Editor’s note: Lovefraud received the following email from a reader who we’ll call “Laurel.” She married Frank as a teenager and had five children with him. Her oldest, Amy, is 19 in the story and married to Matt. Her son, Andy, is 14. Names have been changed.
I knew I was leaving.
I had been plotting for months, since my first few tastes of TRUE freedom and being around normal people, that I was getting myself and my children out. I had been saving and accumulating paperwork, solid proof of income for months. Keeping it safe and duplicating everything.
One morning I walked into Frank’s bedroom to give him his coffee and do whatever bidding he had in mind on his IPad, when it occurred to me, mathematically almost, that I just didn’t really have anything to gain by waiting any longer. If what I had didn’t work, why wait any longer? Throw it where it needed to go and leave. If it wasn’t enough, deal with it and go on.
Just a tiny bit of fear was left.
I was flying to STL the next day, I had that pre-planned, supposedly I had a dr appt and had to bring back Amy’s car. It was snowed in from the last run.
Reconnection
I got into STL ALONE for the first time in my adult life for 4 blessed days. Imagine, sleeping ALONE, traveling ALONE, just sitting in a room ALONE.
Transformation.
Then I spent the night with my old friend from Jr HS. I went not knowing what would happen, and what a night it was. To an outsider it wouldn’t have appeared to be much; to me, it was life changing. We laid on a his couch almost watching a terrible movie, then went to his bed and watched some more movies, and slept like 10 yr olds holding hands. Nothing more. We hugged goodbye the next morning, smiled and I drove the 40 miles back to my place.
I guess it showed me yet AGAIN how I had been lied to, there ARE good people still in existence, not just waiting to pounce, and I didn’t think about the monster once that night. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I didn’t look over my shoulder mentally all night. I will always remember that drive home, that morning.
The song “Crazier” by Taylor Swift was on and I felt like I was walking on air.
I wasn’t in love, nothing to that effect, but I was different. I felt freer somehow, transformed. I don’t think my friend will ever know or appreciate what that night did for me, one day I hope to thank him and let him know. In any event, I send him my most powerful loving happy wishes. He did me a great service that night. Somehow I think it did something for him as well. Neither of us knew where that was going, but it wasn’t what we thought ”¦ and I mean that in a very positive way.
I got back down South 2 days later. It was horrific. Worse than ever.
Frank was a living nightmare, worse than ever. The minute I walked in the door he had me making a list of things he needed done the next day, ridiculous requests of getting dump trucks licensed and his business license, getting fake insurance papers made up and oh yeah get his BP emergency claim handled THAT DAY. Sure Frank, I’m on it.
Two days later my son Andy told me he was to the point (due to Frank’s constant degrading remarks and harassment) that he didn’t want to wake up in the morning.
New friends
At this time Bob, his new racecar friend from Ohio, flew in with his wife, Andrea. Them being normal, nice family people, Frank put on his game family face. The kids were astonished and making fun of him. Andy just shook his head. Frank would brag on him in front of his guests, then turn around after they left and say things like, “Why don’t you just stay home with the women where you belong tomorrow?!”
Bob and Andrea did pretty well at reading him and we still talk. While they were there and his family guy act was on, which was quite nauseating to watch, and armed with my knowledge of psychopaths in my mind, made watching the transformation of his persona really freaky. I could have enjoyed them, but even with them there, he was a ticking time bomb.
On their final night, I figured Bob and Andrea were tired of the going out to eat every night thing and invited them to our place for dinner. They seemed to enjoy the kids and just hanging in the kitchen while I cooked, and sadly the kids liked them and enjoyed the company of “outsiders” paying attention and playing with them. Andy barely spoke, and I kept pretty quiet because by this time, when I would interject something into the conversation, I was weighing my words, twice Frank had already told me via gypsy language to shut up. I was treading on thin ice if I mentioned certain subjects. I don’t even remember what they were now.
Once I was gone, Bob texted me, having no clue, and I told him, then I emailed his wife via FB and told her. I’ve come to see that making people aware, bringing things long kept secret out in the open, is important. Plus this man is someone Frank is going to use and he needs to be aware what he is dealing with.
I was pleasantly surprised when I got their replies. Both were super supportive, and offered me shelter in their home if I needed it. You see, they genuinely love their family and she came from an abusive father. Again, another lie of Frank’s blown out of the water.
Tension in the air
Two days after they left all hell broke loose. Amy was at my place, her and her little husband, Matt. It was like they could sense the extreme tension in the air, Frank HAD been performing and very viscous for about a week, so they were staying at my place.
