Last week, I posted Letters to Lovefraud: Who we used to be, written by the reader who posts as “Panther.” She called herself a “new survivor,” having just left the sociopath and gone “No Contact” less than a month ago. She wrote:
Through reading various Lovefraud articles, I’ve realized that the veterans have so much invaluable advice to offer. However, at times I wonder how the voice of a survivor sounded right after the break. The reason this matters to me is because the veterans seem so much stronger than I feel right now. I cannot help but wonder, as I read through their wise words, if they have something I don’t have, which enabled them to get over this.
To Panther and other Lovefraud newbies: The only difference between you and the veterans is time. We’ve been on the healing journey longer than you have.
I left my sociopathic ex-husband in February of 1999. That was more than 12 years ago! I’ll tell you what I was like when the wounds were raw. Here’s what I wrote on page 287 of my book, Love Fraud How marriage to a sociopath fulfilled my spiritual plan. In this part, I’m describing my state of mind, and state of being, when I discovered the treachery of my ex-husband:
James Montgomery proclaimed his love to me—just as he had proclaimed his love to 20 or 30 other women who had discretionary income and access to credit. I was just another pawn in a long line of women who heard the words “I love you” and believed them.
Why had this happened to me? All I ever wanted was what everyone wants—companionship, happiness, love. I was a good, considerate person. I worked hard. I treated people fairly. I did not deserve to be so exploited.
I paced up and down the hallway, my thoughts tumbling over each other, building into a mountain of pain and confusion. I leaned my back against the wall and slid to the floor, talking to myself. I felt like I should cry, but I could not. My dog, Beau, worriedly licked my face.
I was angry. I was outraged. Yet all I felt was numbness. I decided to call my therapist, Elaine Anderson. Luckily, she was available to do a session with me right then, over the phone.
I lay on the bed in my spare room, the meditation room, and told Elaine what I had found in James’ papers: Correspondence to his business associates that was full of lies. Letters from women asking for their money back. Stock certificates made out to many of these women. Proof that the corporation issuing the stock certificates was defunct.
The dam within me began to crack, and then it burst. I cried. I groaned. I choked. Emotional pain rose from deep within me to the surface of my awareness, like pus rising from a deep infection. Painful energy traveled to various parts of my body—my hands, my eyes, my heart. My hands clenched. I struggled to breathe.
I don’t know how long it went on. But slowly, the pain dissipated.
That was the beginning of my journey to recovery. I spent many, many hours curled up on the floor, crying. I also spent many hours envisioning my ex-husband’s face on a pillow and pounding it with my fists, pounding until I collapsed. I spent many hours with my therapist, coaxing the anger and bitterness out of my emotions and out of my soul.
The betrayal of the sociopath creates deep, deep pools of pain and disappointment within us. To recover and regain ourselves, we have to drain those pools. It takes time.
And then, as we drain them, we find more pain and disappointment in the pools, left over from injuries that we experienced before the sociopath. In fact, it was those injuries that made us vulnerable to the sociopath in the first place. Those emotions must also be drained.
Healing doesn’t just happen—we have to make a conscious decision to face all of the negativity head on. If we don’t make the decision to heal, if we just try to put the experience of the sociopath behind us without dealing with the pain—well, then it was all a waste, we didn’t learn anything, and we’re likely to repeat it by finding another sociopath.
Recovery is possible, but it takes time and commitment. Here the words I said to myself time and time again: “Just keep going.”
So to all of you who are just starting out, just keep going. I promise you, you can overcome, you can recover, and you can find peace.
Darwin’s mom,
I think I’d find a different bar if that is the kind of people who frequent it.
Darwinsmom,
You just described exactly how I feel. I think I have a sign on my forehead that says: “dumb N-Supply”.
All these freaks approach me all the time. And the lovebombing I got from a guy I was hiring to help me the other day, was off the charts, he minced few words letting me know that he wanted to sleep with me.
