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.
witsend: I had a feeling I have not been here enough to know your total situation – wonder how old your son is? But situation with matches is very scary, IS there some way you can live apart?
You’ve probably already explored that – I’ll show my ignorance, but is there an organization like House of Ruth for abused mothers/parents who don’t know where else to turn? Hope and pray
Oxy or someone has answers for you. It sounds like you’ve really tried with the programs and all to do your best as his mother, it definitely sounds like there is a sensitivity chip missing with him
at this point.
I’ll be reading – have to get over this cold myself so I can go back to work tomorrow, my friend may or not call then… Sometimes God seems to send illness or even panic attacks to truly get us to stop and take good care of ourselves, especially when we are on our own. That’s why a place like this is a lifeline so we can at least reach out and say ‘ I really need help’ – and we’re all willing to listen and give help back when we can…
Dear Witsend,
FIRST OFF—it does NOT cause me pain in “reliving” my problems years ago with my P-son, believe it or not, I am over all the stress of that. It is like a scary movie I saw once and at the time I was sitting there watching it I was SCARED CHITLESS, but now I can remeember the “movie” but WITHOUT THE EMOTIONS if that makes any sense.
Even this last round of chaos, when I was TERRORIZED, I am over the TERROR and sure, I am cautious, and I know what he is capable of but I DO NOT INTEND TO LIVE IN TERROR.
“The coward dies a 1,000 deaths, the brave man but one.” I can’t remember who said taht but I cannot stand dying every day in terror. Nothing has changed except my VIEWS of it all, my attitude. he still wants to kill me, and I know that, but I am CAUTIOUS but not terrorized.
The MATCHES bit does sound BAD, and I am sure he is doing that to TERRORIZE you. And, obviously it is working. I think in your situation I would also be in terror of this “child”—-and I know you are between a rock and a hard spot with him.
Some way I feel like you MUST GET AWAY FROM HIM, and when I say AWAY, I mean where he can never find you again. I realize this is turning your life UPSIDE DOWN, but at least you will have a LIFE to live, send an e mail to Donna Andersen and ask her to forward it to me. I have an idea that might help you, but I do NOT want to post it on this board. I’m not even sure it would work, but I think you are about at the END of your rope. I hate to be “negative” but I thought from the start that your son and mine are IDENTICAL TWINS only about 20 years difference in their ages.
I agree with persephone that sometimes God does send us a “wake up” call and a panic attack is sure one. I’ve only had one in my life and it was awful! I hope I never have another one. It is sure your body telling you that you are at the end of your strength and rope! Hang on I am praying for you. ((hugs)))
Skylar, you’re right when you said responding to a P as if he/she is a normal-feeling human being means we have not really understood the psychological condition”.incapable of comprehending normal emotional response in a normal way.
Stayingsane, I too was blown away that telling my ex-N he was a stupid NPD (after he said some wacky stuff to me as if he had no common sense),etc. didn’t register with him emotionally, although he objected to being called a N. Yes, he
has definined me as the crazy one, mentally ill, and yet I too am stilll fascinated that such an entity can ignore all evidence of his own blatant issues…imagine being that insensitive, that selfish, is amazing to me!
My dilemma is he loaned me money for my business during our 1.5-yr. relationship. I have not been physically involved with him for a long enough time because I can resist him as a result of being turned off mentally, but I occasionally feel sad and simply cannot believe someone who seemed intelligent as he did could actually not “be there.”
So I struggle with abandoning him completely — sometimes I answer his calls, sometimes I don’t. He’ll offer to bring me food he cooked for himself and his dad, telling me his dad wanted me to have some food– and I say Ok, but he should leave it on my porch or in my mailbox, and then I don’t see him do the drop off.
I feel somewhat guilty though because I want complete NC in my head, but my empathic side says I at least owe him the courtesy of talking to him (within limits) since I still owe him money. I probably won’t be able to pay him in full until the end of the year since my business is a start-up. I feel in such a bind. He’s been patient and I’ve kept him informed because it is the right thing to do when you owe someone money…but he’ll say, “we can still be friends too…”
I have no doubt he abused me — mentally and spiritually “raped” me — with misleading comments and innuendos/gaslighting/crazy-making, and squeezing me in aggressive ways that hurt, which he said he found pleasure in doing despite my discomfort.
I struggle with feeling that I’m mistreating him/being unfair if I try total NC all times, even with my plans to pay back what I owe him. Fear has less to do with it. It’s more about how I would feel used if someone who owed me money but hadn’t yet paid me but went NC. I’d feel how dare you???
