Editor’s note: Lovefraud received the following email from a reader who uses the name “DamselflyNOTdistressed.”
OCTOBER 24, 2012 – Today is the one-year anniversary of my breakup from a SPath and the “nervous breakdown” that followed. My body and life at that moment felt viscerally like the total collapse of everything I thought I knew about myself. It was undoubtedly one of the worst moments of my life. And I am grateful.
It had only been five months, and what a grand rollercoaster ride! We were fellow bohemians, and we met as nude models in a grand tableau vivant performance by an emerging and prolifically talented artist. Though my third time participating in such an exquisite spectacle, it was still a peak experience, and I was stimulated to the max by my NYC life full of performance and activism. I was fulfilled and happy, but unknowingly vulnerable to his charming overtures because of the undercurrent of loneliness that haunted me.
He was 12 years my senior, had a firm and chiseled body, extremely intelligent and charming, was a martial arts master, and had stories for days about his exciting “past life” as a triple PhD and special forces agent. I immediately found him strange, but then again as an eccentric, I always joked about finding my own “weirdo” [be careful what you ask for]. My own grandmother called me peculiar, so who was I to judge? He attributed his strangeness to “childhood autism” that he claims he overcame. He had a curious name, which I found the definition of to mean “to deceive.” I should have done more serious research to find out who he really was, but the name alone proved prophetic enough. I explored his strangeness with superficial fascination and I was eventually entranced and seduced.
Unexpectedly reserved
We went from epic chats and phone calls, to cross-continental dating, unexpected and generous gifts, and the possibilities of the most lascivious sex life I ever imagined. I thought the latter would excite me but I found myself unexpectedly reserved. Hindsight tells me that this was the seed of my subconscious mind saying “NO. This is NOT right, so REIN IT IN.” We were going to go into business together, he had everything we needed to start my dream of having a production company, and on paper it all looked PERFECT. Yet I had a nagging feeling that I could not depend on him to build anything and that there was no real plan.
After five intense months of life together filled with nude modeling, motorcycle rides, gypsy travel [together and apart], and marriage plans, the final last weeks turned suddenly sour. After seven consecutive weeks together followed by ten days alone and away from him in NYC, something within me shifted significantly. Not that there wasn’t trouble in paradise in the beginning. Our fights from his gaslighting and paranoia were scarlet-colored flags that I dismissed as residual baggage from his complicated past “traumas,” which included an “abusive childhood,” “injury as a special forces POW,” a first wife whose family abducted his children and molested them, and a second ex-wife who “tried to kill him.” As a lifelong loner, I felt suffocated whenever he would protest or question whenever I wanted to be to myself or my own thoughts. By the time month five rolled around, much had gotten under my skin but I couldn’t put words on it.
Horrendous week
We had a horrendous week together in NYC full of bittersweet good-byes to all my friends and palpable tension between us. The arguments had become daily. He had become so overbearingly opinionated that any idea of mine that was contrary to his led to ugly and condescending disagreements, which made me increasingly irritable and distant. I had already had a previous engagement to a Malignant Narcissist five years prior, and many of the fights felt like past triggers. I began feeling trapped and marooned.
When we landed back down south to my home and exploded into yet another argument based on his strange insinuations, I blurted “Sometimes I just CAN’T STAND YOU!” When he jumped toward his bag and yelled, “Well, then I’m leaving!” I immediately panicked since my conscious mind and all the circumstances we’d created had me convinced that I was SUPPOSED to be with him. After all, he always said that HE was the ONLY ONE who would understand and LOVE me. So I rushed to his bag and grabbed it, preventing him from leaving.
We tussled for it, and I ran with it to my bedroom, trying to eat the words I’d just vomited and make him either stay or take me with him, even though I was utterly repulsed by him at the same time. But my final escalation of disgust and distraught came after he punched me in the stomach. It wasn’t as hard as he could have but was enough to stun me momentarily. After I got my breath and realized what had happened, I went to a place darker and redder than I’d ever been before. I became primal rage.
The rage
I screamed for my mother to call the police, and that he had punched me in the stomach, since she wasn’t in the room to witness. He stammered for a quick second then denied it had happened. I glared directly into the devil’s eyes, unafraid, and proceeded to jump on him, kick him, scratch him, smack him on the back of the head, bust his lip, and bite him on the face until he escaped from me out the back door.
And in those two seconds in the middle of the night between his truck jerking backwards out of my mother’s driveway and screeching off down the road and physically out of my life for good I couldn’t decide whether to scream, “COME BACK!” or “FUCK YOU!” So I said nothing.
