Since my narcissistic discard experience of five months ago propelled me to tentatively research psychopathy (that tentative endeavor turned more into almost like a second full-time job of reading and watching countless hours of information) I have noticed a new phenomenon actually occurring lately in my life. In just the past few weeks or so random women that I meet immediately seemed to sense something in me that must feel “safe” and they open up to me about their abusive partners or abusive ex partners. I am flattered that we connect and I find that through both my recent research and life experience that I have a unique perspective, suggestions and even advice to offer.
It is slowly coming to fruition that my existence may have another purpose altogether besides getting three children raised (because for a while this reason alone was the only reason keeping my suicidal feelings at bay).
Even though I am deeply ashamed of my abusive past existence and failed marriages I don’t seem to have much of a problem sharing my story. But even more so I don’t seem to have a problem finding people who are eerily relate to it.
The reason it is eeire? Most people have fallen into a relationship with a psychopath at one time or another because it seems to be becoming a plaguing epidemic in our society.
And yet there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of awareness of these types of predators (narcissists/psychopaths/sociopaths and other similar “Cluster B” personalities) in our culture yet and what they are capable of. I was in therapy pretty much the whole time I was involved in my two back-to-back failing abusive marriages. The only therapist that actually seemed to correctly diagnose what was going on with me and point out that I was actually being simultaneously abused by both husbands (even when I did not realize this or guess this myself) was a therapist appointed by Child Protective Services. (Yes, unfortunately you read that right). It wasn’t like the therapists that I saw during those dark years weren’t aware of sociopathic/ psychopathic/narcissistic abuse, but it seems now looking back that they probably only had ever dealt with the textbook side of it. To have dealt with it personally… no textbook in the world could begin to touch upon the effects and after effects.
So despite having my plate already full with raising three children, running a household, trying to climb that promotional ladder at work, preparing for a residence relocation (yet again), and reconnecting with Spirit I am going to continue my psychopathy researching blog and have now even started a video blog as well! I will continue to be an advocate for domestic violence and emotional abuse survivors. And when the children are a bit older hopefully I can contribute to that community in an even larger way.
I am being called for a purpose. What my angriest abuser, Mr. Moore, intended to destroy me with is being rebuilt to possibly help the type of women/men that he and those like him target. I am sure this was never his intent. It is ironic because he actually took great pleasure in destroying me and my children (even the child that we have together).
If I can shed light with any human being that their existence does not hinge on their partner giving them attention, affection or love then I feel I am giving back to the Universe. If I can help bring out the Divine connection within any abuse survivor then I believe it will help me to remember my own connection to the Divine as well.
I am trying to think back to my formative years when I started to realize that actually loving yourself really does matter. I didn’t grow up in a nourishing household most likely because both of my parents were abused, but I can say without bitterness that they really did the best that they knew how. I didn’t feel loved and I didn’t really know how to foster self-love. I guess that it finally occurred to me that I needed to at least pretend to love myself (perhaps faking myself out – “faking it until making it”) at about the age of 15, or else I would never have a chance at a happy or healthy life. I’d had a crush on someone for about a year and when I finally reached out to him I was rejected. I was rejected with good reason – I was underage and he was about 10 years older! I of course was too immature to understand that and I took it personally. After a time of being a depressed raging ball of self-pity I literally woke up one day and decided I wasn’t going to live that way anymore. I made a decision to work on loving myself and it did feel very foreign and false at first but I literally did fake it until I made it.
Through the years with the end of each abusive relationship, or mutual ending of friendships where we had simply outgrown each other, I have found it harder and harder to pick back up and claw my way back onto the Self Love Train. Despite this I know that having love and respect for myself is a must ( even if at first it feels like fake fluffy bullshit), and here are just a few reasons why.
If you have little or no love for yourself you will get ecstatically excited when someone comes along and pays some attention to you; you soak up this attention the way SpongeBob soaks up seawater. Going with the water theme here… when you begin to see some red flags or your intuition starts gnawing at your soul then you pray that you are just being paranoid and hope that you are wrong. But most likely you almost never address the issues (at least not for a while) because you are too afraid of rocking the boat. As things progress further down the spiral you slowly begin to realize you are in a situation that isn’t healthy: perhaps you are being emotionally tortured, or you’re being lied to, or cheated on or even physically abused.
