Chapter 4: Heart on Camera Lens

“The Mark”

Fiction. Based on a True Narcissist Triangulation. 22 minute read

“It’s like a survival time capsule. Every song is about an emotional state…the things we were working through emotionally…If I didn’t have that, if we weren’t doing that, I’m not sure what would’ve happened to us.” -HOTTMT

“Mark”

Fiction. Based on a True Narcissist Triangulation.

Dear A,

I was just a mark for you. Someone you wanted to close. To take off my clothes. You succeeded. Next, when I have proven to you that I can be naked, vulnerable, and penetrable, your next move was to take my sight off of the dream so I can invest my retirement in your get rich quick scheme of things.

“Liquidate,” you kept saying.

“Don’t be scurred,” you said.

“Send me noodz,” you said.

You did not believe me when I said that I was falling for you.

I was falling for the artist, that sliver of hope, that I saw the day after our love making.

You were naked, strumming on the guitar, strumming your pain with your fingers, and singing apologies that your tight suit and tight mask could not express.

I knew you felt bad for the first double bind.

Testing me to see if I would allow you to penetrate without protection, then giving me the pill for sanitation.

You fed your lust upon me then you wanted to poison my body so you can get rid of the stain of your infidelity.

For you had me thinking that we were dating, when the whole time you were telling another woman how much you love her and still love her, celebrating your seven year anniversary, while she is wearing your promise ring, with the promise you violated when you kept insisting that I spend those many nights with you, like some call girl, you could just call when you want to feel needed.

That one night, in between dreams, I saw you reach out to me when I was getting out of bed and into your bathroom. You grasped my arm, begging me to stay, saying to me, “How much do I owe you?”

Many lifetimes, Mr. Predator, many lifetimes, that’s how much. You can not repay the debt you owe the women you have broken your promises to, including the woman in your heart you had set me up to hurt.

You are unaware of the Shadow Id of your unconscious, you are unaware that you are on pleasure island, turning into a jackass, that has been so glamorized in mainstream media. The half-man is celebrated in the heart of Babylon, this chimera is both a victim and a perpetrator. The victim is unaware that there is a predator behind his back, an access portal for daemons to remotely control to create havoc. They have this access despite you believing in Jesus Christ, because it’s the act that creates the pact and sin gives an open door to daemons to come stay in your house and order you around without your awareness.

So you ask me how much you owe me, then months later, after no contact, you reach out to me again, and insist that I was more to you than just a mistress because a mistress you would have paid. The only difference was I stayed silent when you offered to pay. Just because you did not pay me does not make the adultery go away. Just because you lied to me about your single status does not make me free of the stains of sin and my presence as a source of hurt towards the woman you have made promises to. She, the woman you claim who has saved your life, and I are now soul-tied by the same fluid you have penetrated in both of us.

Whether I like it or not, I am tied in this love triangle based on the white lies you have taken the liberty to make, perhaps out of convenience, perhaps out of short term self-serving pleasure. And I played the young naive girl once again, but this role I have also outgrown. Sure, you can lie to yourself and me by saying that the girl we have complicity hurt is, “immature.” Yet it is you and I who committed adultery isn’t it? Who is really the spiritually immature and sick ones? That would be you and I–the “Christians.”

“Maybe there’s somebody better for me,” you say to me.

You’re probably better for me. You say. Sweet words to my ego’s ears.

Yet.

Even if I were “better” than her and accepted you into my bosom, then I am accepting a man who breaks promises, a man who jumps ship with the going gets tough, so really, I’m not accepting a man at all, but a man-boy, or a half-man. Even if you did hop over to the newer, shinier, seemingly more promising person for you, wouldn’t that make me, by choice and by action, a worse off woman? Both spiritually, morally, and in standards, thereby making me lesser than her?

You thought that if I had liquidated my retirement and invested it in your “profitable” business, you would somehow do me a favor. You had somehow convinced yourself that if I gave you money, then that would prove that I love you. In your world, love is doing for people, rather than just being for people. I get that mentality really well. For a long time, I was operating on that mentality. This is an epigenetic inheritance that was passed down in biology to us when our ancestors survived the devastations of war.

When I flew to Europe in search of how to integrate my dark feminine shadow, you kept calling me to come back to LA. Why? So you can fit me in your ambitions while discarding the dreams you’ve been co-creating with the woman of seven years? I had written you long letters in an effort to break you out of the con-artist spell that you were under, but you had dismissed it as “annoying.” I warned you of the obvious narcissist spirit that has strongholds over you, because I can recognize that which I have, but you just dismissed me as crazy. That evening, when Amy told me that you and her never once broke up during the time we were seeing each other, that’s when I knew I had to let go. Even if she were lying, the fact is that you and her have the kind of young love that is deeper and stronger than what I can offer you right now.

I’ve done my part.

Perhaps, we met at church for this very reason. Perhaps, God wanted me to just offer you the obvious piece that I could easily recognize in you because that is a projection of what I am also dealing with–Sociopathy or psychopathy, the inability to truly connect, have compassion for, or be in love with another human being. Perhaps the truth will break the spell of the Jezabel.

For I am disassociated and so are you. I see the dissociations obvious in you, but I know better to try and fix you when it is my own dissociations that I need to fix. This is even more obvious now that I have visited the very grounds where millions of people were gassed by the ones who thought they were heros but were in fact acting out as villians. One aspect in the nature of evil is that it operates on projections.

Through the power of Christ, I was able to see it through the eyes of the perpetrator. They were under one strong hypnotic spell, with the unresolved childhood wounds, projected onto the Auschwitz-Birkenau stage. They assassinated others in hopes of curing their own dis-ease.

