“If somebody is gracious enough to give me a second chance, I won’t need a third.” Pete Rose.
Life is all about second chances. Not in every single aspect, of course, but we’re often granted a “re-do” without even realizing it.
The truth is some of us are given a lot more, but instead of being grateful, we feel entitled. We take people for granted and become hateful when they finally refuse to forgive our mistakes repeatedly.
We’re only human, right? Everyone makes mistakes at some point. But when someone decides to forgive you and gives you another chance, grab it with both hands — because you might not get a third.
When it comes to life in general, second chances are basically new opportunities that we should take advantage of. Sure, life might seem ruthless and unfair at times, but not always.
Some people literally get a second chance to live, while others get a second chance at love. We just must learn to recognize and appreciate a new chance when it’s given to us.
You are not wrong for giving something or someone a second chance.
I think it is safe to say we have all been there. Maybe it was a simple thing you really didn’t even realize you did wrong, and you were instantly forgiven by some kind soul, or maybe you have been on your knees begging for forgiveness after you had done something, not even you thought you would do. Either way, I feel we can all relate to this one.
Now, can you imagine if people never handed out second chances?
Yikes. What an awful thought. People ask, what is your biggest regret? Without hesitation, I tell them I walked away from the most remarkable person I ever knew. I was, and still am, head over heels in love with her. Do men regret breaking up with good women? In a word: yes. Men who regret breakups almost always do so because hindsight is the brutal lens through which the past becomes oh-so-clear. Men who regret letting someone get away do so for a ton of reasons. (My reason, like most things in my life, was stupid). Have no fear, more on her shortly.
“You always talk about that one and your kids. Any others?” I was asked.
“Are we in, ‘Other than that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln,’ territory?”
“No, but do you have any other regrets?”
So, I thought and fortunately never really felt I had many, so I did not know how to answer. I almost felt like I must have a boring life not to have any other regrets. But do not worry, I gave it a little time, and it all caught up to me. A few times when I surprised myself, never thinking I would do something like that while also realizing I clearly wasn’t thinking in that moment of wrongdoing.
The brief moments of forgiveness are ones we barely notice, like when we cut someone off in traffic. Sometimes we don’t even realize we did this, and that person forgives us within about forty-five seconds, no longer thinking about it after maybe a few minutes of it happening. Sometimes our friends cancel plans that maybe we were really looking forward to, but we forgive them within a day or two or until we find some other plans for that night.
But can you imagine if we didn’t give people second chances? Can you think of how many good things have come to us as second chances that would never have happened if not for those second chances?
I most likely would not have half the number of friends I do now if I never forgave them and if they never forgave me.
I cancel plans because the introvert in me can’t help but get the best of me and my plans. I forget to respond to texts. And I hope we have all gotten that notification from Facebook telling us it is one of our good friend’s birthdays, which I would never have remembered until they posted a birthday selfie on Instagram, which then creates the mass amount of “happy birthday” texts and comments which definitely means you only remembered it because of that photo. I would be very lonely and friendless if not for second chances.
Sure, not everyone deserves a second chance in extreme cases. But I believe in most cases, second chances are okay, and you should not be afraid to give one.
There is a difference between forgiveness and giving someone a second chance. Forgiveness is certainly necessary to give someone a second chance, but you give someone a second chance because you are hopeful. You have hope that this person will not let you down again, and even though it is impossible for someone never to let you down again, it does not mean you should get caught up on their one mistake. Personally, I can’t help but think of all the good to come with them that I would miss out on if I were to deny someone a second chance.
You give second chances because you want to
I have never been one to deny myself something I want. You know yourself better than anyone, and if you want something, you are probably not going to satisfy that want until you have obtained it or at least tried for it. Why deny yourself something that could be? Being afraid to give someone a second chance will, more often than not, only get you to the next person who will eventually put you in a similar situation where you have to decide once again whether they are worthy of receiving a second chance.
As a human being, I realized long ago how imperfect we all are, which just makes us that much more special (seriously). We all have these idiosyncrasies and flaws. It is true that you must decide which flaws are worth putting up with because that Prince Charming is not just running late because his horse is slow. He actually does not exist. For me, it was Holly Golightly.