It’s more than just that though. Everyone I meet tells me personal details about their lives. Do you find that too? Within 5 minutes, I can have people telling me who abused them and which therapy they are in, who died and their entire life story’s most intimate details. I’m not sure, but I think it’s connected to the love bombing. Oh and total strangers will hug me. It’s not always spaths, sometimes it’s normal people and sometimes it’s N’s.
If my BF is around, they wait till he leaves and then start gushing their stories at me or lovebombing me.
It really does seem like I’ve got a neon sign on my head that says, “Mark”
darwinsmom;
My therapist has told me several times that I generally have very good boundaries, but that on several occasions out of neediness I ignored my personal red flags with disastrous consequences.
He also told me that my lack of relationship success was that I was primarily looking to meet men in gay bars and clubs and that given I generally have good boundaries, my chances in such places would be slim.
Nah, the bar’s alright. I have very good mates there who know me for over 10 years. But it’s a bit of a SOHO neighbourhood, and in the weekend you get the wannabes over. ANd the guys who approached me in such a dumb way were the visitors by chance. That bar is one of the few original bars left, and it has more good people in it than it has weird men. And if a guy would truly harrass me or any female friend I know there, the regulars would make sure to step in. It didn’t even ruin my evening, when it happened.
I just thought it plain weird, especially when it happened a second time.
Sky,
I had two very weird encounters in Peru. After my group of tourists left I traveled to the north to a beachtown near Equador’s border. And I booked a day trip for myself to visit some mangroves. The guide started to hit on me as soon as I arrived, in English, so that the other tourists (all Peruvians) wouldn’t understand. In 3 sentences he asked me whether I wouldn’t take him along to my next travel destination. Plus once we went, he was one of the worst guides I ever had. I sought out two Peruvian women who were friends with each other and a gay Peruvian guy by himself joined us. We 4 had a blast.
On the way back we made a stop in a village to buy some snacks at a shop. But I needed the toilet so asked whether I could go in the resto next to the shop. When I came back out, the guide approached me again, and made some non-funny joke by asking me whether I had gone down the other place to sniff coke or something. But he asked in a way that it could have been interpreted as an inquiry to see whether he could sell. Told him I didn’t like coke at all.
Eventually he did his tour in the bus to try and get his extra guide fee. And he asked me again whether I’d take him to my next destination. I looked at him as if he was weird, said “no” and ignored him again after that.
The other weird man was someone I briefly met on my 5 day canoo trip into the Amazon bassin. This trip was done with one guide per visitor in a canoo. So I had my personal guide. And he was a good man. He always called me misses, never using my first name, but it was a fundamental sign of respect. The NP had park guards against poachers and to help the riverturtle s with the survival of their eggs. These park guards lived per 2 in the park for 42 day tours. And the house they lived at was just a raised wooden platform above the ground with a palm leaf roof. Some of them were lucky to have a radio station. Others didn’t. My guide told me he had been a park ranger before he became a guide, but it had been nothing for him. The only people they ever see is the occasional guide and tourist coming down. Most visitors do but a 3 day visit, which only means the first 2 of those ranger points at max.
The deepest point I went, was a 2 day canoo ride away from the park’s entrance (so 3 days upriver to go back). And it was one of the two rangers that hit on me. He gushed out his mysery of being alone, and how his last woman had divorced him because he was often away for such a long time, and then 5 mins later he started to tell me that he felt a connection, and he wanted to write me, and if I’d come back he’d help me to get a volunteer position so I could be in the park for a month for free. I just told him that this was all unrealistic. He wanted to discuss this, but all I did was insist that it was unrealistic and that I did not feel that way at all. When I went to sleep on my mat on the floor behind my mosquito net, I lay awake until I was sure he was in his own bed.
