Editor’s note: The following was posted as a comment by the Lovefraud reader “Zootowngirl.” She eloquently expressed ideas that many other readers can certainly understand.
I read the articles and comments posted on Lovefraud.com and I see my life, or parts of it, described over and over again. I see things my ex did (or didn’t do) written in the words of other people. I see myself in their stories. Often I find myself thinking, “Thank God my experience wasn’t that bad or that long,” and other times I nod my head in silent, humiliated understanding that comes with first hand knowledge of the horror stories people share.
My ex has the most beautiful soul. He is kind and compassionate and loving. He is the most thrilling person I’ve ever known. Until he’s not. When he’s upset or inconvenienced or, God forbid, angry, he turns into someone cold and hostile. His comments are scathing, filled with razor sharp words that open veins in my heart and leave me gasping at the pain. He is a master at flaying open my emotions and then disavowing any responsibility or ill intent. He used to tell me that I didn’t understand what he meant, that I was hysterical, or that I twisted his meaning for my own passive aggressive purposes. Maybe I was passive aggressive. Never mind the “maybe.” I was passive aggressive. That’s what happens when I can’t ask for what I need without being rejected or ridiculed or told that I am selfish for expecting something from him. I’d like to blame him for it but I’m the boss of me. I’m the one who made the choice to be passive aggressive. I have to own that. And I have to own that I still don’t fully fathom the impact he’s had on me.
I’m an addict.
I’m addicted to him.
I’m addicted to the way I feel when I’m with him the good, not the bad, though sometimes I believe I would accept the bad in order to also have the good. Maybe, possibly, if I’m just good enough and try hard enough and all the stars are aligned then maybe I’ll get some of the good. He’s so misunderstood, you see? He tells me so and so I have to believe that I’m just not giving him enough credit or being fair or being realistic. And he has ”legitimate excuses” for everything he does or doesn’t do. He was depressed. Then there was the physical pain: his elbow, his back, his guts. Then there was the dizziness that came and went, sometimes confining him to bed with the remote and sometimes miraculously disappearing just when something entertaining was planned. Then there was the encroachment of his privacy after we had to get roommates in order to help pay the rent because we only had my disability income to live on and all the money left to me by my father was gone at last. Then there were the accusations of flirting and disloyalty on my part that made him sad and sent him back into that depression. Then there was the day he called me a “stupid f*cking c*nt” and told me that he “deserved better from the woman who supposedly loved him.” Except I wasn’t supposed to internalize those words because he was just processing his thoughts about the anger he’d felt over something trivial and thought he could share that processing with me. But he didn’t explain that he was recalling his thoughts or just processing them and wondering why he’d thought and felt those things. He just said the words aloud and left me to sit with them for 2 weeks and then, when I finally broke down in tears over them said, “What?! Oh God! I was just describing what I felt at the time! Not what I think of you!” and the logic of that escaped me because the words had had 2 weeks to sit inside of me, carving themselves into my cells. Eight months later, they still echo in my head almost every hour of every day. But I’m not allowed to be hurt or be upset by them because, of course, they’re not true. He was just processing his feelings. I’m supposed to be glad he did that, right? That’s what women want, right? A man who will process his feelings with her.
I’m addicted to the memory of him when he was in a good mood and loved me.
I’m addicted to the energy and space he took up in every place we were together.
I was addicted to the constant texting and phone calls that happened before we lived together and the roller coaster drama of trying to prove that he should choose me and not that other woman because she’s a liar and a cheat while I’m faithful and devoted and loyal and dedicated no matter what he does or says or what promises he broke in the 3 years before we lived together.
I was addicted to proving that I’m good enough and that I can accept and forgive and love him unconditionally while he spent time trying to decide between us, despite having gone back on his assurance that he was going to give her up and come be with me a half dozen times or more.
I was addicted to putting him back together after she chewed him up and spit him out and to being his best friend while he agonized over how much she hurt him and to being the woman he turned at last to because he suddenly realized that I’m the right choice and I’m the perfect person for him.
I was addicted to riding out his struggle with commitment and his inability to plan for the future because so many other women have hurt him and left him and devastated him.
