The Young Girl and the Idiot

Once upon a time, there lived a naïve and very broken young girl.  She let people trample on her, make her feel to blame for the choices they made.  "If only I were not friends with the village idiot, the more respected people of this town would not have abandoned me.  And it was only my insecurity and pride that made me see them that way - in fact, they would not treat me so abominably.  Truly, they are good."

And so she walked on through life, looking up to smile only at the sun, her inconstant friend, and every day tried to interpret the actions of others towards her so she would know her own path.

She thought she'd make new friends.  She started over with people who knew, too, the village idiot and knew the madness and manipulation.  Foolish child: after a time, they gritted their teeth, shrugged their shoulders, and walked away.  The young girl looked around and found herself alone with the idiot.

"You are the best friend I have ever had!" said the village idiot.  "You are so loyal!  But you seemed to want to stay friends with that last person....  Of course, you can do whatever you want.  I'm not your master."

Finally the village idiot joined a social group in town, and the social group could find no good reason to expel the idiot.  The young girl made friends with the group and met a young man who willingly became friends with the village idiot to know the young girl.  In the village idiot's bouts of insanity, the knowledgeable young man stood at the young girl's side.

Enraged with jealousy, the village idiot devised a plan.  Going into town without the young girl, the idiot whined and moaned and spread vicious rumors about the young girl.  The idiot took the confidence of the young girl and twisted it to atrocity.

Distraught, the young girl did her best for the village idiot, thinking this must be some fit of madness.  The village idiot then spoke slander to the young man.  The young man went to the young girl and held her hand.

Finally, the village idiot very calmly spoke to the young girl, taking the tactic many had before.  The idiot shrugged, declared there was nothing more to be done for the young girl, and left her to the wolves.

But the young girl had learned her lesson.  The village idiot had done this to her and her innocence shone through to all who saw her.  She married the wise, knowledgeable young man and retained the friendship of the wise - and though the village idiot never changed, the young girl held her head high above all that came her way.  The village idiot had power over many spirits, but the young girl's spirit was free.

Sherlock and Sociopathic Behavior

Lately, something has been on my mind a lot.  Sociopaths.  Gosh, Sherlock makes it look like so much fun.  I mean, if you watch closely, you notice that John Watson often wants to give it but good to Sherlock, but mostly we laugh and find the highly functioning sociopath highly amusing.

Fortunately for John, Sherlock shows hints of redeeming qualities – occasional compassion and willingness to go to great lengths for his friends.  But if you are caught in a relationship with a sociopath, you might find it a lot less endearing.  You might find it terribly dismantling.

Common traits of a sociopath include:

• Superficial charm.  Did he seem almost too nice to be true?  A sociopath may seem like a very friendly and outgoing person, nothing to be afraid of unless you're an introvert.
• Isolation and manipulation.  The more she feels that you two are close, the more you will lose the ability to do what you want.  And if they're especially good at being a sociopath, you won't even really notice.  They'll say just exactly what needs to be said and hit you where you are most likely to be persuaded.  You may not be able to talk about it with others because no one else will see what you're experiencing.
• Self-centeredness.  They want something.  They have a right to have it.
• Lying.  You won't notice this at first because you know they are lies.  Listen closely.  Stories of their past may not quite add up or may even conflict, and their friends may have an interesting combination of faults.  They may not have a realistic image of themselves and instead cast their faults onto their "friends."
• Lack of guilt.  They will rarely admit to being wrong.  If they were foolish here and there, it's because of something else.  He will say it's because you were acting a certain way or because she dressed a certain way.
• Shallow emotions.  You tell her your sob story and she seem invested and very supportive.  She may tell you to see a counselor and have all kind of comforting phrases, but it's based on "her own experiences" and it usually lacks the tenderness and tack the situation calls for.  Preaching over sincerity.
• Drama queen.  Whether he's playing telephone or just making a big deal out of picking a movie or jumping into a group and forcing them to do what he wants, he lives off of stimulation and excitement.  Something is boring?  Bring a friend to study time and make them watch tons of crass YouTube videos instead.
• Promiscuity and infidelity.  She may be glamorous to the point of tackiness, or hooks up with boys a lot, even if she sternly warns her friends against such men.  She never seems to learn her lesson.

