would wave at all the neighbors as we would drive down the street, open my car door for me, and hold my hand as we walked through the neighborhood drawing comments of envy. The man who would leave me cards and flowers throughout the house, insist I fly first-class, and bode about how talented I was- so much so that he was willing to invest a large amount of money in my jewelry business.
The other person that lives in the skeleton of the same body is a malignant narcissist. A pathological abuser. He would
remind me often that he had a loaded gun under the bed after barraging me: I needed to lose weight, I speak with a lisp, how much he enjoyed fantasizing about other women, and that I was a complete loser and haven’t gotten to the finish line at any point in my life. It wasn’t just him saying I’m better than you, but rather I’m better than you, AND you’re dumb.
He would stand inches from my face and threaten me repeatedly, face bright red with rage. He wanted to hit me so badly, but he didn’t because it was the only type of abuse I could prove. I couldn’t prove I was a prisoner in my own home and had to lock myself in the guest suite in the basement at night. I would hear his footprints coming down the stairs as my heart pounded and I dug my fingernails into my chest saying “God help me” as he broke the lock on the door and tried forcing himself on me. I couldn’t prove he would follow me when I left the house. I couldn’t prove he drove my car into a brick wall and damaged the entire side. I couldn’t prove he intentionally caused me to fall off a boat into lake Michigan at night while wearing heavy clothing that made it nearly impossible for me to climb out of the water while he stood there and did nothing to help. I couldn’t prove he planted a tracker in my car and stole inventory from my jewelry business.
After the Abuse, the Amnesia kicked in. He would get up the next morning whistling and ask me if I wanted to get coffee. I would tell him I was a bit busy packing since he kicked me out the night before. Time for the gas lighting- complete denial about the abuse and ultimately projecting the responsibility for the conflict on me. It was always my fault. I’ve always considered myself to be strong-minded, but being told repeatedly how pathetic and worthless I was, led me to question if maybe it was true. That’s exactly what he wanted- to tap dance with my brain and make me feel like I was crazy.
Immediately following, Affection would come in a double-dose to make up for the abuse with future faking layered in - making promises that would never happen to keep me around. I went for the bait and let the goal post shift, which I had never done in my life. My core values are non-negotiable and there I was letting them shift.
Photo Credit Engin Akyurt