Healing is never a rollercoaster. It's sitting on your couch in the middle of a demolition derby, hoping you don't get slammed in the next moment.

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My life partner, who suffers from NPD, struggles.  She's attempting to heal using various methods from functional health to diet to riding her mountain bike in a higher gear on the good days.  She may be using illegal compounds but she has a group of friends and associates who get triggered by the use of the word "psychedelic" so she writes in silly code language.

Her friends should get on the mental health bus.  Morons.

Anyway, I empathize with my ex.  I suffer too.

I am surrounded by damaged people now, including myself.  We measure ourselves on a difference scale than hers.  And we define functional health as searching for the cause of neurological damage. Not taking supplements or using the $299 massage tool of the day.

What's our scoring metric?

Here's the most common one: was I able to get out of bed today?  

Another benchmark: what is the current tempo of my endless tears?

A third: my friends are suffering.  Was I able to answer their calls for help?  Mostly I can't...but when I don't, I measure myself against a backup--was I able to respond to let them know that I'm paralyzed, but that I love and care about them?

I fail on these three scales, and even the backup, every single day.  Stupid blog posts or temporarily lost cats set me back for weeks or months.

I apologize to my deeply wounded colleagues struggling for a good moment now and then.  I am so sorry, those of you who hope I'll begin to show up as the happy strong person they once knew.

These friends are all wrestling in the dark with their own losses.  I know they understand.  They ask about my pain, and I ask about theirs.  

They never offer platitudes or cliches.  

They know we won't "get through this." 

They are not going anywhere.  

Under my sheets, at 3:45 on a weekday afternoon, they allow me care for myself without worrying they'll desert me.

Why did I fall in love with someone who has never waited for anyone else when they fell down?  Who blames the victim 100% of the time, with 100% certainty that this is the first time.

This is where the trash heap behind a narcissist's trail of terror ends up.  Trauma.  Anxiety.  Depression.  Curled up in a ball under the sheets, alone.

Afraid of other humans and the sadistic pain some of them knowingly cause while they adjust their bike gear, cut back on chocolate, and publish their weekly blood test results.  

Thank you for your teachings, and your optimism, my life partner.  I believe you will prevail and heal, though it does appear, this time, that your adrenal system has alerted you that it's had enough. 

I am certain that you will never look behind you.  Wise, because we're all still standing here, healing together.  The wounded living and the silent dead.  Your detritus.

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