasure', for that's what she was to him, his very own pot of gold. He could never get tired of looking at her face, the flawless beauty of it, and he could listen to her voice for hours, the softly spoken yet determined words which fell from her mouth. She would sing to him sometimes, and he could hear her voice now, clear and enchanting, it was music to his ears.
Their wedding day had been the happiest of his life. She had radiated beauty, and he had felt as though he were the luckiest man alive. Life after the wedding hadn't always been easy. His job was demanding and not the best paid. He'd spent time away on business but she had never complained. She had poured her energy into making their home a special and loving place. The connection they had to one another was a once in a lifetime occurrence, it was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and had made him into the person he was.
And the laughter, how much they had laughed together! Her sense of humour was one of the things which he'd always found so endearing about her. She had the capacity to laugh at herself, and to find the brighter side of any situation. She had seemed to know him inside out, she had known exactly what made him tick. She had been his soul mate, his Treasure.
Just briefly, he opened his eyes. Shimmering, a face was in front of him. He tried to focus, for a brief second came recognition, it was his granddaughter.
Now he was back inside their home, the small terraced house not far from the city centre. He could see the furnishings, that old three piece suit with the threadbare arms, the gramophone in the corner of the room. They'd spent many hours listening to records played on that machine. He could smell the cake she'd baked that morning, and he felt the familiar rush of pain and fear.......he was back in 'that day' again.
He tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy now, he was right back there. The fear began to rise, he was powerless to stop it.
He heard the car pull up outside before it actually happened. He'd replayed this moment in nightmares over many years, but now he was actually here again, in the moment, re-living every detail.
Somehow his leaden legs carried him into the hallway, past the gleaming new perambulator she'd insisted they purchase as soon as her pregnancy had entered it's fourth month, three months previously. His hand was reaching for the door but he was willing it to stop, the door opened, and there stood the policeman. He never did remember that young mans name, but the face was etched on his memory. That look, a mixture of apprehension, pity and nerves.
Again, his eyes were open,just briefly. He became aware of a man in white, a doctor maybe, and behind him, a black shirt with a dog collar, but no face.
Now he was back, standing in the hospital corridor, hands shaking, heart pounding. The swing doors opened, and out walked a nurse, she met his eyes, but walked straight past. How long had he been standing here? he glanced at his watch, half past nine, when did he get here? How did he get here?
And then the doors opened again, and he sees the doctor, still wearing scrubs. Time stands still as the doctor approaches. He starts to speak but there are no words, just the motion of his lips.
'critical'
'head injury'
'surgery'
'blood loss'
'baby'
Oh the baby, what about the baby? He comes to his senses as he feels the weight of the doctors hand on his arm. His lips are still moving...
'I need to know Mr Wright, I realise this is an impossibly hard decision for you, but if we don't take action now, we'll lose them both'
His head is swimming, his emotions overloaded. He recalls her excitement when she discovered she was pregnant, the elation in her eyes. She had involved him every step of the way, sharing her thoughts and her feelings with him. Holding his hand to her stomach as it grew, talking to him about the future as three.
He found himself nodding, just nodding, a wordless nod of the head, it was all he could muster. The doctor understood and turned away, he rushed back through the double doors.
Then there was darkness, but sound, as if from a distance, muffled voices....
'It won't be long now, he's comfortable'
Somebody was weeping.
Back in the corridor, he silence surrounded him, he was standing alone, wrapped in pain and loss. He was shivering, from the inside out, he knew it was over now, a light had gone out inside him, he just needed confirmation.
As he turned to the doors they opened once more, the doctor in the scrubs, beads of sweat on his brow. He walked slowly this time, head slightly bowed.
Behind the doctor, a nurse followed, walking slowly, her face full of compassion and hope. In her arms she carried a green bundle, a tiny form wrapped in layers of surgical blanket. As she drew nearer he could see a little pink face, eyes open and searching, they fixed on him, and in that moment he knew there was hope.
Familiar voices now, his son was close. He could no longer make out the words, but he felt the presence, and felt great comfort and peace.
In the hospital once more, the doctor in scrubs is leading him into the side room, the lights are dimmed, there is nothing but silence. His legs are shaking, he struggles to breathe, panic is rising. He knows what he's about to see, he's been here countless times, the lifeless shell, the beautiful form so familiar, yet now devoid, he can't bring himself to look again, he can't stand the weight of the pain any more.
