Tag: divorce
Another Horrible Crazy Christmas
This morning I woke up from the worst day of my life during the worst time of my life. The bright side is that now it cannot get any worse.
On Christmas Eve, my narcissist, soon to be ex-husband pulled out all the classic narcissistic crazy stops. We had an argument and this time he locked himself in the bathroom pretending to call the police telling them he was afraid of me and didn’t know what I was going to do to him.
The situation was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but see the humor in it. It didn’t help defuse the situation when every time he opened the door I said, “Boo!”
He left the house with a bag of clothes. He inexplicably told me he was afraid I would make something up and call the police on him. He told his parents and my son that he couldn’t come back to the house unless someone was with him for protection.
Christmas was ruined and it looked like it was my fault. Brilliant move.
My sister was so mad that I had let him bait me again she shouted at me! I don’t think she has shouted at me since I was 9.
I only have one thing I have to remember in order to get through this nightmare in one piece. Absolutely definitely NO CONTACT!
I can do it.
Love to Hatred Turned
I’m running on pure emotion tonight.
I’ve never given much thought to the stereotypical “woman scorned”. I feel it now.
Granted I’ve always been emotional, but I haven’t reached this level since my teens. You know, teenage broken heart, writing poetry etc.
When I told my dad and my sister that John ,was cheating on me, I asked that neither of them say they weren’t surprised. They didn’t, but Ellen did say “your marriage was always bad anyway”. That is the same as she “wasn’t surprised”, therefore I shouldn’t be as upset as I am.
When you are betrayed by your brain all your life, everything surprises you. I hung on to him all these 27 years because I thought I loved him. I did love him. I do love him. It doesn’t matter how wrong it is, I do.
God I hate him.
I do believe myself when I say I won’t go back to him.
To be able to give him the adoration his narcissistic ego needs to survive, this woman is either as needy as he is or as broken as I was.
Crushed
Feeling crushed tonight.
Times like these I just really want to give in to my illness and feel sorry for myself. I don’t feel like being strong and “high functioning”.
Remember my “Stinging Tears” post? It almost happened again at work today. I am blessed to be working so closely with a woman who is so like me and then again not. I need a man like that.
This time she was in the office with me and offered to leave me in there, close the door and shut the blinds. A little humor goes a long way when your life and emotions feel like they are spiraling down like flushing a toilet bowl. Not the most eloquent analogy, but for some reason that is the mental image that comes to mind.
I have been doing a little spying. No, because this blog is all about honesty, A LOT OF SPYING! I’ve found out through and overheard conversations that someone is not being truthful with me. In face I feel completely betrayed and revolted by what I have overheard by accident. It really was by accident. He was so drunk in the hot tub he didn’t realize how loud he was talking. I also know he thinks I am a complete moron and couldn’t possibly find his secrets.
The bastard has turned me into an obsessed individual looking for anything I can get my hands on. Rummaging through drawers, digging through paperwork and buying a USB recording device that I either leave casually on the table or placed in my bra.
Because this is so against my nature, I am torturing myself with my own behavior! What the hell have I turned into? I know I can’t use this information to help me with the divorce, but I just need to know.
Why do I need to know? I have been living under a narcissist my whole life, 23 years with my mother and 27 with my husband. I can never seem to get it through my thick head that I will never feel justified. I can’t hear another self-affirmation again. I can’t try another “healthy or mature way to take this betrayal” Is taking the high road all that great? The only person it really helps is the offender. The victim is still left with feelings of unworthiness.
I want to shred his clothes. I want to key his truck. I want to tell his mother. I want to make him suffer. Even though it doesn’t make me feel better in the moment, the best punishment for him is for me to outsmart him.
He really shouldn’t underestimate me. I’m not as dumb as he has always told me I am.
Stinging Tears
I was standing designing library signs on the computer. All of a sudden I burst into tears. Well not really burst, no one knew I was crying, but I felt like I had burst.
It started with my eyes stinging and then some deep breathes and face getting all scrunched up. I realized at that point it was too late to keep it under wraps and I went into the office and shut the door. The office was dark, but one wall is all windows that face the library. I positioned myself between the door and the wall in a shadow so no one could see me falling apart.
I stood for a couple of minutes silently with tears running down my cheeks. Inside my brain was battling was this really necessary for me to be crying in the first place and how much further and animated was this about to go?
While I was pulling a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe my eyes I began to sob. Sobbing is heart breaking even for the person doing it. When I was young I would let it all hang out and make as much noise as I felt necessary. Now days I hardly ever cry, but when I do it is as quietly and reserved as I can manage.
Silently sobbing, my chest heaving and drying my eyes lasted a few more minutes until I felt I could move on and begin to recover. I put my glasses back on trying to disguise some of the red face. It’s always my red nose and lips that give me away.
