He was arrested at 9:14 am on May 21, 2003. It was a sunny, blue sky morning. The birds were fluttering and twittering in the trees. The river flowed lazily by, meandering through the forest, dappled with sunlight, sparkling, clear.
We were in hiding. Had been since February 26 when we’d fled the city we lived in 1,000 miles away, heading west, heading to the US, he’d said. “I’ve got money there,” he insisted. “I’ll just leave this mess to my lawyers to fix. No sense hanging around waiting for them to get it cleared up. I’ll let you go once I’m out of the country,” he promised.
Like all his promises, like everything he’d ever said and done, it was all a lie.
On that morning in May, the lies fell apart and he was exposed. Two police officers walked in and took him away. “Are you on drugs?” one of them asked me as I sat, rocking back and forth, back and forth in a chair watching the scene unfold, a quiet, low keen seeping from my mouth. I was catatonic. I was not on drugs.
They took him away and I sat surveying the mess around me, trying to make sense of the mess of my life.
I hadn’t heard of No Contact with the abuser, but I knew after months of no contact with family and friends, I had to make contact with someone beyond the narrow confines of my world with him. He was gone. I had to reach out for help.
I called my sister who lived an hour away from where we had been in hiding. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t yell or scream at me. She came and got me.
No Contact was the only possibility. He didn’t have my sister’s number and it was unlisted. He did keep calling the couple who owned the cabin where we’d been staying. They called my sister, she advised them not to give him my number. He called my mother. She hung up on him, even though she felt it was rude. “He’s the man who almost killed your daughter,” I told her. “It is not rude to hang up on him. It’s vital to my well-being.”
I didn’t want to think about him but at times, my mind betrayed me. I’d be walking down a street and hear a cell phone ringing and it would be his ring. My mind would leap to thoughts of him. What was he doing? What was he saying? What was he telling people about me?
I posted No Trespassing signs in my mind. When thoughts of him intruded, I’d mentally hold up a sign and send the thoughts back to where they’d come from, my fear, my shame, my guilt.
I knew that one day I’d have to go through the thoughts of him and examine them, but for now, I had to give myself time to grow stronger. For now, it didn’t matter that I had to rid myself of his presence in my mind. That would come later. At first, what mattered most was that I build emotional strength so that I could eventually deal with thinking about him without making myself sick.
In those first minutes and hours and days weeks and months away from him I focused my thinking on me. On what had happened inside of me. On what I had to do to become healthy again.
The police asked me for a statement about anything I knew about his illegal activities. I had to do the right thing to show myself, remind myself; I was capable of doing ”˜the right thing’.
I wrote it down. It hurt. I was scared. What would he do when he found out I had ”˜told’ on him?
I couldn’t let my mind go there. The monster of him in my head was bigger than the reality of him, out there. Out there he was in jail. I had to escape the prison of my mind trapped in thinking of him. I held up my No Trespassing sign.
Focus on doing the right thing, I told myself.
I kept writing.
To remind myself that I was so much more than that five year relationship, that my life was made up of so many other important things than just ”˜him’, I made a list of things I’d done in my life that I was proud of. Being a mother topped my list. “What kind of mother are you really”, the voice of self-denigration whispered. “You deserted your children.”
I posted STOP signs in my head. Whenever self-doubt, negative self-talk invaded, I held up my STOP sign and consciously reframed the negative into more loving words. “I am a courageous woman. Yes, I did something I never imagined I would ever do as a mother. I was very, very sick. And now, the poison is gone and I am healing. I can make amends. I am reclaiming my life. I am courageous and growing stronger every day.”
I kept adding to my list of things I’d done that I was proud of. In Grade five I raised $122.00 for a charity by walking 21 miles. I was an honor student. Got a scholarship. I ran the marathon. Wrote a play with a group of street teens and produced it.
My list reminded me that I was capable of living in the world beyond the narrow corridor of his abuse. It reminded me that I was a competent, caring human being.
At first, I wanted to cry and cry and cry. At first, I did. And then I knew I had to build emotional muscle, to build my willpower. I gave myself a time limit for crying. It began with ten minutes on the hour, every hour. That was when I let myself cry. The other fifty minutes I had to do at least one constructive thing (Work on my resume. Phone about a job interview. Take a walk.) to take me one step further on my healing path. The ten minutes every hour became eight and then five and then only every two, then three, then four hours. Eventually, as I kept doing more and more things to take me on the healing path, I forgot to cry.