It was strange; everyone kind of hovered. I’m not sure if they were afraid for me or him, by this time I know I really could have, well, killed him, and wouldn’t have given consequences a thought. My mind was very close to snapping. All those years of being told lies about myself and the world around me were crumbling down and I was furious.
Over the past few months, before going back down South, I had been seeing in a friend capacity a few attorneys that, ironically, I met thru Frank when he was in legal trouble, and still is. They were fun, impressive and smart, and shock of all shocks, they thought I was too. I kept in touch with them on a daily basis, and when in STL met up with them for drinks during the day, went to a few cool places, and was amazed by it all. There went another lie.
So ”¦ a few days after the guests leave, Frank comes out of his room. Andy and Matt were getting ready to leave for work, and he begins to browbeat Andy, the kid had such a look of defeat on him that I just came unglued. I jumped up and screamed, “Back the fuck off! You’ve got my child suicidal with all your constant putdowns! NO MORE!” Andy ran out the door away from it, Amy and Matt stood still taking it in.
He then proceeded to tell me I was making Andy an idiot just like Amy, not letting him chastise Andy just like I did with her. This was said with her standing RIGHT there! I replied, “I think she’s great and I’m not sorry I didn’t let you misuse her and abuse her the way you do others.” It was the ONE thing I got right.
Unhinged
Things just progressively got worse that day, but as soon as he went back in his room I began to pack and ship out my things and the kids. Not easy under his watchful eye, but possible. Off and on all through the day he would come back in and start again, screaming at me to, “Go ahead, you know everything so show him how to work! All all of you are is dead weight.”
Again, said in the kids’ presence. And again, I went ballistic. I screamed in his face that he was the only dead weight in that house. Matt stood by me, God love him, sure that Frank was about to attack. Strangely enough, he didn’t, not physically. I’m still not sure why, normally for such a display I would have at a minimum got a few slaps, possible a body slam.
I left to go to the office and take care of a few things there. When I got back he was walking out the door and wanted a ton of tacky lawn furniture he bought all moved to the porch. He was screaming at Amy to get outside and move it! I jumped out of the car screaming at him, “What the hell do you think your doing?!!!!!” Amy was standing there not sure what to do. I told her she had no business picking up all that heavy stuff and to carry her ass right back inside. He went wild, began screaming what an idiot I had made her, I said, “No, to the contrary, she’s not going to go through all I did. I will not allow you to cause her the trouble you did for me.”
I said that if he wanted that shit moved so bad, (btw the hired men were 10 min away and easily could have done this), then he’d have to get off his dead ass and help me do it. When we picked up the swing he couldn’t hold up his end, kept stumbling, dropping it, so I threw my end down and told him to do it his fucking self. I wasn’t doing shit. Again, surprised he didn’t hit me. He did scream and curse at me for awhile, but I just ignored him and went inside.
By this time I was absolutely livid. Amy kept saying, OMG he’s lost it finally. She was crying because of the ugly words he said. How I hated him for that. Again, I told her he was a liar, afraid only of losing his control over his kingdom and he could sense it coming. Try not to personalize it, KNOW it for what it was. The ramblings of an imbecilic psychopath.
That evening, as I was preparing dinner, he started AGAIN about Andy. Andy wasn’t there thankfully; he was in his room, Amy was though, and she witnessed the whole exchange. As he was eating, I had ignored him with virtually no response, by this time I didn’t trust my own response, he says, “So Andy wants to kill himself huh?” I didn’t answer. So he said it AGAIN, much louder. Matt and Amy ran into the room, afraid it was going to get really bad. He THEN said, “Well throw him a fucking rope then.”
I came unhinged. I went flying at him, got stopped, I screamed at him that the only person that was going to die was HIM if one hair on my child’s head was hurt. I told him I would kill him with my bare hands. He replied that I didn’t scare him, to which I said, “You should be, your dead body would be the best thing I could see.”
After that he sat back down to continue eating, and out of the blue turns around and says, “Frankly I don’t care, I don’t give a damn.”
I said, “You know what? I believe you.”
Driving away
That’s the last coherent situation I recall having. The next day was spent getting our clothes shipped out, tying up my loose ends. It was hard, I was afraid, but I was more afraid of staying. I knew none of us, worst of all my children, didn’t stand a chance if I didn’t get out. And if I stayed and something happened to Andy it would be on me. MY fault. That would be unforgivable.
SO the next morning I loaded them up and we left. The getting out was the hard part, I was so overwhelmed with fear, mental fear, it ALMOST locked me down, but if I felt myself being crippled by it, all I had to do was pull out the words he said about my son, his own flesh and blood and that’s all the fuel I needed.
