Editor’s note: A Lovefraud reader, we’ll call her Betty, sent her story. It’s a tale of a run-in with a female psychopath who likes to destroy people for the fun of it.
I got divorced and moved from Texas to California. I was 45 years old, and was hoping to transition from my career as an RN. I’d worked in the newborn nursery and the increasing numbers of drug dependent newborns were breaking my heart — I was experiencing burnout. I tried physical rehabilitation for adults, but that too brought me in contact with awful suffering, and I didn’t have enough to give my patients. I had a painful divorce and a painful career, and made the decision to pull myself together and start over. That’s when I met the person I think is a female psychopath.
I interviewed in the art history department of a large university, with the then-graduate adviser, Dr. Wilma (not her real name). I didn’t understand then how fragile I was, but I feel certain she knew in an instant. The fixed stare was there — I thought at the time, “What an intent, alert, person with so much energy!” I felt flattered that she seemed so interested in me. Writing that, I still feel a creepiness, sense of shame at being taken in, and a curling fear in the pit of my stomach.
Perfect victim
I craved attention, though I would have denied it. Looking back at my life, I can see how I trained over the course of it to be a perfect victim for abuse. My dad was an alcoholic, the mean drunk kind, and my mom was so gently needy. The overall feeling in our house was one of walking on eggshells, and the message to me was, “try hard and fail” because my older brother was the “successful, responsible child” so that left me with the “failure” role. My first husband was emotionally distant, and so was my second — I poured myself into those relationships, and of course, I cared deeply while each of them did not, and the colder they were, the harder I tried, and tried. And I found a job just as destructive and abusive as those personal relationships. So when I interviewed for the art history department, I badly needed some confidence and a sense of achievement. I’d also had a couple of bouts of situational depression, following the death of my parents, and after getting divorced.
Dr. Wilma seemed drawn to me at once: She’d call me to come in early to her office, heap praise on me to other teachers, strategize with me over my academic future (she felt I should get a doctorate and teach at university, “Just like me”) — she acted like a close friend and benefactor, and we’d only just met. Deep down inside, I was uncomfortable. I was making straight “A’s” but I’d done that routinely as an adult, and I genuinely loved art history, and found tremendous pleasure in studying it and discussing it — but still, I was a beginner in the field, and I couldn’t get over the fact that she was talking to me as though I was a peer. The other feeling was slower to surface: She seemed to be looking at me in a calculating, almost predatory way, and it seemed strangely almost sexual and at the same time, had the stamp of ownership. I can’t express it any better than that. She’d compliment me, but then say things like, “You walked into my office with interest, but no real academic talent, but I thought, why not? I’ll give her a class! See how far you’ve come!” Not an insult based in reality, but not a compliment based in reality, either, because I was a solidly good student, and I had achieved a nursing education and professional license, and a bachelor’s in psychology after that.
My mentor
Soon she invited me to walk her dogs with her in the mornings, and I slowly began to see how controlling she was. The animals were hyper and had to be constantly engaged or they’d get into trouble. I’m a cat person, so I didn’t understand you have to constantly stimulate and over stimulate most dogs to get them to be that hyperactive. She’d ask my opinions, but then she’d make “suggestions,” which meant “do it or else.” Over the next few years, I committed to specializing in art history, on her appraisal of me as an “excellent student who’s going to make a wonderful teacher,” I took on the burden of student loans — and I put my Texas nursing license on retirement, and didn’t activate it in California or take continuing education in that area to keep the license active. Dr. Wilma let me know that nursing wasn’t really a profession, and with a bright future as an academic, I didn’t need it. I had a “mentor” now to take me over the road of thesis writing and guide me into a wonderful teaching career.
I was really so stupidly, inexcusably naive! She told me what I wanted to hear — that I’d have a new career if I continued to work hard, and that I had a mentor I could depend on to help guide me through the intricacies of academia. Exam after exam came back marked “A,” with praise written in the margins for my “fine work.” Papers, too, received “A’s,” and the criticism lead me to believe my writing skills were well up to standard, and constantly improving, as I was striving to do. She wanted me to visit her office almost daily, wrote long and frequent emails, she’d phone me at home for lengthy calls — and one day, I began to feel (though I shoved that down quickly as well) that I was almost being courted in a creepy way…and it felt weird, off and not right somehow. But how could I complain? She was charming, so eager to “help” me find my way, I felt at a disadvantage academically and I worked frequently twelve hours a day writing and reading, trying to master my chosen field of study. I didn’t want other students to know she “favored” me so extensively because I’ve always earned my way. I felt ashamed at possibly taking advantage.