I preach to everyone that a good cry is usually beneficial. It wasn’t today. It was horribly emotional and physically painful.
I haven’t written in a while because I have been completely up to my neck in getting a divorce. It’s really happening this time. My sweet narcissist husband started his old tricks last night of twisting my words and making veiled threats. I was doing really well until I realized that he still has hold of me in a PTSD sort of way. I fell into his trap and said a few things I had sworn I would not say as to not make things worse than they already are. I was supposed to be laying low and silently suffering the way I had learned to after years of this treatment. I’m still kicking myself for not being able to hang on to my cutting words.
It was feeling overwhelmed today and not having anyone to talk to about it is what set me into tears. I realized that I wanted to talk to my mom. She was good for that. She listened to me for years about him and always made me feel tough and fiery. She didn’t give great advice, but she listened and was completely on my side.
For the first time in almost two years I missed her. Two years since I’ve talked to her. It hit me hard that she is dead. And realizing I needed her for that made me start thinking of the other things I miss. Honestly, I just feel like hell today.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
I was cleaning out the bathroom drawers. I have been accused in the past of throwing out things I shouldn’t have. I can usually counter that accusation by finding the item in question. I am the record holder of “Supreme Finder” title in our family. I can find things without even looking or getting up.
As I said, I was cleaning the drawers in the bathroom vanity. I pulled everything out first, cleaned the drawer and then put everything back in. Well, almost everything. There were the loose tooth floss toothpick things, hair ties, stray, Q –tips, old toothbrushes, etc. Those I threw away.
The real danger came when I approached John’s drawer. I pulled the drawer open and felt my blood run cool for just a moment. Okay, that may have been my imagination, but you get the gist of the apprehension I was feeling.
In his drawer were razors, empty toothpaste tubes, used stray toothpick floss things, an old handle for the blinds, combs and a few pens. Pretty straight forward I thought. A no-brainer. Ah, no. Nothing is ever simple with John. It is my fault. I should’ve realized it. I should have tried to get into his brain while I analyzed every piece of bathroom paraphernalia in his drawer. Hindsight is 20/20.
The next day John casually asked me if I had seen a white pole when I was cleaning out the drawers. I didn’t remember until a few minutes of thinking about it.
“Oh, yeah, I threw it away, ” I don’t know why I felt so confident in myself at that moment. It didn’t last long.
“I had made it into a handle for my razor so I could shave my back”, he said quite calmly.
“Oh no! I thought it was just an old pole!”, I cried (it was just an old pole).
He was very calm, unlike him calm and said, “It was the handle from a blind and the end was broken in just the right way so the razor handle fit.” I thought this was a little strange to invent something when he could have bought one.
My first response to a problem, especially when caused by me is to begin to solve it. I took a handle from the blinds in the bedroom, no dice. I took one from Allison’s room, no. My last one was from the kitchen and it didn’t work.
I felt terrible, probably worse than the situation warranted (as is also my way), but I kept trying to fix what I had caused. I think I was also trying to save face. I had always heralded the fact that whatever I was accused of throwing away I had always found it and felt quite smug about it too.
My first line of defense was Amazon. I looked for something to replace “the rod”. I found two things, so I screen shot them and sent them to John. He texted back saying “I will figure something else out”. Always the martyr.
I had an idea of going to ACE Hardware with the razor and getting a piece of pvc that it would fit into. I could also get some plastic tubing. I meant to go there twice, but I always ran out of time. Yesterday I went to the bank, the post office, grocery store, etc. and I thought I could fit it in. I was in the process of trying to convince myself to go when I had an epiphany.
I had found a replacement “razor pole” and he said thank you, but no. My part was done. I can move on with the other 15- 29 things on my to do list.
Who was I trying to kid? Of course, I didn’t move on! I went to ACE today and told the guy what I needed and what I needed it for. I asked for pvc pipe and plastic tubing. I got it home and after much filing, shoving and twisting etc., I got it to work!
Pheww, that was close! I almost wasn’t able to move on with my life.
I’ve included the blueprint to the “razor pole” below in case anyone is in need of such a high quality gadget.
A Long Deserved Holiday
It was meant to be a great week. John and I had not been on a vacation for 20 years! When we decided not to divorce one of the things I asked for was to go to the beach, something I had been promised year after year.
It was off to a great start! The resort was wonderful. We went to an all-inclusive for the usual reason of not wanting to do anything except eat, drink and sunbathe. We saw the dolphins and snorkeled. We ate a lot and drank a lot.
One night we went to a little market that the resort set up with locals to sell us tacky stuff. It was perfect for John. He got a Bronco tiki mask and a three legged stool with Harley Davidson stamped on the leather seat. Of course, that went downstairs with the Harley Davidson side table and the Jack Daniels wooden keg.