At first, I wanted to tell everyone my story. Talk about what he had done. How hurt I’d been. How confused and scared and lonely. At first, I thought everyone knew what I’d been through just by looking at me. Couldn’t they see the scars? Couldn’t they see my pain? I couldn’t understand how the world could be so normal. I needed to embrace its normalcy. I enforced No Contact in my speech. I could not talk of him. I could not tell the story again and again. The only time I had permission to talk about him and what had happened was when I went to an Alanon or Co-Dependents Anonymous meeting. There, with the safety of the 12-steps empowering me, I could speak up and give voice to my pain, my fear and my hope.
The greatest danger wasn’t contacting him. He was in jail. My greatest danger lay in thinking about him. In remembering those gentle moments where I had felt his ”˜love’ embrace me.
“It was never love,” I reminded myself. “Love doesn’t almost kill you.”
I kept working at No Contact in my mind. Good times or bad, thinking of him wasn’t healthy for me. I kept my No Trespassing signs posted. My STOP sign handy. Over time, it became easier. A cell phone ring wouldn’t startle me. My body wouldn’t jerk suddenly at the sound of a car backfiring, or a door slamming. I wouldn’t cry at every turn. Sit in silence immersed in sadness. Thoughts of suicide were arrested before they even saw the STOP sign in my mind. I was building my will to survive. My will to rejoice in living life fully every day.
In time, it became easier to live without the fear I would always be the abused woman I had become. In time, it became easier to live with the possibility of life beyond his abuse, beyond the lies he’d told me about who I was, what I could do, where I could go and who I could never be. It became easier to believe in me. It became easier to talk, about him, about what had happened, about what I’d done to betray myself and those I loved without falling into despair. It became easier to love myself, not as an abused woman, but as a woman who had the courage to face her fears, to turn up for herself and love herself, exactly the way she was. A woman capable and confident enough to let go of abuse and claim her right to live freely in her own skin.
I was an abused woman. Today, I continue to grow and heal, to love myself for all I’m worth and to give myself the space and time to let feelings flow through me without having to stop them.
Today, I give myself the grace of loving myself enough to know, I am okay. The things I did that hurt those I love, and me, are nothing compared to the things I do today to create a beautiful life all around me. I am not measured against what happened back then, my value is in what I do today to make a difference, in my life and the world around me.
Today, he was just a moment in time, a small segment of my life. He has no value in my life today. My value is in how I live, what I do, say, how I think and look at the world through eyes of love. Today, my value is in me.
Skylar
Yep you nailed it when you said something like….responding to a P as if he/she is a normal feeling human being is proof that we have not really understood the psychological make up of this condition….that a P is incapable of comprehending a normal emotional response in a normal way ….so for instance me telling him he is a moron, baby boy,lying, thieving, cheating blah de blah does not even register with him as even disturbing….but for me perhaps the expression to his face, to have at least tried to get through to his heart…will do me good but it will never do anything to him except keep him defining me as crazy, defective, mentally ill etc etc I am stilll fascinated by him, as an entity because imagine being that dense? that insensitive? that selfish? it’s amazing to me! I simply cannot believe it! but I reckon I will keep prodding him to see if there is even a twitch of humanity…it’s like i’m addicted to the fantasy that he will one day turn around and melt, the horse will win the race, the high will kick in , I will win the jackpot….its addiction…so I reckon I will read up about love addiction and 12 step it for a while…He liked snakes too…he called me a snake once or twice…I remember thinking what is he seeing me as? I actually was in the process of betraying him by seeing through him….sssss!
I have thought about all of the following methods of dealing with him:
Voodoo, cursing, hexing, taking to court, Getting police, telling new girlfriends of his, telling the entire community about him, hiring hit man, praying that he crashes into the back of a bus,visualising him dying in agony, visualising be heading him and playing football with his head up and down the road before being taken away laughing insanely…..but the most effective one so far is feeling peace and letting him go to his fate whatever it is..not there yet (by a long shot) but that’s the one that feels the best fit. Stooping to his level and acting out the crazy psycho back to him is fun but it’s insane, and anyway just think of how puzzled he will be when I stop reacting and just pull all my energy back to my own life…
Ok guys….Have been trying to nurse myself back to health this week. I have an upper respiratory thing going on and also had a touch of the flu a week ago. I felt dehydrated and weak. So I couldn’t get much work done.