Always a home
She invited me to her house, and told me, “You’ll always have a home here,” and again, it felt off… it was too much, too soon. In addition, there was something there in that the words didn’t match the lack of emotion in her voice and in her expression — her words seemed somehow rehearsed. But how could I be so ungracious? I so longed for kindness, and I so appreciated it…my eyes welled up with tears … and she smiled. It was not a kind smile, but a one-sided curl of a lip, a cruel smile that didn’t reach her eyes. As I mentioned, I have a bachelor’s in psychology, but even at that lower level without clinical study except in nursing, how could I not have known?
She wanted me to house sit and watch her dogs for a week while she and her husband went on holiday. She’d pay me $300, and having put every penny into school, I needed the job. By this time, I’d finished all the bachelor’s level courses and was well into graduate level work — I only had a year and a half left before I could get my Master’s and could begin my dream of teaching art history in community college. I was also $40,000 in debt with student loans.
The dogs were a nightmare to care for and had to be watched every minute because they were so hyper they’d tear up the house and garden. Now I understand they’d been trained this way in response to their owner. I didn’t get much sleep because they required so much attention, but they were fed, watered, exercised, groomed — in response to the 10 pages of instructions she issued, and her house was cleaned, laundry done, and everything left as found. I’d been instructed not to wait for the them to arrive home, but to leave the evening of their arrival, two hours before they returned.
Flier in the driveway
Three days later, I got a phone call from Dr. Wilma. I was instructed to come to her office very early the first day of school following break. I went into her office, and she asked me to wait there while she went to her car and brought her dogs in (she always brought her dogs to school in spite of rules of no dogs on campus). She brought the dogs in, she looked at her watch, she closed the door and I can only say that she transformed entirely right before my eyes. I’ve worked in psychiatric lock up wards in the course of my nurse’s training, and I thought I’d seen pretty much everything, but I saw a self-possessed, controlled and controlling, smooth, charming, poised academic turn into a snarling, spitting monster within literally a second. I feared for my life, sat in a chair backed into a corner, the dogs now cowering and whining at my feet. She advanced on me, screaming at the top of her lungs, “You betrayed me! I can’t believe I brought that (meaning me) from my university into my house!” It seems I had left a newspaper, one of the little local fliers, in her driveway and not collected it and placed it on her kitchen table with the rest of the mail. She went on for a full fifteen minutes, screaming that I was “crazy” (I had confided to her about my instances of depression), and more abuse that I’ve frankly and thankfully blocked out, because what I remember of what she shrieked at me was horrible and I’ll never repeat most of it to anyone. My hand shook, but I wrote out a check for the $300 and returned every bit of her money. It was only my training, and probably experience as an abused child, that allowed me to remain calm, size up the room, locate something that could be utilized as a defensive weapon should the need arise, and calculate that I could fit though the window. She was physically blocking the door. I heard my own voice from far away say absolutely calmly, “I AM leaving now,” and I will never know how I got up on shaking legs and made it through the door.
Swore to ruin me
She swore to ruin me, and she did. Her co-workers and underlings (the department is small and only had two other full-time professors) were so under her thumb and so like her that there was no place to go in the department. I couldn’t get an appointment with the dean to state my case or make a complaint or appeal — I was told I could only see her with Dr. Wilma’s approval, “She’s a very nice lady,” the dean’s secretary said, “I’m certain she’ll help you sort out whatever it is.” Camping out in the dean’s office didn’t yield an appointment, either. The Ombudsman promised help — only to reveal straight away in the meeting that, “I have no real power here and all records of this meeting are the property of the university.” I had taken my qualifying examination, the last step before thesis writing, and waited for 8 weeks to get my results, and still couldn’t find out if I’d passed or failed. Appointments weren’t kept, then they were rescheduled and not kept again. Finally, around the tenth week, the Ombudsman called me for a meeting with faculty. Dr.Wilma had brought the other two full-time professors with her, and they were all in attack mode. For two and a half hours, I was soundly verbally abused and called names — the Ombudsman gave up trying to control or run the meeting, and exhibited shaking hands. “You can’t just pay for a degree — you have to earn it. We owe you nothing — it’s 100 percent all on you now…What do you want from us?” Dr. Wilma demanded. “I want to know the status of my qualifying examination,” I replied, “No one will tell me.” “Well I’ve just decided right now, this minute: you fail!”