A major concern for a Christian or Catholic community is that the other members will not see him/her as impenetrable, but rather an opportunity to grow in holiness and help a fellow struggling soul.  You have to be careful that you don't give up on everyone with a few flaws, but in my experience, if he seems terribly concerned about you but tells you way more about himself than he knows about you, watch out.  If she is really sweet and heartbroken after a terrible lesson she had to learn, and then goes back to her old ways with the next breath, back away slowly in as inconspicuous a way as possible.  No matter what you do, a sociopath is likely to spread bad news about you, but you've got to get out.  Sociopaths will manipulate you without a conscience.

Did you wonder, Did you worry?

Robin Williams' death – his suicide – did it rock you?  I'm guessing that it did.  We've been obsessively pulling out videos and stories about him ever since.  Suicide is a big deal.  I hope it rocked you.

His distinctive voice charmed the nation for years and many consider him a comedic genius.  Personality poured out of him with a fluidity unbridled by creative mental strain, some say.  To me, he seemed a person, an approachable person – somebody who was just a somebody.  Since his death, so many journalists, bloggers, commentators, and random people – all who didn't know him – have tried to interpret his life and understand his suicide.

The truth, of course, is that we can never understand.  The biological factors, the psychological factors, the personal experience never tell us how a great man can take his life.  Why wasn't he afraid to end it all?  Did he think he was helping his loved ones?  Did he see the inevitable pain those who knew him would carry for the rest of their own lives?  Was his own pain too great to spare them?

In Orthodoxy, G. K. Chesterton said, "The man who kills himself kills all men.  As far as he is concerned, he wipes out the world."

"Today," says Russell Brand, "Robin Williams is part of the sad narrative that we used to turn to him to disrupt."

Josh Gracin threatened suicide not long after Robin Williams' death.  I'm glad to see that he's, apparently, back in the sing of things.

I read somewhere that depression and the numbers of suicides have experienced spikes in recent decades.  Songs have been written about it.  Books have been published to help loved ones cope.  When I type "suicidal" into Google, it provides a helpline.

But many still misunderstand depression and suicide.

Some called Williams free.  Some wrote long statuses on Facebook about what he meant to them.  Others wrote posts that went viral.  Some felt a twinge of discomfort and compassion, even fear.  Sometimes the right message was said the wrong way.  Sometimes the wrong thing was said the right way.

So here's my question.  Did you wonder?  Did you worry?

I did.

My own experiences with depression have left me sensitive to the possible, hidden experiences of my siblings.  Some of my friends have told me about their struggles.  What if?  What if my best friend decided to end it all?  What if someone decided he was only weighing me down?  What if he thought it wasn't worth it?

If you didn't worry, you should have.  Not everyone is brave enough to admit they need help.

I haven't blogged about this until now because I felt that I could not say anything that hadn't already been said.  And if I say anything at all, I want it to be thoughtful.

But finally, I wonder how many people really understand; and that ignorance drives me to write.

I suffered for years on my own, sure that my pain was my fault.  Why couldn't I just get over it?  Why couldn't I just be happy?  Did I not love everyone?  Was I selfish?

My faith was a crutch.  Crutch – so often a negative meaning.  My faith was my broken leg and my crutch.  I thought I was a terrible sinner for feeling so wretched – that I had no joy because I was not holy enough.  If only I loved God more….  If only I loved my neighbor more….

I'm sure many people have recovered from their depression and thrown out their religion, scoffing at it for putting them down.  Actually, my Catholic religion does not blame me for depression, although I didn't know that at the time; and even though it (mistakenly) tore at me, my faith was what kept me going.  I never refused to get out of bed and I didn't coop myself up in a corner of my room.  I did walk around in a despondent state, rarely if ever looking anyone in the eye, giving short and to the point answers, dreading and loathing small talk, hating compliments.  "My hair may be pretty but that doesn't make it better.  I may be a good dancer, but that isn't helping me.  Don't tell my father I'm mature – you don't know me."

My inner faith, mistakenly telling me that I was at fault for how I felt, told me that if I just kept trying and was the best that I could be, everything would get better.  I felt moments of joy and happiness, but as I continued to agree to everything that was asked of me and volunteered silently to do still more, my overall mood was not improving.

I felt happiest when I was making a little boy smile.  I've known him since he was born and we're very close.  His family spent a lot of time at my house and I spent most of that time with him.  I was their babysitter, and I would hold him and hold him until his crying stopped and he fell asleep in my arms.  And I felt content and happy in those moments.

