“I was standing in the kitchen of the Spiritual Lodge. I was cutting veggies in a biodynamic way and feeling his body in close proximity to mine.

The Love Bomb

For the last three weeks I had been initiated into the wondrous world of spirituality, reiki and shamanic practices. My heart and soul were opened to the max. I was truly and fully in love with Spirit, Scotland, the Moon and people in general. I could not stop smiling and was serving as a volunteer with all the energy and love I had in my heart.

That was the perfect open door for Jack to step in.

He was the most talented drummer I had ever heard play. When he played, his energy seemed to shift from human to Divine. The smile, the playful power, the speed and strength of his hand, everything enchanted me and brought me into a high I never wanted to come down from.

His humour and intensely sexy Scottish strength of body and voice melted my knees and buckled my will. His charisma and talent were incredibly strong. All people in the Lodge loved him and I knew more than one woman had her eyes on him.

He had not even really talked to me and I already wanted to serve, support and love him more than anything.

When he looks at me, smiles, and oh when he touches me. The sun shines on my sweet little garden plants who have just started to put their tiny heads above the dark hard soil of my childhood. I need his warmth, his attention and his love to let me grow and guide me towards the light.

In those enchanting first moments all other concerns and thoughts melt away. It is only him and me. I wish I could stay here forever. And he tells me we can. We can make a house for ourselves in nature and we will be partners in Divine union that lasts forever.

When he turns away and turns his attention to his own darkness or Goddess save me, to another woman in front of my eyes, my heart freezes over. My delicate little flower heads droop down, feeling forgotten, frozen and lost.

So I am not worthy. I am alone in the world. He will never love me.

That need and desire grew and intensified until I let go of all my plans.

The love bombing took two months. Until we were asked to leave my spiritual lodge never to come back.

Only five years later did I find out that we were ex communicated because Jack was courting at least two other women at the same time as me. I guess I came out the most willing and able to serve his needs.

I was truly alone in an unknown country with only him by my side.

I could have left.

This was the hook.
The rest was the web.

I did not know then that the beginning was designed to bind.”

I Could Have Left

I could have left.
I could have taken that bus and chosen myself.
I could have travelled to the northern part of the Scottish Highlands and from there to Ireland.
I could have been free.

I stayed.

I stayed in a stinking, rotting boat with a man who bullied me, coerced me, and gaslit me into loving him more deeply with every new drama.

He became the poison I learned to crave.

The Beginning

I could have left many times after that day when I still believed we were destined for each other.

Soulmates finally finding each other.

He had found a suitable and willing partner.

In those early months of romance and pain, I received the message that my father had suffered a stroke.

After years of trying to support my dad and make him feel loved and important, something inside me had already given up. The weight of repeated failure had settled deep.

I did not travel to Holland to see him.
I had a new man in my life.

After a summer filled with spiritual awakening and shamanic initiations, we left the Lodge. I chose to live together in the nearby village with Jack.

Trying to Save Him

I could have left when the first signs of paranoia and addiction appeared.

I found someone new to save.
Someone I believed was beautiful and pure on the inside.
Someone I imagined I could pull out of the abyss of his own thoughts.

I believed I could help him.
I believed I could be important.
I believed I could be needed.

Beneath all of that lived an older hope.
I believed I could succeed where I had failed with my dad.

I was aware of what I was doing.
I was aware of the danger.
I saw the darkness woven into the promise.
I knew the cost even as I stepped forward.

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The Spiral Begins

From that village, we moved around for a few months. We slipped into a slow, intoxicating spiral of codependency.

After six months, we ended up in his mother’s home in Glasgow.

Then she died.

Jack carried narcissistic traits wrapped in high emotional intelligence. He was deeply attached to his mother and heavily dependent on weed.

He stayed in bed most days, receiving cups of tea, watching conspiracy theory films, playing his guitar.

His world narrowed.
His thoughts tightened.

I recognised the familiar edges of paranoid collapse from my years working in psychiatry.

Losing Myself

I spent most of my time with him.

Alongside that, I held a full time job at a customer support agency and began studying Gaelic. I clung fiercely to these threads. They reminded me that I still existed.

He tolerated my studies.

There was little room for friends.
Family faded into the background.
Culture and social life disappeared.

Our days blurred into addiction and isolation.

The Death of His Mother

One afternoon, I went to check on his mother. I found her dead on the toilet.

What followed felt unreal.

Grief spilled into chaos. Those who know Glasgow understand how heavy the atmosphere can become.

Jack remained in bed day after day. Threats of self harm and suicide grew louder. Even his dog became part of the fear.

Somehow, I kept moving.

My mother stepped in with quiet strength. With support from parts of Jack’s family, we handled the house, the paperwork, the practical aftermath.

