Recently, I ended up in the hospital twice over a short period of time. (Which accounts for why I have not posted here in awhile.) The first stay was to have surgery to remove my gallbladder. The second was a week later when they had to perform an additional procedure to remove the stones that were left behind.
The man in my life was there. He supported me. Held my hand when I was in pain, rubbed my back. He drove me to hospital. He spoke with the doctors. Involved himself in my health care when I was too sick to care to ask the questions I needed to ask. He ensured I was well cared for, ensured I had what I needed to recover. He came to visit me in hospital. Sometimes I’d awaken and find him sitting by my bed, reading the newspaper, holding my hand. He brought me what I needed and when it was time to come home, he picked me up and tucked me into bed at home. He cared.
What a different reality than the surreal world of being with the sociopath. When with the sociopath, I had to have knee surgery at one point in our relationship. He promised to drive me to the hospital, and never appeared. I took a cab. He promised to pick me up and bring me home from hospital and I had to call a girlfriend to come and get me as they wouldn’t let me take a cab by myself (which I was insistent I could do). Whenever I was sick, he’d promise to bring me ginger ale and I’d go thirsty. He’d promise to take care of me, and find 1,001 excuses for why he couldn’t turn up. And I let him off the hook every single time.
The reality was, his words were empty promises that never translated into healing action. And in my blind faith, my misplaced love, I’d deceive myself into believing his inaction was not his fault. I’d make the unacceptable acceptable by telling myself, ”˜it’s okay. He’s got lots on his mind. He’s busy. I shouldn’t feel hurt by his inattention. He loves me.’
To quote Sir Walter Scott, ”˜Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.’
In that relationship I desperately wanted to believe what he was expressing was love. I desperately wanted to believe he was my shortcut to happiness and so I convinced myself his inaction was not important. His assertions of undying love were what counted most. Truth is, lost on the road to hell, I was blinded from the truth of what he was doing and what was happening to me because I was fixated on believing he was my Knight in Shining Armor and couldn’t see he was truly the Prince of Darkness.
In healing from that debacle I know, promises mean nothing unless followed up with action. All the empty promises in the world cannot make dreams come true. Empty promises cannot turn up in times of need, they cannot rub an aching back or hold a trembling hand. Empty promises cannot be filled with love.
Once upon a time, I gave my heart to a man who was untrue. He is gone. In healing, I have opened my arms wide to the joy of loving a man who turns up when he says he will and is there in times of need. I am blessed.
Bev-
You are insightful. It is so hard, but I think in order to get past these feelings, or through, them WE have to take practical steps.
1. Being here is huge, we admitted something and we are dealing with it
2. Take care of ourselves- don’t treat ourselves like crap. If you wouldn’t do that to someone else, don’t (fill-in the blank) to yourself.
3. Hope and plan for future.
Depressed and lonely is a stage, this too shall pass. Maybe go buy yourself some flowers or do something kind for someone else anonymously.
Be here for others : ) and you will see how much better it makes you.
Sad for me, my sociopath husband would have done all those sweet things. He DID all those sweet things. He held my hand, he gave me romantic cards, he brought me ice chips, he rubbed my feet.
But it was all an elaborate deception.
If he’d been an obvious jerk this would have been easier. But he wasn’t. I thought he adored me. I keep thinking this is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up.
Over the past week he has told me things I never thought he’d admit to. Of course he didn’t confess out of the desire to do the right thing, but because I found out he has a new girlfriend who–after less than a month–he is desperate to move in with and marry, and he’s afraid that if he keeps lying to me I will fuck things up for him. Basically I told him he stole 18 years of my life and I deserve to know the truth, dammit, and if he does not come clean I will expose him to his new “victim” and he knows I bloody well mean it.
(He finally dumped K–the woman he’d had a four-year affair with and secretly planned to abandon me for. What with all their sneaking around, lying and scheming, and me figuring everything out, I think it finally got too complicated for him. Plus she was getting frustrated and pissed at him, and a woman frustrated and pissed at him is not so much fun for him and if a woman’s not going to be so much fun for him then he might as well get his supply elsewhere, thank you very much.)