The following days and weeks, I could not stand myself. I could not eat. I could not get out of bed. I could not bathe. I could not understand what had just happened. And instead of zero contact, I did not know better and allowed him to keep tormenting my mind and spirit from 500 miles away. He’d say he forgave me, then he didn’t. Maybe we could work it out. Then he’d “remind” me that I’d “attacked him viciously and unprovoked.” The punch to my stomach never came up but he swore I’d “scarred him for life.” He said he wanted me to feel better; then he would tell me that I was crazy and had Borderline Personality Disorder. Between my own guilt and his sick mind games, I was feeling worthless in stereo and took myself to the emergency room for a psychiatric evaluation.
Fight for sanity
The four weeks that followed the brawl was a fight to save my sanity and life, and I made it a full-time job. I vociferously researched online for all the counseling resources I could afford. I had the love and support of my family, especially my mother. I spent a week away at a zen center to learn to meditate and nurse my soul. I was at times afraid and ashamed, but I ploughed through my pain and bureaucracies until I ended up with the dean of a major medical institution as my psychiatrist. Quickly brushing past the incident that triggered my depression, my doctor and I both agreed that the issue at hand to deal with was NOT HIM and his rude and unqualified diagnosis, but my own mental health and the judgment that has left me prey to such a situation in the first place.
On Thanksgiving, exactly a month later, I had the wisdom, strength, and courage to declare it completely over, changing my status on Facebook after everyone assumed we were moving in together and making wedding plans. He called shortly thereafter and left a nauseating message on my mother’s answering machine about how I did it the “wrong” way and he had planned to announce our break-up the “right” way. Whatever. But still riddled with guilt, I wrote a fateful letter of apology to a friend of his [let’s call him “Charles”] whom I truly liked and appreciated as a person, and was led to believe by my ex-nutjob that my behavior had also caused disruption and drama into his life as well. Charles called me shortly thereafter, confused as to why I was apologizing to him. Our conversation led to an ongoing watershed of information that revealed and confirmed why the SPath had gotten to my heart and mind so quickly yet under my skin so deeply.
Charming psychopath
“Haven’t you heard of a charming psychopath? Look it up on Google. I’m not joking. He charms the socks off of people, like a cult, and lies about EVERYTHING. But he ain’t right in the head. There’s no one there. And when I saw the scratch on his face, I knew you’d figured it out. And I can’t say anything, but you might want to go to the doctor and get yourself checked out. A lot went on when you weren’t around. That’s all I can say because I am scared of him and don’t want any trouble.”
My curiosity overwhelmed me and my recovery took a turn into discovery. I finally did the due diligence that I failed to pursue at the beginning. I simultaneously researched “charming sociopath” and his past. I ran into a dear friend and jokingly mentioned I might have dated an SPath, with utter seriousness she said, “Me too,” then discussed her divorce and showed me her online research about SPaths. I felt like my life almost became a Lifetime Network movie.
Discovered Lovefraud
I spoke to people from his past who spoke only under the promise of anonymity and confided that they have severed all contact with him and the reasons why. I discovered LOVEFRAUD.com, which explained why his background check proved zero college and military service, why I was showered with so many unsolicited gifts, why he made such serious claims against the people who saw behind his mask, and why he wanted me to believe he was the only man good for me. The more I learned via LOVEFRAUD about the SPath, the more my stomach churned. Of course I should have known that normal people don’t go around claiming they want to kill their family, ex-wives, and IRS agent on a regular basis. I realized I had slept with a stranger, an enemy. And then came the liberation of realizing that the man I THOUGHT I was in love with actually doesn’t exist.
I knew he had already moved on to a woman younger than all his children, not even old enough to drink. She would be easier for him to manipulate without a full sense of self, and for a brief while I was intent on trying to contact and save this young woman, under the legitimate guise of getting back my things in his possession that he spitefully refused to surrender. It was a waste of time, as I knew she was even more vulnerable, quickly under the same spell and too far gone. I had already been devalued and discarded, and she had probably been convinced to want to kill me the same way he made me hate all the women from his past who had “wronged” him. The rare thing he said about himself that proved true was his marriage to a family of pedophiles and their rape of his children. I can only imagine how much of them rubbed off onto him after ten years of marriage in his 20’s. SPath and I were more age-appropriate, but then again I still get carded trying to buy almost anything requiring an ID. I believe that was part of his attraction to me, but I don’t want or need a daddy.
