Tag Archives: Emotional abuse

The grass isn’t greener

When you walk away from a narcisstic marriage, no one says it’s going to be easy. They tell you will struggle. You’ll have trouble finding yourself again. You probably will need therapy because every part of you is damaged. 

I knew it all when I left because I thought about leaving for a long time. I even had a secret board on my Pinterest for Narcissistic Abuse. I knew it all.

I made plans and threw them out the window. I ended up leaving unexpectedly and went into the dark. It was easier than I thought.

But no one told me I’d fall in love with the next level of crazy. I lost my job. I lost everything I had. The pieces of me that were left have been carefully picked up, piece by piece, smashed with a hammer and then set on fire. When you are in love, you share your darkest secrets, your biggest insecurities. When that person is a psychopath, they attack those parts of you. I imagine this relationship on a very steep mountain. I keep getting brought up highers, only to be dropped off the edge of a cliff. He sees that Im still breathing so he drags me up higher the next time.

Today, he made me feel secure. He updated his profile picture on Facebook to us. He changed his relationship status (after being blank for months as a punishment). He promised to help me with our electric bill and a consultation fee with a lawyer for my divorce. But I painted my nails today and wore a tank top. So now all Facebook is being changed again, he’s going to a bar, and he dumped me. I have to be punished. 

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Better Man

We had a dream. We wanted to move to a certain place, our own little paradise. He started a job there yesterday. Things were starting to happen.

Before he left, we had a blissful two days. Well, the first night being the exception. My windshield got a big crack in it and my front door got shattered. But other than that, it was perfect.

This morning, I set an alarm so I could call him before he started his first day. He was angry. He couldnt sleep last night so he thought too much… He apologized. 

The day went on. My mom and I were going to dinner. He wanted to know what I was wearing. On a whim, I decided a long maxi dress. We fought. I decided to wear something warmer anyway.

Then I found out my mom had planned on going to a restaurant that had a bar in it. You know, like most restaurants do. Im not allowed to go places like that without him. We got into another fight. My mom came down on me pretty hard. She said my marriage wasn’t even like this. She doesnt understand why I choose to live this way….etc. I stayed in. We video chatted but had to stop for a little while. We were fine when we got off the phone.

For some reason, things started getting stirred up out of no where. Things from a long time ago. Before I met him, I was doing a Christmas show. I paint wine bottle characters and scenes. It’s something I really enjoy and sometimes, I make a little money from it. To prepare for the Christmas show, I needed a lot of bottles so I made a post on Facebook about needing some bottles. A guy responded though I never got around to picking them up. This was at least a month before I met my boyfriend. Because of that, I was told tonight that I’m not allowed to paint wine bottles anymore. 

Today was a roller coaster. Even after the first yelling session, I bounced back and excitedly texted him about how great it’s going to be to live at the beach. 

Ive realized how abnormal my life is. My mom doesn’t have to tell me that. One of the scariest things about breaking up is the idea of him moving on. Why is that? Why does it matter? I realize what a train wreck he is. At almost 50 years old, he’s not going to change. Whatever woman falls as his next victim will get the same treatment. Slowly but surely, her identity will be washed away (if she stays long enough). She won’t do anything without questioning him if it’s ok. Eventually, she won’t ask. She’ll just stay at home. 

As of right now, Im blocked from contacting him in every way. I think he broke up with me again but I couldn’t understand what he said. I know Im supposed to get out of his life and join Jenny Craig. Every time, it gets less painful. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t believe him and think he will call in the morning anyway or if it’s because Im beginning to care less and less. And as I’m typing this, he calls… to tell me what a fat piece of shit I am again. Thats his thing, to call women fat if they make him mad. Sometimes it bothers me. It’s beginning to hurt less too. 

So now, Im going to put on that wonderful, so perfect song, “Better Man”. Kudos to Taylor Swift for writing that one! Im going to let myself cry for the duration of that song. Then Im going to go break one of the rules and watch Grey’s Anatomy because that’s what fat trash like me does. Tomorrow is another day…. 

He changed my name

As we go through life, who we are is reshaped and molded over and over again. First, by our parents. Then by our teachers and peers. We think that eventually we become who we are and that’s it. Some minor adjustments from time to time but still the same recognisable being.

I don’t remember the first time I became remolded in this relationship. Was it the time I had to return the already opened pack of cigarettes to a store because I wasn’t allowed to smoke that brand? Was it the time my radio was smashed because I turned up a song at the end of an argument? The day my tablet got smashed due to pictures on the cloud of me and my ex? Or when my next tablet got smashed because I watched something he didn’t like…? 

Ive been reshaped into something that doesn’t even resemble myself. A woman that is scared to listen to songs because they might stir things up. Scared to wear certain clothes because even if I wear them around the house, my comfy shorts could end up in shreds for being too short. Im ashamed of dancing. I don’t even look people in the eyes anymore. I am careful to laugh at things I find funny, just in case they are thought to be inappropriate. 

