She's a master manipulator, yet I love her.
- She invites me in and then makes it difficult to connect.
- She elicits an invitation, and then stalls as if undecided.
- She approaches me and then turns away just short of reach.
It took me a while to realize she was working me. It took me a while to conclude she liked the game. It took a while to stop playing her game.
Who is she? She's my cat Cindi. Princess Cindi-rella.
Cindi comes up as if she wishes to be petted. Half the time she enjoys the strokes. The other half of the time, she pulls back as soon as I reach for her.
Cindi stands at the edge of my reach when I attempt to brush her. Cindi looks at me invitingly. I extend myself. A few brush strokes into her brushing, I discover she has pulled away little by little and I am off my center reaching for her.
Cindi stands at the door asking to be let out. Cindi stands there as long as I let her, as if deciding whether or not she wants to go out.
Cindi is really playing a game. Things are not as she wants them to appear.
My body told me before my mind did. My body knows what being manipulated feels like.
Now, think of Cindi's behaviors as metaphors. Do you know people who play games like this? I do. Like Cindi, I can't convince them to stop playing their game. The game is too engrained.
But I CAN stop taking the bait. I can listen to my body when it tells me I'm being manipulated and I can stop putting myself out to help when they are only working me.
Then I can love them without feeling manipulated.
Now excuse me while go brush my sweet cat. She's a master manipulator, yet I love her.