"The Hero in Her Eyes"💗
🤍CONFESSIONAL TALES & REFLECTIONS🤍 Relationshi(t)p Status - 'Victim Of Our Time'- 'Have-A-Go-Hero' The Lip Gloss Assassin - includes: 1+ HOUR MIXTAPE - [13 April 2025]
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13 April 2025 - Can I Be The Hero in my Own Story?
Dear Chasers💗
Here we go again! More turmoil of the soul - not! Today, I wish to distract myself from the struggles of living with (and loving the bones of) a self-proclaimed narcissist. I used to dismiss his proud declarations of how good it is to be a narcissist. I took it on board that it was another form of him ‘bragging’ about how intelligent he has to be - to be a narcissist.
Maybe that’s the reason I often dismissed it as so (because I didn’t see much evidence of too much ‘intelligence’ emitting from him. Not the kind I might have expected. I often thought being street smart (he certainly falls into that category) was on another spectrum to cognitive intelligence… but recently I have become all consumed with taking his ‘claim’ seriously.
I have been ‘me-search researching’ the traits of Narcissistic Personality Disorder and low and behold - he’s ticking every single box. Which then made my relationshit / relationship worries worse and more challenging.
I found myself picking everything about our dynamic apart. I may even be accurate in my own assumptions that this is really a fucking partnership - a business arrangement; whereby I am his banker and his landlady. Very bleak and uninspiring outcome. I took it upon myself to incorporate the ‘tips & tricks’ of how to ‘beat the narcissist at his own game’.
Only small things like ‘cutting off his dick..’ NOPE.. that was daydream - I’m joking!! Cutting off his supply. Which was basically, in a nutshell, stop loving him, be indifferent about him, stop admiring him.. and more. All these tactics were designed to help me get out of this situation where I am the Victim of his narcissism. But, it hurts.
It hurts me more to be that way. I know that I come on all of my publications all full of balls and spirit and angst about ‘how shit my relationship OF 15 YEARS* really is. *I always bang on how long I have managed to hold down something, without destroying, losing it, or worse - never having established it in the first place. I was so proud for a long time about the longevity of it.
Even though, I have often written in the tone of holding a grudge and making complaints. In real life, I have always taken the blame for the mess of it. On the page, I poke fun of it and feel chipper for being ‘clever’ enough to have ‘noted’ the cracks, and errors and mistakes in both our behaviours. Just pleased to have made such observations as if spotting the source of the problem would also be all the solution I would need to deal with things.
Deep down…. I was proud of the man who I complained about. I know he looks hot, I thought he was so sane, so logical and the reason I needed behind me.
I felt like I was the failure and he was the saviour but, when I switched my perception to the understanding that I was being victimised by this person. That I was only a mere pawn and a means to an end. I was devastated.
So, all these years, all those 15 fucking years were just me being ‘brainwashed’ made a fool of, proof that I wasn’t just stupid, but I was stupid as fuck. Evidence that I wasn’t being clever, I was being manipulated. I was being used. What a dickhead I am. More fool me.
Can you see how this has made me feel absolutely wounded and shit for the past three or four weeks? If loving someone who treats me badly hurts…. then unloving them hurts even more. I’d rather stick my head in the sand, dig my heels in and my nails too, stand firm and say… “Fuck it - I love you” and have done. I want to love him.
I might even be wrong about his intentions, his pathology and the worse that could happen is that - what those psychologists on YouTube shorts predict comes true - he finds another new ‘shiny supply’ from somebody else and I end up getting dumped. If that happens, I won’t get totally destroyed (again) I’ve been there too many times and fixed myself up (to some degree) and someone said to me once that when broken bones are repaired, they become more robust - not weaker as I had imagined. It must be the same with souls.
I’ve been broken so many times, if he goes at least now I will be prepared for it because the alternative to my continued love for him was heading in the direction of us separating anyway. That’s the update, I’m going to stop looking into what I believe his pathology is - leave that to the professionals (or at least people with a bit more about them cognitively than me!). I am now reversing back into the pit of despair which ignorance provided me with previously only now with a more productive and blissful outlook.
One thing I learned yesterday, that I’m at the stage of midlife, I’m 43 in September, where I now value silence, calm, peace over passion, chaos and havoc. You don’t have to fall to know that love is real. It doesn’t have to be a roller-coaster ride all of your life… it could be a bit of the Teacups with a Waltzer thrown in the mix occasionally.