He told me he’s never been faithful. Not to me or anyone else. He said that ever since he was old enough to know what sex was, he couldn’t wait to get out of his parents’ house so he could screw whoever he wanted.
(And, unfortunately, being extremely hunky and charming, it’s never been much of a problem for him to pretty much screw whoever he wanted.)
He said there was never a period of fidelity in our marriage. He said there were so many other women he couldn’t even remember their names. I said I’m sure you can remember some of them, so why don’t you start with those. I asked who was the first, he said a dishwasher at the hospital we both worked at; I was pregnant at the time. Next was a housekeeper, then a respiratory therapist. He said this one four times, that one twice (I figure any number he admits to can safely be multiplied by ten). In his lockable office, at a friend’s house, in a patient room.
Over and over he kept groaning: “There’ve been so many I can’t remember their names.” There were two Carla’s and two Karen’s, a woman on ski patrol and a tall, attractive woman who worked with him at a local lumber yard. There was so-and so from the fire department, and Valerie and Glinda and Debra and Linda, an occupational therapist in one town and an administrator in another and they’d do it at her house while her husband was home and she’d tell him they had work to do in her office.
There were two other housekeepers, one a twenty-year-old who, years before, had been a middle-school classmate of my older daughter, a couple of women he met skiing, they had condos and he’d tell me he had to stay late for a staff meeting, there were so many, so many.
He said he couldn’t remember the length of one of his long affairs because there were so many others overlapping and in-between.
He said that during one job he held for four years as an area manager, he led women at the various facilities he worked at to believe he was single. Every day he’d leave his wedding ring in his car.
He admitted he was going to leave me and our daughter for K, that K has been in our house many times, sometimes overnight, sometimes just for the day, and since he moved out he has been with her as well as two of her former co-workers. It is endless and on and on, and as much as I already knew, still, so much that he told me was shocking.
I asked him many times a week on average did he have sex with a woman other than me. I said if he met with a woman and they had sex three times, count that as once.
He said it was hard to put a figure on it, but that he would guess that, on average, he’d have sex with other women anywhere from 1 – 2 times a week to 5 – 6 times a week.
I asked him if he ever thought he was sick, he said no, then I asked if he ever thought he was bad, he said no to that too.
He said he thought about leaving me for “so many other women.” I asked why did he move in with me in the first place. If he knew he’d never be faithful, why not stay with the one he was with? He said he thought I could provide a better life for him and his son. I said, “So you were using me,” and he said, “I guess you could say that.”
I washed his socks and ironed his shirts, I fixed his meals and packed his fucking lunch. I gave him love and kept him warm at night. I took care of the bills and making sure the taxes were done. I did all that, plus I was trustworthy and trusting, which is why he stayed as long as he did.
He told me whenever I would question him about other women through the years (me never suspecting anything more than flirtation) I was almost always right, and that would scare him because he didn’t want to lose me.
I said “until you met K.”
He said, “Yes.”
And now, two months posting dumping, he’s forgotten all about her. He’s found someone else and he is not spending one minute of his time thinking of how bad K is feeling.
And now, of all ironies, Steve Winwood’s song, Back in the High Life Again, is playing on my radio. A while ago I was reading some of the comments on AlohaTraveler’s snapshot thread where women were mentioning songs that are painful for them to listen to now because they are songs that once were “their” songs, songs from a time when their socio ex made them feel so loved and cherished.
Years ago, when I first got involved with J, I put Back in the High Life Again on my answering machine so that he’d hear it when he’d call and I wasn’t home.
Now I realize he never loved me at all. Now that he fancies himself in love with the true “love of his life,” I can’t say it doesn’t hurt me. I have even asked him (kicking self here): “Did you ever really love me?” and in that sweet gentle voice he said yes, but I’m finally getting it that he is not, never was, and never will be capable of real love at all.
It’s just another high for him. Another drug rush, a fix that will invariably wear off. Whether two hours, two days, two months, or longer, it will wear off and then, for him, it is devalue and discard time again.
