Diane Pomerantz - Lost in the Reflecting Pool

Praise for

LOST IN THE REFLECTING POOL

This is a memoir about a relationship that spans two decades. Pomerantz excels at description and scene-setting throughout, as in passages about the couples early days: The luminous glow of the flames danced from the old stone fireplace through the dimpled glass windows reflecting back the white blanket that silently encased us in our warm, private cocoon. Kirkus Review

Pomerantzs memoir is a well-plotted, swift-paced story full of vivid details. This gem of a book stands out from the pack, Not only does the author survive a horrible marriage, she survives cancer. Her characters are real and multi-dimensional.

Book Life/ Publishers Weekly

A riveting, bold, and tender portrait of a woman surviving cancer and marital betrayal. Dr. Pomerantz exemplifies how we can find inner strength and new meaning in life even when forgiveness makes no sense.

Janis Abrahms Spring, Ph.D., author of How Can I Forgive You? and After the Affair

Relationships evolve, Pomerantz, a psychologist, wisely tells us. They have a life cycle. And in her gripping memoir Lost in the Reflecting Pool, she fearlessly shares the story of her marriage to a charismatic psychiatrist whose narcissistic behavior menacingly emerges as time goes on. Her story is one of extraordinary resilience as she faces the challenges of starting a family and fighting a deadly disease, while dealing with her critical and untrustworthy husband who undermines her sense of worth and creates an atmosphere of fear. An exceptionally honest and engaging read!

Betty Hafner, author of Not Exactly Love: A Memoir

The emotional journey that is Lost in the Reflecting Pool is a story of love and of life, of courage and endurance, made all the more real and relevant by Dr. Pomerantzs human frailty. She, like the wild flowers in the field, despite their seeming delicacy, somehow finds a way to endure and eventually thrive. Pomerantz rises from her long suffering not as an invulnerable superhero, undaunted and unmarred by all that has occurred, but as an ever more deeply feeling and thoughtful woman, mother and therapist and, more beautiful for it.

Charles McCormack, MA, MSW, LCSW-C, author of Treating Borderline States in Marriage and Hatching Charlie: A Psychotherapists Tale

This brave and extremely well-written memoir, Lost in the Reflecting Pool, is a must-read for victims of a personality disordered partner, as well as those seeking a quality read. Those victimized by a narcissist will relate, never considering the same could happen to a professional, a psychologist. Thats where Dr. Pomerantz proves us wrong. By skillfully and concisely sharing her story of a 20-year marriage to a narcissist, enduring infertility, adoption, and eventually cancer, I can only applaud Dr. Pomerantz for her bravery in sharing her story. Her epilogue uniquely ties the narrative together, not with pain and blame, but with beauty and love of life. One can only learn from reading this book.

MrsXNomore, author The Secret Life of Captain X: My Life with a Psychopath Pilot

Dianes story is, sadly, the story of far too many women who fall in love with a man and ignore the early warning signs that he might just be a bad choice as a life partner. Charles woos her with flowers, says all the right things, and when he says or does the wrong thing, she dismisses it, thinking the problem is her and not him. If ever there was a story that proves how blinding it can be to fall hopelessly in love, Lost in the Reflecting Pool is that story. Highly recommended reading. Readers Favorite

This is a story that will resonate with people going through a swath of lifes challenges: People in difficult and abusive relationships, people facing cancer diagnosis and treatment, infertility, adoption, people grieving, and issues of loss. The authors voice is strong, wise, humble and authentic. I couldnt put it down.

Alexa Faraday, M.D., Greater Baltimore Medical Center

Copyright 2017 Diane Pomerantz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

Published 2017
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-63152-268-0 pbk
ISBN: 978-1-63152-269-7 ebk
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017946092

Book design by Stacey Aaronson

For information, address:
She Writes Press
1563 Solano Ave #546
Berkeley, CA 94707

She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

Names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of certain individuals.

For my children with unending love

This is a memoir written from my own recollections, journals, and correspondence.

Memory is always personal. It is filtered through a subjective lens; it is in this way that memory differs from truth. All the events presented in this memoir did happen; the story is told through my own lens.

Other than my name, names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved. Exact locations have also been modified.

Writing my memoir allowed me to process and reevaluate my memories and thereby change my perception of my internal reality. This provided me with the opportunity to move on. I hope that sharing my story allows others to find a new way to rewrite or restructure their own life narrative.

I LISTENED, HYPNOTIZED BY THE RAIN, STACCATO TAPS LIKE a piano against the window.

On that day, as I looked out at the steel-colored sky, a crash interrupted my thoughts. I jumped and saw the lithe gray shadow leap past. Mr. Buttons? My gut churned.

It was July 1994, only months before my mothers death. Charles and I and our two children had just moved into the charming farmhouse on St. Johns Lane. Mr. Buttons, the previous owners gray tabby cat, often found his way back to the house. He would climb onto the roof and scratch at the window. I would call his owners, the Masons, to come get him. Elisabeth, our five-year-old, and Sammy, then two-and-a-half, loved Mr. Buttonss visits.

Lets get him some milk and tuna fish. Elli would laugh and run down to the kitchen to retrieve whatever she could find for her new love.

Sammy would squeal, Kitty, Kitty, stroking the cats long gray fur and playing with his toes and tail as Mr. Buttons cuddled with him on the bed.

I hear Mr. Buttons at the window, Mommy. Can I get his food? Elli started down to the pantry.

Sure. I nodded and dialed his owners.

Elisabeth! Charles snapped. Do not feed that cat. It will only make him come here more often, and we dont want that. I dont know why your mother doesnt understand something so simple. Charles glared at me; his eyes narrowed.