Cut Off The Narc’s Supply, If You Dare – Part 2

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How Dare I Cut Off The Narc’s Supply

The day was like any other, but I had noticed that my dream life had kicked up a notch. I awakened from a crazy dream. I also had an eerie feeling. I got up and went about the day doing my normal thing, and then I went outside. There was a “weirdness to the atmosphere”. I felt that something was up, but I was not sure why I felt that way. I decided to take the day to just relax. Since resigning from my job, I can live a bit more leisurely than in the past, but I still work by contracting my services out to other businesses. Instead of working on this particular day, I decided to stay home and catch up on rest. I did not want to think. I did not want to do. I just wanted to be.

I began journaling and thinking about my life and how I could best navigate forward by cutting down on the time I interacted with the remaining two narcissists in my life. When I least expected it, I received an alert on social media from none other than The Identity Thief. I did not read the message in its entirety because I did not want to open it. If I opened it, she would know I received it. So, I let the message pass. Shortly after that message, I received another message from her. I saw enough of the message to realize that she had been attempting to contact me with no success. I let that message pass too. I was adamant about no-contact. I desperately wanted not to care. I had been successful at not caring for nearly six weeks.

Minutes after the two messages had popped up, I received a phone call from The Identity Thief’s mother! I recognized her mother’s number because I had saved it. I let the phone ring. The moment the phone stopped ringing, I blocked her mother’s number. I did not check voicemail. The fact that her mother called meant that The Identity Thief was frantic to get ahold of me. My silence of no-contact had spoken loudly and clearly to her. She must have realized the inevitable: I had walked out of her life without saying a word. So she was pulling out all of her ammunition to appeal to me.

I love The Identity Thief’s mother. Her mother is not a narcissist. I felt a tug, but I did not give in. I blocked her mother from calling me again. That was truly hard. Her mother had never done anything negative towards me and had always shown me hospitality and love. She was also a good person to talk to, but I knew I would never be able to talk to her about her daughter. I did not trust her that much. I gathered myself that she could probably related, but that was just not a connection I wanted to make.

I felt myself breaking when The Identity Thief’s mother messaged me via social media. I did not respond. She messaged me a second time, and that is when I cried. I broke down. I had known both The Identity Thief and her mother for a long, long time. How could I not speak to her? How could I not just explain my side? My common sense reminded me that even though the mother is not a narcissist, her daughter is, and she will more likely side with her daughter.

I reasoned with myself through tears that all common ground between the narcissist and me was no longer common ground anymore. Her friends and family could no longer be a part of my life, and that is the repercussion of walking into such relationships. That is what happens to any relationship that ends, really. One has to pick a side. I chose to stay on my side alone. I chose to remain no-contact. I felt the worst of that episode was over, but I felt that there was a lot more to come.

I Cut Off The Narc’s Supply And This Happens

As the day moved on, I grew more pensive, and the atmosphere grew more tense. I immediately felt the sense that I needed to hide from the coming storm. Just as in times past when I sensed that my mother might attempt to come invade my home with her presence, I would hide my car away and make my home appear vacant. I strongly felt that I needed to do this just in case The Identity Thief or her mother decided to make a visit.

I had a weird feeling that the police might be sent to my home to do a welfare check. I figured that the Identity Thief and her mother would continue to reach out to me until I responded. I did not know what to do. I did what was logical. I hid my car and pretended I was not home. If officers came by, my neighbors would be sure to tell them that I was okay. I did not plan to open the door. Two of my neighbors had seen me outside earlier in the day. I was hoping they would respond that I was okay.

For a while I felt as if the atmosphere around my home was returning back to normal. I busied myself with the activities of my life. Then I heard a sound outside. I went to the window, and although it is normal for cars to be parked along side walks in my neighborhood, I took notice that the atmosphere seemed different. There was nothing about the cars themselves. There was just an eerie and ominous sensation in the atmosphere. I could not shake it. Something was extraordinarily different, and I felt that I was bracing myself for something to happen but did not know what. The leaves even rustled slightly as a chill wind blew. I went back upstairs and lay on the bed to read.

No sooner had I gotten myself comfortable, my doorbell sounded. Normally, when the doorbell rings, it rings once. I am never moved to answer it no matter who it is because my neighborhood has a lot of solicitors. If it rings a second time, I also get the sense that the person ringing the bell believes someone is home because my car is always parked outside. This was not the case. This time, my doorbell rang several times and in a panicked way.

I have had police officers stop by for welfare checks when my security alarm falsely sounded and when my smoke alarm was set off in the kitchen a few times, but they have never rang the doorbell ever in the manner that I heard it at this moment. The person ringing the bell wanted me to know of their presence. They wanted me to know that they were not leaving either. So I looked out the window. I saw the car of none other than the Identity Thief! Despite my car being no where outside, The Identity Thief was not deterred. She rang the door bell in frantic beats as if to resuscitate the house back from the dead.

I walked to the door and looked through the peephole to see The Identity Thief. She had a determined but frantic facial expression. Her eyes looked washed out and tear-stained even from an ocular distance. I opened the door – not sure what my facial expression would reveal to her. I searched her eyes to see what she knew. It would have been better for me to say something, but I was too stunned. I let her in.

