Editor’s note: The following essay was submitted by a Lovefraud reader, who has discovered that she can find healing from her encounter with a sociopath through writing.
Awakened Senses
By Nancy Voelker
I see ”¦ a field as I drive through the countryside. We had a picnic and laid looking at clouds, bodies entwined.
I smell ”¦ smoke from a chimney. His arms were wrapped around me as music played softly and we watched the flames dance.
I taste ”¦ butter on my finger as I make dinner in my quiet kitchen. We spent an afternoon boiling lobsters and gorging ourselves. Kissing butter off our chins.
I hear ”¦ a song playing as I wander through the bookstore alone. He grabbed me and twirled me, laughing, to that song as he held me close.
I touch ”¦ my lips as I wash my face. When he kissed me, I thought my heart would burst.
I feel ”¦ memories. Longing. Bittersweet.
***
I see ”¦ His eyes narrow as he glares at me across the room if I talk to any man at the party.
Porn he forgot to erase on my computer.
Charges on my credit cards he forgot to mention.
Texts to strange numbers.
I smell ”¦ strange perfume on his clothes.
I smell a rat.
I taste ”¦ something sour in my mouth as I uncover lie after lie.
I hear ”¦ his insults, put downs, curses at me for being me.
I hear his fake laugh as everyone smiles.
I hear everyone say what a great guy he is.
I feel ”¦ the ache from him pulling my hair. I touch the bruises on my arms, my eye.
I feel the tears on my cheeks.
***
I see ”¦ the tears welling in his eyes”¦again.
I smell ”¦ the flowers he got me”¦again.
I taste ”¦ the wonderful breakfast he cooked for me in bed”¦again.
I hear ”¦ him begging for forgiveness. His pleading. Threats of suicide. His promises”¦again.
I feel ”¦ his warm hug as he wraps his arms tight around me. I feel his wet face and warm breath against my neck as he starts to seduce me.
I feel confused.
I feel hope”¦again.
***
I see ”¦ black, angry eyes I don’t recognize coming at me.
I smell ”¦ his rancid breath from too much alcohol, cigarettes, and anger churning in him, as he leans in my face.
I taste ”¦ blood on my swollen, cut lips from a shoe being jammed in my mouth. I taste more blood dripping down from my nose after being smashed into the floor. I taste bitter pills forced down my throat.
I hear ”¦ him say, “swallow.”
I hear him calmly whisper that he is going to kill me. That he is going to wrap my body in a sheet and bury me where no one will find me.
I feel ”¦ his hands tighten for the third time around my throat and squeeze.
***
I see ”¦ my house for the last time as my friend burns out of the driveway. I see the horror in her eyes.
I smell ”¦ him on me.
I taste ”¦ fear.
I hear ”¦ my phone ring as he tries to find me.
I feel ”¦ numb.
***
I can’t see ”¦ I’ve cried so much. I start to see faces everywhere that show judgment, pity, avoidance.
I see emptiness in my eyes.
I smell. Period. I haven’t showered in days.
I taste ”¦ cardboard whenever I try to eat. I taste wine. And too much, I taste vomit.
I hear ”¦ the ticking of the clock. I hear laughter from backyard barbecues as I try to walk and get fresh air”¦ only to hear the clock ticking as I fall back in bed. I hear my heart breaking.
I feel ”¦ everything. Then nothing. Then everything. The bad everything. I feel like dying. I feel the sleeping pill kicking in.
***
I see ”¦ my face and body healing. I see peace returning to my eyes and to those that love me and stuck by me. I see people willing to help me heal.
I smell ”¦ my favorite perfume that he didn’t like. I smell my new puppies’ breath.
I taste ”¦ my mom’s homemade soup. Pizza with a friend. The last sweet remnant of rich, dark chocolate.
I hear ”¦ stories and encouragement from women like me. I hear beautiful music in yoga. I hear myself laughing again, a little more each day.
I feel ”¦ God, who never left me. I feel the hugs from wonderful people helping me through this. I feel my arms wrapped around myself. I feel my strength slowly returning”¦
***
I see ”¦ the many people he has hurt and scammed, now through different eyes.
I smell ”¦ the truth surfacing.
I taste ”¦ validation.
I hear ”¦ sadly, that he has a new victim, but I don’t know where she is to warn her. I hope she can see, taste, hear, and feel my words or words like these that will make her run or change her life before her light is dimmed by his darkness.
I feel ”¦ his time will run out.
***
For myself, I now see, smell, taste, hear and feel my freedom every day.
I AM A SURVIVOR.
© 2011 Nancy Voelker. May not be reproduced without the permission of the author.
Hello, LWH –
The support group started last night however upon arrival I found a dimly lit parking lot that was not directly adjacent to where I was going and the area was desolate. Since I have PTSD, panic set in at the sight of it so I just went home.