You are not wrong for giving something or someone a second chance. You are not stupid for giving out a second chance and it not working out again. You are a believer with hope in your heart. You are a glass-half-full type of soul, and we wrongdoers would be nothing without you. (And you are asking why I started every sentence in that paragraph with you. I don’t know. I was anxiously making a point).
Some may think that second chances are worthless until they need one.
The bottom line is that if you allow for a second chance, you are not foolish. You are a hopeful being that understands that one day you may also need one, too.
For those of you who follow me, you understand the two glaring issues I face on a daily (and nightly) basis. The first is recovering from twenty years with a narcissist who positioned herself to control through dominating, minimizing, and devaluing her target (me) regularly and upon our separation, reminding my two teenage sons what a terrible person I am as often as possible despite a judge’s order to stop. Allow me to repeat, despite a judge’s order to stop.
Isn’t it bad enough that after I’ve already lost my self-worth, my youth, my time, my money, my sanity, and whatever else I’ve lost because of being in a narcissistic relationship, now I have to lose my kids too? It just isn’t fair, and it isn’t right.
As I whine and stomp my feet, allow me a minute to explain. The narcissist cruises through her life as a tourist on an exotic island. She observes events and people, her own experiences and loved ones – as a spectator, would a movie that at times is mildly exciting and at others mildly boring. She is never fully there, entirely present, irreversibly committed. She is constantly with one hand on her emotional escape hatch, ready to bail out, to absent herself, to re-invent her life in another place, with other people. The narcissist is a coward, terrified of her true self and protective of the deceit that is her new existence. She feels no pain. She feels no love. She feels no life.
I’ve watched my narcissist convince friends and other community members, and even family members that I am the crazy one and she is the victim of her masterful manipulation strategies. People are hoodwinked and don’t even realize it. She slandered my name. I feel alone, humiliated, discouraged, disheartened, and vengeful.
Now, my kids are subjected to the smear campaign against me, and I find it is actually working. It is enough to make me either curl up in the fetal position and give up or rage with anger like an erupting volcano. Of course, to do either would confirm the reality of the premise of the smear campaign that I am deranged and crazy. The troubling piece is that I’m led to believe my kids despise me, but they do not know why.
And if I talk about the situation, others will not understand and will conclude on their own that she must be right. I am psychotic. It’s a no-win situation. Say nothing, and your name is tarnished. Say anything, and your craziness is confirmed.
So, they now live their lives as if I don’t exist. At least, that’s my thought. It’s got to be easier for them to believe they have no father than to think they could be related to the nastiest, most loathsome, horrific individual walking the planet.
When you seek help from a therapist, you often find that he/she is just as much at a loss as you because those in the counseling community are often not well-equipped to handle such relationship dynamics. No one is, really.
The courts rarely help and often exacerbate the problem. Since my children are not minors, at least by Florida standards, then court involvement is pointless. Besides, you can’t legally force anyone to see the truth. Denial is denial, and brainwashing is not easily countered.
It is tough when you’re not grounded and when you have a broken heart, and when you have barbwire around your heart.
So, what is a parent to do under these circumstances?
Nothing.
Remember, during my entire relationship with The Narc, I was always on the defense. I can’t defend myself anymore. It’s exhausting trying to be a perfect human being, always showing others why you are worthy.
In practical terms, the way to do this is to change course whenever I have a feeling of defensiveness. If I feel defensive, then don’t talk, and don’t try to get anyone else to see the truth. Go for a walk. Write in my journal. Call a friend and vent. Sit on the beach. Do something else until the feeling is no longer pressing me.
And pray. I have always said that hope is not a strategy but prayer? Maybe if I live my life the right way (pay attention to the golden rule, help others, be nice), they will want a second act with their father.
As for narcissistic abuse, it happened through threats, fear, and terror. Psychological mind games, gaslighting, covert and overt put-downs, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, projection, and triangulation–these were some of her manipulative tactics that other survivors of malignant narcissists and I are all too familiar with.