It took about three to four months for the bulk of the psychic trauma of my SPath to subside, and a few more months for the residual ickiness of it all the rinse away. Seeing his picture or name no longer triggers me. Thanks to my doctor and self-care, I resurrected myself from depression back to joy, with stronger awareness and clearer boundaries for myself and potential relationships. I acknowledge how lucky I am to have made my discovery before we actually moved, got married, and potentially conceived a child. My irritability and rage were my subconscious mind and spirit protecting me from what my conscious mind did not yet comprehend. I looked the devil directly in its eyes and know now that I am a warrior spirit surrounded by light. I am grateful for the support of family, friends and professionals who buoyed me until I came to my own solid ground, intact, with greater wisdom, peace, and the best present I could ever have: MYSELF.
Happy anniversary to ME!
Damselfly, thank you for your incredible story. I’m so sorry that you had such horrible experiences with that spath, but I’m grateful that it wasn’t for a longer or more committed duration, like a contract of marriage.
I’m also glad that you found your way to this site.
I completely identify with the red rage of wrath. I’ve never experienced anything like it, in my entire lifetime, and that includes my experiences with the first abusive exspath. This second experience took me to a place so dark and full of rage that I don’t even know that person.
I’m so glad that you’re out and recovering. Thanks, again, for sharing your experiences.
Brightest blessings
Dear Damselfly,
Welcome to LF and congratulations for your anniversary and TOWANDA for you.!! Good article and thanks for sharing! So glad you are on sollid ground again.
Damselfly,
I normally don’t cheer a person for physical violence but I did for you! LoL
I think it’s because I get it. It would sound like an overreaction to those who don’t. I can tell you are a kind person just by the attention you gave yourself and his friend who he had you convinced you had caused grief. I am very glad he was as honest as he could be with you.
Psycho father of my child from a “fling” was conceived via contraception sabotage. His friend warned me. This friend knew him since school age and said “I don’t know why but he’s picked you and you need to be careful” with a few subtle hints. I would bet he wouldn’t know the label of “charming psychopath” but he definitely knew I was dealing with a problem and he would’ve probably said the same thing if there were scratches on his face.
I am sorry you were taken to the depths of hell but like you, I am glad it was relatively brief and a very good learning experience.
Welcome
Damselfly – one of the things you bring up in your article is the thing she projected on to other people. From my time here, I understand these are ‘tells’ about the spath’s own behaviour. look at all the bad things he said about other people – he was talking about himself.
Also, have you read the book, ‘The Betrayal Bond’? it could be very useful.
I had a similar experience in finding out the guy I dated 3 months was a spath. I was fresh out of it and hurting badly. I told my petsitter the story. Her eyes got really big, and I could see that I had triggered some memory for her. She told me to go to the computer and google “seductive sociopath”. That’s when I found out what he was and then found LF. Thankfully for you it only lasted 5 months. For me, it was only 3 months, but it took nearly a year to recover. It’s been over 4 years now, and the thought of him never crosses my mind unless I’m discussing it here. I wish you the best in your healing journey. I enjoyed your well-written and articulated story.
Damselfly–Congratulations! Your strength and determination to heal and to take care of yourself are inspiring.
Stargazer–I guess we can be most helpful in telling people who are ready to hear it where they can access educational and healing resources. Those ah-ha! moments were invaluable to me, and they came as a result of other people’s stories. The first time, I was telling a friend from grad school about my non-relationship and he said he’d just heard an interview on NPR with Ronson about the Psychopath Test. He said that the guy I was talking about fit the bill precisely and recommended I do some research. The second time was so different from the first that I didn’t see it coming. It wasn’t until I went alone to a therapy appointment Spath and I were supposed to attend because of his (feigned) mental illness, that I had another lightbulb go on. The therapist listened to my story, then said that he thought this man was a sociopath and that I needed to sever all contact immediately. I was, in that moment, actually joyful! It’s such a relief to feel those first bits of clarity. Knowledge is power.
