It is that spark of vulnerability, that something that allows for the connection to happen, the meeting of the emotional stars. It may seem so satisfying and curious at first but it is more than anything you may have had before and maybe in some ways it is better. The intensity of it, the rush, the speed, the love-talk, the love act, doesn’t it all happen so fast?
Within the speed is the dangerous whirl, that spinning vortex that before you can climb out of it you have begun to be sucked into it. It happens when you are so caught in the moment of the thrill and the chase that you do not see that the vortex is turning and you are yourself turning and turning. But what was it that drew you in? That spot, that place of vulnerability, that area in the heart that likes being flattered and charmed and made to feel that beautiful and important or valuable.
And before the vortex is done swirling you and around and whirling you into a powder, other things are entering in. The intensity of the vortex begins to have dark chakras, the energy goes sideways, the shock value begins to shock. Am I different now that he is in my life? Did I do something wrong here? Is he just in a bad mood? Why do I get this feeling of foreboding? Why does this weird sense of fear come upon me? Of course, it is just that this is so new and real and intense and wonderful, but why do I feel afraid somehow and why does part of me want to get away?
That vortex entraps because of the speed at which it develops and the less powerful nature of the object that gets caught within the whirl and swirl. The speed is a device, and it can be a tool in the arsenal of the dominator seeking prey to dominate. Beware, oh deer in the headlights, for those pretty lights aiming into your eyes is the vortex coming to suck you in as you stare back unawares!
The Cycle of Abuse
And so it starts this way. Within that whirl and swirl is some kind of pain, some kind of shock. You feel the nausea combined with dread. Maybe I can’t go on these kinds of rides, maybe I am not cut out for them, maybe I should try something else, or sit this out a while. For a moment it slows and the nice energy returns and the nice strokes and pats return and the daisies in the field are under your feet again and the blues and whites of the princess and her long hair are dancing before your vision eyes again. Perhaps I will get used to the speed of it, after all I just need some practice, perhaps maybe I caused the vortex to swing so hard around. I will go into the purple colors and swirl again. Purple is the color of rich blood vessels when they are broken, but so pretty a color it is indeed, is it not?
The vortex is a wheel, not the up and around of a Ferris wheel, but a sucking circling kind of wheel that spins and ignites from the energy that is in it, and that energy is you. Without you, the vortex would seek another energy, and with you, it becomes more alive and it swirls faster, and you feel the swirl and it is fast and exciting and a bit nauseating and a bit scary. In some ways it is better than the damp green grass of ordinary and fields of buttercups and daisies. And then the vortex shocks you once more, a little more of your energy is taken from you, you feel the depletion and yet you seem to stay. But then should I get off? Can I get out? But by the time you think again about it, the vortex has begun to embed itself into your legs and body, and you are embedded into it as well, those colors of purple and yellow and red, fire and bruised blood! And as you try to rid yourself of this vortex ride, behold! the sweet “sorries” come again, you hear the melodious strains of remorse, which sound as real as all the lute songs and trumpets in fairy land. What is outside this spinning anyway? Maybe I can get adjusted to this, after all, being sorry is so nice, since it keeps the spinning going round and around!
But mark me, the purples will come again against the fiery reds and yellows, the colors of anger and heat and the conversion of your energy into the vortex, and those purples will even crack open to show the red from which they are truly made. Again and again and again and again and again.
Excerpted from Warning Signs of Abuse: Get Out Early and Stay Free Forever by Theresa Werba
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Featured image: Web of abuse. Source: art_zzz / Adobe Stock.
