Never did I ever think I would be one of those women that says the bad isn’t that bad and we live a good life, so it’s all okay. All wasn’t okay. When my doctor discussed my high cortisol levels with me, three times that of the high spectrum for adults, and that it among other signs were indicating of narcissist abuse, I had to reasses. Was it really okay? No.
For years there was a pattern my ex partner exhibited,one I would always reason away. Things would be great then there would be some trigger for him and a big incident would ensue. These would range from fights with verbal abuse late into the morning, physical incidents, verbal barrage, isolation to name a few. These incidents would be followed by times of love bombing where gifts would be presented to myself or travel/vacation options presented. This pattern persisted years and regularly I was called crazy, told I needed to be more like the women in the 50’s and using lithium to regulate myself.
I started tip toeing on eggshells in my own home, but never truly felt as though it was mine. I felt like staff after a while and no longer a partner in a relationship. I felt I had no voice in things in my own life and my children. I perpetuated the image that was my ex’s ideal, and I started losing myself more and more. I felt less and less like myself and more hollow, becoming a yes woman.
I’m not saying there weren’t good times, there was quite many and a few incredible moments. At some point though, I realized the man I thought that loved me-as I him, viewed me differently. I was more of a trophy for him, to present when it pleased his image and ego. And that is sadly what I was becoming ….
I stayed and rationalized for far too long but got to the point where I no longer felt like myself with him. This had me questioning what I was doing in staying but I still would rationalize it not being that bad…the abuse wasn’t that big. I’m not infallible and did allow other men to talk me up in my comments on social media. My one regret is that, not ending it before and allowing inappropriate conversations to take place. I was insecure and not feeling loved, and I enjoyed the attention but know it should never have gotten to that degree. I should have felt ok to leave. . .
But where would I go? My tribe is in California not Washington.
What would I do for money? He held access to the bulk of funds.
How would I move, with the children AND dogs? What would I use, the trailers all were his.
How would I leave? I’d tried before and he had locked me in and took my keys…
These and many more were questions that ran through my brain at warp speed daily. I finally spoke about these to my and physical abuse (and other items) to my therapist and doctor after finally confiding in a friend. They all told me what I already knew….. It wasn’t a me problem.
Being able to finally speak about it, starting giving me the strength to speak more. And in doing so I unlocked memories repressed by the abuse as a trauma response. It’s not been easy to process it all nor to admit to myself and others that the abuse occurred, but I’m trying to shift from being a victim to a survivor.
I feel a need to talk about this because it did happen and it happened to me. I know it’s happening to others who are in the situation I was in, they think its not that bad and stay. I’m going to be talking about these struggles here more and on my socials. It’s a topic not much discussed, this level of abuse I endured–mental, emotional, and financial. Hopefully my story can help someone somehow.
Brimama 