In the world of healing from an encounter of the P(sychopath) kind, it is easy to forget that there is a world without fear, without lies, without terror, without uncertainty, out there, just around the corner from the insanity of his abuse. It’s easy to forget that people don’t always manipulate, deceive, devalue and destroy you. And, it’s easy to forget — you never deserved their lies and manipulation in the first place.
It’s one of the things that makes healing from these encounters so difficult. We forget who we are as we fall into believing we are who they say… Whatever it is they tell us we are — from beautiful to ugly, impossible to live without, impossible to live with. The most incredibly intelligent woman they’ve ever met to the stupidest woman who ever walked the planet.
In their eyes we become less than we ever imagined possible because, in their eyes we do not exist. At least, not the ”˜we’ we’ve known ourselves to be. Because their eyes can’t see ”˜us’. All they can see is the ”˜target’ of who they needed us to be while they stalked and plotted their way into our lives.
When I was first released from that relationship, I couldn’t believe what had happened to me. And then I had to remind myself — believe it. It happened. “But how could he have done it?” my mind raced. “He said he loved me. Would never hurt me.”
Hah! Face it. He lied.
Facing reality of his lies is imperative to healing from these cretins evil passages through our lives. Believing they did what they did, said what they said, lied and deceived and cheated and coerced us into giving up on ourselves, is vital to our recovery.
And facing the truth about the sickness of their love, and our sickness while believing we were in love with them is critical to soothing our aching hearts and sorrow filled psyches.
So many times someone will say after they’ve told me all the things he’s done to abuse them, “But I still love him.”
And I always ask, “What’s in it for you to keep believing you love someone who treated you like that? Who betrayed you? Cheated on you? Lied to you with every breath? What’s in it for you to keep believing he is worthy of your love?”
Because after they’ve gone and devalued and discarded us one more time, we are the one’s who keep ourselves attached to their machinations with our picking at the scabs of the wounds they’ve inflicted at us, worrying the sore of their abuse with our repetition of their words running through our minds. We are the one’s who keep thinking about them, worrying about what they’re doing or saying after they’ve walked out the door one last time leaving us standing with the pieces of our hearts falling through our fingers into the puddle of our tears pooling on the floor.
It is not easy healing from a relationship with a sociopath. But, it’s a heck of a lot better than being in relationship with one.
When I was with the sociopath, I did not know up from down, left from right, in from out. Every day was fraught with some new terror, some weird and wacky story about why he couldn’t turn up, didn’t have the money to pay, didn’t have the guts to call, or simply didn’t do what he’d say he’d do in the first place. Every day was a roller coaster ride through his crazy-making words and antics, with me constantly searching for truth and order, fairness and kindness amidst the insanity that was his ”˜love forevermore’. In staying with him, I became more and more sick. More and more incapable of seeing that it wasn’t that I ”˜couldn’t leave’, it was that I kept telling myself, “I couldn’t leave.” because…. he loved me. Needed me. Wanted me. I loved him. Needed him. Wanted him. I kept telling myself I couldn’t walk away and trapped myself into believing I couldn’t because I loved him and he loved me.
He never knew what it meant to love. He never had it in him to love me. And, while I walked into that relationship with my arms and heart wide open to love, I stayed because my mind closed down and my heart broke up into a thousand tiny pieces with every moment I remained within his unholy arms.
When I was first released I wanted to believe he loved me, at least at some point in that tortorous ride — it couldn’t all be for nothing, could it? I wanted to believe it wasn’t all a lie or some sick game played out on the battlefield that became my life. In healing, I accept, He never loved me. He never could. It was always a sick game and I was the pawn who could never gain entry into his castle — because his castle never existed. And he was never the prince of my imaginings.
Poison doesn’t kill you because it loves you. Poison kills you because it’s toxic.
And he was toxic to my life. A poison I consumed with every breath I took whether I was in proximity to him or his voice was simply coming down the umbilical cord of the telephone through which he fed me my daily dose of lies.
In those first minutes and hours and days away from him, within the protective veil of No Contact, I came face to face with reality and accepted my truth. I never loved him. I wanted to think I did. I truly wanted to believe I did. But, in reality, I loved a mirage. A shimmering creation of his duplicituous creation. He was the chimera. Facilely capable of shifting shape to suit the weather, the time zone, the geographic formations around him.
I never loved him. I loved the thought of him. The idea. The dream.
