At 9:12 am on May 21, 2003, the only peace I knew was the unsettling desire to die, the constant throbbing of the voice screaming at me to let go, give in, give up, give over my life to the darkness that consumed me. I wanted to end it all. To have the turmoil and pain and fear of living with an abuser die with me.
At 9:13 am on May 21, 2003, everything changed. Everything shifted and my world as I knew it ended. A police car drove up and I stood watching as two officers stepped from the car.
At 9:14 am I followed the officers into the room where my abuser lay sleeping and watched them arrest him.
They took him away and I sat in a chair in a room I did not recognize, captive in a body I could not feel. I was catatonic. Frightened. Terrified. I had 72 cents in my pocket, a few clothes and my dog, Ellie, who had journeyed through that four year, nine month voyage through hell beside me. She was my ballast but with his arrest, I was cast adrift. I clung to her fur, cried into her shoulders but still fear eroded my being, clawed at my heart, tore my world apart.
In my fear that this horror that I was enduring would be the rest of my life, I didn’t know where I’d find myself. I didn’t know where I’d come ashore. I only knew, I had run out of options. Run out of running away, of hiding, of being frightened and alone.
I called my sister and she and her husband came to get me. We drove the hour from the small town where I had been hiding out with my abuser for 4 months, into Vancouver. They didn’t ask me questions. They didn’t prod and poke. They didn’t dig into where I’d been nor share their fear and anger. They let me sit in silence in the back seat of their car and I was grateful.
My abuser was gone but still I felt the tendrils of his control lapping at the shores of my consciousness. I felt the fear of his absence from my life ripping at the delicate thought of freedom seeping into my mind. The enticement of peace from his abuse and anger seepped quietly into a tiny corner of my heart and began to take up residence.
It was the first peace I had known for months, years even. The first sense of peace I’d let in since meeting the man who’d promised to love me ’til death do us part, and then set about making the death part come true, sooner rather than later.
And in that moment of peace, sitting in the back seat of my sister’s car, Ellie beside me, I watched the countryside roll by and wondered, where had I gone?
It would be many months before I found an answer I could live with, but in the intervening weeks, I would dig deep into my psyche to uncover the truth about what had happened to me. In my digging, I would discover there was one choice I could make, every moment of every day — to be or not to be filled with peace — peace of mind, a peaceful heart, to claim a piece of calmness within my day.
Peace didn’t come cheap. It came with great effort. With a constant reminder of the question, “What do I want to create? Harmony or discord?” “Is what I am doing creating more harmony in my life? Or less?”
And when the answer was, ‘less’, I would ask myself, “What can I do to restore peace of mind, right now, in this moment? What am I willing to do to have more of what I want in my life?”
He was arrested in May. By July I was working, rebuilding my life. I had one focus and that was to heal myself so that I could help my daughters heal. And constantly I reminded myself, my peace of mind comes when I know that what I am doing creates more of what I want in my life and less of what I don’t.
And peace came. It drifted into my being like fog rising from the ocean shores upon which I walked at night with Ellie. It came. Dressed up in a gossamer gown of morning dew resting upon the delicate petals of the flowers strewn across the garden in a joyful disarray of colour. It seeped in, shrouded in the night falling sweetly upon the end of day. Peace came and I became filled with peace of mind.
And then, the phone call arrived. It was a hot summer’s morning in August. I was getting ready to walk to the Seabus that would carry me across the bay to the downtown core. I was getting ready and peace of mind slept unaware of the moment about to arrive. The phone rang. I answered it and listened to the disturbing words of a police officer.
“Conrad has escaped from jail. We don’t know where he is but we assume he’ll come looking for you… Just thought we should warn you.”
And in one moment, my peace of mind evaporated. My sense of well-being vanished.
I started to shake. To cry. To be consumed with the fiery fringe of fear lapping at my heart, sending its beat into erratic rhythm.
My mind began to race. What if… no way… but then he could…
I shut the windows. Locked the door. And still I feared.
I wanted out. I didn’t want to let go of my peace of mind.
I took a breath. Refused to be scared. I got Ellie’s leash and called her to my side. “Let’s go for a walk,” I said.
The thought of the great outdoors enticed her. She didn’t care about my peace of mind. She just wanted to go for a walk.
And so we walked. Out the front door, through the gate, down the street. A left and then a right, across the avenue, along the trail leading into the woods. My sanctuary. My respite. My peaceful place.
I took a step into the forest’s tranquil embrace. A leaf rustled on the ground. A twig snapped.
Fear erupted. Peace escaped.
