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
” 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 think you’re absolutely right Betty. I’ve seen a few people do that, and I plan to be one of them from now on.
Elizabeth Conley:
Think the song “Walk On By” was written about an interaction with a sociopath? The chorous is good advice for dealing with a sociopath — “Walk on by. Don’t. Stop. Walk on by. Don’t. Stop.”
Work: Nursing seems to attract a lot of destructive people in it. I’ve encountered several over the years, and it got to me and contributed to me becoming burnt out. I suspect that they’d be incredibly difficult to deal with in any work environment, but the hospital is really tough because your patients in addition to you pay for their toxic behavior.
One of the worst things for those of us who really want to help others is we seem to put ourselves last on the list, or leave ourselves off the list entirely. I learned that doesn’t work: it has to be taking care of ourselves and then helping others.
There are great people in nursing and medicine, but you never know when a baddie is going to come along. They will find all the cracks in even the best teams, and unless leadership is excellent, and the team unbelievably solid, trouble will follow. I had to leave my job also after standing up to a fellow RN who had very poor impulse control and became verbally abusive at the drop of a hat. The last thing she said to me was, “I’ll be here long after you’ve gone,” and the light switched on in my brain, and I said softly, “I hope so,” and walked away. I didn’t do it out of anger; it was the right thing because the unit was stacked as you’ve described so it was a “no win” situation.
In your personal life as well as your professional life, you’ve shown so much integrity and courage that I’m amazed. Please keep finding resources and people you can talk to that help you to be nurtured and regain your strength. I cannot stress that enough!
My husband and I were absolutely wrong for each other, and I got slowly ground down to nothing. It wasn’t until just before I left him that I could see that I HAD to make myself my priority, not out of selfishness, but because it’s my job to do that. The days of running endlessly, taking care of everyone else, and hoping a little will be left over for me are over! My family is actually better off that I’ve focused on my healing because I’m a better sister and aunt than I ever could have been when I was so broken.
It’s wonderful that you find comfort in your Bible. I know that having peace in my spirit has literally made my life worth living. Nothing is as good as healing from the inside out.
Take care of yourself!
(((BIGhugs, Grace)))
Betty
ps My best mate is from Birmingham, England! We write every day!
Dear Amazing Grace,
My dear we have all bared our souls here, and for me it has been a life saver.
Being a nurse myself, I can say “I have worked with that b1atch” LOL In fact, she destroyed an entire hospital which ended up being sold in the 80s because she caused all but 1 nurse to leave and since it was a specialty hospital there were no replacesments, even licensed nurses of any kind were in short supply.
Yep, I retired a few months after my husband was killed, and have not looked back since. Turned in my license in case I decided on a whim to go back to work. I can get it back in 30 days, but since the only way I would want to is if Iwere drunk (I don’t drink much) I will have sobered up before I get it back and get back to reality. I’m poverty stricken now, but that’s okay, I get by and I don’t have to put up with the Ns and Ps at the hospital any more! Give me a good combative patient any day, I can handle that, it is the snakes in uniforms and lab coats that are dangerous.
Glad you are here, this is a great place and a good place to bare your soul!
Awww, thanks, tears, and hugs back. My first step father was from Birmingham. I moved here 12 yr. ago (the 18th time) but I moved from UK, London and Sussex in first grade. I hope you can visit your friend some day and see the sites.
OxD, I read you drive oxen, that is so cool.
I am sorry to hear about your husband, yikes, that’s heavy.
I used to love animals much better than people. People were scary.
My mother convinced me people were intelligent, challenging…
I adored my grandmother and did very well in geriatrics.
Sucks being broke. I’m getting lottery ticket now
and looking for a job as soon as I go to court.
I loved helping and taking care of people and getting paid for it. I did volunteer work, once a week, on my day off. When I focused on other peoples problems mine never seemed that bad, until, N. I took care of myself too but I am not a needy person and I am low maintenance. The only time I really needed help is post destruction from N. To seek help was uncharted territory and friends did not want to get involved with the psycho, I was on my own, until recently. Thank God and all of you.
I feel relief. Yesterday was the best day I had in a long time.
I want to expose the truth, and then out-cast them from positions and people they do harm; I don’t want them to get away with their behavior. It is like a spiritual battle. My N. trapped me by leading me to believe he is a religious man, he put God first, read the bible with me, quoted scripture, etc. How could anyone this religious be a demon. HELLO, rude awakening, I was blind but now I see. They are everywhere! even in church. I know, HOW naive could I be.