Such is the nature of evil, and you and I both recognized it early on when we were locked in each other’s hypnotic spell. The shadow in you recognized the shadow in me and vice versa. Those letters that I have sent you were true for you but they were also true for me. Writing it to you was writing it to me, and for that I thank you for reading, having an open mind, and tolerating it. You remind me that I am a teacher. I remind you that you are an artist and I hope you never forget it.

Thank you. Still, you and I also have a Shadow, a monster, we need to each individually and separately contend with.  

The last conversation we had was the most connected and authentic one we’ve had since the time you told me that you had chosen me over the project. I knew you were falling for me, because I stood for the Artist in you, and not the con-artist that you were most of the time. I offered a sliver of insight for you, a crack that shined a light upon how beautiful, intelligent, artistic, and deep you truly are should you cultivate that side of you. I captured it in on video, one Sunday morning, after our love-making, and texted you the footage so you could see just how beautiful you really are when you are naked, vulnerable, and authentic. Then, I also captured the most authentic conversation we’ve had in all our months knowing each other. The real you, who is in need of love, constantly searching, and making women your higher power when it really is God who is your first love and who you should put all your investments in. Not a woman. A woman, like me, a siren, like me, a double-tongued, double-minded, woman like me is both divine, chaotic, seductive, and not to be trusted as consistent, for a woman is but an extension of man. And we are all flawed.


When you said you stayed with your woman of seven years, you sounded like a drowning man tied to a siren’s chain. You told me you stayed because she is the only woman you could trust, and your truth brought me great sadness. For I have been in your shoes when I was your age. I had made my husband my god, and referenced him as my rock, anchoring me, but really, he served as a golden cage for the bird that was too afraid to sing and fly.

Weeks later after our conversation, my sponsor would have me go through my inventory of resentments. We had discovered that the source of resentments down to not trusting God.

The second? Forgetting that others are also spiritually sick.

Third? Making someone else my higher power.

Fourth? I’ve done something similar so I am projecting.

Fifth? Self-Seeking

Sixth? Fear of not being good enough.

So there it is.

I know I have to forgive you for trying to jump ship from one siren to the next siren.

Why? Because for the majority of my teen years, my early adult life, and then my post-divorce dating sprees, I was doing the exact same thing you had done.

I thought about the men I had gaslit and betrayed. There were quite a few. It was to protect my ego from getting hurt. I justified treating men like tools or toys because the logic behind it is that it is better to be the perpetrator than the victim. I never want to feel like a victim ever again. So I chose to assume the position of the perpetrator because that, at least, is the position of power.

By the time I met you, I had already realized the insanity of this. I had made a commitment to myself that I would allow Christ to work through me and in me so that I can truly learn how to love, instead of being “that girl” who preaches love but can’t actually be in love, for that would make the cruelest joke wouldn’t it?

So when I said, “I love you,” I had to take those words, put time and distance between us, so I can observe it. I went through the SLAA program to discover whether or not those words I said to you were life-lies of self-deception or were they actually truth. Knowing there is a Siren Shadow within my heart that I have to grapple with, I was not too sure whether or not you would actually be the next marker of a true love story realizing itself or if it was another setup by the devil to ensnare me and use me as a siren to destroy Christian men.

What I found in my interactions with you is that you think you are a wolf in sheep’s clothing, not realizing that Christ is already working through you and transforming you into a sheep in wolf’s clothing. That is what Christ is having me do in my Journey across Europe —to integrate with the shadow for this is the way of the yin, the moon goddess. I am on a journey to integrate the Shadow–the feminine shadow. Here, I am understanding the root cause of the toxic feminine; here I am listening to Mother Mary’s instructions and her protective guidance; here, I am listening to the guides, the Holy Spirit, or voices of consciousness that is keeping me awake and having me observe the most terrifying, dark, and dangerous parts of life with eyes wide open, while still being in Christ Jesus and walking with Him through the valley of the shadow of death. Here, I have a monster to contend with.

The Dream

This morning, I had a dream that I was in a relationship with a handsome Asian man. He seemed put together, a businessman, a collegic man, a calm and charming man. I told my parents to come and visit me but they told me that they will only come see me if I have a fiance so they have a reason to make the trip. I go to visit this boyfriend of mine and thought about bringing up the idea of a marriage proposal, which came down to wanting a ring from him. When I approach him, I could tell that his heart is conflicted, something feels off, and I could feel him slipping away from me. I look at the picture of myself on my phone and see a woman in arrested development–not quite fully a woman yet past her prime as a young maiden. I head to this company dinner where this boyfriend and I are among mutual friends. I bring my lunch to the table where he was sitting and find out that he has moved his seat to a different table, talking among his friends, without any acknowledgement to my presence. I leave to the restroom so I won’t have a meltdown in front of polite company. There, in the restroom, I plan the breakup conversation with him. I am determined to break up with him not because I want to, but because I know that his heart does not truly belong to me. His heart still belongs to my younger sister.

I try to pee in this toilet but I can’t and that is when I realize that I am dreaming. I will have to transition out of the dream to really relieve myself, so I did.

Eyes Wide Open

I’m letting you go.
I hope you contend with your own half-man monster so that you can one day grow into a real man. This is what my sponsor said to me that I will say to you as a gift:

Don’t trust people.

Love people.

Trust God.

Perhaps the day you turn and a real man, you can lead the way and inspire your little siren to transform into a real woman as well.

Your Dark Mirror,

Half-Woman.

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