I was addicted to proving to him that I’ll stand by him always, no matter the hardship, no matter the tests he throws my way, no matter the pain he causes.
I was addicted to martyring myself to his cause, to being the true blue girl in his life.
I’m addicted to him the way a child is perversely compelled to continuing to love the father that abused her and the mother that abandoned her, always going back for more, always desperate to prove she is worthy of their love because she thinks that if she just loves well enough or loves the right way then love won’t continue to hurt her the way it does now.
I’m addicted to continuing to send messages to his phone from my email. He makes unfair statements and I get angry and find myself glad that I broke up with him and just when I start to think I did the right thing he lifts me up with loving words and apologies and I sob over the fact that I’m the horrible person who “destroyed his life”
I’m addicted to the way he says, “It was my fault for not loving you well enough baby,” as if somehow that love will seep into me from the computer screen and make it possible for me to trust myself again ”¦ after so many do-overs and so many 2nd chances that the idea of it only being a “second” chance is laughable. More like a 30th or 40th chance.
I’m addicted to being able to tell him exactly how much pain he caused me without any immediate consequence and watching his apologies and regret appear in my chat window ”¦ knowing that he’ll manage to turn things around so they become guilt trips rather than accountability ”¦ and praying that it won’t happen because that might be a sign from God that he’s sincerely sorry and things would be different this time. This 41st second chance.
I’m addicted to apologizing ”¦ to feeling guilty ”¦ to punishing myself ”¦ to hating myself for ending our relationship ”¦ for ending my dream ”¦ so that he’ll understand that I really did love him. I just have to love him from a distance now because I can’t live in a home where both of us hate me. It’s painful enough that I hate myself for not being good enough for him, that I hate my inadequacy and my inability to live up to even his most basic expectations.
I’m addicted to reminding myself that he almost punched me in the face once, to reminding myself that that is reason enough to have left him. And I’m addicted to being angry at him because he says, “But I didn’t actually hit you!” I’m angry at him for that because it’s the lamest response I can think of to an act of aggression that could have turned into an act of violence. And I’m angry because I’m addicted to telling myself, “It could have been worse. So many people have it so much worse. Just let it go. He didn’t actually hit you.”
I’m addicted to trying to take less responsibility for the way my life turned out ”¦ to blaming him for what hurts me. And I’m addicted to being angry at myself for the way my life turned out ”¦ and angry at myself for blaming him for what hurts me. I’m addicted to that anger because I’m accountable for myself and my life and for what I allow ”¦ and no matter how much I felt like I loved him ”¦ I was supposed to love myself first and best and I didn’t.
I’m addicted to my new reality ”¦ the reality in which nothing seems right without that drama and chaos even though this calm, quiet, peaceful life is healthier and safer and more trustworthy. Even though this life is beautiful. And I’m angry at myself for this particular addiction more than anything else.
That’s how I know I’m an addict. I’m a co-dependent, enabling, door mat of an addict.
Because when I say that I miss the way I felt when I was with him ”¦ I know that’s my addiction doing the talking.
Because when I’m honest with myself I can say that most days I felt desperate to prove to him that I was worthy of his notice.
Most days I felt like a piece of worthless garbage.
Most days I felt like I was a stupid f*cking c*nt and that he deserved better than me.
And that may not be entirely his fault ”¦ because I participated.
But most days I felt incapable of being anything other than that worthless piece of garbage and I don’t know how someone who “supposedly” loved me could not see that there was something wrong.
I know I’m an addict ”¦ because I was willingly living on scraps ”¦”¦ and I was starving ”¦ and it was killing me ”¦ and I miss that feeling of dying.
Zootowngirl, when you first posted this, it was ultra-resonant for me, and so many others. Each thing that you indicated as a source of your addiction, I nodded my head in agreement – yes, I can see that, and yes, I experienced that, and this is making 100% sense to me.
And, your words on being passive/aggressive struck deep with me. They really did. I can clearly see that I have been conditioned to passive/aggressive behaviors, as well, and I never understood why until I read your incredibly insightful words. Yes, I own that aspect of my personality, too – it is something that I need to un-learn, and your description of how this behavior developed was mind-blowing.