Have been using this time doing some reading of the older articles and also doing lots of thinking.
I need some input as the days pass I am just feeling like my entire life is spinning out of control.
As much effort as I have put into trying to have some effective parenting the “ground rules” have all been in vain.
Him having to go to school is all in vain. He shows up and sleeps in class.
He breaks both rules at school and at home and manages to somehow avoid all consequences one way or the other. He manages to “tow the line” when it involves actually breaking the LAW, so that he doesn’t fall into the system (yet) I BELIEVE at this point this is a conscience choice on his part.
In other words, getting him to school last year was such a struggle I had almost hoped he would go “truant” this year because then the truancy dept could be notified.
If he stays out after curfew, and is supposed to be grounded the next day he simply doesn’t come home from school….
No matter what you might try to do, he will find a way around it. And every time he “accomplishes” what he sets out to do, it is like a feather in his cap.
If he has been issued an after school 15 minute detention by a teacher for “missing assignments” he will NOT show up. UNTIL the teacher reports him to the principle and if he doesn’t show up for that detention he will get suspended. This detention is for an hour with the primcipal, he WILL show up and NOT do the missing work. Just sit for an hour. So they can’t suspend him but he hasn’t also complied with what the detention was for in the very begining to DO THE MISSING WORK.
These are just a “few” easy to describe (NOT EVEN THE WORST OF WHAT HE DOES) examples of how he manages to manipulate the situation to his liking.
There are many many more and none of them are really of much importance “individually”. But as a whole they tend to define how he will take any situation under his CONTROL and do it “his way”.
All of this seems to just “feed” into his appetite of control, as I see it.
I have already accepted the fact that with each boundary he crosses, he moves onto the next. And that he counts each and every one as a victory.
Recently I have begun to realize that I am unable to help him in any way. As a matter of fact I believe that many days I seem to “fuel” his fire. Even if I am not actually interacting with him in any way at the moment. His anger/hatred is so deep for me.
And yet as N/C is not an option, I don’t know how to co- habitate with him where as I am not “adding” to his disorder.
That is really what it has come down to. VERY SAD to say but, a pretty accurate description.
I am his mother and yet it has been proven to me time and time again that I can’t do anything to help him. My sons developement was arrested within him long ago. And something has manifested within him over the past two years during puberty that has progressed to the point where he is a complete stranger to me. I do believe that he is a danger, both to himself and to myself as well. I do believe he will also be a danger to society “in general” once he goes out into the real world. Because his coping skills and the way he lives in his distorted sense of reality are never going to “make it” in the real world.
So how do I interact with him on a daily basis? I feel responsibility to do the best I can do under the circumstances, yet sometimes I do not feel safe in my own home. Any suggestions? My coping skills have been tested to the maximum and I just don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Witsend, I feel for you. I wish I had some wise advise, but I don’t. I can’t imagine the absolute frustration you must feel, and all the conflicting emotions. God bless you.
First -to Witsend – teenage years with your own child is hard enough without having the extra challenges you mention. My son turned out fine but originally did not graduate because of his,attitude towards school and homework, it was a real source of frustration with my first husband and myself – our son was working outside of school and just felt his time after school should be his own totally! And he was short-fused if you really tried to corner him and get him to cooperate, I tried to make him realize I’d be happy to help him with English homework which was his nemesis. But ultimately, he had to face NOT going down the aisle at graduation with his friends and for another year or so, he floundered until finally – once we stopped worrying or bringing it up to him, he went and took the GED and passed, eventually went on to be self-motivated enough to take classes on his own to find a very good job. But during those years, probably a span of 7-8 years, he was a challenge to say no to, over money (borrowing it, and you knew you were kissing it goodbye). I had to start simply saying no, no, no and just sticking to it. After our divorce, my son tried living with his dad, who is actually a very(too) mellow guy but he drove him to distraction and they almost came to blows one night so I took my son back (we lived nearby, it was a trial situation as it was…) At any rate, your son sounds like he is in that syndrome of liking the ‘negative attention’ – during and after that period of my divorce my son became more of a problem and very needy – is there any way to give him ‘positive’ attention at this point without feeding into his ‘control’ or bad boy actions – sometimes I felt my son just needed to be reminded that the divorce didn’t reflect on him and that also, I loved him as much as his sister (who has never been a problem, thankfully…)
My prayers are with you – it’s so hard when it is your own son or daughter and you want them to have a happy life – and have healthy relationships with you and everyone else.