But when I wasn't at peace, I asked myself, "Why don't you kill yourself?"  I thought about it more than once.  But I'd say not more than four times.  The answer I always had for myself was, "What difference would it make?"  No one would care.  No one would know the difference.  They might cry, but they'd soon go on with their lives and not remember.  I felt convinced that I improved the lives of those around me, even though I noticed that they managed to instinctively fill in the gaps when I was out of the house.  But I felt, unseen by all, I was doing something for them, even if they didn't care.  And that gave me a sense of purpose.  And I think it kept me going.

I was also terrified of suicide.  One of the symptoms of my depression was always thinking of the in-depth, personal details.  I was afraid of pain, and of panic like I experienced in panic attacks, and of changing my mind at the last moment when it would be already too late.  I decided that if I were to kill myself, I'd have to use a gun.  We had one in the house somewhere – I had seen the locked safe just once.  But even if I could have found it and unlocked it, I wouldn't have known how to use it.

And already striving so hard to please God, I wouldn't want to make all that for nothing.

I would say that, at the time, I was never so defeated that I was genuinely suicidal.  The question held a touch of humor for me.  It was too serious a thought to be taken seriously.

But… I don't know how I was spared seriously considering it.  No one was there to help me through.  And I don't know that anyone could have helped me.  I didn't want help.

Sometimes I still have episodes of depression – much shorter episodes, thank God.  And recently, I experienced such a deep exasperation that I momentarily did give up on life and suicide became real.  And even knowing everything I do about depression, I still would rather keep it to myself.

It makes you think doesn't it?

Sometimes people talk about suicide as though "if only someone had realized and gotten them help!"  Sometimes that's not enough.  Because suicide is not a question of cure.  You can catch an injury before it turns into a bad case of gangrene.  You can prescribe treatment to a medical issue and heal the body.  You can diagnose depression and try to correct it – but depression is tricky.  It's too complicated for even someone who has experienced it to explain.

And suicide – it's not a disease.  It's a choice.  It's a choice to reject life.

Sometimes depression doesn't go away.  And despite all the efforts of anyone – no matter how qualified – sometimes depression seems inevitable, incurable, and indomitable.  It can lead to a new level of despair that few people know exists.  That despair is what drives some people to the precipice of suicide.  Even if the best help is available to them, some people still choose suicide.

That's the very bitter reality.

It's a sin against life.  It's a sin against hope.  It's a sin against all mankind.  How dare you tell us it's not worth it.  How dare you leave us such a legacy.

How dare you….

How could you leave us alone?

The more I thought about Robin William's death, the more I was grateful for life.  I looked around me and I said, "What if I lost any of these people?"  Even my enemies – would I be able to handle the news?  I was a thorn in their side – or at the very least, I did very nearly nothing to make their lives more worth while.  That would almost be worse than losing a friend.  But if I lost a friend – his or her memory would be like playing catch with a rose bush, unresolved questions of guilt coming in stitches.  And there's the possibility that I could have taken my own life and all those people would have been ripped from me.  By my own choice.

We need to start paying attention.  Depression is a mental illness and as such, a person doesn't have much control over it.  Sometimes drugs help, balancing the chemicals in the brain.  Sometimes therapy helps.  And yet part of me believes that there's got to be something so simple, so fundamental and we're missing it – whether it's a loss of place and identity, or the loss of a deeper meaning, or just a crueler world….  There's got to be a factor, perhaps unmeasurable by science, that speaks to the human person that would cure case upon case of depression.

Perhaps it's just my own lucky experience with depression, but I feel like the solution must be right under our nose.

Because suicide must not happen.  It's the last breath of hope disappearing from the world.

Swimming (3 Key Elements of a Thriving Long-Distance Relationship)

For the first time in my life, I am somebody's girlfriend.  It took time; but really, the whole thing happened quite fast.  Given my lack of experience and because I usually put 100% into my relationships, I was unwilling to jump into this.  But within a few months of knowing him, there I was – a "girlfriend."

About a month in, it became a long-distance relationship.  Most college relationships become "long-distance" when break roles around, but this is different.  For us, the holidays began a year-long separation.  I went to Europe when school started up again in the Spring, and he will be in Europe when school begins again in the Fall – this is called, I hear, the "Austria year."  It's summer now so I suppose we're about halfway through.