My name is now cunt, occasionally bitch/liar/fat ass/low life/trash/worthless/piece of shit. I am not who I used to be. 

The truth

Ive been dumped so many times in the last week, there were times I couldn’t remember if we were together or not.

My deepest insecurities that I trusted with the man I love have been thrown in my face more times that I care to remember.

Ive been blocked in every way possible over and over.

When I told the truth, I was accused of lying… so I lied and got in trouble for things I didn’t do.

I cursed out a friend and blocked them on Facebook because I liked their post and he didn’t like what she said.

I have been black mailed, the threat being he would assist and say whatever needed to be said for me to lose in my custody battle.

I have been threatened that he would send naked pictures of me to family. He did send some to my ex husband.

Think of a name. Ive been called it.

My arms have bruises on them but none compare to emotional trauma. 

Ive begun to realize the amount of damage thats been done. It’s not just this but from my marriage. My marriage was so horrible but everything else in my life was on track. I had something to lean on. This time, I have nothing. I feel worthless. I’ve lost hope, I do not have dreams or goals. I hate who I see in the mirror. I do not recognize her anymore. The only time I think Im happy is when he is pleased with me. My world crashes when he isn’t. I think my world stands still more than it moves. 

Every night I wonder if this is it. If this is the final goodbye. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning to a new day… But mostly it’s not. Mostly, I find a new set of rules that I broke. Rules. What kid doesn’t dream of being an adult where you don’t have any rules? 

I had more freedom as a child than I do as an adult. 
Im not allowed to watch certain shows or movies.

Im not allowed to listen to any band that I saw in concert. I used to go to a lot of concerts. Ive seen all my favorite bands. 

Im not allowed to have male friends on social media unless I’m friends with their wives. If they aren’t married, I can’t be their friend.

I’m not allowed to go to restaurants that have bars in them. 

Im not allowed to wear heels when Im not with him. Or dresses. Or short shorts. If he is not here, I have to prove I have underwear on by video chat.

Im not supposed to flat iron my hair if he’s not here.

Im not able to paint my toenails certain colors. Im also not allowed to change it if he’s not around.

I have to make sure I don’t wear makeup too often if hes not here.

Im not allowed to listen to music loudly in my car. It draws attention.

If I accidentally look at a man, there are consequences. 

If a man opens a door for me, I can not say thank you. Any compliments are to be completely ignored. 

Im not allowed to masturbate.

I am supposed to report any physical contact with any person… even a hug from a same sex friend. 

Im not allowed at certain gas stations.

Im not allowed to work at certain places, if there is contact with men.

Im not allowed to sell things to men, such as things Ive posted online. If it is something “manly”, Im not allowed to post it. He has to.
I don’t know how this happens. I don’t know how a person, well aware of how crazy everything sounds, can be begging a person like that to stay.  It’s almost unbelievable. I don’t know how someone can get out of one abusive relationship and hop right in bed with another, like it was her favorite blanket. But, it happens. It’s happening and I don’t know how to stop. 

So… It’s come to this.¬†

Bad cold. Sleepless nights.

I was jarred from my sleep and saw it was still dim outside, unaware of the rain. Again, I heard a soft knocking on the door. I stumbled to the door and peeped out. I thought it was a police officer, as I’m anxiously waiting to be served with divorce papers. I opened it and my heart sank. I was in trouble. 

It was just a man that’s been wanting to buy my small storage building. He’s called my boyfriend about it, finally just stopping by because he wants to go ahead and purchase it as soon as possible. I know he could tell I was nervous. I kept telling him to call my boyfriend. 

I got back in bed. My stomach began to turn. I had to make a decision. I could lie and hope the man wouldn’t tell… or I could risk telling I had answered the door and possibly get in trouble.

I texted my boyfriend and said that I needed to talk to him. He asked if it was bad. I honestly said I didn’t think so but I was having anxiety over it. I thought that would help. Look how scared I am over something so silly. Tell me how silly this is. Love me.

He called. I started by telling him how scared I was of being in trouble. I wanted him to know that I wanted to be able to tell the truth, with no repercussions.

He started getting angry. I needed to start from the beginning, leaving no details out. I frantically went over the conversation, finishing with shutting the door. Did I tell him my boyfriend was out of town? Oh no… you’re right. I did. Start from the beginning, cunt.  I got more frantic. I got yelled at more. I started sobbing. He didn’t hear the words I was saying. My words have changed and he didn’t even notice. Those tears were for me. When did I become this person? Why is this my life? 

I feel like I’ve just realized how damaged I really am. How do I even begin to pick up my pieces? 

To the men that have unintentionally caused this week of hell: The man who told me I shouldn’t leave my purse open at the bar. The 70ish year old veteran that I hugged and thanked for his service. The man that stared a little too long, recognizing me from school if I’m not mistaken. I know you didn’t mean to. How could you possibly know?

To the man who made me realize all of this: I hope I can do something with this. I hope I can find strength to walk away. I hope I can keep my promise to myself and seek counseling on Monday.