Thanks, Louise and Erin (and others) for your posts -I’m feeling a bit better today, still coughing and my head feels like a congested balloon but went to bed early and slept like a bear in
hibernation…I’m taking what you said to heart, it is probably better to go NC right away – hard to wrap my head around not just hearing his voice one more time, but that’s the drug that
gets me back into it again. As you said, no matter what label I put on him or the relationship, it’s not bringing me support, consideration, consistent love and respect (and not enough FUN!)
so I have to choose not to let him dominate my thoughts and life anymore. Whether I feel like I’m being a ‘nice’ person can’t be the issue – that hasn’t helped me a whole lot…
One more thought for Witsend and hope you won’t find this offensive or simplistic…Since I’ve been reading so much about the brain (in understanding my sister’s neurological disease) there
have been alot of studies as to how just sugar and our diet can affect our behavior – sometimes just a bad diet can ‘fuel the fire’ of bad or confusing behavior. Even children with supposed
ADD or autism improved noticeably with the introduction of better food choices and cutting out junk food. I listened to a great lecture online by a Gracelyn Guyol, who wrote a book called “Healing Depression & Bipolar Disorder without Drugs” and she talks about this as well. Maybe all the sociopaths need to stop drinking and going to Mickey D’s…Good luck to you.
Dear Witsend,
I wish I could tell you something “magic” to help, but unfortunately, I really do not know how to do so.
If you confront him, like refusing to do his laundry, or refusing to cook for him etc. you are only going to make him more dangerous (I believe) and of course if you get him fired from his job, he will (as he threatened) burn your house down, so I can’t tell you what to do….you are between the devil and the deep blue sea. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
He obviously IS IN CONTROL and there is nothing that you can do or anyone can do. The system isn’t going to help and if they DID take him into inpatient program, he will get out eventually and then he will come after you.
WAITING for the “other shoe to fall’ is frustrating and horrible and I know stressing as well. I’m sorry you’re sick, that’s probably from stress itself making you vulnerable. So be as good to yoruself as you can be.
As far as setting “rules” for him, or grounding him, I wouldn’t even bother, you know what the result will be. He IS GOING TO DEFY YOU. So if you don’t set a rule, he can’t defy you.
If he turns 17 in December i think you said, he will most likely, from what you have been saying, drop out of school.
At that point, you can offer him “emancipation” and if it needs to be done “legally” then I would do so, I iimagine the court would go along with you, especially if he has dropped out of school. If he refuses to be “emancipated” I don’t know what to tell you. maybe the problem will be solved when he turns 17 as he will leave.
Frankly, if he does leave, i would arrange to MOVE to somewhere he could not find me. I think he will eventually BOOMERANG BACK as a mooch, it seems many of those like him do. If my own little darling is an example, and yours is like you describe, i think he will always be feeling “entitled” to whatever you have as HIS RIGHT. I have NO doubt mine has hated me since he was 15 or 16 and it has only gotten WORSE not any better. He still holds bitter grudges against me for the few times I WAS able to get control over him by calling the cops. The cops don’t keep them forever though, apparently NO MATTER WHAT THEY DO, so I can’t count on the law, and I wouldn’t advise you to either.
Witsend, I feel for you, and I wish you could just up and leave him and “disappear”—leave him there on his own to sink or swim. God bless you, you are in my prayers! And, you are NOT alone in this experience.
persephone7,
Thanks for your reply. I do appreciate it. In reading my own “examples”of my sons behaviour, without going into the real issues, it is easy to interpet his behaviour as good old teenage rebellion. These “actions” speak loudly to such effect. However in previous post I have devulged into some of the more serious issues, and they go beyond his defiant behaviour.
It’s not so much what he presents on the “outside” (defiant attitude) that worries me. It is what he lacks WITHIN himself that REALLY is the core of the problem, I think. He lacks empathy, reasoning, the ability to give or recieve love, ability to really bond (even with his peers), social skills (he uses people for his own gain), he lies consistently (even when there is nothing to gain), has no remorse, and I could continue with more disturbing things…….He is a true, Dr. Jekle, Mr Hide personality. But anytime the “good” side of him does present itself it is always short lived, and for personal gain.