After they left, and I could finally cry, the Ombudsman said she’d only done counseling of sexual abuse patients, and this was her first case in an academic setting, and she said she’d never seen anything like it. It left me bereft of my belief in the virtues of the university, of learning, and to a very great extent, in human goodness. I felt my insides crumble that day. I was flat out. I broke.
I tried going to another university, driving three hours to another school. I did well in my classes and applied for acceptance in their graduate program. I was told it looked good because my transcript and submitted paper and interview had all been promising. But I’d told them the basics of the truth when the committee chair asked why I left the previous university. They phoned, spoke to Dr. Wilma, and you can guess the rest. After what I was told by a professor was the longest meeting in their history of considering a candidate (three hours), they decided not to believe my performance, the evidence of my character, my skills, or interest in art history and love of education — they believed Dr. Wilma when she told them I was crazy.
Crushed
That happened two years ago. I’ve been deeply depressed and felt worthless and hollow since. It truly crushed me, though I wish it hadn’t. I’m broke, and it left me $45,000 in student debts and no degree, so I cannot teach and have nothing to show for a tremendous amount of work. There was no appeal at the school, and lawyers apparently don’t take cases like this, especially on contingency. Reactivating my RN license and bringing it current in California would be tremendously expensive. I began to come out of shock very slowly, and began to meditate, face and recognize the pattern of being a victim — not that I ever deserved this situation, but how I was in fact an ideal candidate for it. I processed the pain of being the child of an alcoholic, an abused spouse, and having survived burnout from a tough profession. I grieved for my lost financial security, my almost new career and how much I truly loved teaching, I grieved for the good will that died in my soul when those three women worked me over in the Ombudsman’s office while the Ombudsman (a certified counselor) stood by and let it happen. I grieved for myself that I didn’t stand up more and tell them off! That I wanted something so badly that I allowed myself to be demeaned by three ethically deficit “teachers.”
I began Tibetan Buddhist meditation, and sought to learn to forgive. I believe in the healing power of forgiveness, but I’m stumped because I’ve seen something evil. I can only forgive as an intellectual act — my spirit is stuck and it’s very painful. I’ve cried buckets of tears and “LET GO” over and over, and I will do until I have healed. I now trust myself to build a new life, but at 55 years, it’s going to be hard to get a job where I’ve no experience, especially in this economy. I could have taught for a good 20 years, paid my student debt, and provided for myself, but things look bleak now.
Armed with knowledge
I know that there are so many people who have lost so much more than I have. I know it, reading these posts, I realize it I’m actually lucky because it could have been so much worse. If nothing else, I am now armed with knowledge, and can hopefully walk on by the next ruinous person I encounter without letting them into my life. But I will always be shaken by this devastation — not by a lover or a spouse, but by a trusted, respected, and admired teacher. And I still feel ashamed, and like it was somehow my fault — until I read your posts.
Thanks you, Donna, for listening to my story. It’s healing somehow, and it helps me to know that I will recover from this. It has given me understanding and compassion for those who live with this these fundamentally lacking individuals. I so admire their strength and courage to survive and rebuild their lives, and also the genuine love and support evidenced on your site.
Learn more: Comprehensive 7-part recovery series presented by Mandy Friedman, LPCC-S
Lovefraud originally posted this article on March 4, 2009.
How knowing the truth about sociopaths changes everything
Amazing grace – Your advice is extraordinary!!
When you said “I realize lately how my childhood experiences made me a candidate for power/status hungry people (vampires) to take hold”… can you elaborate as to what your childhood experiences were that made you a candidate??
Amazing Grace: Great post and welcome to LF.
Hey, did anyone notice that Bernie Madoff said he was ashamed? He never elaborated on what he was ashamed of … could it be he was ashamed for finally getting caught?