After we got home, I left the next day to fly out to visit Emily and the children. It took me a little while to settle in. I had “travelers’ diarrhea” so I wasn’t much fun or good to anyone for a couple of days. After that settled I started to itch. At first I thought it was mosquito bites, but more kept appearing and the itching was driving me crazy! So much so that I went to Urgent Care. Have you guess yet? Yes… I had scabies!!!
In case you don’t know what that is, here is the definition: “Known as the seven-year itch, is a contagious skin infestation by the mite Sarcoptes scabiei.” It is highly contagious. The treatment is EVERYONE that I had come in contact with had to put on a special prescription cream to kill the eggs. Ewww! It still makes my skin crawl (no pun intended) to describe it.
I know none of you know my daughter, Emily. Let’s just say she is a little bit of a germophobe and so is her husband. As you can imagine, being infested with a parasite didn’t go over too well. I not only felt like Typhoid Mary, I was treated a little bit like her. Everyone, including the baby, had to be treated with cream. We washed all of the sheets, rugs, everything that I may have touched. I couldn’t hold the baby or hug my granddaughter. I was pretty miserable.
I still don’t know where I picked it up. It could have been in Mexico or in the airport. I guess I’ll never know.
I’ve only told my family about the scabies. Even though it wasn’t my fault, I still feel a bit of shame. I believe it was caused by what my mother said when I contracted impetigo, “Oh, isn’t that a dirty disease?”
One Year Anniversary
An anniversary is coming up. It’s been almost a year since I filed for divorce from John. In some type of modern day miracle he met all of my demands to not go through with it.
I asked him to see a counselor. He did. I wanted a bank card with my name on it instead of always having to ask him for money. It was humiliating. He got one for me. I gave him a pretty lengthy list of behaviors he must change. He has. That’s the miracle!
I also wanted him to go to my therapist with me so she could explain my condition and what I needed from him. He came with me the next appointment. She explained the disorder and how it effects me.
So the question I have left for myself is…. was I wrong? Was he just acting like a narcissist, but not really one? That’s the best answer I have come up with. My mother was one. Maybe I am just extra sensitive. I think it also has a lot to do with age. John had treated me badly pretty much of our whole marriage. I don’t think the same approach would’ve worked with him 10 years ago.
Of course, there are problems. I am still in the habit of withdrawing. When I realize I’m doing that it takes all of my willpower and energy to make sure I reconnect with him. I do love him, I always have. At least now he is making it much easier.
One horrible thought keeps seeping in. What has he been through living with me for 20 years, a mental case? Oh yeah, I am medicated now, but it has taken at least five years to even out my mood. And even then I just suffered two major depressions in less than three months. He has always hung in there. Hanging in there emotionally abusing me, but none the less, stayed. I don’t have an answer.
Up to Speed
I’ve been away from my blog for a while. It happens. I’ve been so submerged in Allison and her struggle with anxiety, starting to border on agoraphobia, her medication and also EMDR. She is doing much better by the way, I believe she has finally turned a corner and is on her way to some peace of mind.
I’ve been going to therapy for my anxiety too. The EMDR has been working. It’s like magic. I have to work hard and it is bringing up a lot of stuff I don’t want. I hate to have to admit that some of the things I have thought were being done to me were actually me.
My marriage is getting better. My therapist says everyone has the possibility to change. And it’s been since March 30 that I proposed divorce. I’m feeling more comfortable with the situation. I’m going to be pretty upset if this isn’t real to say the least.
And, of course, if it’s not one thing it’s another. I have somehow developed another nervous habit. Clenching my hands. I clench and unclench all day long. I can control it when I think about it, but I don’t realize I’m doing it until I am doing it. So by then someone has noticed. It’s not that apparent unless you are sitting right next to me or across from me. I talked to my therapist about it and she didn’t really come up with any good ideas how to stop except relaxing, other ways to relieve tension, the usual useless advice for anxiety. I’m going back to work in a week and I don’t feel any closer to getting it under control.
It’s 11 p.m.
It’s 11pm here. Husband still isn’t home. Last week he did the same thing by saying he was running an errand and then after numerous unanswered phone calls to him he arrived 6 hours later drunk.
Oh I told him what I thought of his behavior. This is something I would have never dared to do and he would have never tolerated in the old days (pre-divorce threat). He apologized and explained how it would not happen again. I didn’t believe him. It was the first chink I noticed in his new armour.
Now here I am sitting in bed writing this. Scared and confused actually.
Is the “love bombing” over that fast? I only know about narcissists from what I have read recently. So, although I had been sucked in before, I didn’t know it was happening. I’ve been “love bombed” before as well, but it was just great to get some crumbs that I was starved for.
This seems to be a classic example of a narcissist not being able to keep it up for long.
Now it’s 11:30.
P.S. U2 is touring. I don’t care (much). That’s the kind of state I’m in right now. That really pisses me off!
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