I remember, when I began dating, a friend of mine sent a text message to congratulate me.  The conversation wasn't very memorable, short as it was, but I do remember one thing very clearly – when she found out about our study abroad plans, she warned me that couples don't usually survive the Austria year.  As you may imagine, I ended the conversation pretty quickly after that.  I couldn't help but text my boyfriend to tell him that something was upsetting me.  So we talked on the phone about it for awhile, and we both decided we could make it through the separation.  We wanted to.

Over six months later, the two of us are stronger together than we were before.  With every trip-up and rough night, long day and low grade, we shook and stood.  Each messaging session or Skype conversation, however awkward or one-sided – however imperfect, we grew closer.  A long-distance relationship is tough, but it is so incredibly good.  The distance strips away much of the superficiality and in the darkest moments reveals the moonstone underneath.  If the relationship survives the stripping, it comes out alive and beautiful.  It's hard to explain what I mean.

I'm not saying that a long-distance relationship is not romantic.  My boyfriend arranged to have a vase of flowers, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of wine waiting for me outside my door one day – just because I'd been having a rough time he said.  We wrote letters – I wrote one nearly every day at first while I was in Europe.  Even now, while we're both in the states, we send each other notes and letters just to say: "I love you."

And that's not something that started with distance.  The first letters were exchanged before we were dating.  We had an awkward (and adorable) beginning (if I may boast).  So many thoughts and concerns were discussed and explained in clumsy but naked detail; and when not face-to-face, our feelings were articulated in ink.

I think those letters stood for an important truth of our relationship: he and I – we – are more than just a fling.  Our relationship was not exactly a sudden leap of faith.  Looking back over our relationship so far, I see myself treading water, praying and trusting in God to teach me to swim.  Everything was handled with delicate care and tender precision.  I wanted to get it right.  We both did.  We each want to be with the other long-term, whatever it takes.

While I was in Europe, communication was difficult.  We could not share play-by-play as we usually would.  When we were both awake and available, we might ask what the other was doing that day, but a text message summary could hardly serve.  Letters were invaluable for this purpose.  We can still share in each others' daily lives – successes, failures, frustrations, and contemplations – if weeks later.  In letters, we could express thoughts or feelings that are hard to articulate aloud, for one reason or another, or in a more elegant and meaningful style than a text message could manage.

Sometimes, before I left for Europe, others would advise me to set a day and time for Skype calls to make sure communication happened regularly.  I confess, I fully intended to set appointments.  But it turns out that two people in love will have no trouble setting time aside to see and hear each other.  And can I admit something to you?  I hate Skype.  I hate it with a passion.  You call a person and then suddenly you're staring at their face.  That's pretty much it.  The comfort and cushion of body language and spatial context is non-existent here.  You have to stare at them the whole time or seem distracted (or be legitimately distracted, as I usually was), which is unnatural.  And is video quality ever good?  And yet even so, I would get to missing his face so much that I loved the invention of video chat.  Even at the beginning, when I still felt loathing for the thing, my boyfriend and I had no trouble picking dates off the calendar as we went.  We wanted so much to know the other and experience the other.

We may not have been the solution to each others' problems every time, but we shared in them anyway.  Any concerns we had or daily problems we faced were discussed, even with the timezone trouble.  We were willing and able to share our vulnerability, but I also had to be mature enough to admit that having a boyfriend did not fix everything.  Sometimes I would get off the phone with him and feel like crying my eyes out because I was so lonely and talking to him hadn't seemed to change anything.  I know nothing I could have said lessened his reading homework or improved his track performance.  We just had to plug on, putting credit where it's due.

If anyone asked me what is getting me through this long distance relationship, I'd say, "He is."  And lots of prayer.  I have plenty of doubts and fears – including why this relationship should be any different from others, how could I know that when he does such-and-such it is not like when so-and-so did such-and-such, and what if it goes too far too fast and everything falls to pieces around me: like other relationships in the past, I won't be able to fix it.  But he stands sufficiently for himself as evidence against my objections, each one.  If I took any one little doubt all by itself, it would be enough.  I could dump him on the basis of that one doubt; but I would have to reduce everything that he is to that one doubt, and the truth is that I just can't.  In his entirety – even when I'm frustrated that he has to cut a call short or I'm feeling tired because he's been having a rough time and it's all we talk about – in his entirety, he sets my heart in awe.  He is truly and deeply a human being, and he shares himself exclusively with me.  We are so close and he is so right for me that I cannot imagine breaking up with him.  I would have to load my heart up on Novocaine.  He is a person.  He is worth waiting for.  He is worth supporting until times get better.