When I first laid eyes on him, I thought, what an arrogant, spoiled brat, YUK! my friend said, I should go out with him because he seemed like fun. I grimaced and said, no way. A group of us hung out that night, he had ‘presence’ and showed a brazen interest in me. (first red flag)
The next day he called because my friend gave him my phone number (I am no longer friends with her). She was staying at my house and insisted I go. He was kind of child like in a way that disarmed me. He was in some kind of spiritual battle between christianity and catholicism, I think. Probably trying to figure out which one would gain him more N. supply.
I didn’t pay too much attention to him in the beginning. I don’t know what, how it hit me. I was warned, the writing was on the wall.
Find comedy, laughter heals, Jim Carrey movies, try wimp.com, and health issues, try finding out how old you really are at realage.com
when I first did it, I was 10 years older than my actual age, now I am only one year older.
PEACE AND LOVE
Dear Amazing Grace,
Even in the time of Christ, the “religious” community harbored the Pharisees who were a sect of the Jews who tried to APPEAR very pious yet they were ruthless users of others. Jesus pointed this out to them, and it was they who ultimately got him crucified because they knew that he “had their number” so to speak. Becaue of the nature of religion and forgiveness, many Ps hide behind religon to cover their evil hearts and deeds. Not uncommon at all.
My own egg donor pounded into my head from very early that God was a mean old man just waiting to get me for wrong thinking or deeds. She also insisted the “forgiveness” meant “pretending it didn’t happen” and suspending all distrust. NOT SO! There are even scriptures to back up the fact that TRUST is not the same as FORGIVENESS. I wrote an article on here “Forgiving yourself for being human” and one on forgiving them. Look them up iin the archives, I can’t remember which month but in the last 6 I think.
To me getting the BITTERNESS against them out of my heart is “forgiveness” and that does NOT mean I will trust them again, but just that I quit being bitter, for ME, not them.
Forgiving myself was difficult because I never learned how to do that, my egg donor never forgave me, now matter how long a time past, she would still throw up something in my face I did when I was 15 for goodness sake. I am 62! So that’s a lot of time to hold bitterness. But I held bitterness against myself because I didn’t know how to forgive ME. That’s another thing I’ve had to learn. Making mistakes is not the end of the world. Even doing something you know is wrong isnot the end of the world. You repent, make amends, accept the consequences if any, and get back on your feet and move on.
Actually, my spiritual life is deeper and more meaningful now than ever before so that is a wonderful side effect of all this. I have let go of my egg donor’s hateful, ragefilled god and found a new and LOVING HEAVENLY FATHER. Big difference in how I feel now.
Amen, Right on. I guess I tried to Save the N. from his own evil knowing all the evil he was covering up for. But, like you wisely pointed out Jesus was crucified for doing that. Everything I told him he was doing, he would tell himself and others convincingly, I was doing. He turned the tables on me. If I complained about having to take the burden of responsibility for our daughter he would say, NOT MY PROBLEM. urrrhhhh
I find in Proverbs many scripture detailing him exactly and the best is 6:16. He is in a living hell, paranoid, anxious, the lies he tells, and the false image he has to portray is exhausting. He is in a battle, and uses me to project, blame, all his sickness on. If it not for our daughter, I would have nothing to do with him and that’s where things stand for me, protecting her. He has to go through her to get to me.
It is a no win situation. He has ruined my life, and, like a pebble in a pond, affected my children and he is still the same sick person.
I wanted to get a restraining order when I was pregnant but he blocked his car behind mine in my driveway. I also, tried to work things out for the child’s sake. Back and forth. I went in front of a judge in 2003, sleep deprived, overwhelmed, unprepared, probably looking like a basket case next to his calm, cool, air of piety, blah. what a joke. Looking back to that time I was trying to deal with him like a normal person. I used to go around saying, is he 1) a lazy, shrewd bastard, 2) sick, or 3) evil? I think all three. It wasn’t until somehow, I ended up on Dr. Sam Vaknin’s website about Narcissistic Personality Disorder I knew. I didn’t find much other helpful stuff at the time but at least it gave me compassion and made me realize why I felt like I was hitting my head against a brick wall. And when I would shed light on the truth, he was completely deaf to my voice and jump down my throat.