Once I got on the road driving I felt a tiny bit of relief, but not until I reached Interstate 55 north did I start to feel really better. And once I hit Memphis and saw the signs reading STL I was completely just relieved.
I am still not free of him. My husband and I are having to live with him because we don’t have enough money to buy our own place. And the beast won’t help unless my husband and I kiss his ass for a while till he can save up enough money from working with him to buy us a home.
Even then though, I fear I will never be free of the beast, even in my mid it will always be there, his voice, the words of defeat…. Gnawing and my mind like a rabid animal..
AMY 1991 is the daughter. I, Laurel, want to express that this is the child who was in therapy from age 5. YES, she is fully aware of what her dad is. Yes, she is still experiening the matrix because her husband is so caught up in the web, the money, the empty promises of more. When never, EVER, will you reach the golden ring. The absolute hardest choice I ever had to make was to leave this child, someone Ive never been away from longer than a week since her birth, down there. My heart breaks for her, but I believe that she, armed with the knowledge she has, will find her way back home. And with that true happiness and peace that comes from within. She deserves it, she is beautiful, inside and out. We can learn from this, be better people, we all deserve this chance. I love you B. Come on home.
Dear Amy1991,
Welcome to Love fraud….I’m sorry that you are living with your abusive father. It is tough being preg at your age even with a stable and happy home.
While you may think you “have” to live with your father until you have enough money to buy a home, you do NOT have to live with him….you and your husband can find another place to live where the two of you can be together away from him. Think about it and discuss it with your husband, let him know how unhappy you are and that you do not want to live with your father any more.
Laurel, Amy is a “big girl” now and though she’s had some problems with growing up in a household with a lot of violence and chaos, she must make her own decisions now. She must see that she has to make the decision to stay there or to leave, and make the choices and take the consequences that go along with it. As much as you love her, you can’t rescue her….help her, but she must rescue herself….that’s the hardest part of being a parent to an adult child I’ve been there and it is much harder I think than when they are little and you can do everything for them and “make it all better”—when they are adults they must make decisions for themselves. (((hugs)))) to you both and God bless.
Amy1991,
I’m so glad that your mother wrote to me, and so glad that you are aware of what your father is.
I’d like to repeat what Ox Drover said – the healthiest thing you can do for yourself, your husband and your baby is to get out of that house. Nothing good can come of staying there. In fact, my guess is that your father will come up with a way to make it impossible to save enough money to buy a house, just to maintain control over you, so you might as well get out and rent somewhere. Millions of young couples rent, saving up until they can buy a home. You can do it.
The only way to really heal is to get out of their grip – as your mother has found. Follow her example.
Best wishes,
Donna
Amy1991,
You are so young. Please make your own life, separate from your father. Rent an apartment, a house, etc., something that could be an actual home for you, your husband, and your child. As an adult, you deserve to live your life on your terms. It is scary to make this change, but you and your husband can do it, finding that it might be a WELCOME change for the two of you. Go for it. Peace.
Amy,
I hope this helps……
I was involved with a P/S/N as my first boyfriend at 15. He found another victim, devastating me, and so I leeched onto another psychopath. Fun. I was nineteen at the time, and also pregnant with my first child. I married the P. I lived with what I consider to be my “foster” parents (they’re good people) for the duration of the pregnancy while my husband was in the ARMY in basic training. My daughter was born prematurely, due to a very unusual uterine (turned body wide) infection. I also think that happened due to the stress of having contact with my lovely full blown psychopathic father all of my life, but also the stress of dealing with he and his machinations while I was pregnant, and living just six blocks away. When my exPhubby came home, we lived with my father and his wife for a few months. What an absolute total nightmare. My exP hubby had returned from the army, but didn’t have a job yet. Even HE being a P himself, could not stand my father….I stayed there because I believed we had no where else to go. Well, that’s not really true. We stayed there because my father offered and we didn’t bother to ask anyone else. I thought he’d be on his best behavior given that my child was still in the hospital (would be for four and a half months) but actually, it was worse. I was the scapegoat. It was just another reason for him to torture me to elevate himself and my spathy sister. I wish I had known about psychopathy then the way I know it now. You’re in a great place to make changes in your life, however dire they need to be, because you know what you’re dealing with.
I can’t stress to you enough, how unhealthy this is for you, not only on an emotional level with pregnancy hormones a raging, as well as your young age, but WORSENED to what could be catastrophic levels to you physically and to your unborn child. Living with someone like this, particularly a parent who has damaged you so much, is toxic to your unborn child with the ongoing dynamics. You could become sick. And so could your child.