I hope they are going to make room in that prison for all the others involved with this scam … aka his sons, his wife, the top executives in the company! That’s a good start.
Did you also notice how he plead guilty so they couldn’t cross examine everyone to find all the players!
There’s always a loophole for these BUMS.
Peace.
AmazingGrace: Vampire is such a good word for these people. Everything you said really resonated with me.
Hi Shabbychic2: How are you tonight? Hope all is going better with your healing? You sound like you are much further along.
Peace.
Matt, you said, “When a sociopath accuses you of something, it is their own worst fear they are projecting onto you.”
When I read that, the ball of pain, misery, and shame that’s been in my stomach since the verbal attack in the office just melted away. I knew what she said to me wasn’t true, but somehow, part of me still believed it was. Now I know it was all about her. In a bizarre way, considering the impact on my life, it really was none of my business: all that poison and nastiness was always hers. Thank you.
Amazing Grace, you said: “The best revenge is to live well, believe in the GOOD in yourself, do some soul searching, forgive yourself, talk nicely and honestly to yourself, take care of your health, surround yourself with positive thoughts and people and be grateful you are better than the person who made you feel bad. The cream of the crop are not the ones who destroy others but serve and empower others. Seek good council, and don’t isolate yourself.”
Printed that out and it’s on my mirror! Every day, those are the things I’m doing.
I read and read at this site — good medicine because you guys are honest, open, and supportive — and then I started taking a fierce inventory of my life. I wanted to discover why I’d ignored all those red flags, and I’ve been finding my answers. So many times as I conducted the search through my past, I’d recall things you guys have said, and it gave me comfort and clarity. For example, growing up with an angry alcoholic father,
I thought of Matt saying, “I mistook intensity for intimacy,” and realized I’d been conditioned to do that.
When my Dad was drinking, he acted like a sociopath. Taking my inventory on paper, listing his behaviors, I could finally see it! This was harder for me to admit, because when he was sober, Dad was a good man…who then drank and made his family entirely miserable. Contradictions like that are impossible for kids, so I learned to shut down, alter my reality to his enough to survive him, and ignore destructive, abusive behavior. And suppress the memories of it, too. Then I found a job that was abusive…abuse was familiar, so I must deserve it, right? And two marriages that were emotionally distant…because distance felt safe, after all that intensity. I was so vulnerable after the divorce that brought me to California, trying to move towards my goals and aspirations, and rebuilding my life…Enter the sociopath.
But now, instead of feeling “stupid, ineffectual, and overwhelmed” (Dr. Wilma’s description), make peace with myself, treat myself with respect, allow myself to be the person I know I am, stronger now because I am at last on my own side, and no longer afraid. I am learning what I need to to recover and build a good life. Each of you has helped me realize that isolation isn’t necessary. I can’t thank you enough.
Hello Betty: After the S/P devastated my life on so many levels I can’t even count, I was fortunate enough to have someone step in to help me with a career shift and a place to live. Surprisingly her name was “Wilma”! (NOT!) This pseudo-employer, rescuer, knew every single trick to play, and it didn’t matter whether I was onto her or not, she held the upper hand because she wasn’t paying me for my work.
Just as Dr. Wilma held your diploma as the “Holy Grail,” this woman held the promise of pay for all the work I’d done, plus her promises of a share of growth in the business that frankly relied on my talents to be able to grow.
The biggest thing we can do in our recovery is to realize how truly CRAZY these people are, in spite of their camouflage as “normal.” Wilma sounds about as normal as a yeast infection, but those of us who are kind and compassionate will figure out how to excuse her behavior and turn our critical eyes back on ourselves. They count on this. They rely on our own self-criticism to distract us from THEM, the active perpetrators.
Although your story doesn’t fit the usual LF situation, I really resonate. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you very much everyone 🙂 I have been reading on this great, fantastic, site for about a week now and thrilled to have one more resource. I am researching for my next day in court against the Narcissist in my life but have had only minor brushes with sociopaths in the past. None that have ‘ruined my life’ until 8 years ago and it has been a nightmare. I feel like, I was beamed up to the twilight zone onto the starship Psycho, saying, “you’ve got to get a hold of yourself”. It is really difficult and mind boggling.
