Light After the Dark (Anonymous)

Sometimes I don’t even know how it began. Or how I let it begin. There were so many red flags, but I was young and naive, full of hope. I chose to believe what I wanted to believe I suppose. When I met my ex he was unemployed, but wove a tale of his college background and job offers and greater things to come. He shared his many hardships as a child. A broken home, neglect, growing up with no help or guidance. The stories were so sad. Growing up in a home with married parents, and having all my needs met as a child, this was unimaginable to me, and played directly on my empathy and emotions. Over the years I learned that was the intention. 

 Over the years, I learned there was no 4 year degree. He had dropped out. Over the years, I learned that although yes, he did have a broken home, he also had grandparents, aunts, and uncles who countless times went out of the way to make sure he had everything he needed and then some. I learned of multiple jobs he lost, due to temper and poor attitude. Over the duration of our relationship I witnessed several jobs come and go. The common theme was always “someone else’s fault.” This statement only became more dangerous as more time went on. When more and more anger erupted. When things kept getting worse.

Eventually things went from everyone else’s fault, to my fault. Every day was like walking on eggshells. “Explosive” may be the closest adjective to describe the reaction to almost anything. If he was unemployed (and he was unemployed more than he was employed) and I would ask if he had looked for a job? Explode. Yelling. Guilt. He’d tell me I was only making it worse. I wasn’t being supportive. Wasn’t I supposed to support my partner no matter what? If he was having a “bad day” wasn’t he supposed to be able to take it out on me? I became the emotional punching bag. Then it got worse.

I have no doubt he suffered from depression, and quite likely other emotional, mental disorders. I begged him to get help. I offered to go with him. That made it worse. I was accusing him of having something wrong with him. I had no idea what to do. He was intimidating, and never wrong. If I tried to be supportive, I was wrong. If he felt I wasn't being supportive, I was wrong. It was a constant emotional drain. Drinking was an issue. He wasn’t an alcoholic, but when he did drink, he was even worse. Going to work was my refuge. I love what I do, and have amazing coworkers. I started to believe him. That I was worthless. Not good enough. It's so very true that if you hear something enough it becomes true. I quit taking care of myself. I wasn't worthy. I was afraid to go home. If I tried to defend my thoughts or positions, an arm twist. Squeezed the wrist a little too tight. Backed down the hallway in intimidation. A warning. I justified it because he never actually “hit” me. You could physically see the pleasure it brought him to bring me to my knees in fear. To belittle me, call me names. Control me, and keep me under his thumb. I didn’t tell anyone. Living hours away from any family, I was embarrassed. I thought it was my fault. Then came the isolation.

We never really had friends. Like, couple friends. I'm a people person by nature. My job is social. I love meeting new people and talking to new people. I would be a nightmare in a cubicle. I tried many times to get together with friends from work and their husbands or boyfriends. Sometimes we’d have a good time and get together again. It never lasted. He found flaws in everyone. He thought he was better/smarter than everyone. I know this because he said so. I later learned it was jealousy. It’s part of the narcissism. Over time multiple possible friendships disintegrated. Three times there were actually near physical altercations. So I gave up. And people quit asking to do things. Or I made excuses. Then it took another shape.

If he didn't have friends, then I couldn't either. I wasn't permitted to go out with friends. Girls brunch? Make up an excuse. Glass of wine after work? Excuse. Beach day? Excuse. Etc. etc. Even attending a baby or bridal shower was a fight. I rarely made an appearance. It made me, who loves people, become an AWFUL friend. Eventually I wasn't invited along anymore. No fault to them. They knew I would say no. I think that was when I hit bottom. Unfortunately, I lived there way too long. 

I had read an article about narcissistic abuse. It terrified me. Chilled me to the bone. I read more, and more, and everything was dead on. Still, I lied to myself thinking, “Well, if I understand it/him, I can be more in control of my reactions.” I was still BLAMING MYSELF. I never hated myself more. I didn't care about anything. In the midst of this, my dad passed away. I'm an only child, and even as an adult we remained very close. My parents were hours away, but my dad was onto something being not right. I can only wonder if he had still been around, would things have continued for years after? My mom is amazing, and she knew there was something wrong as well. Unfortunately I always side stepped her questions, got defensive. I pushed everyone back. I had never felt so alone.

I don't know the exact moment I started to take my life back. He actually proposed to me, and I don’t know why I said yes. The things that ran through my head BEFORE I said yes probably aren’t the things a woman should be thinking in that moment. I think he knew I was slipping away. After 10 years, I was tired.It was never going to change. I really couldn't stand living that way anymore, so I slowly started taking it back. I started exercising. Eating healthier. I started being honest with myself, and my mom. I was terrified. The final straw finally came. My mom came for a visit, and he was so awful to her. The worst it had ever been. She packed up her things and left my house in tears, in a snowstorm, facing a 6 hour drive. I couldn't talk her into staying. She said she was done. Would never come back. It was like someone threw ice water in my face. That was it. I had let him tear me down, make me hate myself, isolate myself from everyone. The last person I had was my mother. When I went back inside, he had cracked a beer, and turned on football. He looked at me and said “What?” Again, like I was crazy. I told him that was it. I was done. Gave him back the ring. We had only been engaged a few months. I moved all my things from the master bedroom to the guest room immediately. He called my bluff for about a week. Then the final battle began.

I think part of the reason I held out for so long was knowing that it would be a nightmare trying to separate myself from him. We were never married, but owned a home in both our names. When he realized I was really done, any last smoke screen he had, disappeared. One of the saddest moments for me, was how he reacted to the “loss” of our relationship. He didn’t care that he was losing me. He was worried about money. His vehicle. The house. Never how he was losing ME. More so, what I was doing to HIM. I realized that I was simply a possession. I thought I had seen him lose control. I was wrong. Pounding on doors. Screaming. Hiding my keys. Banging on my window at night. Threats.  A domestic violence charge and restraining order ensured my safety until the real estate was resolved. It took almost 2 years, and thousands in attorney fees to disentangle myself from him. I had the house until it sold, and I hated being there. I didn't sleep, I was afraid all the time. My hair was falling out. It was the most challenging time of my life. And I would do it all over again to get my life back. There's always light after the dark.

I take better care of myself now than I probably ever have. I've worked on rebuilding damaged friendships. That part was easy. I thought I was good at hiding things. They all knew it wasn't good. They also didn't know it was that bad. My relationship with my mom has improved, and I'm now in a wonderful, loving, healthy relationship with a spectacular man, who knows my story and is helping me heal. 

It took me a long time to be ready to share my story. I needed time to forgive. Not him, that might take a lifetime. To forgive myself. Narcissistic abuse is dangerous. They have no empathy, yet pray on those with the most. There's bullying, shaming, belittling, and demanding behavior. Manipulation and emotional blackmail. Build you up momentarily, just to break you back down again. Gaslighting, making you feel as if you're the problem. It’s all about control. There were times I really thought I was going crazy. I read a quote that said “Tell the story of the mountain you climbed. Your words become a page in someone else's survival guide.” If I can help ONE woman see that there is a reason to fight for yourself. I know it's hard. I know it's scary. But what's on the other side is worth it. YOU ARE WORTH IT.