How can I deal with this internally in order to keep the issues separate — I am out of the fog for most part but still healing from realization that relationship was not “real” and feel I am letting go of any idea of us possibly reconciling, yet I talk to him still. I feel reconnected as if I’m obligated to stay in his life somehow (even without wanting sex with him and being able to say no without guilt when he hints or asks directly) due to him helping me at a very crucial time that allowed my business to move to another level.
I was so humbled by this “kindness” on his part — to trust me enough to lend me money and give it all in cash straight from his bank account — when I couldn’t get help from family members whom I previously helped financially. Of course, I did a lot of loving/kind things for my ex-N that money cannot buy — and he acknowledges as much — but I still struggle with feeling I would be betraying him if I didn’t at least allow occasional contact/ mostly by phone (he’s not a computer person like I am).
CLARIFICATION — So I struggle with abandoning him completely sometimes I answer his calls, sometimes I don’t. He’ll offer to bring me food he cooked for himself and his dad, telling me his dad wanted me to have some food”“ and I say Ok, but he should leave it on my porch or in my mailbox, and then I don’t see him do the drop off.
He does bring the food as he says (often good meals), but I tell him I don’t want face-to-face contact, requesting he just leave it and ring my door bell. (I’m definitely not using him — During our relationship, I was a giver/nurturer in this and many ways with him, even though I don’t do these things like cooking or massages for him now — I mainly talk with him on the phone when time allow, never letting it interfere with my business/personal needs as I’d done in the past).
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Witsend
Please take Oxd’s advise to heart! Please!
I woke up , with the P standing in the shadow of my closet of my room! watching me!
I got out of the house!
It really is that serious! I knew by the look on his face and the words he had said that if I did not listen to the warnings I was next!
skylar — thanks for your comments. I agree that he doesn’t seem very dangerous, but I did consider whether he might try to poison the food — I sometimes turn down his offer — he’s been doing it knowing that I work hard/alot of hours running my business, so he’ll call to remind me to eat.
I think you’re right he wants emotional control and that this could be an opportunity for me to practice emotional self- control that would make me a stronger person, as you said.
Thank you very much!
skylar, regarding your “P-parents being only dangerous” to you emotionally, you said “You would not believe how nice they are to me.” I really get that, because I sometimes ask why my ex-N has been going so out of his way — since I’m setting clearer boundaies — to seem thoughtful.
Oxy,
I did send an email to Donna asking her to forward my information to you.
I am virtually between a rock and a hard place when it comes to my house and being able to sell it, even if I chose to move away.
The house that I live in was my moms and when she passed away I inherited the house but my 2 kids also inherited 1/8 each of this place. They were suppose to inherit some money. But since we chose to live in the house rather than “sell” it, there was no money. On paper the way it works is all our names are on the title.
I can’t sell it until my youngest is of LEGAL age 18 years old.
I would like to hear what idea is. I don’t know that I am yet prepared to leave everything I own (which isn’t much but all I ‘got) behind BUT I do know that there might come a time when I might do just that if I felt it to be the only choice I have.
I never in a million years would have guessed that I would be where I am today, afraid of my own son and what he might do. So I have learned NEVER say NEVER.
It is always good to at least have a back up plan. and maybe that is why I do feel so vulnerable…..Because I don’t have one.
skylar: good post=emotional control.
You know; I have a good friend that has helped me greatly in breaking free buuuuut…..something about him bugs me to death and angers me at times. He is nice, kind, helpful etc….but there is still that subliminal feeling I get from him that really bothers me. He wants to hang around with me all the time and I don’t want/need that. See: he wanted to marry me several years ago as I was breaking free but I made it clear we are ONLY friends and that is all we will ever be. He accepted this, at least on the surface. He frustrates me sometimes with his anal habits until I blow a fuse and just have to distance myself. I am just not quiet putting my finger on it….until you mentioned emotional control….
He was especially helpful when I was in need of pulling out and healing..but now I am free and want to have fun and he always wants to hang with me…but he drags me down by being anal and a wet blanket. He does all this so covertly I am sometimes unaware of what is going on. I feel like he is sabotoging my progress to keep me from moving past him. Comments everyone?
TB, It sounds like he wants to keep you emotionally dependant on him.
Although I had pretty good parents, one thing I think my mom did that wasn’t really good for me, was only really being there for my unhappiness, or my failures. It seemed like she neglected my successes, accomplishments, and happiness. I think she feared my growing up, and was trying to hold on by keeping me dependant on her. I hope this helps.