This morning I emailed the director about it. She said others had expressed the same concern so at least I don’t feel like I’m being overly paranoid. I’m on a list for a future session, possibly at this same place but during the summer so it’s light out when I go in. Was told someone can escort me to my vehicle afterward……but then I don’t KNOW that person so not sure that is a viable option. Also am going to research groups that meet during the day. Life isn’t what it used to be but am grateful to still have my life.
How have you been, LWH?
I want you all to know that I am lucky in the sense that he ran and I never had to see him again. The police didn’t catch him in time. But I think that is a blessing in a way. The curse is that I still look over my shoulder. He has continued to pocket dial me every few months. And his mother sends me ecards…I NEVER respond. Finally found a plan for my phone that can block his number. Its worth the extra $5.oo a month. How long do you recover from PTSD?
I know NB
PTSD affects me too. I go to my mum’s for dinner every Friday night and without fail I take a panic attack as the time to go home approaches.
I don’t know if it is the dark nights or not–but it just overwhelms me.
It is only a short journey and I take a taxi home–but no matter I still take the attack.
I keep going to my mum’s on this night because I am so stubborn. I am determined to beat it. But it has been going on for a year now with no let up.
It is so annoying–but like you–I am starting to become grateful that I am alive.
That loss of trust in innocent people must surely come back. I know what you meant by the escort. That’s the same feeling I get about the taxi driver. I am so scared he will sense my vulnerability and do something to me.
Over active imagination.
Keep well
LWH
xxx
NB
I suppose we are just like anyone else that has a physical disability.
We learn to manage and accomodate our illness.
LWH
xxx
Dear LWH,
My heart goes out to you and yes I totally relate. Trust is and will be a major issue as well for a long time. But its better to have walls up to let down than to start with no walls at all!
xo
NV
NV,
I wonder if there is much difference. Change is difficult either way.
PD’s are defined as being a rigid way of thinking which makes us attempt to use the same solutions over and over, even when they no longer work for us. It’s like a habit that’s hard to kick. Being inflexible can keep us stuck in a rut.
Whether we lack boundaries or are overly defensive, both are rigid ways of being that don’t allow for flexibility based on the situation.
LWH,
Although the Friday night dinners are a struggle because of the method of transportation, there is so much benefit to spending time with your Mom which is probably why you continue the tradition. Time with your Mom is very precious. She won’t be here forever. I coped better with the spath aftermath when my Mom was still living even though she had dementia and I wasn’t able to talk about it with her. At least there was a place where I was totally loved and that my love was also appreciated.
I’ve reached the conclusion that I will never be completely rid of the PTSD. As you stated, we learn to live with it and manage it in under certain circumstances. The taxi ride would cause me a great deal of stress of too. Any situation where I am not in control of my surroundings is problematic. I will think of you on Fridays, LWH and will be sending many positive thoughts your way. I used to share dinner with my Mom every Saturday evening. I miss her so much.
Nancy,
PTSD is a very long road. I will never be the same however there was a time when I was unable walk in a parking lot at high noon so I’ve come a long way. As LWH stated, it’s something we learn to live with and work on building up a tolerance for certain things such as LWH does with her weekly taxi ride to her Mom’s. Are you dealing with PTSD also?
Be well.
~New
Edit: LWH, I also believe it is like a physical disability. When mine kicks in I freeze – and for a couple of years it was exactly that, it took all I had to be able to physically move enough to feed the cat. So glad I don’t deal with it at that level any longer.
NV
I have had PTSD for four and a half years now. Since I drove him out.
It is a lot better as I only get triggered a few times a week whereas before it felt like I was always on full red alert.
My ex was a big bully and trampled my bounderies. I am getting them back though and I think by the time I am finished they will be even stronger than before.
So sorry that yours left you with the ‘look over the shoulder feeling’. That should be reserved for criminals-not innocents like us.
Take care
LWH
xxx
NB
Yes time with my mum is precious. We both say that the best thing that came out of the spath experience was that we found each other. I NC’d my mum 20 years ago because she was an abusive alcaholic.
Now that she has been sober for 19 years–she is the loving and very wise mum of my childhood.
We are both very alike, which is quite amazing since I did not have much to do with her since I was eleven.
When I ran for my life–it was her that I ran to. I didn’t know how it would turn out. She believed and supported me from day one.
She is a walking miracle and so so kind.
So as always–good came from bad.
When my ptsd kicks in it feel like I am suffocating and that this time I am not going to recover. I too am resigning myself to the fact that it may be a lifetime problem.
I am just so into self responsibility that it frustrates me to lose this control over myself.
Bum’s
LWH
xxx
LWH, you brought tears to my eyes with how you and your Mom have reunited. She must be so very grateful to have you back in her life. A sparkling diamond hidden in the mine of darkness.
Ah yes, the feeling of suffocating. I experience that as well. Recovering from an episode requires time home alone….sometimes days of not going out. Am getting a little better with that in recent months, I hope the progress continues. Like you, I am just relieved to not be on high alert 24/7.
LWH, enjoy dinner with your Mum tomorrow! 🙂