He’s got a poor, unsuspecting young woman who no doubt thinks he is perfect. She’s probably wondering how on earth she ever got so lucky to snag such a wonderful man.
He tells me he believes with all his heart that he can be faithful to her forever.
Now there’s a laugh, really. It’s so ridiculous to think that such a man is even remotely capable of fidelity to anyone. He is as believable as a person who’s just gorged themselves on a pound of See’s chocolate saying they’re never touching candy again.
I talked to him a while ago. We’re discussing our divorce. I reminded him how years ago he would tell our children that he and I should always come first to each other because the day would come that they would leave home and he and I would be alone together.
Talk about empty promises.
Bev.
I do understand your despair. One thing you should know for sure is that you are not alone. Check in with yourself and make sure some of the things in your head are not things your BadMan put there.
When I met my Bad Man, I was ripe for the picking. Low self esteem and uncertainty about who I was in the world… so I tried to make a new world for myself by moving to Maui and leaving my old life behind.
Now, I work with people and do different kinds of work than I used to. I surround myself with the true friends that have rallied around and helped me out of the dark hole I fell into. One thing that has made a big difference for me since I left Maui was that I have had to live with different friends and my friends have been like a little family for me. Without them and the few laughs we share everyday, I don’t know how I would keep on keepin’ on. I have been struggling financially and with career issues as well. My friends that I have known forever have seen me laugh hysterically and/or sob my heart out when one more bad thing happens. I don’t ask the Universe anymore, “WHAT ELSE BAD CAN HAPPEN?!” (I am afraid I might get an answer.)
Look for a women’s group in your area. These can be wonderful outlets for people to connect and often are led by 1 or 2 therapists or interns. I need to find one myself but I am waiting for a few things to get sorted out in my schedule.
LoveFraud is a critical piece of the puzzle as well. You have to have a place where you can be real about what happened. It can be embarassing and frustrating to try to explain to people outside this forum. They don’t get it and even when they do, they still don’t. Sociopath’s are something we don’t really want anyone to have to understand because if they truly do, then that means they are one of us…. and who wants to wish that torture on anyone? But, it is critical to feel understood around this issue.. it is critical for us and being understood helps us understand for ourselves as well, doesn’t it?
And lastly, what if it was true what your friends say? (that you are deserving of something better) Maybe you feel the world is not confirming that for you.. by the way.. I TOTALLY GET THIS… what if you decided that for 1 hour, you would act as if it was true? Then for one day.. act as if it it true, even if you don’t think you deserve it and then one week? and so on.
Try it out for an hour today? Go out into the world, hold you head up high and act as if you deserve the very best in life. I wonder wha would happen if you did that.
With warmest Aloha,
E.R.
Gillian,
I understand your need to know what your husband did and with who but I wonder if he is taking pleasure in recounting it all for you. Which he is pretending to cover by saying… oh I just can’t remember them all… see how he is ratcheting up the pain.
I am not sure what I would do in your situation but instinct tells me that I would cut him off from his story telling. He is dispicable. I hate him for you! What a horse’s ASS!
Your story is like a movie I saw not too long ago: The Man with Three Wives.
Anyway, I hope in your divorce, you get EVERYTHING! YOU SHOULD!!!
Can you send your comments that you just posted to that young woman? I wonder.
Then again, sometimes it might be best for us to just help ourselves and be done with it.
Thank you everyone for sharing your stories, your strength, your hope — and your sorrow.
Beverly, I too have felt, ‘what’s the point’. ‘why bother’, I can’t keep doing it…..
Truth is — until I was willing to turn up for me, in all my beauty, warts and all, I was always kidding myself into believing someone else held the answers for me. someone else would make me all better.
I had to turn up for me. I had to face myself in that mirror of broken dreams and acknowledge that I was one wounded, abused and dispirited woman — and love myself for all I’m worth.
At first, I didn’t feel I was worth much. I felt that I was unworthy — but I kept reminding myself it was up to me to turn up for me and love me, exactly the way I am.
It’s almost five years since the sociopath was arrested and I was given the gift of my life and I can truly state, without equivocation — I love me, exactly the way I am.