A narcissist does not value anyone else because they can only see their own needs, desires, and perspectives. Breaking free of a narcissist is only the first step in healing – to thrive in the wake of narcissistic abuse fully, you must understand how this abuse impacts you and then work to correct it through understanding and self-love. Healing the wounds from a narcissist can be a long and complex process, especially if you are self-loathing like me.
I am working through it regularly. It does not get easier, but she is not here, and it is now about me not believing all those horrific words and chasing rainbows.
Pursuing illusionary goals, and trying to achieve impossible things is not so bad. The term comes from the old tale about finding a crock of gold if one digs at the end of the rainbow, where it touches the earth. I know exactly who I want to chase rainbows with.
And that leads me to my other glaring issue, my feelings for Pam. After years of friendship, I, along with an excellent friend, convinced her to shelve our existing relationship and move to new territory, dating. I had her. I bought the ring. We moved on from a friendship that was terrific into a romantic world that was better than anything I could ever dream about.
Houston, we have a problem.
I am or was a people pleaser (a narcissistic target). A people pleaser is someone who tries hard to make others happy. They will often go out of their way to please someone, even if it means taking their own valuable time or resources away from them. People pleasers often act the way they do because of their insecurities and lack of self-esteem.
Oh, please, it’s because we are incapable of saying no.
I failed to warn her of this slight personality flaw. I failed to say, “Be aware that people-pleasers don’t often tell you what they need or want. They don’t want to upset the flow of the relationship. Knowing that information, be sensitive to this personality difference and try your best to listen between their words, make room for their desires, and not overpower the relationship.”
I failed to warn her because I did not know it myself. How do you warn somebody about something you are unaware of?
It’s hard to say no to someone else’s personal request; it’s even harder when you are a people pleaser.
So, when a friend asks you to help her find a new outfit, you default to “sure.” And then you agonize later: “Why did I say yes!?”
Or when a colleague asks you to be a part of their project, you’ll say “okay,” but then immediately regret it. Then you are angry, both at them and at yourself for saying yes.
Okay, it’s time for a cringe-worthy moment.
If you are still with me, I want you to think of a time when you cracked a joke or tried to be funny, and nobody laughed. Or maybe a time where you tried hard to be taken seriously and were completely ignored.
Do you remember a specific scenario? How did it make you feel? Embarrassed? Anxious? Nervous?
Good!
Because here’s where you can change your story.
According to the American Psychological Association, a study was conducted in which 269 adults and 125 college students told open-ended stories about meaningful times in their lives.
They then placed the stories into two different categories: stories with “redemption sequences,” in which bad events had good outcomes, and stories with “contamination sequences,” in which good events had bad ones.
And here’s where this story applies to you or me: the researchers found that people who told stories with more redemption sequences were happier than those who didn’t.
This means they rewrote their narrative.
Now think back to your cringe moment. Think of the people surrounding you at the time and ask yourself:
How did I make them feel?
Did they laugh or gain value?
Do they even care?
I want you to take the focus away from yourself. That is what I am doing, and so far, succeeding. When you have a faulty memory of failing to people-please, it isn’t a knock against yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you.
To be more specific, I went to my parent’s home on a Sunday afternoon. I had just dropped Pam off at the airport after a terrific weekend together. There was no question I wanted to marry her. Earlier that week, I bought an engagement ring but wanted to figure out a once-in-a-lifetime proposal for a once-in-a-lifetime woman.
My dad told me to get my money back. I asked him if he was joking. When he told me she was not right for me, I heard nothing else. All sounds stopped. The words were actually, “She’s too good for you.” Who says that to their son? And worse, who listens?
I have written about it but, as a people pleaser, I pleased him. And no, I never got passed it, especially since he and my mother (who handed me The Narc’s phone number) wanted me to marry her.
