Loving a narcissist

Thursday: I packed my bags in one-quick sweep. I remained dead serious when he run upstairs to see what I was doing. Tears started trickling down my face. My patience has run out. Okay, I’ve left him half-heartedly already a month ago, without drama, saying I was going to Czechia to clear my head. Then I made the mistake to interpret missing him as needing to come back to him and give us another chance. I thought, perhaps he wasn’t a gaslighting narcissist, a man twisting my words, disregarding my truth, and creating a reality I never wanted. Perhaps I was the crazy one, a messed up girl not knowing what and who is good for her.

I came back to the UK on Saturday night and from Sunday afternoon we haven’t done anything but argue. Consequently, he broke his back on Monday, drunken fall down the stairs, and things turned even gloomier. The hostility between him and his daughter also grew much more palpable. Was I blind to what was really going on between them? Is she the ungrateful bitch he has her for or is her resentment towards him actually just? I wished I could get to know her better.
Then there were new issues at his work and the never-ending rant against humanity. But I’ve always had plenty of excuses for his temper.

He thinks he’s superior, always correct, justly radical, an alpha male, a protector who cannot even run and wouldn’t hurt a fly, yet he can scream and shout and threaten. I began feeling re-traumatized by the low frequencies of anger, blame, and frustration that I knew so well from my own broken home.

Yet on Thursday night there he was, somewhat managing to mumble “I’m sorry”, stop me from zipping up the suitcase, hide it away, and say he’d bolt the door. Some lighthearted diffusing of the heavily loaded situation followed, it even got me laughing. I saw the lonely boy within him, the one damaged by his late bully father, the boy who came from nothing and never admitted to a single wound. 3 broken marriages and 2 messed up daughters (in their own words).

But what good is excusing someone’s behavior when they can never take responsibility for seeing to their side of the fault? After his "I’m sorry", which is very scarce, doesn't follow any new reaction… absolutely nothing changes.

It could have appeared that what set me off was his constant defensiveness of his nightly pub-going. His stance about being forever correct, and my opinions being always off. 

But what set me off was his unconsciousness. He continues to hide it behind quick temper, daily rants, drinking, pointless arguments, and a lack of self-inquiry. His blocked-up mind is what’s disappointing, in fact, it’s so disgusting it sets me off.

From Saturday, my suitcases and clothes laid sophistically on the bedroom floor and on the chair that it would always be easy to throw it all back in and go.
Since then it has been rubbish, nothing but fights, not listening to one another, defending our rights, plus very, very bad sex. Possibly due to his bad back and an aura of powerlessness about his work. Where was the alpha man he had me believe in?

I thought that my body began betraying me… but no, what happened was the biggest prophecy I’ve ever received. I experienced the most painful period I’ve not had in years. And as soon as it finished, that night when he stopped me from packing and going, the IBS fired off … and it went on for the whole weekend. I was desperate. I could not pinpoint the exact trigger. Except for underlying stress. The stress of being trapped in a home of a narcissist.

My friend Gina gave me a nice pep talk and said that I could always come to hers. Even then I was so afraid to leave him - I knew it would have to be final, wholehearted, with all my love intact. I was attached. He gave me a home. The familiar unstable home I had when I was growing up. Sadly, his presence no longer lit me up. Orgasms no longer roared throughout my body, in fact, I did not want him to more than hug me and give me a sense of safety again.

I was spending my days away from him and his wrath in a coworking place. His wrath towards work, his back, his family, and the sheeple. Even though I didn’t like his daily drinking, I could not notice that he was happier after he drank. He persistently tell me that 6 pints of beer every night, topped with a large glass of wine or gin and tonic is normal. He got irritated if I dared to say that I didn't think so. Anyway, despite my disapproval of his obvious addiction, I was glad that at least he was returning home as the happy drunk. Some nights we continued drinking together. Talk about a bad influence... After I cried a river on Thursday, we made up. 

Yet the next day nothing changed... I knew I had to get out. I didn't know how to approach Gina again.

Monday: I felt my heart in my throat, but I announced that I decided to go to Gina’s on Friday, before I start to work the week after. He wasn’t happy, urging me to save money for rent and food, telling me he loved me, we should be together and he'd look after me, but I guess that postponing my move seemed a good enough ‘compromise’. For now.

But things escalated that night. I shared with him something that happened in my coworking place, a very irrelevant banal thing to me, yet... I thought I'd never hear the end of it.

I knew that jealousy was another of his problems. Yet I fail to estimate how much of an impact my sharing can make on him.
Suddenly, I’m wrong, I'm a cheater for giving out my phone number (and telling him about it)
To my utter surprise, his daughter steps in and is on my side. She fights with his father on behalf of all women, to cut us some slack when we feel pushed to the corner to give out our real phone number.

In her words: we’re called bitches if we downright express that we’re not interested in someone, or their help, and women get murdered for acting like bitches...

He did not listen to her, surprise, surprise. As always, his rant sounded like a broken record playing only one point of view, his… no one else could chip in, or dare to think they're right. It was so sad and ridiculous to watch.

I run upstairs to console her. We ended up chatting properly for the very first time in 4 months.
It’s was so disheartening… because the things she told me only confirmed what I knew already.
Her father was a loser, narcissist, drunk, and more.

If something appears too good to be true, it is.

Only narcissists start from the top of the hill - aka I love you, I wanna marry you, help you with this and that, and then rapidly plummet, no more dining out, no more affection, supposed help, no compromises, forgiveness to faults, and in the end, they 'fire you', you are all wrong and crazy. (Inspired by a funny video on ticktock and - 💯 my experience.)

Tuesday (yesterday): I leave him for good. Not much drama, he sees the packed suitcases after he’s well slept, we fight, but we part with love, grace, and in peace.
In a hotel, away from him, I’m crying, missing him, shivering, I have no appetite, feel lost and so lonely, I long for his masculine embrace, for reassurance that everything will be alright… but deep down I know that if I last, stick to my truth, my boundaries, find my own aliveness again… I know that this drug withdrawal, too, shall pass.

Wednesday (today): I wake up after solid 10 hours of sleep... I feel free, healthier, perhaps even happy, my pussy tingles, and I know it's a very, very good sign... I am convinced that I'm not crazy, I'm a good person, I'm very stable and independent, in fact, I'm my very own best therapist.

I move to Gina's and get back to work in the coworking place. My book is nearly ready.

I stopped saying that I can't believe I had 2 breakups this year. I'm changing my self-deprecating talk to a more empowering one: 

This is my second chance at being single this year. A far happier one than the first.

I had to learn my lessons the hard way. I’m not the helpless little girl he’d love me to be, to look up to him, need his shit support, boost his ego to my detriment. But it could have been far worse. 

Reach out to me to summon the courage you need to leave where you don't belong. x

#selflove #breakup #narcissisticabuse #abandonmentrecovery #healing