(or how the childhood trauma of narcissism affects the rest of your life)
Once I was a little girl
and you were my everything:
My safety, my rock,
my strength and my pride.
Bitter tasted the knowledge
that I was not everything to you.
To you, I was nothing, I had no right to exist,
and my world came crashing down.
Everyone hung on your every word,
no one believed (in) me.
I was blamed for it all,
it certainly wasn't your fault.
Once I was convinced that I had freed myself,
freed from the constraints of my youth.
The world beckoned and I went,
in full devotion to my future.
And there you were again,
In a different capacity, I met you again.
You were younger than before, more beautiful, more convincing....
And I, I was determined to make the right choices.
Because I wasn't going to fail,
I was going to be happy!
So I gave you my everything,
my love, my money, my strength.
Bitter tasted the knowledge
that you didn't have the same devotion in you....
That wasn't the deal,
that wasn't what you promised.
Your time and attention went to others,
money you accumulated only for yourself, our children you saw as your property.
My world came crashing down, and I... I failed....
for myself, for our children, for our families.
Once I was convinced
that you were human somewhere,
that with time you would become reasonable,
that you would understand the importance of peace.
Peace for you, for me, for our family,
and especially for our children.
But nothing was further from the truth,
it became a war... a real battlefield.
Everyone hung on your every word,
no one believed (in) me.
I was blamed for it all,
it certainly wasn't your fault.
Your battle is not over yet,
For I am not yet completely destroyed.
Your hunger for power and control has not yet been satisfied,
your smear campaign not yet ended.
What shall I do? Do I still dare to enter the world?
Do I dare to risk living? And perhaps fail again?
The risk of running into you again....
older, more successful, more persuasive....
It feels like a dichotomy,
a splintering in my whole being.
My heart wants to, but my heart is broken.
My head wants to, but my head weighs heavy with memories.
My body wants to, but my body relives traumas.
My soul does want... my soul has a longing....
A longing for connection, a glance, an exuberant smile,
a deep conversation, a hug, a comforting shoulder.
Let me have the courage to start again 1 more time,
try one more time to be happy.
Here I go, against all your odds,
the wind in my hair, the rain on my face and hope in my heart.
Leaf