It’s been years, and I have never stopped thinking about her. I want to reach out to her but after so much time, how does one do that? I think one way is to, as I have said before, write a letter. Write a letter that comes from the heart. It must be written as if she is going to read it tonight. It must say precisely what you have been thinking for all these years. It must be about second chances. But do second chances really exist? I don’t know. I don’t get too many second chances but second acts. I think we get second acts.
Second Acts
The second act is usually when the character is trying to figure out how to get out of a particular situation or to solve a specific problem, which we can then liken to dedicating your life to one specific cause (second acts). I think that is where I am… dedicating my life to one specific cause.
I know I love her. I know I loved her. She is so beautiful. I never get tired of looking at her, even if now only on social media. I never worried if she was more intelligent than me because I knew she was. She’s funny without ever being mean. (That might be her only fault). Yep, I love her, and I know how lucky I was to have loved her, even if it was brief. But you never stop loving someone you really care about.
So, I listened to my father, and that was that. All I can say is I was an idiot and had we married, I no doubt would have screwed it up. That is who I was. When you are in love, you are supposed to listen to your heart, and you listen to the person you love. Not me. I listened to everyone who had “their” best interests at heart. Not mine.
Why should it be better this time? Why can it be different?
I am not the same person I was. I have no relationship with those people who masked their best interests as mine, and I try to make decisions that are logical. I was mentally and physically beaten. The Narc took it all. She stole what she wanted because the world owed her; she had no guilt about stealing my money, my friends, my pre-marital property, and my kids. She came in like a hurricane and left like a tornado.
No, I am not the same person. I became a hollow, broken shell of the person I once was. She robbed me of my sense of self because that served her best interest. There was only room for one person in that relationship. That person was never going to be me. I served as a mirror in which she could see her own reflection. So, it’s like I said, when we want to say it, we write it. My letter would probably say something like this. No, it would definitely say this:
Dear Pam,
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Everything about you shines with elegance and grace. Like an angel that has come upon me in some good fortune, your perfection could have only come from heaven above. I have been blessed to have this seductive goddess stand beside me.
I keep thinking about how lucky I am to have met you. Whenever we walked into a room, I looked around and saw heads turn. They turned to look at this marvelous woman who was holding my arm. They looked at me as if I held the secret. How did I get to be with someone so incredible? How did I capture the affection of this fantastic lady with a heart-melting smile? Although I have no answers, and your love still bewildered me, it made me feel a little smug with delight.
Your beauty and charm amazed me and everyone around you. Your silky hair and how it framed your face, your fantastic figure, your silky skin, and your sparkling smile. I love your smile. The way you throw your head back when you laugh and the way you can make everyone around you feel comfortable in any situation put me in awe. Wherever you were is where people wanted to be, including me. Always me. Being by your side was the only place I ever wanted to be. You bewitched me on the first day I saw you.
The most beautiful thing about you, which stands apart from everything else, is not something I can touch or feel, or even see. I can barely find the words to describe it. Your personality, heart, passion, intelligence, and manner are a piece but not the whole. I think the best way to describe it is your “warmth.” You give me strength. You find a way always to make me smile. You make everyone else smile. You are the reason why I am happy every single day. I think of you and how you make me feel loved, comforted, and cared about. No one else has ever given me such a beautiful gift. So, Pam, that makes you the most beautiful person in the world.
Forever Adoring You,
Steve
One last thought
So, now you know about my sons, and you know about Pam.
The only question is this, was F. Scott Fitzgerald correct when he said, “There are no second acts in American lives.”
After a great deal of research from my research department, I believe at the time, he meant those words, but he was also half-baked and sitting at a watering hole with Ernest Hemingway, a friend and rival. We cannot just take his words at face value. Then it would be based on a common misunderstanding of what Fitzgerald meant. To be clear, unlike traditional theater, where there is a first act that presents a problem, a second act that looks at complications and alternative solutions, and a third act that resolves it, Americans want to skip the second act and leap immediately to solutions.
I do not want to skip steps. I have. It never works and always comes back to bite me. I have looked at and lived all alternative solutions. For the first time in my life, I know what I want, and I even know how to make it work. The trouble might be the intermission between the first act and the second act is taking a little longer than the screenwriter expected.