If anyone remembers the theme park in Blackpool (called The Pleasure Beach) they had an old rickety track of a smaller roller-coaster called: The Mousetrap (or something.. I think the new replacement is Wild Mouse) it won’t be the same thought. The old one was another level terrifying. I feel like my last month has been that ride, well, it was the equivalent of what people mean when they refer to a Fried Breakfast being ‘a heart attack on a plate’ this ride man, to me, might as well have had RIP on the ticket.
I’m not digressing back to my old ways, or a previous version of myself. I’m retracing my steps armed with new knowledge (sort of).
‘I’d rather be a fool in love than a lonely genius’ - quote by Chasey Delaney (I literally just made that up off the cuff LOL)
Anyway, what would I know being the dullest button in the shoe-box when it comes to wisdom and knowledge.
I think where I ‘shine’ would be on an emotional level. Thanks to my upbringing being so neglectful - as was most in the 80’s. I am beginning to understand that things in the ‘olden’ days weren’t necessarily as bad as I think. People did their best with what tools they had. They were victims of their time that’s all. I shouldn’t be plodding around my own planet challenging the parenting I’d received back in the 80’s and chastising it by today’s standards with the information we now have.
Like, today people who become parents are much more equip to understand the basics of what children need (and don’t need). In my day they’d say babies don’t come with a user manual. This day and age 2025 - there’s probably thousands (or more) ‘user manual’ books/ reading material plus an arsenal of information and guidance that the people who parented / raised me - just wasn’t privy to, and it wasn’t limited to my family.
Most families from the same ‘class’ and even higher class families were limited too. I’d like to say we were of working class (because my family did work) but it’s more accurate to say we were all just on the ‘breadline’. I know none of this should matter, but it kinda does make a difference to what sources of information would be sought by our family against, say a wealthy family. I’m going slightly out of my ‘brain-range’ and off track here. PAUSE.
So I’ll bring it back to how I decided to appreciate that times were different and we were all victims of our time. My good friend from primary school (we lost touch at the time of this thing happening, and we have lost touch now too) had an incident happen to her when we were younger that’s enough to make your blood boil and your toes curls to think about everything she went through now.
I was sitting at Piccadilly tram stop the other day when Manchester City (FC) were playing. I was arrived at 11:15 and it was rammed with supporters getting on the Ashton and the Etihad Services - both would get me to where I was heading. I decided that as I was heading for a ‘traumatic'/embarrassing situation - accessing the free Food Bank called Feed My City (knowing that I had nothing to even offer as a ‘small donation’ made me queasy).
I decided not to put myself through any more discomfort than necessary, so I didn’t get on the heaving tram or the next or the next five trams that passed by full to the brim. I was only going a few stops to Holt Town which would take me a maximum 10 mins.
I waited patiently, people watching and letting thoughts fall into my consciousness for nearly an hour.
Some of the thoughts took me back to losing contact with my friend Jay’s horrific attack by her peers in a dark park late at night. I wondered how this event might affect her later on in life now that she’s also in her forties. These bullies held her hostage in that park, teased and tormented her, attacked her and cut off her fringe and sent her home, after hours of abuse, shocked, humiliated and in tears. I think one of the girls who did this got a caution for it from the police.
That’s it a fucking caution!! Jay wasn’t offered any counselling, compensation, protection or justice in my eyes. Which is what I mean by how things were dealt with in the ‘olden days’ (this happened in the 90’s) verses how things would be dealt with today.
I wish I had been around to help her that day. I got to wondering whether or not I would have stepped in against the gang and helped my friend to safety, or would I have been a shit-bag with images of what could happen to a have-a-go-hero holding me back?
It was only the other day when I was pissing about at my desk applying a touch of mascara, lip gloss and creme to my face. I got a phone call from my partner telling me there was a tenner or something in the bank that we didn’t have before (we’d probably been skint and he’d borrowed it from somewhere) and, would I nip down to the Arnedale and get some food supplies. I jumped up, grabbed my coat and keys and left. I thought the sooner I do it the sooner I’ll be home. Also, I was hoping to get there and back before he got back home from taking the dog out for a walk.