I have just read all the comments and excellent advice on this blog. I have a few things (other than my immediate reaction above) to add. First is to document everything what was said, and the date. Keep records. I have 5 folders (a friend has 5 boxes and phone conversations on her xs). This is great to use in family court because text messages and phone recordings are admissible. I think it’s different in criminal court. The ombudsman is a witness (the more the merrier) and the records of the conversation can be subpoenaed from the college by your lawyer/judge.
Only a capable person strong enough and tolerant enough can withstand that kind of verbal abuse and ridicule and then take the responsibility for the abusers actions while remaining calm. By taking responsibility, I mean, because you did not bring in the piece of mail, you did something wrong and displeasing, you gave her the money back without questioning her or putting up a fight. If you had turned on her the way she did on you, she would have crumbled into a heap after her knees buckled and gave out on her. If you kept the money you would not have been admitting guilt even though you know you did nothing wrong. Abusers use fear and intimidation and this case you thought your college career was in her hands and she was the authority. Some of us learn (are programed) not to speak up for ourselves in childhood because our voice went unnoticed or brought about pain. I want to suggest the website voicelessness.com for some fabulous info.
When hindsight kicks in there are a lot of if’s, thus one of my names for my N. is mr. if (he doesn’t deserve capital letters).
It wasn’t about the money. To build up your confidence and then shatter you is a psychopathic trait. And think, they do it for more than just fun – for superiority over someone who in reality couldn’t shine their shoes. You are that good. They will do anything or say anything to reach their goals if they know they can get away with not get caught (that is why they do not pick on Diva’s who would whirl a high heeled shoe at them or loud mouths who would yell for security). And from my experience as in your case they carry out their threats (punishment part of the rage). And when you confide in them they WILL use it against you. They have a public face and the psycho face which you saw when you were ALONE (no accident the door was closed). To me this is is the most frustrating part**** They are sneaks, hit below the belt, pick on your vulnerability, kiick you when you’re down, cowards. Let’s not forget the element of surprise to catch you off guard. Jaw dropping. Totally!
To me the rage process is like this, the N. vomits disgusting bile on me then blames me for it. The stuff is so vile and corrosive it is very difficult to wash off. And then I get punished. They actually have all this evil, envy, self-hatred, etc. and low self-esteem and they have to project it (projectile vomiting) onto someone else and then they feel better.
My N. once described his n. rages as “fluff”! Maybe his dysfunctional family used that cute little word to describe his outburst and everything goes back to normal when he’s done. No one barely blinks and eye at the FLUFF. Which explains why N’s can violently rage then call you up a couple days later like, heyyy, what’s up? (and your like wtf)
Back in 2003, when my child with N. (that is why I can’t get rid of him and by the way, the rages last for years, maybe a lifetime, I’ll shall see) was around 6 months old my propane ran out and I had no heat (the truck missed the delivery that month). I called the N. to pick up the baby (we never lived together) because her hands were freezing, the temp was down to 50 in the house, and truck with propane could not be here ’till midnight. He came over and argued that, if I did not go with him he was not taking the baby. Why? jealous that I was going to sleep with truck driver. No, more like he would not be the center of attention or get N supply and couldn’t be bothered (they will only do something if there is something in it for them). Babies are no fun for an N. to be with because, they require all the attention, and esp. if there is no one around to admire what a wonderful Dad/mom they are. So, he leaves without baby and in my confusion, I call his mother (I USED to turn to her for assistance). As she answered the phone N. appears, grabs me by the shoulders and spits in my face. I was holding baby and gasped into the phone in horror, “he just spit n my face. Is that the way you raised your child?”. Unfortunately, I gave the mother the responsibility to take care of the problem. Folks, the parents are the enablers if not the cause of the N. being an N or sociopath, psychopath, whatever. Anyway she said, let me speak to him. He was in full rage and we had gone from one room to another when I held out the phone saying, your mother wants to speak to you. He stopped in mid rage, looked at me with haughty eyes and smiled this evil smile that sent shivers, and without another word he left me there holding baby and phone with an unhelpful (to me anyway) mother with her wishy washy voice. I didn’t know that spitting on someone was assault and battery (and that was the second time with more to come) I should have called the police. When he was up against two people questioning his actions he didn’t want to PLAY the game anymore. Besides mother was his bread and butter.