Even when finally you get to the point to where you don’t care about rocking the boat anymore and you express your issues, you still find yourself holding on because you feel that person’s “love” is all you will ever get and the best that you could ever hope to achieve. Perhaps you get some “future faking” or empty promises when issues are addressed from said partner but no real change ever occurs. But instead of leaving and ending it you just keep holding on and hoping on… therefore holding the abuser accountable for nothing. And the vicious cycle continues.
Lack of self-love doesn’t just affect that area though. Perhaps you settle for a job that you don’t really like at all but just suffer through it because you feel too unintelligent, unattractive (or whatever) to try for anything more. Or maybe you love your job but you never try for that promotion that you feel you deserve because you feel no one else would think you deserve it. Perhaps you settle for a wardrobe that doesn’t fit your personality at all just because you feel you don’t have the right body type. A life with no love for yourself really is only a half-life at best.
These are the things that I have to keep at the front of my own mind as I am learning all over again to get to know myself and to fake out loving myself once again as I am recovering from the latest recycled abusive relationship with my ex husband. My go to negative thought process screams, “Nodody would ever be interested in a twice divorced single mom of three kids.”
Perhaps there is truth to that statement or perhaps there isn’t. The only way that I could hope to achieve self love once again is to reprogram that kind of thought process. I have done it before. I just have to find my way there again.
Without me actually realizing it last month became the ultimate release of attachments I’ve had for much too long. I spent countless hours researching narcissistic psychopaths (and recovering from relationships with them) and for the first time in years things begin to make sense. I found a wonderful private Facebook support group dealing with surviving this type of emotional abuse that I have become very active in. Many times I still use it to vent, but there are other times that I actually have begun to counsel people through their own healing processes with my experiences. It’s liberating. I finally feel like I am moving forward, and I am not doing it in my usual codependent way.
During the last few weeks my youngest son, Anton*, had to be hospitalized. He is special needs (Autistic Spectrum, severe ADHD, Disruptive Mood Disregulation Disorder, Neurofibromatosis). At first his hospitalization became a trigger that mentally threw me back to six months ago when he was hospitalized for the first time for his psychiatric issues. Thomas and I had been seemingly “happily coupled” at that time, and he had promised me that it did not bother him and I had all of the emotional support that I would need from him. My two sons, Chandler Hutchinson* (age 7) and Anton Hutchinson* (age 6) are the children from my second marriage that I hoped someday Thomas would accept as his own. I only dared to hope so because Thomas had repeatedly pursued me as I was in the middle of divorcing my second husband, Micheal Hutchinson*.
But now Anton was in the hospital sick again and Thomas had been gone for weeks. For the first few days I didn’t know how I would survive it and I felt I “had no one”. But every night I was very active in my Facebook therapy group and they (along with conversations with my mother outside of the group) started to help me realize just exactly how little Thomas had helped. Truthfully all he had done was take me out to dinner one night and then up to the hospital (without bothering to visit Anton himself). Another night he had tried to cheer me up in a text by suggesting I should send him… ahem… sexy selfies. Um…what?!? That is not something I have ever done and certainly not something that we needed to be doing after being together on and off for so many years. When I balked at his suggestion he had told me, “But this is what adults do.” I told him, “No, ADULTS live together and sleep in the same bed,” and I could tell he didn’t like that reaction very much. (Of course later in the relationship he would find somebody to fill his sexy selfie supply for him).
Through reliving this memory as it really was I began to realize that this time around with Anton’s problems that I did have plenty of somebodies for emotional support. Even though I had had a horrible 6 year marriage with Michael Hutchinson, we’d had a civil divorce and co-parent the boys pretty well. I had my extended family, and I had Karma at home who was always doing most anything she could to help me around the house (in what I suspect is an attempt to fill the void that is in her life when Thom disappeared from her as well).
Anton’s second hospitalization made me realize that even the rosy colored memories I had had with the last year-and-a-half with Thom were really actually pretty tarnished. All of them.
