The deadline to Share Your Story is just a month away!
I am writing a follow-up book to Escaping the Boy: My Life with a Sociopath, and I want you and your story to be a part of it!
My second book will focus on healing and recovery from pathological love/toxic relationships using mindful approaches like yoga, meditation, writing, journaling, joining support groups and much more.
I believe that the more real-life examples victims, survivors and advocates read, the better our collective understanding. The better our collective understanding, the easier it will be to increase our support systems and see real change in how divorce, child custody, domestic violence, rape and intimate partner abuse cases are approached, investigated and determined/prosecuted.
Follow the link below to learn more about sharing your story. For all who share their story and are interested, I’ll send you a signed copy of “Escaping the Boy: My Life with a Sociopath.” You’ll see on the form where to provide your full mailing address.
Thank you, in advance, for helping us help each other understand and learn about the powers within ourselves to overcome even the ugliest relationships and experiences in this lifetime.
Namaste! Peace!
~ Paula
© Paula Carrasquillo and Paula’s Pontifications, 2012 – 2013.
Your Healing Frequency 
7 responses to “Share Your Story by September 30, 2013!”
Paula,
just posted on and about ‘share your story’…mine…that is.I have to say that this exercise in first, deciding to do it, and the second to actually sit with myself and get IT out was good to do…I don’t like to recall it all but also I understand that there are many others who need to know that they too can have a life free from abuse and pain,
thanks
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Thank you, Gert!!! I am glad you decided to contribute and share. Namaste! ❤ ❤
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Hi Paula,
I have already posted my story (part there of) on your blog months ago.
It was the beginning of my journey to self-awareness as, I had only just discovered
the truth of my time with my Sociopath.
I have been processing & reading & supporting others whilst also going to therapy.
I have done Mindfulness & CBT & am now beginning Gestalt Therapy.
I have learnt a lot about the Sociopath & myself.
I have absorbed the trauma physically & mentally & with the help of friends online, my own friends & family, doctor & therapists I am slowly extricating my mind & body out of the Sociopath’s control & effect.
I am still somewhat amazed at what I & others go through but, I have found the awareness of other sufferers a great healing tool. I am not alone.
I always equate this recent experience with when I was a child & I was told Santa Claus wasn’t real, I remember thinking “NO,HE IS REAL!”, then the reality set in & Christmas was never the same again.
With my NS the illusion was shattered & the child within & the woman outside was left betrayed & bitterly disappointed for being lied too & all the pretence was gone.
I am also aware now that I kept accepting the unacceptable.
Not just because the Soc had control but, because I couldn’t separate the reality from the illusion.
Even when I felt strongly that it wasn’t normal behaviour, my own self worth as a woman undermined me as I inherently wanted to nurture the wounded person that I was & protect her from further abuse or abandonment.
In other words, I didn’t fight or flee, I froze my emotions (became numb) so, I could survive the humiliation & fear of another loss.
I never felt protected but, I would protect others even the Soc.
This is something I recently realised & why the Soc found me so malleable & prime for manipulation.
I am now working hard to find myself again & release my ‘Little Girl’ that I shut down to protect but, never set her free to love herself, value herself, validate herself.
This has been my journey so far & it continues.
Love & Light 🙂
PR xoxo
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I thought the boy was different. I thought he was trying to change his life. I let him inside me. I let him beat me. I was already a sick woman, sick with mental illness and alcohol abuse and he knew it. He could have me with a smile or a crook of his finger even after he beat me.
Lover, you are not my friend. You don’t ask me how my day was. You grab me by the throat and tell me how my day is going to be. Your way. Always your way.
It is time for my life to be, in the immortal words of Frank Sinatra, “My Way.”
I started a program, which bites my ass sometimes because I am used to staying up all night (with weapons next to my couch, to protect me from the boy) and the program starts at 9AM. The group programs…well the members sometimes irritate the hell out of me but we are all on the same journey. Back from substance abuse, but most of us have been victimized by “the boy” or “the woman” because predators always manage to find the people who are in a vulnerable place.
I used to be afraid to leave the house. Now I am in a program, I have a therapist, and I try not to worry that the money is running thin. It will work out. With “the boy” I just stayed inside and swilled vodka. Now I have friends. Family. Support.
I am not recovered yet. But I will be.
Writing helps. I can’t do this arts and crafts crap they make us do to save my life but the one thing I can still do is write. Writing is a balm for the hurt of bad men and bad choices.
And when I need something to eat, I can hop to the corner store. I have no idea why I deserve such generosity but the Pakistani husband and wife who own the store have adopted me. Once, when I was beaten by “the boy” and I showed up just to get enough Gatorade to keep me alive, the husband (I will call him ‘T’) sat me down in a chair, got his son to fetch everything I wanted, and put me in his car. He guided me up the stairs to my apartment and made sure I was settled on my couch before he left. His beautiful wife, always dressed in a black dress and lace shawl, called me her ‘sister’ when I was recovering from the boy.
Good friends take care of you. Great friends will go to the ends of the earth for you. That is the way to get away from a sociopath.
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Thank you, thank you, thank you, Maggie. I know it’s not easy to accept what you have accepted and to go through this program you describe. What’s the purpose of the arts and crafts, anyhow? To remind us one day down the road how disturbed we were? Or to remind us that we made it through hell. It’s not like we display the stuff “proudly” and find ourselves asking, “Now where did I put that lovely potholder I made while trying to figure out what was so wrong with me all those years ago?” 🙂
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I’ve written my story, it’s called, With the Stroke of a Match. You can read excerpts on Facebook at “With the Stroke of a Match.”
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Thank you, Anonymous. 🙂
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