Anyway back to Betty, may I suggest a few other websites that would help with dealing with psychos at work and university,
power2serve.net/narcissism_in_the_pulpit is very well written although hard to see with the background and has valuable links at the end.
Also Rebecca Speer wrote a paper on narcissistic, grandiose, authority figures in “The Great Fall” of Authority (Alice in Wonderland meets
Humpty Dumpty). colorado.edu/PWR/occasions/articles/HumptyDumpty.html
Gosh it’s late, good night guys
Betty, I was wondering about the timing of her threat. Did Dr. Wilma say she was going to ruin you after you went to report her rage or during the rage? Did the threat of you exposing her make her threaten you and turn the tables to made it look like you were the crazy one. After the rage, what if you had not done or mentioned anything about the rage but apologized for being so careless. What if you bowed down to her and begged for forgiveness. ???
My theory is, because of injustices suffered in childhood or another reason, we refuse or are incapable of bowing down to any abusive person, even if it is in our best interest to do so. Would you have reacted the same way again?
By betraying you she lost a genuine, loyal, friend. She was all fake. I wonder if her family loves her regardless of her outbursts, they must know. What a miserable life I picture her having. She probably stepped on, hurt and manipulated a lot of people to get and stay where she is.
I hope to one day be able to laugh in someone’s raging face. The bible says, don’t cast your pearls to swine. Maybe Jesus was right when he said, turn the other cheek. Give him your cloak or whatever then get away. One thing I have learned is by acting in anger or fear you give the N. control.
I challenged and fought my narcissist every step of the way because he won’t leave me alone and “live and let live”. He claims no one will love me more than him, tells me to forgive all the evil things he’s done and that if I marry him he’ll do whatever I say. I don’t give in then he hates and rages. N’s P’s S’s (the devil) target and pursue certain people. The bible says, put away from among yourselves the wicked person, and, that the wicked will die.
I had a dream a man was seducing me. He looked like Fabio on the cover of the romantic books, long hair, muscles… anyway he was the devil in disguise. My N. is bald ha, ha, which tells me they do come in every disguise. Even the priest and many others are completely taken in by this bald N. The bible says, Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.
I worked at a hospital for 6 solid years in bliss. The only hiccup was when I had to work with J. on over-lapping shifts a few hours a week. She would verbally abuse the day shift coordinator during report and actually call her names. I would look in disgust but like everyone else stand there, helpless, dumbfounded. I wish to hell I would have done something about it. She also was nice to one of the male nurses one minute then yelling at him the next. He left (If only I knew then what I know now, dam it).
For 13 years, J. had been seeing a married man who said he was going to leave his wife. He could be an N. and she is either a psycho herself or one by proxy (he rubbed off on her). But seeing a married man is wrong in my book, however, I tried to be non-judgmental and friendly when I first met her. I always felt like she wasn’t buying it. I was genuine and honest, and it was hard for me to lie. Could I pretend to bow down to an abuser if only to placate the situation???????????????????
Out of 100 people I may have seen daily I had no problem with anyone for years, then one day, the unit coordinator left and J. took her place. All day, EVERY day she worked when I worked. She took her unit coordinator position to mean she was in CHARGE and told everyone that SHE was going to change things around for the better. She was condescending, verbally abusive about patients, doctors and staff.
I complained to my supervisor, M. for 6 months and she agreed with everything I said. On the floor J. would boss M. around. One day, M. said we would all have a sit down, including 2 other nurses I was friends with, but she didn’t want to tell J. before hand. The day of the meeting came and my supervisor called out that day. After that I gave up complaining. My friends said, don’t let her bother you but the tension I felt between us was like electricity. It started as soon as arrived at work. People would say she hated me and talked about me when I left.
I noticed that other people would go out of their way to be nice to her, other’s were afraid of her, and a few others were her friends, my one friend, she didn’t dare mess with, because she had way more experience than J., and they were the same age, I tried to ignore her and do my job and someone else tried to emulate her. She pursued me and a few others writing us up, although, she was making more grievous errors.
