I made a commitment to myself not to write about Supergrover ever again, because it just makes her apoplectic even when it’s lovely. I’m never going to lift a finger to do anything nice for her ever again, and am right now am pretty dedicated to hating her guts. That’s because if I’m not angry, I can’t leave. It’s a trauma bond and I’ve tried for 11 years to get rid of it. The only way I have enough strength to overcome the discomfort at not having her in my life is to focus on how she emotionally destroyed me and is now looking at me with a wide-eyed Pikachu face, because the great Supergrover cannot do any wrong at all.
She ignored the fact that she said, “I’m not going to say never or ever, or give ultimatums. That’s your department.” It pissed me off because her favorite thing in life is telling me that she’s never going to talk to me again. She has gaslit me over a number of years by things being clearly wrong in our relationship and saying, “when are you going to realize that if there’s something wrong, I’ll tell you something is wrong.” That has never been true. I found the truth by wearing her down until she finally admitted something was wrong. And came toward me.
But then, even when she came toward me, she couldn’t help but put a snide pot shot in there.
It’s not a real friendship. It never has been. I got on this train all by myself, as she so astutely pointed out.
Now, I’m getting off. She cannot lie, control the direction of every conversation, and call me a dickhead for calling her out on her narcissistic behavior.
Having sympathy for a hurt child doesn’t make me a bad person. Being a hurt child doesn’t make her one.
But it does mean that our paths will never cross again, because I will never forget. I will forgive, but I’ll never forget. I’m sure she’s lovely to her friends and family.
It just took me 11 years to realize I’m not either of them.
Stories That Are All True 