In accepting the reality of my love of the idea of him versus the truth of who he was, I freed myself to awaken from the nightmare of his embrace. In my awakening, I opened myself up to all that is possible when I let go of living on cloud nine, squeezing my feet into too small high heeled shoes that inevitably trip me up. Feet firmly planted on the ground in my size nine hiking boots, and armed with my shield of No Contact, I strode fearlessly away from my need to hear his voice, to know what he was doing and saying and thinking. To make sense of his nonsense. To understand his machinations.
He did what he did because he could. It’s what he does. It’s who he is.
There’s no rhyme nor reason that can ever justify what he did to me or continues to do to others. Away from him, there’s no sense in spending my precious breath trying to make sense of his nonsense or trying to figure out if there is some way I can make him hear me, see me, look at me. There’s no closure worth being in contact with him. No point in having the last word. There’s never a last word with a sociopath. They’ll always think that one word is the opening to more.
He is the lie and I am free.
He will always be the lie and I will always be free — as long as I stay true to who I am, my values, beliefs, principles and ideals. As long as I stand up for what is right and loving in my life and turn up for me in all my beauty, warts and all and love myself for all I’m worth.
Today, these boots are made for walking. Away from abuse. Away from deceit. Away from anything or anyone who believes they have the right to tell me who I am, what I can do and where I can go.
In walking away from the belief that I loved him, I walk into the truth that I deserve love and joy and all that is good in this world. In walking away from him I leap fearlessly into creating my best life yet, of living this moment without fear that I will fall into the arms of someone who believes they have the right to take my life and make it theirs.
Nobody has that right. And I’m not giving up my right to live my life in joy and love and wonder, creating my best life yet for all I’m worth.
And I’m worth a lot.
So are you.
I survived an encounter of the sociopathic kind. I am no longer a victim of his abuse. I am a victor on the path of success, creating beauty and love in my life today because, I deserve it!
So do you!
I agree I don’t shut myself off from younger guys I’m just very cautious of the 10yr age difference. For one that means he’s 33, I don’t know I’m scared they are not relationship ready, the 10yr younger guys always somehow try fit baby into the equation! I’m raising teenagers and having a new baby would be totally out the picture.
Luv,
I respectfully agree and disagree with Recovering.
It’s hard to explain, but maybe it has to do with your definition of contact or closure.
It’s dangerous to have contact because he may end up being really nice to you and then you will not have closure, it will just be worse because you will have more doubt. Even though you know it is another lie.
On the other hand, if the contact ends up being really nasty, that is good because (especially if you are secretly recording all the conversations like I did) it WILL give you closure. Each time you think about how wonderful he was, you can listen to your .wav files of his nasty self.
The other reason that contact is dangerous is because he may try to kill you. They do that sometimes.
So, perhaps the best contact, if you MUST have it, is by phone, with an mp3 recorder and make sure you bring up hot topic issues that he will respond to with his real nasty self.
Our brains were not meant to hold to contradicting ideas at the same time. But the emotions that you built over so much time – your love response to his “nice” persona – are contradicting what you KNOW is the truth. Only time away from the reflexive neuropathways of loving him will make them less REAL to you and then the intellectual part of your brain won’t have to fight so hard to make you “feel” reality.
That’s another reason why NC is advised, we just need time away.
Dear Witsend,
He wasn’t a chicken FARMER, he was a chicken CATCHER, he went into the big chicken houses and grabbed chickens to put in crates to be sent to the processor—I thought the Sounds of Glory, or the Good looking black guy were much better singers. The woman in 2nd place (see I cannot remember names!) was more talented but not “my kinda music”–and of course Grandma was my favorite—if she had a skillet she would be ME! LOL I loved the skit with the magician where she and Pierce got “married”—LOL Oh, well some light entertainment!
A good laugh is worth a million bucks any time!
If it doesn’t quit raining here I will need cows with with water wings and webbed feet!
Star & EB, yes, we are compassionate, but don’t have to be stupid. I don’t want to flush myself down the toilet!!!! You are right, I can’t let sympathy or my former need to fix everyone hook me into anything! I am not going to answer the phone, he hasn’t called since Monday, but I feel him lurking around, it’s creepy, no, he’s not here, but I sense him thinking about me or something, I feel like a little target.