The hatred must have been a rage deep inside, something unseen. She must have known I would never bow down to her. She wrote me up, lied and I began to despise her. Just hearing her voice would make me cringe. If I was not dealing with the N. already in my life sucking me dry I would have had the energy to find a way to deal with her. I thought of hiding a tape recorder and secretly taping her. Other nurses were scheming as well.
When psycho #2, the one emulating her, told me, red faced she was off her medication and that she was a bitch (I was waiting for her head to spin all the way round and vomit). She had written me up, it was ridiculous and there was going to be a meeting. My supervisor told me over the phone instead of telling me at work and after having the most stressful week, I said, I quit. A week later I was in the emergency room with acute appendicitis. This was in 2007.
I loved my job. I would never have left or needed to leave my job if not for the N. But, I needed a break, I was having a breakdown, something had to give. It should have been the narcissist who had, at the time, put me through 5 years of pure hell (since 2002). Raising 4 kids, working, and taking care of a house, was hard enough. Dealing with the biggest a…hole N. taking no responsibility for his child, sometimes showing for visitation or not, making false allegations of abuse and neglect, harassing phone calls and messages daily. I could not take it anymore. I went from juggling all that to not being able to do the dishes.
I was reluctant to go to counseling but a liaison for police dept. insisted I go, after recounting his episode with abusive wife. I had been making slow progress recovering on my own for 2 years, and about 6 months ago, I got caught up in the web again and regressed tremendously.
When you have escaped from a burning building, DO NOT turn around and go back in.
I need to get a grip. The ineffectual way I handle psychopaths and the isolation that comes with it, plus, the police blaming me for Ns behavior and the court not believing me, I like the phrase, I just can’t wrap my brain around it. Denial, depression, as Matt wrote, donor fatigue, PTSD and a slew of other negatives has changed me and drained me. BETTY, I can so relate to your “crushed” paragraph.
Whenever I screw up in life, I turn to the bible and get a, I told you so. I had to learn a lot of things the hard way; and there is a lot to learn.
When a GOOD person goes down by an N. it affects their family and society as a whole, all of us lose. I can also here the devil cheering “I got another one that was destined for the Kingdom of Heaven”. 2 years ago, I quit nicoteine, caffeine, binge drinking and turned down my M.D’s offer for Xanax, to deal with the stress. I and everyone who knows me thinks I am strong. Since involved with N. I realize I had CRACKS in my armor and still naive. We are slowly regaining strength and wisdom.
I have not successfully talked to anyone about the N. for years. My favorite response is, “don’t let it bother you”. My mother died years ago of cancer (very traumatic), my good friend lives an hour and half away. I moved here 12 years ago better for my kids and affordable. I have a tiny support system. Everyone is busy. I have 2 brothers in America, I’m originally from UK.
Thank you everyone for sharing, I wish I had found this site years ago.
p.s. learn the lesson I have an answer for you but I feel like a blog hog.
Betty, sorry for using so much on myself, Am I a narcissist, is it me? kidding but sometimes I still feel like I am the crazy one.
Self-doubt is actually keeping me from clicking post right now. Is this normal???????
I guess it does take bravery to bare ones soul or what’s left of it.
God Bless you all 🙂
Excuse me! My cat Max posted my answer prematurely!
I meant to say, “Pulling the pin is not recommended, but it’s even better to stay away from them entirely.”
OK, this is not my day! I wrote a reply and it’s vanished into the aether. Let’s try that again…
Hi, Grace! Thank you so much for the articles! They’re great!
You said, “My theory is, because of injustices suffered in childhood or another reason, we refuse or are incapable of bowing down to any abusive person, even if it is in our best interest to do so. Would you have reacted the same way again?”
I think you have to handle them like hand grenades: pulling the pin isn’t recommended, but it’s even better to stay away from them entirely. I’d still want to rebel, but I hope that at the point I recognized anyone as sociopath/narcissist, I’d walk away and keep walking — giving them no anger or fear to react to. That’s the defense that seems to be the most effective.
I haven’t had to live with somebody like this, or had circumstances that forced me to have them in my life, as you have. I honestly don’t know how I’d cope then, but I think you’ve made a good start coming to Lovefraud because you will find people here who get it, and who have survived and are in all stages of rebuilding their lives. That’s what has helped me the most.