Suddenly, behind every branch, he lurked. Every rustle of leaf was his footstep. Every step took me closer to a deadly encounter.
I lasted less than two minutes in the woods before I bolted.
Peace was no longer possible. Terror reigned.
I raced down the street, back towards my sister’s home where I was living. I raced with Ellie loping beside me. It’s a game, her upturned face seemed to say. Can we play?
No, I cried. No time to play. We’ve got to get home. Home to the safety of a locked door, drawn blinds, darkness.
And in the comfort of my room, lying on my bed, Ellie watching me from the floor beside me, I cried and I cried.
How dare he steal my peace of mind. How dare he erode my tranquility.
“He doesn’t have to,” a voice somewhere in the darkness of my mind whispered. “You don’t have to let him in.”
“It’s not my choice,” I cried.
“You always have a choice,” the voice admonished.
I took a breath. A choice? A peaceful choice? The voice was right. I always have a choice.
To live in fear or peace?
Which would I choose?
There is a story of a First Nations elder who tells his grandson about the two wolves that live within each of us. One is black. One is white, he tells his grandson. And always, they are fighting to gain control of our being.
“Which one wins?” the grandson asks.
“Whichever one you feed,” replies the elder.
I fed the black wolf that day. I fed it my hard won peace of mind, my sense of well-being, my comfort. I fed what I had worked so hard to achieve and still it was hungry. It wanted more.
I had so little to give. I could not give it what I cherished most.
I took a breath and let my breath feed oxygen to the white wolf where it sat waiting at the doorway to my mind. With each breath I stoked the fires of my passion to live with peace of mind residing deep within me, a calm, clear lake of tranquility resting at my core.
I took a breath and chose to let go of fear and step into courage. I chose to let courage drive fear out, as I drove clear of the darkness.
I claimed my peace of mind and stepped out into the sunshine of the day, confident in my choice to live fearlessly in the rapture of now. I took a breath and slid effortlessly into the grace of being free to choose more of what I want of my life, letting go of what no longer serves me.
The question is: Which wolf will you feed?
I was thinking about it last night and I think I started to break away four years ago and it just finally ended this past December…four years.
I joined an exercise class four years ago last week and I started to grow, and make friends and after awhile…I started to “live out loud”. I am sure now that this was quite threatening to my N/S and I remember while he would brag about me outside the home, he was telling me that I was never going to look like what I wanted…WRONG!!
I also remember telling my mother that a husband “treated you better when the world is watching”…how telling that was now that I look back on it.
But I didn’t let him get to me…I think I started to block him out and focused on me. The workout really helps, it relieves the stress and I can’t tell you how much a good sweat helps to get him out of my head.
Not to mention the friends…I avoided getting close in the beginning but as I began to open up, I started realizing that my world was not a normal one. No one else had their stuff smashed when aggravating their husbands, their bank accounts weren’t emptied as “punishment”, they did not have to replace a door every few months…I cannot believe this was my “normal”!!
And once I started talking, I didn’t stop…how crazy that must have made the N/S…here I was getting healthy, making friends and “living out loud”…now I know why the verbal and emotional abuse got worse and I am confident the physical abuse was right around the corner…
I plan to keep “living out loud” in hopes that it will keep him away. He knows he can no longer manipulate my family and my friends simply would not believe him at this point. In this, I feel very, very lucky…
Quantum,
Your story from the small part I have read of it seems to put you in between a rock and a hard place.
Although our situations are different, I have felt many times that I am between that rock and hard place as well. And have also encountered the closing door rather than a door “opening” when I was looking for resources. It is pretty overwhelming.
I am wondering if you might not be able to get some help from Legal Aide? Although they don’t always “take on” your case, sometimes they will offer you some legal advice. Or at least lay it out to you some of the “grey” areas of the law, and what you might or might not do to proceed. You might also ask them if they can advise you of someone you might be able to hire, that you CAN afford in your area.
I found them to be helpful in at least clarifying for me the laws in my state and what I might be up against. And FRIENDLY as well. The questions that couldn’t be answered during my phone call, they actually followed through and called me back as well.
The problem with talking to lawyers is that you have to take ALL of the emotion out of the situation and stick to facts. And that is so very HARD to do when you are talking about the situation with a cluster B. The very nature of what they do to us to trigger all of those feelings…..It is hard to stay focused on what is important information and what is something an “outsider” can’t POSSIBLY understand.
I found (after alot of trial and error) that the only way to do this was to write things down and “prepare” what I needed to say. I was to “involved” in the emotional aspect to stick to the facts.