When those tapes play in my head that want me to believe the lie that I am unworthy, I repeat to myself the truth about myself — I am a fearless woman. Being fearless is what I want more of. Being fearless means I can step forward even when my fear would hold me mired in dismay, in distress, in self-condemnation.
Beverly — not believing you are a great woman of worth is a lie planted within you long ago. It is up to you to unroot the lie and plant the truth in the fertile soils of your being — because the truth is — you are a woman of worth.
If the voices within would have you deny that truth, face them in the mirror and tell them firmly — “You have no hold on me. I am free to believe what I will. And my will would have me believe the truth of who I am. I am a woman of worth. A woman of substance. A woman who is willing to fight for herself, to stand up for her right to be all she is meant to be.”
Be bold. Be brave. Be your most outrageous self and kick those lies out. Don’t give them room to grow any further. Take back your power without their permission. Claim your right to be who you truly are. Claim your right to be free.
In love and prayer,
ML
Gillian,
When I first got my life back I gave myself a mantra to stop my endless trying to figure out grains of truth from amidst all his lies. Trying to make sense of his nonsense was keeping me sick. Trying to discern the why behind what he had done was keeping embroiled in his crazy-making — and I deserved so much more than that.
My mantra was: He is the lie.
From hello to good-bye. I love you to I hate you. You’re beautiful to you’re ugly. It was all a lie. There was no sense in trying to fing a grain of truth amidst all those lies — he wasn’t worth my precious breath.
I was.
And so, I let go of repeating all he’d done and all he’d said and all he’d promised and focused on what I could do. What I was saying. What I was doing to make a difference in my life today. I made promises to myself — and I kept them for me because I’m worth keeping my commitments with.
He will never give you truth you need — he will only give you what he believes will get him what he wants, whenever he wants it for whatever reason he wants it. It’s who he is.
The truth can only come from within you. Claim your right to live free of his lies. Let go of his untruths and grasp your own truth. Find out who you are beneath the hurts and pains and sorrow of his abuse.
Find that awesomely beautiful and amazing woman you are meant to be and love her for all she’s worth. You deserve it!
ML
And rent these couple movies too! They make you feel like you can be happy and strong on your own! And that there is more life out there to be discovered and more joy somehow always comes around:
Under the Tuscan Sun
Bread and Tulips
Shirley Valentine
I go through so many of the same feelings too. Everyone says I deserve so much, am beautiful, intelligent, successful, kind and loving etc… but I wonder why I end up in such ugly and selfish relationships – my S took up 2 years of my time and I feel some days, so broken and unworthy of something good. I know better deep inside but the surface feelings are hard to control. I keep waiting for that day to come when I can turn the corner and see something beautiful happening to me. I just keep having hope that it will.
Looking back at the beginning of time with the ex (the start always gives the clues). I remember thinking that we had something in common, wounded souls of sorts. His terrible abuse by both parents and mine by my parents. So he and I could be there for each other like our parents had never been and I resigned myself to give of my best and be there for him, like his mother had never been. My ex N kept saying to me ‘I dont want to lose you’ and I kept saying that he wouldnt lose me and that I would stick by him through thick and thin. I guess that made me very much a juicy target.
I was also very aware that he was way lower than me in status and that I could do alot better. But this emotional tradeoff seemed so important to me, that his lack of possessions didnt matter. Now I look at it, I hit the rock bottom in this relationships – the worst an most damaging one of all to add to my history. Mind you I had not heard of narcissim until I received the full quota of behaviour from him. I guess I have learned first hand at how low I could be conned into going and I am still stunned by the experience. I am trying to move on, but like the weather I seem to oscillate between different moods.
Little did I realise that I was trying to fill my emptiness to trap him in a way by intimating that if I gave of my best and filled his void, he wouldnt leave me like my father had. Little did I realise that my familiarity to him signalled the fact that he was just like my father, emotionally unavailable and ambient abuse to add to the mix. i am annoyed with myself about that. I was well aware when I met him that women like me are prone to meeting men like their fathers and when he had the same key interest as my father had, I kept asking myself the same question and checking ‘Is this my father in disguise’? He may not have looked like my father, so i dismissed the thought, content in the thought that I had not made that mistake. Imagine my annoyance to realise that the same traits as my father had been hiding in my ex N personality. its like taking another route in your car to avoid any accident and then being involved in one somewhere else – if that makes sense.