But at least my guide was respectful, subtly acting like a father figure, giving me info on the rangers beforehand, such as how the 42 day tour did something to the minds of some. When he dropped me back off at my hostel after 5 days, he invited me for a goodbye drink that evening and had agreed to meet me at my hotel at 8 o clock. But he never showed, instead he had been in the office of his boss at the other side of the street. He showed up the next morning though, and bought me a beer at 9 am (earliest beer I ever had), confessing that he felt it would have been inappropriate and disrespectful to take me out. Though he was sentimental as hell during that drink, telling me he’d cry when his best tourist ever left on the cargo boat back to civilisation, and he probably was a bit drunk.
Yes, Sky, I experience it often that people talk freely to me fast, but then I’m of the same nature. It is one of the benefits when I backpack by myself. And with most people it becomes a nice way to spend time on a 14 hour bus ride. At least Peru proved to me I was still quite capable at socialising freely.
The two Peruvian female friends on the mangrove trip had a good saying when they heard over resto lunch how weird I thought the guide was. It was something along the lines of “when people accost you in such a way, it means they are they ones who need something, but says little about you.”
And I think they are right. After consideration, it shows their lack of getting people. Normal people will open up but naturally do not cross the boundary. They’ll go out of their way to not do that. The conversation and the meeting will feel natural spontaneous as it happens, and makes for a nice memory to take home. When I think of it, normal men would sense that I’m not available. I don’t get normal appraoches for the moment, aside from friendly ones. Well, I got a minor, compliomentous one, of a man I know for much longer, but it was done in a way to compliment me and if I didn’t take it further, no harm done.
Normally, a man might try to catch a woman’s eye, but if she’s not responsive, he won’t make a go for it. So, all that is left to experience are abnormal approaches from self absorbed men who don’t even sense or realize that I wouldn’t be interested, but just act upon their own needs. If I’d actually did have an aura of “easy catch”, then I’d have normal guys as much as abnormal flocking about me. But at the moment, the sensible men get it, and the self absorbed ones see an obvious single woman and try for it, very inapropriately.
Behind Blue Eyes,
True, I don’t consider bars a good place to meet partner potential. But luckily, that’s not why I go there. I’ve made some nice friends though in my bar, and it’s a good exercise ground to simply socialise.
skylar:
I have people tell me their life stories all the time. People will talk and talk and talk to me. I think that is a gift I have actually as a listener and people see that. As far as being hit on all the time like you and darwinsmom…you both must be very beautiful. Let’s face it…men do initially go after looks and so that is probably why you both are being approached all the time. I am very attractive, yet I RARELY am approached and I know why. I give off an aura of “don’t bother me” and obviously men feel it so they don’t even try.
darwinsmom;
I agree but just be careful. Also, dri king is not the best way to get over an s-spath…
You all warned me not to “stick my finger back in the hole.” You all warned me that it would be quicker and harsher the second time and I have proven you all right. I thought I was so strong but I gave into the addiction of being in contact. I got struck down again and I’m right back where I was in the first place. Anger, hate, pain.
I’m just realizing I have a problem. My friends are telling me I have a problem and I need to seek help. I let people abuse me. I have no boundaries. I am addicted to “love” and affection and will seek it out from anyone. The more intense the better. The more abusive the better.
He is heroin to me and I am going through withdrawals. I immediately replaced him with my best friend. I am actually compomising my relationship with my best friend to get a fix of some affection and sex. He is like marijuana: not as intense but a drug nonetheless. I won’t be getting back with the heroin guy, but I am afraid I will seek out another one just like him in my desperation. I want to stop now. I want to do the work and get healthy. I will stick closer to this place because you all really do know exactly what you are talking about. I wish you all the best of luck in your recovery.
Michi;
I know the cycle very well. It was depression that made me needy. From that need, I met a guy whom I thought I loved and could fix, despite all the red flags.
Two weeks after that ended, I met the x-spath. Despite all the red flags, I pursued this. A partial motive pursuing the x-spath was of course to get a new “fix.”