There are days where it is hard to even take small steps when you are overwhelmed. I feel for you.
I am new here. This is my first post. I lived with my sociopath for 12 years. I have escaped him physically at last, but my experience has left me depleated and raw. He lingers in my life like a pestilence … tormenting me in my dreams at night and my thoughts during the day. I feel like life will never be normal again.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t even recognize myself. I am frightened and alone … and failing. I used up all of my strength, hope and optimism on him, and now I have none left when I really need it.
The psychologist, the police, and the social worker all look at me like I am giving them nothing more than a fantastic story … too strange and complex to be believed. My friends and family don’t fully understand the depth of my wounds. The physician that is treating me looks skeptical. It makes me wonder if my husband was right all of those years … that he’s smarter than the rest of the world.
My husband will not have to suffer the consequences of his actions. He is still out there, living his happy life of manipulation, free of conscience and emotion. He will never have to suffer the pain that I am suffering.
He exploited my teenage daughter into a relationship with him. When I ran, I could not rescue her … and she does not want to be rescued. He has effectively isolated her from the world and convinced her that he is supportive and loving her, and that I am selfish and evil. It was a great loss for me and I often feel like it is too great to recover from.
I managed to rescue my two young sons (his sons) … who are old enough to make some connections and to see the conflicts … but not old enough to cope effectively with the emotions that those conflicts have caused. They need help too.
Every day I have to force myself to go through the motions of living … to be a parent to my two boys … to try to recover financially … to attain an independence that still eludes me … to keep myself in one piece. I am barely making it on all counts.
Will it ever improve?
Dear Too Late,
Welcome to LF. Im sorry for the circumstances in your life that brought you and so many of us here to LF…but Im glad you found LF. If you remember nothing else, remember one thing :
ITS NEVER TOO LATE TO SAVE YOURSELF FROM A SOCIOPATH – UNLESS YOU CHOOSE TO STAY.
IT WILL IMPROVE. There is this running theme of advice here at LF, which I received upon my first visit. This is a nurturing safe healing place, which to learn and grow and vent, give advice, listen, and read…
Reading the past articles here is highly recommended. I use to read 2 a day in the beginning. Some I couldnt relate to — others gave me the insight and strength and courage to keep going — some even pissed me off 🙂 but in a good way in the end.
Also, sometimes losing ourself is how we eventually find ourself – you are going to be ok.
Lastly, Sociopaths dont know how to live a “happy” life. Its a facade. Being free of a conscience and emotion is what they are cursed with – but to us we sometimes think they must be floating on the clouds without any remorse or pain. When in fact they are just existing – day to day. Never really experiencing much emotion except what they know – anger, rage, deceit, possibly depression and other disorders too. What they do well is Hide it from the outside world.
Perhaps one day your daughter will see the light too. Thank goodness you were able to rescue your two young sons. You sound like you are further along than you think simply by recognizing they may need help coping too.
IT WILL IMPROVE. You still have strength hope and optimisim within – it will be for you and your children now. Not for a bad man. It will improve, dont give up on YOU!!
Too Late,
So sorry…but at the same time glad that you are out.
It will improve…just because he is gone. And you have your beautiful boys to look at every day, he does not.
And hopefully your daughter will eventually see it too. Your escape has probably affected her more than you know and she will likely gain more and more respect for you as you remain away. Perhaps this just might make her realize she does not want to or have to live that way either and with you gone, it may get worse for her.
Read, read, read…I couldn’t stop at two a day ltl:)
Witsend:
Between a rock and a hard place just about discribes the past 25 years of my life! I know I have made bad choices but it’s simply because the others available at the moment were actually worse.
During the divorce, I tried Legal Aid, the turned me away in the nastiest of ways because I was a homeowner and shouldn’t have been complaining. That left a very bad taste in my mouth. Then, I tried the Bar Assoc. and after charging me for a useless divorce kit I could have got free at the courthouse, referred me to a lawyer who was more interested in opening an envelope I had in my hand with one of my then husband’s paystub than he had in talking to me. The rest of the conversation with that yo yo was only to answer his curiosity regarding what he did for a living, what he did with all the money he made, etc. before he ushered me out the door without an answer.
I handled the second round myself and was able to do very well but simply because I had a judge that saw right thru him and nailed him every time. I’m back again with an unsympathetic judge who’s already called me a liar, unreliable and reckless. She won’t stop yelling at me and here’s the tragic irony: I present her with all the proof in the world and she chastizes me because I’m giving “too much paper” then turns around, asks his version and denies what I’m asking based on his word. The word of pathological liar! Do you realize what a slap on the face and how wrong that is? Hypothetical question because I know you do.