Almost a decade of my life wasted with this complete and utter incompetent fool. Life is so precious and too short. He has told me over and over I have to forgive him but after a few too many times you realize he is just using this like a get out of jail free card. He has not repented or sincerely asked for real forgiveness which would mean, he would have to acknowledge his false self. No false self, no life. And he repeats the same mistakes. Maybe he is trying to resolve conflict from his childhood by repeating/inflicting the pain over and over and he finds fault in everything, never admitting any in himself.
I have learned a lesson. And from what I can tell the “hook” the N. dangles starts with “temptation” and there is a inherent weakness to be tempted even though the “Holy Spirit” or our “gut” is telling us NO warning warning red flag. We are all sinners and even the best of us are tempted.
This is the hard part I have been trying to define for years, was I raped? I was ruined by an act of betrayal and subsequent abuse. When a “ROMAN CATHOLIC” tempts his brother/sister into sin, like a priest molesting a child, and DOES NOT repent or take responsibility for their actions, even tries to destroy you, is the ultimate act of betrayal. Someone you trusted, because they told you, and acted like they believed in God, ends up acting like the victim. Carrying his cross makes me physically, emotionally and mentally sick, no wonder he doesn’t want it.
There is no substitute for justice. I got a final restraining order in January. He is an abuser and the judge saw it, yey. But he cried about how much he loves his daughter and what a wonderful father he is and he has to have contact with her everyday. I protested, unprepared, and got yelled at by the judge who then ordered that I have to make our daughter call him everyday between 6p.m-6:30p.m. Now I have to go back to have it changed. It is making my life miserable to have to think of him and make her call and If I forget he calls the police.
His life is a lie, therefore, not of God for Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. My final act was to say, I have to protect myself and family. It is so screwed up to have to protect your child from their own father.
OXD you have come along way. Yesterday instead of looking at all things I haven’t completed. I looked at all the things I have accomplished. It can be enlightening and impressive to see how far we have come considering all the obstacles in life. Hugs.
LOVE AND PEACE
Betty,
I highly recommend (insist) if you haven’t already go to:
http//thenarcissistinyourlife.com/audio/harper_dr_martinez_lewi_narcissist.mp3
you will find Dr. Wilma in this incredibly enlightening interview.
I have been doing yoga since Nov. at a local gym and highly suggest.
It is a psychological exercise that brings back balance to ones inner core. It is “physical therapy” that helps one stay calm and live in the moment. Esp. good for dealing with Ns.
A motivational speaker once said, we need at least 3 hugs a day to keep from getting weird.
Big Hug 🙂 Thanks,
Dear Amazing Grace,
Yes, I tend to look at the glass as “half empty” rather than half FULL. I can lookk around and see all I have accomplished, but tend to be discouraged by the things still to do….the positive outlook is much more reassuring and I have to MAKE MYSELF TAKE IT. It is helping though.
Dear Grace,
I’ve wanted to write to you for the last few days, but we’ve had a family crisis as our auntie has been sent home from the hospital to die. I know it’s time, but we’re going to miss her so much!
I’ve read your posts and wanted to say or do something that would offer you support, and also let you know how very much I respect your courage, and admire the tenacious way you’ve consistently worked for a healthy life for you and your kids, especially in face of so much adversity.
So I’ve thought of you several times a day, and done tonglin meditation, which is where you breath in the suffering of another person, and breathe out loving-kindness, compassion, and healing. For Buddhists, Tonglin is a concrete way of offering healing to others while healing oneself at the same time. It speaks to our connection as human beings; it’s a way to honor someone.
I realize you are a devout Christian, and hope this won’t be offensive to you in any way. I was raised an Episcopalian, and I’m very comfortable with the church, but it seems my path also continued in a direction that I would never have predicted. It’s right for me, and I have peace.
Though I’ve never gone though anything even close to what you’re experiencing, I do know that awful exhaustion that people like this induce, when they just keep blitzing you with one thing after another…and you still have the kids to care for, work, making everything work, all the housework and practical tasks, the judge and legal obligations to satisfy….and what about you?
I’m so glad you’re posting and reading here! I know this place has so much to offer! I can read the posts here for a few minutes, and it helps my healing, a little bit every day.
Thank you so much for the sites you’ve recommended! Every one of them is a corker! They’re really helping me, and I appreciate it so much! I can’t help but notice that even with everything you have on your plate, you’ve still taken the time to help a stranger find her way, and that speaks volumes about the quality of person you are. Don’t loose site of that, and don’t ever doubt the value of your own unique spirit.
(((BIG ol’ hugs!)))
Bye for now,
Betty