He and I actually went through a program over the summer that was all ABOUT positive consequences for the teenager in trouble. Although it seemed to be a decent program for defiant kids, What seemed to be LOST on him was the fact that he feels SO VERY ENTITLED to everything and anything he wants. (and I don’t mean “monetary” things) This was designed (the program) to seemingly be a win-win situation for the teen involved. For very LITTLE “input” on the teenagers part (small positive behaviour) a very good positive consequence was granted.
He really lives in a “reality” all of his own. And he has been through councelling and the whole 9 yards. He lied the entire time he was in counselling. He was “loosly” diagnosed as Bi Polar & ADHD and was prescribed medication, that he refuses to take.
I believe as his mother as I have witnessed him as a child, (seemed normal until puberty hit) and during puberty, till now……That there are some developemental issues of the brain. (I FIRMLY DO BELIEVE THIS) He is “missing” some things within him that the rest of us take for granted. When I saw these disturbing signs, I took him for help.
The “help” didn’t help and I turned to other avenues. In a short period of time this disorder/illness/??? has escalated and progressed.
The truth of the matter is I am afraid of him. I have seen the “look” in his eyes where no one is home. And God help me, I don’t see anyone I know in those cold, calculating, eyes.
We are unfortunately beyond the point of diets, (although I do believe in the concept that sugar can affect behaviour) and we are beyond the point of effective parenting.
Its more of a survival mode. And my not wanting to “contribute” to this disorder or enable him any more to continue on this destructive path and at the same time be safe in my own home.
M.L Gallagher: I read every thing you stated, it make perfect sense to me but HOW? do you stop thinking about what he said, did, didn’t do. How do you stop wondering about what he was thinking, feeling, doing, where he was going, not going, when would he call, not call, turn up, disappear. I spend my energy wondering about him My life is diminishing my joy, happiness, contentment, peace of mind, has totally dissappeared and I don’t know how to get it back. I think about the reality of his presence, I focused on the ’myth’, the story I believed what he told me was true. I believed his lies.
Oxy,
I know you get it, because you have been there….
And it has come to my attention that every time I post about this, I likely make you re-live your own past pain with your son. I am really sorry for that…..
But you are my ROCK, because you HAVE survived this. I am still trying to CRAWL my miserable way through it.
And I know the stress is making me sick. Last weekend I had a panic attack. I haven’t had one of those for 12 years, since my husband died. I was several hours away from home and I was brought to my knees (in fear) because I couldn’t breath.
My heart was racing, had hot flashes, and I was shaking uncontrolably…..I FORGOT how awful panic attacks can be.
Because of the upper respiratory, I am still unsure if I couldn’t breath because of that and the other symtoms came with the fear of not being able to breath, or if I actually experienced a panic attack. DOESN’T even matter, because it felt like a panic attack. And I don’t want to experience those ever again.
LOOK how long it took me to get to this point????
I never thought I would be here. I HAVE GIVEN up in trying to enforce rules or consequences….All it does is to escalate his anger. And to reinforce him once again that he is IN CONTROL.
I hate the fact that as his parent I am REINFORCING his negativeness……But that is EXACTLY what I was doing by setting rules that where constantly being broken.
I know there is no easy answer…..I just want to get through this. And some days I just don’t know how to do that?
I am not comfortable in my own home & I am not comfortable when I am away from home (working) (panic attacks?) Some days I might as well just be wallpaper on the walls, as I try to just blend in with the woodwork. (these are the GOOD days)
I just don’t see how much longer I can continue to live this way?
He gets matches (from work) and his new pass time (when he is bored must be flicking lit matches accross his room as I find burnt matches all rolled up in his laundry. Seeing as his laundry comes DIRECTLY from the FLOOR of his room, all I can do is assume that he flicks them lit around his room for amusement ?
So now I can’t even feel safe when I finally DO FALL asleep at night.
skylar and Lily: I am also celiac/gluten intolerant. Got sick in Jan of this year and almost checked out after a severe attack Christmas Day. I ate all wrong Christmas and it ravaged my gut. Plus: my final divorce hearing was in Feb and he was fighting me for my home. [I did win] It took me six months to even get on my feet….I could not eat hardly anything. I am also on the gf diet and am doing pretty well again. [cannot take stress at all] My doc told me that chronic stress is a major contributor to this problem. These people destroy us and we have to make our way back slowly. I knew if I did not get out….I was going to die.