I carried the blame.
I absorbed the accusations.
I listened as reality bent and shifted around me.

Leaving Scotland

After the funeral, we filled a tiny car with Jack’s belongings and two bags of mine. We took the ferry to my parents’ house.

The spiral tightened.

I was still deeply entangled with his presence, his voice, his scent, his music.

At the same time, my family and friends began to see more clearly.

For a while, I managed to hold the story together. His charisma carried him through many conversations. Eventually, the charm wore thin.

We moved again.
Into a moldy, decaying boat…

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Breaking Point

That was where something inside me finally broke.

I ended the relationship for the first time. I started working in a halfway house for people navigating criminal histories and severe psychological challenges.

Even after the breakup, it took nine more months to truly leave.

Nine months of his descent into homelessness, addiction and paranoia.
Nine months of my body collapsing under the strain.

I developed a severe hernia.
I lived with constant pain.

I worked with multiple physical and psychological therapists.

In May 2019, I travelled to Ibiza.

There, something softened.
Something opened.
I felt my light returning.

After three years of psychological trauma and abuse, I found the strength to say no.

Ibiza and the Moment of No

I was walking home from Sta Eularia, climbing a steep campo road toward my work away place.

During those two weeks, I experienced care, beauty and joy again. I felt grounded in the knowing that I am worthy, good and lovable.

He called.

I felt steady.

I said no.
I said no to sending more money.
I said no to declarations of love.
I said no to carrying responsibility for his choices.
I said no to fear about what he might do.

My voice was calm.
My body was aligned.
I trusted myself.

That stretch of road remains sacred to me. It holds the memory of my release from merging, from obsession, from the spell of that relationship.

Love still existed in a distant, human way.
It no longer moved me.

Distance played the central role.
Distance of place.
Distance of mind.
Distance of nervous system.

A different experiential field allowed clarity to emerge.

Disentangling requires space.
Deep codependency requires absence of triggers on every level.

The Final Confrontation

Eventually, I returned home.

He had made his way into my brother’s house where I was living. I stayed with a friend.

When he refused to leave, I faced him one last time.

With all the love in my heart, I asked him to leave the house and never return.

My voice carried strength.
My body held presence.
There was no hesitation.

He felt it.

He tried once more.
He asked for money.

I repeated myself, slowly and clearly.

With all the love in my heart, I am asking you to leave.

Afterward, my heart raced.
I cried for hours.

It worked.

What I Learned Inside This Spiral

• Devotion as a doorway. Spiritual retreat spaces can be ideal environments for people with narcissistic tendencies to find their most open and willing subjects. In spaces devoted to serving the divine, openness can easily be redirected toward a person who begins to take that divinity for themselves.

• People often do not see what is happening. Charisma can carry someone through confrontations, and love can cover fractures for a long time.

• Life can become a constant state of survival. Vigilance drains your energy until you feel empty and far away from yourself.

• Self esteem can erode gradually. Your sense of reality can start to depend on their moods, their approval and their version of events.

• Hope can cling to imagined potential. You remember the glimpse from the beginning and keep reaching for it in the dark.

• Pursuit can continue through rejection, threats and blame. The spiral feeds on confusion and endless discussion.

• Communication can become simple again. Yes or no becomes a lifeline.

• Boundaries can become non negotiable. A tiny opening can feel like a gap they can crawl through.

• Distance can change everything. A different space can return you to your own mind, your own body and your own truth. 

If You Are Leaving

• Choose distance in whatever form you can access. Distance of place, distance of mind, distance of nervous system.

• Reduce triggers as much as possible. Absence can support disentangling when your body has learned to brace for contact.

• Let your communication become simple. Hold to yes or no when you are pulled into spirals.

• Stop the exchanges that keep you hooked. Money, proof of love, carrying responsibility for their choices, accepting blame that is not yours.

• Tell safe people the truth. Let family or friends help you hold reality steady.

• Get support for your body and your mind. Pain and trauma live in the system, and care helps you return.

• Prepare for a final moment of clarity. One sentence, repeated steadily, can be enough.

A Closing for You

If you are reading this and recognize yourself, you are not weak.
You are not naive.
You are not broken.

You stayed because you loved.
You stayed because you hoped.
You stayed because your nervous system learned to survive through connection.

Your healing is real.
Your return is real.
Your life is allowed to become spacious again.

If you need to speak, to be heard, to share your experience with someone who understands, you are welcome to reach out through the comment section below, or the contact button on my booking page.

I will meet you with respect, with tenderness, and with the kind of honesty that helps you stay with yourself.

May your next step be simple.
May your no be steady.
May the space you choose become the home you never abandon again.

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