I saw this woman who always lets on to me and him, as Mark and Tracey. So many times we’ve corrected her with our names. She doesn’t let it registered so we are now Mark & Tracey to her. Sue is the local busybody. She’s lived in town all her life. She is a force to be reckoned with and very mouthy that’s why we love her.
When we first moved round here she’d been told I was a schizophrenic (by our previous neighbour who died - the second person in the house who we’ve had die in the time we’ve lived here) and Sue retorted back at the neighbour “schizophrenic my arse!” hahaha she’d never set eyes on me yet and already she was dismissing my illness. That was my sort of running with her.
Later as we were getting used to living around here, she had a go at my partner about putting the bins in the wrong bin shed and for letting our dog at the time (Simba our Dogue de Bourdeaux - RIP) shit all over the pavement without picking it up. It wasn’t us who left shit on the floor. She blamed us because ours was the biggest dog and the shit was massive (turned out to be fucking HUMAN SHIT.. how do I know? it was that same neighbour who caught the homeless bloke a few times coming over near our gate and crapping!)
Eventually, her and my partner butted heads and they had a go at each other. Following that she trusted us and would let on all the time ‘ello luv’ or ‘alright Mark, see you later son’. Then me, ‘ow’s your fella luv, see yer later Tracey!”. She’s known for saying it how it is and not taking no shit but we’ve seen the softer side of her too. I think she reacts bad as a defence mechanism because she’s had experience of people taking the piss out of her. She comes across a bit harsh but I like her. She was getting bullies by two other women in the street that day.
I saw it unfolding as I was on my way to Aldi in the Arnedale. I sort of did my usual thing and almost turned a blind eye to the commotion - not knowing at that point that Sue was involved - then suddenly I heard her voice answering back but I could tell it was a little more shakey than usual and less forceful. She was in her dressing gown and had the tiny dog with her. I slowed down. Considered my ability to assist her, figure I was up for a fight LOL billy big bollocks here, and went over to stand by her side.
I just butted in and said ‘You Alright Sue?’ who was visibly shaking but holding her own. My voice trailed off into the mist as and spit of the two women who were pointing fingers and shouting at Sue. Sue kept replying the same response (which I knew was the truth). They kept threatening to ‘knock yer fucking head off’…
WOMAN 1: you called my daughter a slag
SUE: I called her a twat! Not a slag.
WOMAN 2: No you were slagging her off about her weight and called her a fat slag.
SUE: NO I DIDN’T I CALLED HER AN EVIL TWAT - AND SHE IS EVIL!
The women honed in on her and were getting closer. I said to the nearest one, holding my arms out like some kind of boxing referee, and softly spoken I say something of a mumbled version of:
‘that’s enough now Sue’s not in a fair position to stand up for herself, what with her having the little dog with her and wearing her dressing gown, come on its not fair is it - I only want to de-escalate this’
I must have sounded so fragile but I looked fierce enough for them to start departing as I guided Sue away from there. Almost thanking her for getting me out of my own shit too! I couldn’t believe I had been prepared for war! In my quiet stealthy way.
I marched away on my own ‘ring walk’ with this tune in my head!
After we were around the corner Sue was visibly shaken but still arguing the toss and holding her own. I asked if she would be alright. She said something strangely related to my question but wasn’t quite there if you know what I mean. For a second she let the dog off on the grass for a little meander and a wee.
She looked me directly in the eyes and I was fully focused on sussing out her well being too so I had my eyes on her eyes too. We locked eyes whereas none of us ever give anyone that real connection. She thanked me with her eyes and after I mithered her for a few more minutes asking whether she would like me to walk her home now ‘I’m not fucking scared of them twats and her daughter is EVIL - I told em. I’ll tell um again!!’
Again, she assured me to get going, double-checked my name again: “it’s Chasey or Chase if you like”… “Orllright, Trace luv. Go on get yer lippy on. See you in a bit Tracey”. Bless her. She’d been staring at my crazy lip gloss that I forgot I’d been wearing, and in her ‘mild confusion’ she’d gave me the badge of honour in my mind I felt like an accomplished Have-A-Go-Hero of my own freaky kind. From there on out you may remember as - ‘The Lip Glass Assassin’!!!
Yours Sincerely,
from your mate,
…Chasey💗
Playing Us Out Is My ‘EXIT MIXTAPE’ I Dedicate To SUE..x:
