Introduction

 

     Shame. Yes, you read the correct word. Shame. That terrible, anti-mental health, anti-feminist, invalidating word is the opening word of this story. I never thought I would begin any of my stories, written or oral, with that word. Yet, here we are. I’m sure some would find it almost comical in a way. I know I do. I am a licensed therapist. I help people every day with their emotions and their wide array of problems. I facilitate sessions on a weekly basis to help others on their healing journey. These sessions range from individual, family, and couples.

Couples. Relationships. Love. Dating. “Situationships”. That, unfortunately, is what this story from a licensed expert is about. If I am to be honest and allow my ego to take over for a moment, I never wanted to write a memoir about a relationship and heartbreak. I pictured myself writing the next “Eat, Pray, Love” if I ever was to write anything at all. (You will see me reference this classic memoir a lot in this story.) I wanted to write about an exciting journey of self-discovery that involves a lot of travel. Granted, a relationship and a failing marriage is what prompted “Eat, Pray, Love,” but let’s face it, my story is not going to be filled with travelling to other countries or doing intensive meditation at an ashram in India. But, there’s always room for surprises, isn’t there?

Now, let’s get back to it, shall we? I guess I will start with referencing some things that shaped some of my core beliefs, which are mainly formed in our childhood years. If you were born in the late 80s and grew up in the 90s like myself, you likely were influenced by the “renaissance era” of Disney Films. You likely were also familiar with the older classics as well since you likely had copies of several VHS tapes (talk about a lot unnecessary plastic, right?) as well as the Disney channel playing these classics. I was raised on all of them, especially the princess films. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, you know them all.

In 1991 (this would put me at around six years old), my parents took me to see the classic Disney film, Beauty and the Beast. Like the rest of the world, I loved it. I loved the story, the music, the cinematography. However, there was one character that stood out to me. A character that would help me form a core belief about men and romantic relationships. That character was Gaston. If you are not familiar with the story, Gaston was the villain in this film. Granted, I was familiar with the concept of Disney villains from previous films I had viewed. But looking at it now from a more analytical lense, the villains I had viewed in Disney films prior were women. The wicked Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs…she had some major jealousy issues that needed to be worked on. Ursula in The Little Mermaid….well, she’s probably just resentful that she got banished to the dark corners of the ocean by King Tritan. The wicked stepmother in Cinderella…again, jealousy issues to resolve. Maleficent in Sleeping Beauty….well, she really needed to work on her anger issues and process her feelings after not being invited to a party.

But Gaston.. I felt differently about him. I found myself despising him. He was a brute, chauvinist, entitled, all of it. If we are speaking in psychological terms, he was an extreme narcissist. I knew I despised this archetype the moment I viewed the first scene he had with Belle where he ripped the book from her hand, making fun of her love for reading. He tosses her book an attempts to whisk her away like the alpha male savior he was. God forbid, a woman is intelligent and wants to read. Like most extreme narcissists, his character escalates. He becomes obsessive with having Belle, even though she asserted herself several times that she has no interest in him. It then escalates to “If I can’t have her no one will.” Ultimately, it leads to violence at the mob scene in the end. He locks her away, calls her crazy, and marches with an angry mob to the castle to wreak havoc on the perceived “beast.”

Why was this such a formative character/archetype for me? That’s easy. Even though I was only six years old, I was beginning to become familiar with the concept of love and partnership. I knew that I likely would want to fall in love one day and have a “Prince Charming” so to speak. Seeing that animated, disgusting brute of a man on that screen made me say to myself “Well, I will never end up with a man like that.” The Gaston’s of the world are full spectrum narcissists, abusers, all of the above. Black and white. No grey area.

Well, here I am today at 37 years old, and I can safely say that I stayed true to my six year old self watching Gaston on the screen. I never did end up with a man like that. I never encountered physical abuse, chauvinistic undertones in any of my relationships. I guess I should be congratulated, right? Isn’t that how that works in our patriarchal society? I kept those extreme black and white standards in my romantic life. Congratulations to me. I never ended up with a Gaston. And “shame” (there’s that word again) on other women who did end up with a brute, abuser like Gaston. Right?  “You should have seen the warning signs.” “You should have just left.” “You knew what you were getting yourself into.” These phrases, which currently make me want to vomit as I am writing them, are phrases I hear all the time spoken to survivors in places like a court room, at family gatherings, in gossip. Everywhere. Fortunately, in the last two years, more awareness is starting to be made regarding extreme abusers, extreme narcissism. It gives me so much joy to see more awareness made in therapy spaces, court rooms, and social media about the destruction these people wreak havoc on their targets.

But back to the story, I know I tend to digress at times. (Don’t worry, you won’t see me go down a Moby Dick-like rabbit hole of pages and pages discussing the whaling industry. Or in my case, pages and pages of things like the Irish dance world, theater, etc.). This story, my story, is not about the Gaston archetype. This story is about an unlikely character archetype. An archetype that hurts, an archetype that wreaks emotional and financial havoc on their targets, an archetype that is loads of fun and can be kind and gentle at times on the surface level. This is the archetype that broke me, the archetype who made me forget who I was for quite some time. This is my story of my complete and utter love and devotion to a man with Peter Pan Syndrome.