His eyes are closed but he senses something different this time, the doctor is still leading him forward to the bed, yet suddenly the fear is gone. She's there, lying before him, his eyes are open, yet what he sees is not the battered and bruised form which has haunted him all these years. Light floods in all around him, warmth is radiating from the bed, he is drawn closer and closer to her, as she lies motionless.
He reaches out to her one last time, tears are burning his cheeks now. This overwhelming longing he feels, to touch her once again, to say goodbye once again. And has he reaches the bed, and looks down at her perfect features, her flawless beauty, the woman he loves, she opens her eyes, and she smiles that wistful smile. He's home at last.
In the distance, he hears his son weep once more.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Book publishing......
....is no mean feat. You need patience, as I'm learning.
Writing a book whilst working part time, is pretty tough too.
Writing a book whilst working part time, and looking for another job simultaneously, is pretty demanding also.
Add to that three small people who need constant attention, love and nurturing (24/7 - not part time) and you find things start to get pretty stressful.
Do I want a medal?
Too bloody right I do!!
OK, maybe not a medal....but a publishing deal would be nice ;-)
I'm under no illusions about how long this road I'm on actually is. Writing the book was but the first step. I'm now engaging in the 'touting' of the manuscript to prospective agents. This can be a laborious process, but let's call it a labour of love, for my goal is clear.
The story must be told! The story WILL be told!
The feedback I'm getting so far is spurring me on. For that, I thank the readers heartily.
It's nice to know there is a potential market out there. True stories tend to be popular, don't they? We're all fascinated in the (mis)fortunes of others.
I read 'Web of Lies - My Life with a Narcissist' from start to finish on Monday this week. It was the first time I'd actually read the whole lot in one sitting. I found it emotionally draining, seeing it all condensed like that.
This is no doubt because I'm still very close to the whole thing. Time helps, but in cases like this you need a great deal of time, and energy, to recover.
I'm composing the epilogue right now. This book needs an epilogue. The readers need to know what has happened to us in the time since the end of narcissist rule of our lives.
But it's entirely possible that the epilogue to Web of Lies could turn into a book of it's own.
Now there's something to ponder!
In the meantime, let me tell you that the epilogue to Web of Lies is a positive one.
It's far from a 'happy ever after', who gets those in real life?
But 'misery memoir' this is not, be sure of that.
Getting it published is currently my main goal.
If, once published, I can bring the subject of NPD out for wider debate and recognition, then I've achieved another major goal. If I can actually help other people who've found themselves in this kind of extraordinary relationship, then I'm entirely satisfied.
Watch this space. It's all happening in the background.
S x
Writing a book whilst working part time, is pretty tough too.
Writing a book whilst working part time, and looking for another job simultaneously, is pretty demanding also.
Add to that three small people who need constant attention, love and nurturing (24/7 - not part time) and you find things start to get pretty stressful.
Do I want a medal?
Too bloody right I do!!
OK, maybe not a medal....but a publishing deal would be nice ;-)
I'm under no illusions about how long this road I'm on actually is. Writing the book was but the first step. I'm now engaging in the 'touting' of the manuscript to prospective agents. This can be a laborious process, but let's call it a labour of love, for my goal is clear.
The story must be told! The story WILL be told!
The feedback I'm getting so far is spurring me on. For that, I thank the readers heartily.
It's nice to know there is a potential market out there. True stories tend to be popular, don't they? We're all fascinated in the (mis)fortunes of others.
I read 'Web of Lies - My Life with a Narcissist' from start to finish on Monday this week. It was the first time I'd actually read the whole lot in one sitting. I found it emotionally draining, seeing it all condensed like that.
This is no doubt because I'm still very close to the whole thing. Time helps, but in cases like this you need a great deal of time, and energy, to recover.
I'm composing the epilogue right now. This book needs an epilogue. The readers need to know what has happened to us in the time since the end of narcissist rule of our lives.
But it's entirely possible that the epilogue to Web of Lies could turn into a book of it's own.
Now there's something to ponder!
In the meantime, let me tell you that the epilogue to Web of Lies is a positive one.
It's far from a 'happy ever after', who gets those in real life?
But 'misery memoir' this is not, be sure of that.
Getting it published is currently my main goal.
If, once published, I can bring the subject of NPD out for wider debate and recognition, then I've achieved another major goal. If I can actually help other people who've found themselves in this kind of extraordinary relationship, then I'm entirely satisfied.
Watch this space. It's all happening in the background.
S x
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