Hell In Human Skin

I heard that term on a show describing mental illness…hell in human skin. I like it. It’s very apt.
This post is not to bitch about the latest mood swing or anxiety attack. Yesterday, while stressful and full of little minefields that could have gone off, is gone and I survived.

What is filling my mind now are the knots of emotion that I find so hard to sort and assign importance to. I’m damaged, I know this. I have many many issues. My thinking is not always logical.
But at which point do you stop invalidating yourself and taking all responsibility for everything around you and face facts…
Some people are just toxic.

To gain clarity, I have been reading sites about manipulative people, how to spot them, how to handle them, what to ask yourself in regards to the relationship to gauge whether your are being overreactive or illogical.
The bottom line is…
Some people just really need to wear skull and cross bone labels because while they put on a wonderful facade of decency…They are just poisonous to the bone.
When someone makes demands of you but gets pissed when you expect the same in return…TOXIC.
When you realize the relationship is one sided rather than two sided, that person is TOXIC.
When every interaction leaves you walking away, feeling disrespected and dismissed, the person is TOXIC.
When you ask for the opinion of another who has seen the way the toxic person has treated you and they agree you’re not being unreasonable…
It’s time to reassess, for the thousandth time, exactly what the toxic person brings to your life you actually can’t live without.

This is where hell really is in human skin. You’re torn between wanting to believe the toxic person means well but lacks the emotional intelligence to realize how horrible they can really be.
You want to give them the benefit of the doubt.
You want to be wrong, for them to be worthwhile.
You don’t want to think they view you as so insignificant that the poor treatment could be anything other than your own neuroses distorting a well adjusted relationship.

I think, though, after giving this person nearly 20 years to prove they are more than the sum of their own egomania and arrogance…Maybe it really is time to reevaluate. Again. Because it’s always that tiny smidge of me that pulls away then gets sucked back in, all the while thinking, it’s just me, maybe things have changed, et al…
I’ve changed.
He has not.
And the fact is,while his friendship can make my life easier at times…I’m not sure it’s worth the emotional toll.
Though from the view point of a writer needing research on a sociopathic narcissist with no self awareness and little conscience all the while putting on a socially acceptable facade…It’s quite fascinating, like a Ted Bundy minus the murders. Charisma blinds people to the truth. Fallacy becomes fact. Anyone who questions the mask the masses believe is real becomes the unstable one.
Fascinating to study. Not fun to deal with.
Less fun is to realize how the person manipulates you, plays on your kindness and feelings, and makes you out to be the monster taking advantage of them.
I’ve wondered if I keep this person around as punishment for who I used to be prior to the mood stabilizers. Back when the manias and lows made me seem like a manipulative monster. Subjecting myself to a similar monster to atone.

Hell in human skin. It’s apt.

There is no right or wrong when it comes to human behavior. One person’s “atrocious behavior” might entail using the wrong dinner fork while another’s might consider skewering puppies acceptable.
I guess what it boils down to is what you as an individual can live with.

I have redeemed myself enough to deserve a modicum of respect, so being associated with someone who makes me feel so disrespected and disposable really seems beneath me.
At the same time…meeting someone so fabulous fucked up and not even smart enough to realize how much of a hot mess they are…Well, you can’t create characters that disturbingly fascinating. The writer in me wants to cling and gather more data and create the next Hannibal Lecter. The murderous part will be the only fiction.
I also have this deeply disturbed pathos in me that loves to watch the mighty (even if only mighty in their own minds) fall.
Schadenfreude.
For all the times I was falling apart and no one had the time or patience or even cared enough to listen.
For every time my problems have been back shelved to make time for the problems of another who never had time to reciprocate.

Knowing where all the bodies are buried is a powerful feeling. Knowing you can go digging them up at any time, and basically bring someone’s world crashing down around them…
Yeah, I’m a bit sociopathic.
We all are, if anyone ever had the courage to face the truth.

Toxic people. Hell in human skin.
Decisions, decisions.

I think I shall learn from past mistakes and just step back. Watch. Wait. Gather data. If nothing else, this person is good for entertainment on occasion.

The biggest thing to all of it is…I finally admit, I won’t wither away without this “friendship” in my life.
This is my choice.
I want to choose wisely, not just because I’m feeling pissy or getting mixed signals.
When the ties are severed…

I need time to decide whether to use scissors or a chainsaw.

Shame I’m not homicidal. I’d make an excellent segment on Deadly Women.

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One Response to “Hell In Human Skin”

  1. hell in human skin is the perfect phrase for it. I can relate to your post.

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