I was shocked because in all the years I had been in my residences, she had only visited me a handful of times. I had even invited her over numerous times, but she always gave clear indications that my home was unacceptable in some way. I never pushed for further invites and just left it alone. So seeing her at my door looking wild-eyed was certainly different. My voice was chained silent because I was so stunned and caught off guard even though there was an eeriness within the atmosphere.

The puzzled look on my face indicated to her that I did not know what was going on. I knew my role though despite my level of astonishment. She had caught me off guard. She remarked about how she had been trying to get in contact with me. That should have been my cue to fill in the conversation with “I am no-contact with you”, but instead I let her fill in the silent spaces. She said that she had reached out to me and gotten no response. So she reached out to me through social media and got no responses there either.

Again, I remained silent while watching her eyes. Her eyes appeared very different to me. I had never noticed how light they appeared. In the past they always appeared dark brown. I literally checked to see if she was wearing contacts, but she was not. Her face was was blotchy, and it appeared that she had been crying prior to her arrival. I noted that she had not come alone. Her significant other was in the car. He was looking down the entire time as if looking at his phone. I glanced from her to the car and all other surroundings outside and then back to her again, and I thought how it was strange to have her standing in my home.

She then mentioned how she became worried and thought of all the possible scenarios of things that might have happened and there was no way to contact me. I instantly thought about how I have lived on my own since I was 18, and only two other times in my life had my absence caused anyone any concern.

The Identity Thief was covering all the bases, and logically I could see how my lack of response to anyone would cause a problem. She and I do not share mutual friends. So nobody would even know if anything had happened to me. I am such a private person that my neighbors would not even know. They sometimes do not see me for days on end unless I am outside. Otherwise, I truly live a life of complete solitude.

The Child Within

The Identity Thief seemed panic-stricken, and I needed to see her eyes. I wanted to look into her eyes as a way to discern whether she was truly frantic for me as a person or whether her franticness was more about losing me as her narcissistic supply. I grabbed her hand by the tips of her fingers. In that moment, I attempted to calm her. I did not know what else I could do. She genuinely seemed upset, and I appeared to be the cause. Yet, that is just it.

She genuinely seemed upset, but I was watchful. She is a narcissist. Because the atmosphere was so weird in that moment, I tried to connect with her – the person. I could feel nothing. There was a hollowness. I clasped her hand even tighter expecting her to recoil, but instead, she broke down into hysterical cries. Her eyes were filled with tears. So the tear-stained look she had which I saw through the peephole were actually tears she had upon her arrival to my home.

When I heard her cry, I watched her. I had never seen her appear so helpless. I was immediately reminded of the cries of a hurt and lost child. I had seen this before. I had recalled sitting with her years ago, and something had happened that had upset her. She shed no tears and held it all in. I sat with her for the moment to pass but then felt compelled to hug her for comfort. I could feel her tears locked inside of her. Her posture appeared stiff as if she was fighting hard to suppress and quench her tears and her pain.

I could immediately envision a little girl who had locked herself in cage never to give anyone the keys to let her out. It was as if this little girl wished to remain caged to be free from hurt. I saw this vision and shared it with her at the time. It was something that I never forgot. I saw this little girl and I saw her pain. It was the same little girl that was standing in my living room foyer breaking down profusely. I wish that my heart could have gone out to her in that moment, but I was suspended in disbelief. My own emotions were closed off from being exposed to her. I could only observe her.

To be honest, something inside of me must have been prepared for her emotional break because I could not react. Normally, I would be so empathic in feeling that I would feel the urge to cry tears with her, or I would feel so torn with enormous guilt over having gone silent with her. I felt no guilt though. I felt nothing. I eyed her, however, with suspicion. I wanted to believe her tears because I was so stunned.

Was she faking? I watched her eyes. Her eyes looked so very, very different. I gave her a hug because I heard the actual sound of a cry that I had never heard before. She sounded wounded … so terribly terribly wounded. I sensed from her that I had wounded my friend. I sensed from her that in her eyes, I had possibly abandoned her. Narcissistically, this would not be forgotten by her.

I reached to hug her, and she accepted my hug. I waited to feel her emotions and to feel her cry. I felt nothing. She sounded as if she was in so much pain. I questioned whether I was the narcissist since I felt that I was so unfeeling towards her. Yet, I was being cautious. I saw the panic in her eyes as she talked about how she thought that something was wrong … that I had never not replied to any of her queries. This is true. I have always been there. I have never not responded to anyone’s messages unless I go no-contact.

It’s All In The Eyes

I searched her eyes. I wanted to tell her I was done with her, but I was not sure what mental state she was in. I had let her in my house. I had to be cool. I am not heartless even to my enemy even though I needed her to know my truth. She had come to my home. She had tracked me down. Although I did not sense that she was capable of physically harming me, I was not about to let my guard down.