I am SO grateful for your courage and truthfulness, Zootowngirl. And, I am grateful to Donna for putting it in an article form – this piece is not only eloquent, but it is rock-bottom-honest, and shared directly from the gut. It resonates. It makes sense. And, it validates me, completely.
Most brightest blessings and absolute gratitude
Zootowngirl,
Ouch!
Just when I was sitting here earlier in the day “allowing” these memories that sound oh so familiar to yours to “trick” me…… (Damned cog/diss …it is a b@88a*d sometimes)….here is your post as an article and a timely one for me. I have to agree with Truth…. it takes guts to admit the part we played in this farking mess.
I’m an addict too……one step away from feeding my addiction
Zootowngirl and strongawoman, add me to the list of addicts!!! I would rather be addicted to some narcotic than to my spath. To me it seems that I could recover faster then. But having not been addicted to anything (except cigarettes) I really don’t know. All I do know is this is the worst thing I have gone through in my 66 years.
And I too am fighting to NOT feed my addiction.
Stormy, I’m so sorry that you’re in a bad space – I understand the fear and despair.
People often ask me, “How are you doing with all of this?” I think that they’re asking for a couple of reasons. Some are being polite, others are truly concerned, while still others are “addicted” to the drama/trauma in other people’s lives. I don’t speak honestly about this, anymore, because it’s become tiresome to me, and nearly every person that asks really “does not get it” about the carnage.
I think…..and, this is just my view on this…..that I was afraid of giving up the addiction to the spath when I began to notice the red flags. My co-dependency and all of the other negatives kicked into overdrive and fear ruled the day. There is one truth that I have learned about my fears. With the exception of sudden and/or prolonged terror, fear isn’t going to kill me. I’m not going to die because I’m afraid.
Having said that, I believe that the long-term effects of fear, despair, and the works can (as Dupey can attest) have extreme adverse effects on our physiology. So, the longer we are in fear of the traumas and breaking the addiction to the spaths, the longer our minds, bodies, and spirits are thoroughly damaged and that fear is deeply reinforced. This is just what I believe to be true for myself.
Stormy, it IS the worst thing to recover from, because there’s often nothing visible to indicate that damage is being dealt. My mind rather imploded when I discovered what the spath was, and it finally just quit when I uncovered the financial frauds.
The aftermath of my experiences kind of set me up for more abuses from the colleagues g/f (and, him, by proxy), and this generated even MORE fear. Okay – if I’m at a homeless shelter, I’ll be at a homeless shelter. Okay. If I have to surrender my pets, I have to surrender my pets. But, I cannot predict how this is all going to pan out, and one thing that my counselor kept telling me, over and OVER, was that I did not have the power or ability to “predict” anything, and to stop it. That urge to predict was strictly based upon years and years of drama/trauma, and did not necessarily mean that every situation for the rest of my life was going to end in horrors.
Zootowngirl, this is an absolutely amazing article and you may want to consider putting your journaling into print, when it’s all said and done.
Brightest blessings
Zootown: Your post reminds me of myself in so many ways.
Not willing to let go of the spell they spun around us.
I have spent the past 2-3 years now, trying to ‘unravel’ all the webs and believe me,
no matter what my heart tells me all the time, it is toxic and almost took my life.
I am forced to regard my situation with logic and not emotion any further.
I am almost glad, in a way, that “IT” HAS threatened me because that leaves no room for question nor comment.
We have to NOT be afraid and STAND UP for the person we know we are. The problem isn’t with us. It’s with them.
They are sick individuals who just don’t ‘get it’ or anything else except for what they want. They gobble up and disrespect the most precious bonds and relationships and actually find it quite amusing when they cause people hurt and pain. That makes THEM feel alive and powerful. It’s the only time they have that in their lives. When they SUCK IT from others.
I am HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY that “IT” is down the road.
I haven’t felt this alive and refreshed in the past ten years.
Such drama, chaos and insanity. Tsk, tsk….slap it off my hands now…
Draw the line for sure at death threats and attempts,
I would say. Hm?