I thought I had finally found one on Wednesday. He took all my papers to review and said all the right thing, for the first time, I thought someone understood. I haven’t heard from him since. There were papers due in court today and he hasn’t returned any of my calls.
TooLate:
If I had any tears left, I would have cried reading your story. Girl, it’s exactly like mine! Read my comments and you’ll see it.
Again, I am so sorry for you, for me, for our children, for all of us. How can one single monster cause so much destruction and dispair?
Myboysmatter:
I hate to say this but it won’t improve for Too Late because she has left one child behind. I know all that too well! The bastards always manage to keep the part of you that matters most. I’m like Too Late, I only have one half of me, my son, the other half, my daughter, is with him and hating me because she believes the lies he’s told her. I will never be whole, I will never be able to move on, I will never be able to reconcile any of this until the day I have my daughter. And, sadly, that day may never come so I may have to spend the rest of my life in limbo.
Quantum,
I too told Too Late that it will improve. When I said that I was referring specifically to her statement/question
[Every day I have to force myself to go through the motions of living ” to be a parent to my two boys ” to try to recover financially ” to attain an independence that still eludes me ” to keep myself in one piece. I am barely making it on all counts. Will it ever improve?]
There is no question you are right about never feeling whole again or completely moving on until the day you have your daughter. I tried to imagine my life without one of my children and I just kind of shut down the thought – so I cant imagine how one goes on in that regard. But you both are proof that you manage to find a way, albeit in limbo, but you go on for yourself your son and your daughter who isnt with you right now.
The fact that Too Late got out – is an improvement. And now the hardest part is ahead of her – but it does improve — its sheer hell at first — but slowly your strength and hope and optimism wins- over choosing to stay with a sociopath.
I hope the day comes that you get your daughters back in your life. At some point they will be away from him and hopefully they will be able to see the light too.
Quantum,
I do know how it feels to get that slap in the face and not be believed over the words of a pathalogical liar. Sigh…..I think we all do, those that have found ourselves here. Often the outside world finds it easier to “buy into” their lies than our truth.
This is what manages to create that slippery slope that we climb when we are trying to report the truth or the facts to legal representation, judges, police men, counselors, school personal, family, the list goes on and on depending on the situation. It is soooooo frustrating.
The problem with these cases is that you need GOOD representation. Not just someone that doesn’t know what they are doing in court.
Have you ever looked into getting a mediator for the kids…Something like that ? Someone that could go into the court room with you and present what is in their best interest?
Learnthelesson:
She has taken the right step and so did I but at what price! I ache for my children every minute of every day and I cry for what I have missed. I last saw my son when he was a pudgy pre-teen and, today, he’s a tall, handsome young man of almost 20. I don’t even know what my daughter looks like today, when I last saw her she was still losing her baby teeth. I have missed so much of their lives that I’ll never be able to get back and the pain of that never goes away.
However, there hasn’t been one day in almost 13 years since I made the decision to end it that I have had second thoughts or regreted my decision to leave, even if I still mourn the loss of what I was supposed to have had. It simply had to be done even if my timing was less than perfect.
Witsend:
I know we all have gone thru exactly the same – some more than others – and going thru the stories and posts here reminds me that I’m not alone and gives me comfort to have found others that understand. So many of the stories are just like mine, particularly, Too Late’s up above. As I have stated before, I don’t have the best of luck and, when it comes to lawyers and men, it seems to be particularly awful. I did have a lawyer during the divorce but the guy literally blew $8,000 in 3 months and wasn’t even capable of petitioning the court for child support. He did nothing except quickly rack up the fees and managed to divulge a very privileged conversation I had with him which effectively caused the monster to come enforced after me for custody. When he saw that, he asked me for $25,000 more and then dropped me because he knew I didn’t have it. I’ve never been able to trust one of those bastards again.
This time around, I don’t find the process any easier or better than the first time. Follow my posts above and you’ll see what I’m going thru. There are papers due in court in 1 hour and I still don’t have a lawyer, even thou one charged me $125 to tell me that I should have hired a lawyer to handle my divorce and another agreed to take the case on Wednesday. This is when I laugh so I don’t have to cry.
I’m now considering a mediator since I haven’t heard again from the other one who has now effectively blown what needed to be done today. I have a call out to one, my reservation is that the monster is all about winning and there’s nothing for him to win with mediation. He so adores the attention they pay to him in court and how his equally psycho lawyer sensetionalizes and crafts his lies for the low, low price of $275/hour.