Small Progress is still Progress

As the days go by I slowly realize how The Narcissist's grip on my proverbial emotional throat as loosened.. I realize how the hold on my fears are fading away like writing in the sand that's too close to the water as high tide comes rolling in. I realize how the jagged unevenly broken pieces of the person I once was are slowly being out back together, but not in the same organized disaster type of arrangement as before. They each seem to fit seamlessly as if this is how they were meant to be all along and I just hadnt quite figured it out before.  

I used to panic at the blinds being open at night.  Scared that there was someone sinister with less than honorable intentions looking through them. Staring at me. Plotting when they woukd make their move to take what's near and dear to me in order to cause the most pain.  Motivated my whatever fantasy story The Narcissist had come up with to paint the picture of me as the voluntary executioner of his deranged mental image of the perfect world.  A world where he was never in the wrong.  Where he was the perfect doting father who did everything for his children, rather than the realistic image that came to light upon spending more time with him.  Watching him manipulate an autistic child into believing if he didn't agree with The Narcissist, that he was unworthy of his father's love, attention, and praise.  

I used to have sporadic moments of absolute terror that caused seizure like trembling and an insatiable feeling of impending devastation.  There was no real or literal cause, or trigger.  It would come out of no where. It was my personal Acme anvil falling from the sky like in the old Looney Toons cartoons without the build up whistle or shadow appearing at my feet.  

As the days go by I have less moments of terror. They have been replaced with a repetitive mantra. An anchor word or phrase that brings me back to my new and improved reality.  There are less evil unforgiving eyes staring at me through the uneven blinds of my bedroom at night.  The moments of terror have become expected like the mail on Monday's yet less frequent like an amazon package that you didnt actually order. 

No one voluntarily orders a life of fear and anxiety.