NOTHING about that relationship was real. I was played just like a song. Specifically targeted like a hunter stalking it’s prey. Only thing is, his manipulation wasn’t strong enough to break me. He almost had me to that breaking point but it is turning right around now. “I” am the one who has won THIS battle. I am much stronger than he ever thought. I will always be stronger.
Thanks for the great article.
I am with you.
Dopey Dupey
Zootowngirl,
Your post made me sad because its true. Part of the reason my ex was able to blind me was because I became an addict.
“I’m addicted to the memory of him when he was in a good mood and loved me.”
It’s interesting because in my situation, this “good mood” didn’t really last long. It was like he was fixated on me for a few months and then for the rest of our relationship I was always trying to do things for him and be the best woman I could in order to possible get the way things were in the beginning back.
Now I realize how ridiculous this must have looked to anyone on the outside watching our relationship. I was a slave! I was nine months pregnant and after working for eight full hours, I rubbed HIS feet. LITERALLY!
Thanks for the article. It was raw and honest…and why I feel ashamed when I think about what I put up with before I left. 🙁
CappuccinoQueen, let go of that shame – what good does it do to beat yourself up about what the spath did to you? Two words describe what survivors of socipaths experience: Stockholm Syndrome.
http://counsellingresource.com/lib/therapy/self-help/stockholm/
From this same site, the “small kindness” issue is discussed:
“In relationships with abusers, a birthday card, a gift (usually provided after a period of abuse), or a special treat are interpreted as not only positive, but evidence that the abuser is not “all bad” and may at some time correct his/her behavior. Abusers and controllers are often given positive credit for not abusing their partner, when the partner would have normally been subjected to verbal or physical abuse in a certain situation. An aggressive and jealous partner may normally become intimidating or abusive in certain social situations, as when an opposite-sex coworker waves in a crowd. After seeing the wave, the victim expects to be verbally battered and when it doesn’t happen, that “small kindness” is interpreted as a positive sign.”
I dislike the term, “Stockholm Syndrome,” because it refers to a specific and defining criminal hostage event that people immediately associate with random hostage situations. This recognized psychological phenomenon has been noted for as long as people have been studying human emotional behaviors.
If you read the link, you’ll quickly recognize how the spath broke down every aspect of your system of beliefs and replaced it with a situation where “rules” only applied to you. Shame has no part, here. Yeah, we feel it for a little while because it’s a normal “reaction” and “feeling.” But, try to keep in mind that “feelings are not facts,” and the fact is that the spath attempted to destroy your humanity.
Pretty soon, the shame will be replaced with righteous outrage and anger, once you come to terms with his deliberate and malicious actions.
Brightest blessings
With regard to the link, above, it is a superb and well-written explanation of nearly EVERY story of survival that I’ve read on this site, and others. Very, very informative and it explains precisely how the dismantling of the victim’s humanity occurs.
What an amazing article Truthy. Ive just read the whole link you posted. Hmm, it makes for some very uncomfortable reading as I remember what I allowed my ex to put me through. I can remember one particular occasion when I had my stuff packed and my daughter rang me and tried to encourage me to just muster up the strength to go. I didn’t do it ….not that day. I can still remember the fear. I was utterly terrified of leaving. For many complex reasons…..apparently victims often use that reason for not leaving. It’s complicated. Sigh.
Anyway, the explanation of cognitive dissonance was also very helpful to me and If you’re feeling wobbly, in the early stages of separation or like me still fighting these demons, read this link. I think I will save it and read it again.
“the dismantling of the victim’s humanity”
Well put. Scary but well put Truth.
Strongawoman, the reading of that article is uncomfortable, I know. I went through all of that with the first exspath because, even in the depths of the cog/diss, the rational part of my mind was screaming that I was being abused. It’s still uncomfortable to consider, to a degree.
It’s a very good article, and as uncomfortable as it is to read, it’s a discussion of facts.
And, spaths certainly dismantle our humanity, one piece at at time. By the time I got away from the first exspath, I was almost a shell of a human being.