I instantly marveled at what I saw in her eyes. I knew then that no matter what her marital state, I had been a great asset in her life. I was a very good source of supply. Yet, what I saw in her eyes signified a neediness that I did not completely comprehend. Narcissists always project the worst of their qualities onto their victims. I accepted none of her projection though. I discerned none of her usual airs of disdain and disgust towards me. This was a person fighting for her very life. She panicked because she thought her supply had left her … had gotten away from her for good. So she did what she thought she had to do; she went after her supply.

I dare say she’s never reacted to anyone in her life in this manner before. Although I do not know this for certain, I was fairly sure of it within myself. I do not believe she has ever had a friend like me. In narc terminology though, she had never had such a great source of narcissistic supply. Yet, there was something about this entire situation that was just different, and I could not take my eyes away from her eyes.

There was such desperation in her eyes that I do not even have accurate words to describe. Yet, I have seen this desperation in every narcissist that has come into my life. It is a desperation of varying degrees. This desperation was fear mixed with a deep, deep anguish. It was the vulnerability of a person but not a narcissistic one. It was the actual reflection of who the narcissist really is but keeps hidden. I saw it and did not know what to do. I did not know how to help. I wanted to help. I wanted to rescue, but I stood still. What could I do?

Her desperation seemed less about the sadness of losing narcissistic supply but more about the fear of not having narcissistic supply even though I am certain there are other sources of supply in her life. Why she went to great lengths to secure me as supply is baffling because I do not even see myself as good supply for her. I am more or less a pain in her backside figuratively speaking. I often feel like I am someone she loves to hate just because I exist. But this is most likely the view that most narcissists have of their targets or victims.

I am not easily controlled because I choose to do my own thing, but then I realize that I do not know the mind of narcissists. Narcissists seek to control in various means and through various techniques. What makes her tick? What made her come after me? It is logical because I am supply. Is the trauma bond that strong between us? Is she more bonded to me is it the other way around?

A Coming War

I simply cannot get away from the transfixed glazed-look in her eyes. I was stunned that I my actions had caused such a strong reaction. I was expecting her to literally chop my head off for daring to cut her off with no-contact. Maybe this was her way. Maybe she knew that being mean was going to send me to the other side of defense especially showing up at my home. I do not know, but I was not expecting the reaction that I got from her. I surely was not expecting her tears.

I even remarked that I never intended to hurt her. So I apologized because I did not know if she was not faking. I did not know that I caused her that much distress. Although I was shocked by her response, I was actually skeptical that her response was even real. I told her that I had never seen her like this … in such a state. She said, “Cry?” I said, “No. I’ve seen your tears, but I have never seen you like this … so frantically upset. Are you okay? I didn’t think my disappearance would warrant such emotion from anybody. I didn’t think my disappearance would cause anyone any alarm. I honestly did not think anyone would care. Life goes on. I am glad to know that I am loved.” I searched her eyes for a response, and she gave me “Of course I love you! I was really worried.”

All the while that The Identity Thief is talking, there is a dichotomy of voices in my head. Both voices are mine, and both are leading me to think with sound reasoning. One is the voice of my heart and the other is the voice of my mind. They are both speaking to me … centering me and leading me to pay attention. Everything that was occurring had significance, and it was all going to come to a head. This event was simply the catalyst. More was to come, and the stage was being set. I was not going to be allowed to close this relationship with silence. There was going to be a war. There had clearly been a battle even up to this point.

Wars are not silent. I can go no-contact, but I cannot go quietly. I have done so with some narcs, but this narc will not be the one. This time I was going to have to confront her. Although The Identity Thief cried tears, I was unsure whether her tears were real. I questioned within myself where the tears came from because they flowed profusely. The inner leading I had was the Spirit. My discernment was turned on. I paid attention to everything, and a made a conscious note that while we engaged in conversation, there was something in the background of the scene that appeared off. I could never put my finger on it.

For a few moments I inwardly discussed what I was seeing, and I was really focused on her eyes. Her eyes were so glassy and bright. They were focused and they were heavily dilated. I could have almost fallen into them if they continued dilating. Her eyes looked like a sea of many vibrating lines that were contracting inward. I had never seen her eyes like that before. I made note of this but also thought that maybe that signified how distraught she had become over the possibility of having been abandoned. The heart of who I am wondered who had abandoned her in the past and left her so bereft.

The heart of who I am did not want to cause further hurt. I stood wondering why I had not considered how my actions could have affected others from her point of view. The Identity Thief said she could only think the worst when I suddenly just dropped off of the face of the earth without so much as a word. I had even ghosted everyone on my social media accounts. So, I had gone no-contact with more than her. She was gaslighting me without the usual hostility. I felt a little bad about it, but not that bad. I really wanted peace.

Yes, the heart of who I am took all of her anguish into account, but I was still pondering over the shock of it all. She drove a little over an hour to my home just to see if I was okay. She drove far just to make sure her supply had not truly left her high and dry. I could take it as her caring or I could stay with the facts that narcissists just cannot let go. I choose to stay with the facts. This is one narcissist who is not willing to let me go. I really thought I had gotten away, but I knew it was not going to be easy.

How dare I cut off the narc from supply!!! I am once again back to square one to try it again.