On a similar note, I have a younger friend who knows how psychopaths have affected my life. Last summer, she somewhat jokingly asked if I’d use my skills as a psychopath magnet to determine whether her new boyfriend fit the bill. She told me about his inability to discuss his feelings, etc. I laughed and told her that most men have this difficulty–it’s the smooth ones who tell you what you want to hear that you have to watch out for! When I met her boyfriend, we told him what we’d been talking about. He immediately engaged with the conversation, then said he was concerned that his cousin might be a sociopath. As much as I try to raise awareness, I also try to stop the gratuitous use of these words when they don’t actually apply, as I think it harms the cause. So I asked him why. He said that his cousin and best friend had always exhibited behaviors that were questionable. Then, when he was a psychology student and the two of them lived together, his cousin had come home with a scan of his brain after participating in a study. He was excited because they’d called him back for further testing. Apparently, his brain reacted the same way to cute kittens as it did to dead bodies. And he was excited/curious about this rather than worried. He asked if I had any advice on how he might approach his cousin to find out what he understood or didn’t understand about his own brain and behaviors. I was so happy to have met someone who was open to discussing these things, who didn’t assume that I was some crazy scorned woman making things up, that I missed the obvious signs. Normal people don’t believe us. Only people who have been through it really understand what we’ve been up against. When I next spoke with my friend, she in fact revealed that they’d broken up and that he was probably a sociopath–but despite knowing my stories, it took her so long to figure it out because he’d already won her over and set her up to see him in a certain way. The only reason she figured it out was that she was reading a book at the time, “Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me),” and it made her aware of how her own perceptions were skewing her beliefs about what was actually happening. Ultimately, her ex admitted that there was something wrong with him. That he’d never had a relationship that lasted longer than six months. That he though love was a construct and emotions were b.s.. That his entire family believed he’d screw it up because they all knew he was “infected” with something strange. That he pretended to be in love and went through the motions because he thought he could finally have what he always thought he was supposed to have and deserved to have. And as she struggled with all of this, he thought that they should let their dogs play together as if nothing had happened. This guy has a Master’s from Yale, he moved to be with my friend, he’s good-looking, intelligent, and–at first–said and did all the right things. He was too good to be true. And as we all now know, if something is too good to be true, it probably is. My friend ignored that feeling in her gut–the one that caused her to actually ask me if I thought this guy was a sociopath. She wanted the picture he painted to be a reality. But what I find most interesting about all this is that my stories weren’t what tipped her off. What tipped her off was this particular book. And I think it has to do with the basic premises of the book itself, with the idea that when people’s beliefs are challenged, they tend to believe more strongly. When faced with evidence to the contrary, we construct justifications. We wrap ourselves in the web. Comparing my story to hers wasn’t going to affect her perception, but presenting impersonal evidence about how the human brain functions allowed her to dissect her own beliefs and come to her own conclusions about her relationship. I can’t recommend this book enough!
Hilary, great post. Your story is so interesting and filled with red flags and tells.
I loved that book too. And I reviewed it on my website
http://180rule.com/book-review-mistakes-were-made-but-not-by-me-why-we-justify-foolish-beliefs-bad-decisions-and-hurtful-acts/
because it is SO good.
Just the fact that your friend brought up the question of whether her bf was a spath, is enough to indicate that she had sensed something in her gut. Her intellect didn’t want to believe it though. Then when you brought up the subject to him, he immediately pointed the accusing finger at his “cousin”. That was a red flag, spaths always try to shift blame or accuse others in order to get out from under the microscope.
Yes, I’ve found that there are 2 kinds of people who believe us about spaths: those who have been through it, and spaths themselves. Spaths will sometimes pretend to have been victimized by spaths, and some spaths actually HAVE been. Spath on spath violence is not so unusual, especially if the weaker spath is female or geeky.
The spath encounter is the most confusing thing that will ever happen in our lives. Furthermore, it is going to happen many times because they are EVERYWHERE. That book, Mistakes Were Made But Not By Me, should be required reading in schools. Understanding how we are confused and deluded by spaths is the first step in learning to spot them.
Happy Anniversary Damselfly ~!
And thankyou for sharing your story. So many time’s when I read new stories, so much make’s sense about my own. Several thing’s you said gave me chill’s, you felt that same confusion and sense of loss, at wanting him to leave and begging him to stay at the same time. Oh my how I relate to that mind f–k.
And yes the relationshit did end up revealing much about myself that needed to be dealt with..but we ain’t gonna call em up and thank em for that revelation. It’s kinda like runnin barefoot and steppin on a rusty nail, we learn to wear our shoe’s..
Damselfly-Congratulations, Luckily you only was involved 5 months, mine was 5 1/2 years, $12,000.00 physical/mental health, I have been away from him almost a year, but was in phone contact a few months ago (just to witness his lies with my newfound realizations) You said your life was like a “Lifetime movie” I hear that a lot, It still infuriates me that they just keep getting away with it, all we can do at this point is heal and try to spread the word, I feel like it is my duty, I have helped 1 friend for sure, everything for her makes sense now!! Lovefraud saved my life!! I appreciate all the stories and support from everyone here!!
My spath of 18 months discarded me on September 11? Cooincidence????? I think not. It is a day I will always remember I survived, unlike the other tragedy that killed so many innocent people. It is our vulnerability and our innocence that make us targets for these hideously sick and twisted people.