He sat down next to me. I sensed a great disturbance in his energy. He couldn’t look away from me. It was as if he was hypnotized by me. “o dear, I thought to myself, here it comes.”
Precisely, one minute later, he started. “When I look at you, I keep wanting to look. There is something about you” (yes, I am that person who cares about lost souls, broken birds and sick kittens–and because of this, broken men arrive in my life. I have tried everything under the sun but nothing seems to stop players and narcissists from somehow finding me. It started when I was 12 and it has continued to this day. I dread Pakistan for precisely this reason. It should be called “The Narcissistic Republic of Pakistan, where people marry to solve all sorts of problems.”
He began his story: “I was molested by the priest who my father hired to teach the holy book to me. It went on for 4 years. My grades were awful. I never amounted to much and my father would hit me. I didn’t dare tell my father. I thought I must have become gay. So I had an affair with any and every woman I could fine to prove that I am not gay. I was a player and I hurt so many women. Then I got married but years later wife left me. I lost my child/children. I still miss her, I loved her and my daughter. Can you please help me? I will come wherever you are, I will pay you whatever fees you want.”
The last was delivered with the kind of tone and look that made it abundantly clear that this was a thinly veiled pass. He was NOT interested in therapy, getting better or me. He was just looking for a woman (any woman) to fill the void of emptiness inside him. My body knew this type of man–they send a message of great emotional need–but I got the instant message, ‘Run’, this man is incapable of friendship or love. I ran. I cant even recall what I said. All I know is that I was as kind as I could possibly be under the circumstances. Of which I am proud.
There are many many many broken men around who turn to drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and seek women as entertainment to cope with emptiness inside. A lot of men go through some kind of bullying and abuse as children. narcissistic abuse is also common. These traumas affect the brain, leading to a near continuous state of anxiety and long term chronic depression. Love isn’t something that men who are not in a healthy state of mind can feel or appreciate.
This man was genuinely ill. But instead of taking responsibility for his illness, he was looking to park it on other people i.e., kind women. Men with narcissistic tendencies do that and unfortunately many women will allow that. You see our society is ready and willing to forgive men their problems more easily. It is a society that is structured to make men into princes and women into maids so women will accept older men, married men, lower status or even sick men to have social belonging–because it is so important to have the label of marriage.
When I first became aware of the realities of life in Pakistan, it scared the living daylights out of me. I’d ask myself why bother with the truth? shouldn’t I find a large piece of preferably black cloth, tie it around my body and spend my days in prayer? after all I love meditating, why bother with anything except God? Why not shut myself away in a monastery and write about religion, god and angels? why not indeed?
Religion in any form is a refuge but the real battlegrounds of our lives are our homes and workplaces. We cannot escape from truth in any monastic order, instead the regret of not taking a stand, would haunt me all my life and no amount of meditation would take away the pain of inaction and silence in the face of grave injustice.
Here’s what I must say to all the players who seek women to ameliorate their pain, so bear with me.
“You can’t really hurt me because I know that my loving heart is the most beautiful thing about me, and that is from God. You cannot shame, humiliate or use me. It is your loss to exploit my kindness for your narcissistic needs. It is sad that when I think of you I wont think of you with love or affection but with some distrust. But the worst thing is that I can’t respect you anymore.’
Behind The Veil 