Reading old emails exchanged with my captors makes me sick. Nauseated. Loquacious lovey-dovey’s and toe-curling coo’s drip from our email conversations. The contrast between our communication back then is in stark contrast to the barbs and silences now.
It’s contradictory. Crazy-making.
Stockholm Syndrome overwhelmed me again last night, wracking my frame with guttural sobs. As tears poured down my cheeks, a voice I barely recognized as my own cried, “What did I do that was so bad? What happened to all the love? Why did they do all this shit to me? Did they ever love me at all? Did I ever truly love them? Did they ever have empathy for me?”
Click here to find out!
Lenora Thompson writes a great blog...she's been there, seen that, and lived to tell the tales. - Facebook friend
On Valentine's Day we devote ourselves to those we love most — our husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends and yes, parents and children. But what about the one we neglect the most, berate the most and shame the most: ourselves. Surely, a little of that love should trickle down to us, too.
In The Screwtape Letters, the great C. S. Lewis wrote, "When they [humans] have really learned to love their neighbours as themselves, they will be allowed to love themselves as their neighbours.”
I suspect the majority of children from narcissistic and otherwise dysfunctional homes have perfected the art of loving and caring for our neighbors. But we haven't got the first clue on how to love and care for ourselves.
So this Valentine's Day, let's chat about self-care.
Click here to read the full article on PsychCentral!