When I'm praying, I often ask God to explain what I don't understand, to show me how to be wisely selfless, and to help me love my boyfriend more than he loves me – just for competition sake.  I think he is probably better at consistently praying about and for us, but nonetheless, prayer helps me to remember the moments when I felt sure and confident, and when I remember why I felt like I did then, I feel it again.  Praying allows me to step into my panic and figure out what is lurking there.  More often than not, I find just a speck of dust that hasn't been addressed yet is all that sits at the source.  But when it is more complicated or more elusive, I pray to thank God for the good, and I pray to ask for clarity, and I make a resolution to take my blessed time judging this fear that has crept up on me.

And then I usually talk to my boyfriend about it.

We both know what we want out of life and the visions are more or less compatible.  In the slower moments, we spend time figuring out the details we each personally want for the future, after college and beyond.  We discover ourselves through each other, and I often find that he's talking about details that I haven't figured out yet.  So we discuss them.  We discuss just about everything.

So really, distance isn't all that hard, because we have:

1. True love, if I may be so bold as to presume that which many scoff.  We each want the best for the other, which means a deep knowledge of the other and deep sacrifice of self for the other.  Each fervently wants to be the cause of the other's happiness.
2. Maturity.  Again, I may seem presumptuous but I will declare it anyway.  We may not always act mature, but we try to be mature about our immaturity.  We recover, we discuss, and we go on.  We admit that there is more to life than the bubble of our love, but nothing is too great to fit inside it.  Our relationship is not showy and we do not share it with others (i.e., drama, gossip; e.g., it is not Internet recognized, except for the occasional picture).  At the same time, it does not isolate us from others.
3. A desire to share.  A desire to communicate.  Trust that enables us to do so.  Compatibility of character, experience, education, and aspirations that bind us together.

This isn't a checklist of elements that can just be inserted into the relationship.  These have to be the relationship.  Certainly a long distance relationship can look different from what I have with my boyfriend; but the longing to be with the other, know the other, and love the other – that must be there.  I see no way around it.  And though I know couples often do without, I cannot begin to imagine how a relationship survives without the common ground of God and the common labor for holiness.  You need that grounding in order to truly be one flesh one day.  No matter what interests you have or varying hobbies, the work toward holiness is never done, is never completed.  It's a task, a goal that eternally unites persons, creating that life-long commitment we covet so deeply.

For a while, we held off dating because I was scared, and I used the inevitable distance as an excuse.  I wouldn't say that my fears were foolish, but I know we made the right decision in the end – it was so worth it.  All the rough spots and the moments of panic were worth it.  People doubted; perhaps especially because this was my first relationship, people doubted.  I can't blame them – I doubted too.  But any lasting relationship should have what it takes to brave the distance, and I think that by some miracle I have found that kind of relationship.  Could a couple know that they'll last when they're just starting out?  I'm not sure we could have.  But we learn it day by day.

Once Upon a Time, I Was Emotionally Manipulated

Once upon a time, I met a girl.  She lived across the hall from me in the dormitory, but she was the kind that has a circle of friends as exciting and outgoing as any drama queen or diva could want.  I did my thing and she did hers and although we had two classes together, we hardly ever spoke.

For sanity's sake and maturity's sake and humility's sake, I won't say too much about her specifically.  One day, we began to study together.  That is – we got together to do the tedious homework together.  Soon, we began hanging out more.  We began going to class together.  Very soon, we were "besties."

Christmas Break came and went and we hardly spoke.  Well, she had a job and a whole, complicated social life waiting for her there.  When we got back to school, we picked up again quickly!  We did live just across the hall after all.  Soon enough, people began asking her where I was if she went somewhere alone.  I laughed when she told me, thinking in the back of my mind that no one ever asked me the flipped question – no matter.

I was still trying to find my identity.  At home, after years and years of trying to find a place I belonged, I had locked myself away inside.  All personality and personal identity were gone.  I was what I could be to people, which almost sounds like what they say is important – the difference you make to people.  Whether that measure is true or not, I tried it.