EB… That is so weird that your psychologist said when the looks fade, when they get sick, who has the big heart?! I thought of something similar myself! I thought, everybody has scattered like leaves, people disappear when you get sick (happened to my mother and father) so he is looking for SOMEONE for supply, even if the supply is just a friend, it’s not gonna be me! Yeah! I just can’t believe how you were treated when you were in the hospital. Love the yogurt, mtn dew & teddy bear! Blueberry? Right? LOL
Star, my sister’s husbands family has tried to stick her with taking the mom to chemo and doing everything because she’s not working and she’s trying not to let them get away with it, they can take a day off work, or get a babysitter, or whatever. It’s not that she doesn’t WANT to do it, but they just go on about their lives like nothing’s happening, so her husband is getting the blunt end of the stick. My sister isn’t afraid to say no… like I am (WAS).
So I have to take care of me, appreciate the message!!
EB, didn’t you have a date? How did it go?
I am attracted to younger men also, but in my case they wouldn’t be so young, say… 45? There are a lot of 45 year old men that look like crap, like I look so great! HA HA. But, of course, I am attracted to the very masculine macho men, just the ones I need to stay away from! Although the N was a skinny little SOB, I don’t know, maybe I don’t have a type now that I think back on some of the boyfriends I’ve had. None of them looked alike at all. I don’t want to think about it. I love that movie Tombstone, that’s eye candy for me!
Shabbychic, it’s amazing how deep the self-judgments can run about how much we should do for others. I just caught myself feeling guilty because I don’t take the time to read and respond to more people here (I simply don’t have the time or energy).
I made a female friend here a few years ago whose company I really enjoyed. In the beginning she asked me for a favor or two, driving her across town to drop off her car at the mechanic and pick her up. I didn’t mind because that’s what friends do. Then I took her to lunch (which she never reciprocated) but I didn’t mind, because a friendship is not always about tit for tat, even though I was way poorer than she was. We had fun hanging out, and I became friends with one of her friends and we all 3 hung out together. Then one day she called me while I had retired early to watch a movie, in my pajamas. She asked me to drive her to a date. Her reason was that her date was a doctor, and she was worried about him seeing the inside of her car (it was dirty and she hadn’t had time to clean it). I told her absolutely not. Aside from the fact that I was in my pajamas, I felt that at 53 years old, she could drive herself to her own date! When I said no, she became very upset. She laid a whole trip on me about how friends should always say yes to a favor unless they physically can’t do it. I disagreed very strongly. I told her that if you cannot say no, how can you ever authentically say yes? At that point, she brought back the bike I’d loaned her and dropped it off at my door without a word. Our friendship ended that day. She was a recovering alcoholic. Though she didn’t drink, to me, she exhibited some sort of codependent behavior with me. This was very clear to me, and I didn’t want any part of this drama.
It took me many years, but I really got clear about what my responsibility is to other people and that it is really okay to say no. I was never allowed to say no growing up. I would have gotten beaten. So I had many years of being a doormat. What a relief to have the right to be selfish.
Stargazer, thank you for reminding me about that.
I need constant reminders since I was psychologically programmed at age 3 that my needs do not matter, I must always sacrifice my needs for everyone else’s.
That is one of the reasons I stayed with the P. I really don’t LIKE doing things for myself. It just seems pointless. I only really get pleasure when someone else benefits from my actions. Well that suited the P just fine and we were a match made in heaven – whoops I mean hell.
SC, you are the second person in 2 days who has mentioned Tombstone, so I now have to watch it. The word “Tombstone” only makes me think of the frozen pizza of the same name. I am craving pizza because I can’t have it due to a lingering sinus infection aggravated by cheese. (Wow, how’s that for free association?)
Anyway, back to some sort of relevant topic…..I hope I can figure out the thing I have for these younger guys. I feel like I’m racing against time finding a mate sometimes because I keep getting older, but my tastes in men get younger.
I have two dates lined up this weekend with guys my own age. I’ll let you know how it goes. I still have “the boy” on the brain, so I suspect they will be a mere distraction. I really need to take more time to myself and just get my feelings out about him.
Skylar, I think doing for others should feed us in some way. For instance, coming here and sharing my experiences after I’m mostly healed from the sociopath makes me feel good. I feel some obligation but it’s a good obligation.
The boy who spent the weekend with me is a recovered alcoholic who actively works the 12 steps. He said he gets so much out of being a sponsor and helping others. He never imagined it would feed his soul so much. When we are in a healthy, emotionally good state, it feels wonderful to be there for our friends and people in need.
But I think those of us who grew up in dysfunctional families take care of others because this is the only way we got attention from our narcissist parents. We feel guilty for saying no. Being a helper becomes an identity. We agree to all sorts of things and then later feel resentful. I could tell you stories about how I used to let people walk all over me that would raise the hair on your head.