If your hubby has a good job, get out of there.
Do it for your unborn child, as well as for yourself and cut this man out of your life. Get the healing you need. And do it for your child too. You know what it is to live in such extreme toxicity. You don’t deserve that.
Your child doesn’t deserve that. Born or unborn.
Wishing you the best.
LL
Laurel, insane is it not that they not only treat step children incredible badly but do not care for their own children. They do not care at all, children are just a concept to be used. Once I overheard X telling a veteran that his son was on a secret mission in Afghanistan. He was doing it just to get this old bloke to go up to the bar and get him another drink as he was too drunk to do so himself.
Laurel:
WOW! What a story, and one that sits with me like no ones business. Ive not been on here for a while as Ive been trying to ‘sort’ things out in my own mind. I have some things to say…
Lots of what you’ve written resonates with me…so I will write from my own spot today…it may look more like free association, as that is about how my mind wants to ‘think’ today…bare with me, please 🙂
*driving home from the gym after HE forgot to leave his keys and phone with kid, i told him to take a cab home if it was so impt that he give the keys/phone. I didnt forget them and I had to work. take a fucking cab home to get to your 11 year old if its THAT impt to you. NO? really? YES? why? because it would be an inconvenience for him to have to do that and i was supposed to put myself aside again, YET FUCKING again, to make up for his mistake. I was pissed.
I couldnt though, cause i had to teach. so, he could ‘wait’ that long so i could drive him home but i was INCONSIDERATE to him because i suggested he take a cab home. I didnt care about his son, an 11 year old, because i wanted to stay and do MY OWN workout…I WASNT IRRESPONSIBLE! He could have taken a cab if it was THAT impt. It wasnt…it was a game.
*and he asked me what time I wanted to leave to go to michigan. i said 2pm. he yelled at me! “2pm?” Yeah, asshole..2pm. Oh, I thought we’d leave at noon…then why in the HELL did you ask me what time I wanted to leave? Set up.
*i couldnt even look at him at this point. I wanted to wash my floor before we left. he sat in the bedroom and talked to his mom. i was being ‘difficult’ at this point…HE wanted to leave. so, we left. after my floors were washed and i got ready. I COULDNT EVEN LOOK AT HIM…I WAS SEETHING WITH ANGER.
*he says he wants to have a ‘good weekend’ with me. NOW? yeah, now. hes got an image to portray and he KNEW i didnt pretend very well.
*still, MY feelings are not addressed. lets just smooth things over to make it look good in front of mom and aunt…that would have been best for HIM. never mind the fact that I COULDNT EVEN LOOK AT HIM!
*at moms suddenly, there’s something wrong with me and he doesnt know what the problem is. ive just been really crabby all day…FUCK YOU.
*my feelings are STILL not acknowledged.
*that night i say i want to go home. if i could have crawled in a hole in the back yard and died i would have. he says ‘no’. if i want to go home, he will drive me to the bus station and i can get home that way. I AM ON FIRE…we need to talk
*we have a talk in the living room and im sobbing. he tells me if i make them leave that will be the last time we talk. he tries to appease me with an apology. i didnt mean to hurt your feelings. oh, ok…now I feel better…THANKS AHOLE! i can tell his insincerity and the more he fakes it the more pissed i get…i tell him IM SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW, I FEEL LIKE I COULD PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE!
Yae for me! but wait…now IM ABUSIVE?
Why is this so hard for him to get?
I sometimes wonder what exactly he either tells people about us…me in particular.
He has left EVERY SINGLE TIME…Ive not gone anywhere…yet somehow I can hear him tell the storys as though I just LOSE my mind randomly…
I know though that anyone who hears MY story…and particularly people who have seen it themselves…say the same thing…RUN……RUN………….RUN…………and when he tries to come back…RUN FASTER…
What do others see in this situation that I have a hard time seeing myself? Some days Im right there with them…other days not so much.
Babe,
oh this one is so obvious: it was a set up to make everyone think you are a bitch.
He pushed your buttons to make you miserable and crazy. Then he takes you to mom’s house. It was a pre-emptive strike (a term my spath loved to use) so that later, when he slandered you in front of his relatives, he would have evidence. Standard spath tactics.
Nothing he said had anything to do with his real motives. The floors, the time, impressing his mom, -all were distractions to keep you off focus, provide him with entertainment/drama and not allow you to see the spath behind the mask. In the end, all he really wanted was to take you down a peg in other peoples’ eyes and consequently, in your own eyes.