Once upon a time, I was emotionally manipulated.  I thought I would find myself in devotion to her.  Her stronger and constantly up and running personality sometimes drowned me out or tired my own personality.  I prayed – steeled myself and went on.  My weaknesses caused problems.  My lack of wisdom, strength, love was what separated us.  If I was only better, everything would work out.

She was not the only one who has taken advantage of me, nor was she the only one at that very time.  I carefully work on knots in certain threads so they cannot tear me apart again.  If my own personality and assumptions helped to fuel otherwise harmless people, so be it.  They still had a choice.

Finally, someone began to see me as myself.  I was no longer her shadow.  Those others who had tried a similar task had been haughty – seeing it as some kind of duty to help me as one far wiser and higher above me – or had simply and plainly used me.  Some of them were easier to shrug off than others, depending on how much effort I had expended to save the relationship from the terrible twister we were pulled into.  A few girls made an effort to know and want me as an individual separate from her – and to them I am truly grateful.

Finally, someone began to see me as myself.  He actively sought me and wished to know me.  He saw me, and he saw her.  Distinguishing between us was easy for him.  He knew and trusted me.  He didn't criticize me nor fuel me, and he didn't pretend to be wiser and know all and have the solution – he simply listened and agreed when I was right.  I began to realize that what I felt, thought, wanted was important and even valid.

This is not a love story.  There is a love story, and if I were to tell it, it would begin something like that.  But this is not about the incredible man that found me when I wasn't trying to be found, although he had a profound effect on the ending of this story – with help from the example of other friendships I was developing during this time.

I began to realize that what I felt, thought, and wanted were important and even valid.  If I thought something was senseless, I didn't necessarily have to do it just because I was her friend and she wanted to.  If she wanted to do something, she could as well do it herself as needlessly drag me along.  She did not like this new thought, I would imagine.  Who would, after a long period of having a faithful companion?  I had been with her through very thick and very thin, and I had put up with a lot of low moments, and even been willing to go out of my way to give her companionship when I would have been wiser to refuse her, or to lose faith in friends on her behalf.  But friendship does not necessitate this level of dog-loyalty.

With that, I suppose, and the time I put my foot down and remained friends with an "enemy" (and my increasing interest in someone other than herself), she got a little anxious.  If anyone were to ask me what happened between us that we should go from so close to hardly ever speaking seemingly between semesters, I would tell them that they would have to ask her.  It wouldn't be caginess or an attempt to avoid drama, although drama is greatly to be avoided when possible.  I simply cannot say for sure what finally brought it all to an end.  We tried to discuss it a few times – she told me she didn't like how I was acting and how it made her feel.  I apologized and tried to explain that I was not deliberately trying to hurt her – that I was only looking for a little independence.  I don't think it made much difference – I don't think she really listened.

And then she told me that sometimes friends need distance and so she would give me space.  Because it was always me, my fault.

Once upon a time, I was emotionally manipulated.

It is not fun and it can be severely damaging to your mental health.  Your reality becomes twisted.  You can't disprove her ridiculous claims and you can't prove your righteousness.  You begin to question your own reasoning – maybe he's right.  After all, you can't prove he's not.  Your world now revolves around him and his feelings.

Please read the following article.  Without even realizing it, you may be stuck right now.  Or you may be the manipulator.  The key to not being a manipulator is openness to being wrong, to the possibility that you're hurting someone, and remembering that you do not own the rights to another person – thoughts nor feelings nor presence.  If you seem to be in a relentless fight to maintain a healthy relationship and doubt your position in the relationship constantly (and especially if you feel isolated from other people or your other relationships are failing), something is wrong.

Do not mistake yourself.  If you are friends with an emotional manipulator, do not convince yourself that they will change with love and support and a little prayer.  Sadly, you cannot fix them.  They cannot admit the problem, so there is no healing.  You're better off giving them some space and refusing to let them treat you that way.  And if anything, they are better off too.

But if you have been manipulated, remember that they aren't diabolical.  They are lost.  They are broken.  Even though you can't fix them and you should not put up with their behavior, they deserve your compassion.  One person who manipulated me was by all appearances being manipulated by her mother.  Another person who used me was broken and looking for healing.  Forgive and go on as best you can.

As I read the following article, I remembered instances of all eight of these symptoms.  I think my only criticism of the piece is that it sounds bitter and hates the manipulator a little too wholeheartedly: http://theunboundedspirit.com/8-ways-to-protect-yourself-from-emotional-manipulation/