I am quite choosy when it comes to men and I am no fool, but it doesnt matter what format they come in and or how nice they look at first, I always seem to end up with one who is no good for me.
I want to thank the people here for their support. I do nice things for myself, but somehow it doesnt fill the empty hole which opens up now and again and which was opened up today by my daughter, who is my only closest living relative (whom I have worked like a slave to provide for and give a good life to) is disrespectful and abusive to me. It just underpins my feeling like a doormat. I do a very responsible job at work and my female boss never values me or gives praise (or the other staff), but she is bullying me at the moment and I have had bosses like this before. I just feel sometimes that I repeatedly find myself replaying my early stuff in different formats. Its like constantly going round and round the same cycle and Ive had lots of therapy and enough books to fill a library. Maybe I have tried too hard to try and fix myself. I just have alot of things eating away at me at the moment.
I can tell by the way that people on this site talk about themselves, that there are very many good hearted people on this site. I would also hazard a guess that many, like myself are working in caring professions. I always find though, that the moment I try to do something to do something for myself, or stick up for myself, I meet with resistance.
Beverly:
Thank you for responding to share with me that you feel the same way. It’s really difficult, sometimes. Not sure it’s low self-esteem; in all areas except love I have pretty high self-esteem: brains, the ability to bounce back (oh, my, do I bet we ALL here have that quality in spades!), strong emotions, unbelievably loyal and loving to those I love…all of my life I was told how exceptional I am as a person and because of my intellect. Believed all of those people and still do — mostly, I believe in myself.
But…family. That stuff, the FOO stuff, the LOVE stuff. I’m pretty weak there, in the sense that my adoptive family did not show any love towards me and I married one of them, I think. But which one? The cold, distant mother or the gregarious, self-centered father or the violent, abusive, adoptive N brother?
God, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? It WAS awful, growing up there, in lots of ways. And so I never feel quite good enough to be loved, probably, except by my kids and myself.
Beyond that, whatever sense of being loved I had was ruined by the N. It’s not irreparable. It will mend, in time.
Here’s the biggest thing that will help us, I think, and you raised it, clever lady:
“…there are many good-hearted people on this site.”
That may be our biggest common denominator. We’re likely all Highly Sensitive People or HSPs, as they’re called. We’re very emotional, highly intuitive, the types who reach out to others unasked, believe in helping others and all the ethical and moral things we were taught as children – we try to live by.
This might be what draws N’s to us. Those are the qualities they do not have, do not fathom, cannot create in themselves and we have them in abundance….it makes us perfect for their game. Not only do they try to have those qualities rub off on them, but then they try to destroy them in us, for their fun.
The ultimate SUPPLY.
But I can’t kill those qualities in me, the host. I can’t. I’ve even tried – lived a pretty monastic life, no dating, just work and home and taking care of my kids and parents for several years, from 2001 to 2006, in fact. I gained weight, avoided eye contact, did not socialize with anyone or go out to bars.
I felt desperately sad, but strong. And those good qualities were slightly diminished, quieted…but they never went away. They came back stronger, just as they are coming back right now, stronger than ever before, and as tough as life is with sick parents and a sick child, the arrival and departure of the N and his insanity — I’m pretty happy, overall.
Just want someone good to be happy WITH.
I didn’t want to lose me and he gave me no choice: me or him, only one of us was going to be left standing for as long as I stayed in love with him and anywhere near him.
The whole “choosy when it comes to men…” that’s me, too. Don’t understand it. Have always been that way – and no matter how choosy I get, seems that an N is always who I get.
I’m in therapy, finally, trying to figure out how to kill that one little part of me that draws THAT TYPE OF MAN. Because, overall, know I’m a pretty cool, different, engaging woman, but I don’t want to engage with an N, ever again.