’You’ve been love bombed.’ A lady psychologist said to me.
‘What is love bombed?’ I questioned.
‘Love bombed is when you have been bombed by intense love
and then when captured dropped completely from the highest extreme point of
Swirling into the vortex of pain I stumble for breath…
She looked at my recorded dialogue.
‘To me it sounds like I have been hunted. How is love bombing
different to being hunted?’ I asked
‘One person hunts another when they are attracted to
the point of distraction. They desire to have the other person so
they pursue them usually until they are captured. When the hunter
has captured you they then decide whether the fantasy has translated
to reality and they build a relationship but if it hasn’t they usually walk away.
Now times that by 100 percent and double that again and that is love bombing.’
She looked intently at me to see if I responded. I looked down white.
‘A love bomber is drawn to its victim by their vulnerability (pain, neediness, sadness, loss) and then they ferociously bomb that person with love and attention until they are so overwhelmed by the loving the victim submits to the bomber.
The victim begins to feel intense love for the bomber because they are seduced
by all the attention. Once the bomber has the victim under their control and in love with them they pull out all attention and drop them off the highest emotional cliff. The effects of being dropped on the victim can be devastating.’
She paused to see if I was still listening. I heard but thoughts of his seductive dialogue swirled in my head.
‘Love bombing is so much more then being hunted. The hunt is only the vehicle the love bombing is the intention. The victim of love bombing can be destroyed and damaged because after giving a flood of love they rip the love away from the victim.’
‘Like being jilted. When someone courts you, asks you to marry them and then leaves you standing at the alter.’ I asked.
‘Love bombed does not come from love. Let there be no mistake, love bombing comes from control and power.’
Her words spun around my head. The emails, the texts, the voice…the bombardment and hammering of his attention. My soul gasped in the light of
knowing. The pieces of hurt danced fragments in my chest. Stripped pieces of my heart and corrupted my body with the knowledge of the sniper who had defiled my soul.
’What does one do with that love that has been unearthed by the Love Bomber when they walk away?
‘Well that is the problem. The victim is left reeling, like a wounded soldier with their object of love ripped away with no closure. The damage if not cared for and healed can create a wound on the soul that is hard to heal. Because the victim has been pulled down to such a vulnerable point.’
‘How does one know they have been love bombed or just hunted?’
‘Love bombing is intense…unrelenting – 50 texts a day, 10 emails a day, 5 phone calls a day…constant contact over stimulation of your senses by the attention. When receiving such an overload of attention there is no time to think, feel or reflect. Technology lends itself to love bombing because we are living in a culture that is always switched on. A love bomber will usually ask a lot of questions to try and draw the victim out. But in return say very little about themselves. People usually love to be asked questions. If the love bomber reveals anything it is usually mirroring the victims information in order to create a feeling of connection and commonality. The love bomber will keep their true self hidden and will reveal an attractive, seductive hidden persona that is usually glamorous.’
Light flashes exploding through my brain. Flash lights making me squint as my face red. I put my hand to my chest to feel my heart pounding in my breast. The stab of recognition shudders into intense pain at the earthquake realisation that I had been love bombed.
Her words reverberated in my head…he cut contact with me…with no explanation. I had never submitted sexually but emotionally he had worm me down to his control. He had literally ripped himself away from me after the deluge. Every time I saw him in the distance my heart bashed against my rib cage as anxiety took flight.
‘This makes love a war zone. An unsafe place where one has to wear armour of disengagement in order to protect self from this damage.’
‘You need to see it for what it is. It is not love. It is anything but love. It is power and it is control. It is sociopathic and comes from people who cannot truly love another with vulnerability and intention.
Love is creative and sees and cherishes the other.
Love bombing is destructive and is about breaking a person down and gaining control over them.
Love bombing is about use and abuse.
Cult Leaders love bomb their followers in order to brain wash them and take control over them. It is insidious and can eradicate self esteem and disconnect the victims sense of self from their inner core.’
’Yes I have been love bombed. How do I reconstruct my self when I have been shattered to pieces?
‘You are an artist
Capture it and transform it into beauty and knowing.’
And so I did just that.
My painting Love Bombed came out of this experience.
My novel Love Bombed that is only half finished came from being love bombed.
I moved through this experience in 2002 by facing the damage and going into the heart of this issue by unpacking why one person bombs another and why the victim succumbs to the attention of the love bomber. I have found creativity in facing the pain of love bombing I have been able to heal and definitely can now see what the difference is between being loved and being bombed.
© Anthea Slade 2009
Love Bombed – The story behind the painting published in Pink Panther Magazine 8 May 10
Love Bombed – The story behind the painting featured in Pink Panther Magazine 9 April 10
Written by Anthea Slade 11 July 2009
Where did my painting Love Bombed come from?
Love Bombed is my most highly viewed painting
Love Bombed is my most highly commented
Love Bombed is my most highly sold
Love Bombed is my most favourited art work
Love Bombed is the most difficult to write about
Love Bombed sits unfinished as half a book