A little confidence, a pinch of flattery, and a sprinkle of verbal abuse.
Now that I had seen the vulnerable side of my nightmare, things were quickly changing. I wasn’t supposed to know about his struggles. He was supposed to have his shit together, he was supposed to have a plan and none of it seemed to be working out and I was a witness to it all.
“Narcissism does not necessarily represent a surplus of self-esteem or of insecurity; more accurately, it encompasses a hunger for appreciation or admiration, a desire to be the center of attention, and an expectation of special treatment reflecting perceived higher status.” – Psychology Today
He was paranoid that I would ruin him in the end. But I couldn’t see the end anywhere in sight.
I did everything I knew how, to prove that I wouldn’t abandon him and that my love was unconditional. I tried and tried to ease his worries and close the growing gap but it didn’t matter. There was never anything I could do.
There was anger about me texting too much all of a sudden. He would say that I didn’t need to know every move he made and he had friends too. He was completely right! We have different lives and friends, I didn’t need to know his every move, but the thing is, I was never looking for that. He was my person, I wanted to share my day with him and talk but it had become a burdensome part of his life.
Normally a girlfriend and boyfriend have conversations about their day, correct?! It is normal to have a little dinner, watch a show or two, and talk, yes?
I was convinced that it wasn’t normal and he was done placating my neediness.
Trying desperately to make him happy, I did as he said. I didn’t text him until he did and when he did, I responded right away.
My fear of losing him suppressed any other feelings I had. I could feel the distance growing and I knew I had to stuff and shove and push all of those emotions deep down to keep him around.
My emotional bottle was turning into Mary Poppins purse. Or so I thought.
I made more of an effort to go out with friends and keep myself busy after work. I tried to separate my life from his a little, hoping that would be the answer, but things were never that easy.
Calls and texts would flood in when I wasn’t home. I sent him pictures to prove where I was and answered all of his phone calls, but none of it ever helped his frustration. It was always a lose-lose situation.
“Why didn’t you answer?” “It took you long enough, talking to other guys?” “Which friends are you with?” “Are you really even there?” “Why are you getting so dressed up?” “There is no point in me coming home then.” “I just drove by and your car isn’t home.”
My solution to stop the beratement was to stop going out completely.
But of course, things kept getting worse. Eventually I was right where he wanted me- Isolated and depressed, drunk and high, quiet and numb.
Being home felt like a prison and being out felt like I was on the run. I was in a constant state of panic, terrified of him coming home, but also completely shattered if he didn’t.
“Why are you always home?” “Don’t be clingy. I don’t have to stay.” “What is wrong with you? No one is going to want you like this.” “Stop being a sad b**** all the time.” “If you were just happy, you would have friends.” “I’m the only one for you, no one else will want you.” “We are meant to be together, you just need to learn to be happy.”
On and on.
“Can’t you just enjoy our time instead of being such a downer?” “You are so unattractive like this.” “Why are you still here then?” “You do know that no one is going to want to deal with this.” “You should just kill yourself.”
Fight after fight, panic attack, after panic attack.
I had multiple open bottles of Jameson around the house and I started buying Xanax bars from a co-worker. My goal was to survive and to be numb and I hit my mark, every day.
After a little while, I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. I wasn’t in my body anymore and I didn’t care, in fact, I preferred it. I became a silent observer, a gullible and malleable person who was perfect for his manipulation. One problem, I had stopped reacting. I wasn’t giving him the fight he wanted nor the pleading.
Our arguments weren’t enough anymore. So he started trying to bring me back into my body. By ramping up his aggression, he could get the rise out of me that he needed.
He started pinning me against walls and cornering me until I crumbled to the floor. He didn’t need to yell or scream. His face close to mine, whispering threats, was more than enough to make me retreat.
As soon as I heard his motorcycle leave, I would drink until I fell asleep. The fight continued via text while I passed out and didn’t stop until he lost steam or interest.
This cycle continued, until one fateful morning.
He called me in a panic, asking if I had seen his phone.
Of course I did. I noticed when I got home from dropping him off at work. I saw the texts and what was left of my heart was already obliterated.
He was texting a girl. Dating this girl. Fucking her. Kissing her. Staying at her house.! Oh, and his pet, was their pet! They were together before I came into the picture.
I will never forget reading “I wish I wasn’t stuck here with this boring bitch. I wish I was there with you eating pizza and fucking.”
Time seemed to move extra slow as my brain tried to process the overload. I had so many questions and had also received so many answers. He was cheating and she knew.. How could she be okay with it? What was he saying to her to explain where he lived? Did she just not give a damn?
I vaguely remember him sleeping at home a few times after seeing his phone but I did my best to disappear. I remember clamping my eyes shut and pushing my body against the wall with my legs pulled into my chest. Pretending to fall asleep while he faced away from me on his phone under the blanket.
I cant give you a timeline of how long it took me to kick his sorry ass out, because I honestly don’t know but I do know that I used anytime he was away to prepare myself, to collect the pieces and create a plan.
Up until this point, I kept our relationship business between us. Not this time.
I needed to tell someone who would hold me accountable and give me strength, someone who knew and loved me deeply and could show me a way out.
That person was my Ma. I finally told her everything and she was ready to get him the hell out. (Shout out to the real O.G.!)