It has been two and a half months since the “discard” when everything ended with Thom. Karma and I have had zero contact with him in the past 34 days. And that is even with him still living just three doors away. I cannot describe the peace that is starting to cultivate in our family dynamic; I can only say that it is most unexpected.
I am finally accepting that it is possible to let go of that dream, and that the dream was actually never worth the love and the hope that I was putting into it.
I’ll be the first one to admit it – in the past 2 months I have been quite vocal about carrying my “victim card”. My membership in this special program not only covers the disintegration of what I thought was going to be my future ( although that is a great big huge part of it) but also many other things that I deal with in my day to day life as well. (For example my youngest child is special needs and is currently hospitalized because of his disorder yet again. Or that I am up for a big promotion at work that now I am suddenly scared to actually accept because I let a person close to me completely shit on what little confidence I had, and now I am terrified to make any major life decision). It’s true, lately I have not been just “carrying” that victim card for all to see. I have been living with it 24/7. I psychologically wear it on my groovy “I believe in magic!” lanyard; I let it weigh me down like a millstone tied to my neck.
People are really starting to notice. I’m being told that it is time to stop focusing on all of that hurt and anger. Intellectually I know that they are right and I know that this is true. I have had a dear friend or two tell me that at this point my ex should have no power over me. (One of those friends was kind enough to speak it over me as an affirmation and not at all in a judgemental way). There was a final turning point where I declared even to the abuser himself (Thomas Moore) that I was no longer giving him power over me. Blessedly that has been the last contact I had with him, and I have since blocked all forms of social media or communication with him. The “No Contact” implementation has been very liberating. Intellectually I am on board with all of this. But emotionally? Well, that pesky “heart stuff” is having trouble cauterizing the gaping wound.
So why was this relationship (and in particular this breakup after many before – with him or others – at the experienced age of 40) so important and so hard for me to move forward from? There are a list of reasons but at this point I will only go into one. I believed him to be “the only partner I’d had who wasn’t abusive/who actually truly loved me.”
In my life I have only had three uber-serious relationships and two of them became eventual husbands/fathers of my children. Of those three partnerships two of them were very volatile and obviously abusive. The relationship with Thom had not been. He’d had a very soft-spoken and easy going way about him, and we rarely had arguments in our on and off 10 years together. He had always given me tons of space and breathing room, unlike the other jealous or clingy lovers of the past. He seemed to understand me and connect with me on a deep soul level in a way no one else ever had. But as it turned out Mr. Moore was actually the biggest abuser of them all. He was just much more cunning on his techniques of emotional control. That is what Narcissists do.
Ironically I had never really considered or much come across the term “Narcissistic Personality Disorder” (or Narcissistic Sociopath/Narcissistic Psychopath) until those last few months with Mr. Moore. I started coming across it in a Facebook singles/divorce group. Each article or random Facebook user comment on the subject was shedding light on some characteristics within the relationship I was at that time involved in with Mr. Moore. Each time I got those feelings I would immediately go into rationalization and denial mode. Surely he couldn’t be this? But those pesky alarms of intuition just kept going off no matter how deep down I tried to stuff those feelings away. Recollections of behaviours he had off and on displayed even as far back as when we’d met back in 1999 resonated with what I was reading. I was beginning to realize that I had ignored my intuition… both in the 10 years that we were together and in those 7 years in between that we were not. It was a mistake that I would later pay dearly for.
(Credit: Annie Kaszina).
I believe that the excerpt above was the first article I read on dealing with a Narcissistic ex partner after Mr. Moore’s initial discard. The moment my destroyed psyche began to process this article became the moment that denial and rationalization of the obvious no longer had a place in my intellect or heart, and this was exactly who I was dealing with.
Do I need to relinquish the victim card? Definitely. There are days that I know for certain I am in the process of doing that and that I am moving forward. Then there are days that I seem to be taking three steps back and have to yet again attempt to pick myself up and brush myself off. But I am a Divine being and I will do this, even if my pace may not be comfortable for some.
I will continue to share my experiences even if it is simply to strengthen my own cathartic process. But honestly I have hope that my words will spread a bit of awareness as well, awareness that this type of emotionally abusive partnership is not normal and definitely not acceptable. For anyone. Ever.