TORNADOES
With so much quiet time these past few months, I've been able to look back on many things, without interruption. I've found myself frustrated for struggling and hurting over leaving a malignant abusive narcissist. Angry again and again for the damage done against my self and my life. I replay the scenarios and conversations in my mind, seeing a bit clearer the deceptions, manipulations, bullying. The malice.
It's been painful. It's been helpful. It seems never-ending. It's eerie, the actual amount of time I've had to and for myself. Being able to think and feel, being aware of those thoughts and feelings. Sitting with them, starting to address them. Since leaving him, the space in and around me has been a vaccum. Time has become infinite, the silence absolute.
It's a stark contrast to what my life had been while he was in it. My abuser had occupied my time, space, and thoughts, almost completely. It took me seeing a therapist to get help with the trauma before I was able to see the truth of this. The utmost control and domination, my therapist diagramed how enmeshed and engulfed my life had become by him. Where healthy-functioning couples had varying degrees of overlap in their lives, my life and my narcissist abuser's lives were almost completely one life.
I hadn't seen it or realized it or agreed to have this happen at the time, but it resonated with me that this was the truth. One pattern in particular affirmed it for me. If I was not with him, he would be on the phone with me, at all times. He was with me in some way, day and night.
He would call to wake me up in the morning. He would stay on the phone while I prepared and dressed for work. He was on the phone during my commute in. He would try to stay on the phone (via bluetooth) for as long as possible while I was at work. If I had meetings, he'd want to know what time they were done, and he'd call me back at that exact time. He remained on the phone again, for as long as possible.
He expected me to call him during any breaks I took, and during lunch. As soon as I was leaving the building for the day, he'd call again, and insist on staying on the phone with me for the commute home. He'd be on the phone with me (via bluetooth) while I took care of my household, errands, and schedules. He'd stay on the phone the rest of the evening til I got into bed. He insisted we stay on the phone while in bed, to fall asleep together. He'd fall asleep before me often, and I'd sometimes disconnect after I was certain he was fully asleep. He'd call back within minutes, asking why I'd hung up.
HOW IT BEGAN
In the beginning of our relationship, I was smitten by this. It was something I'd never done. He introduced it right away. He would call and text often, saying he just really enjoyed my conversation and company. After some time on the phone, chatting and laughing, he'd express what seemed to be sweet and genuine reluctance to end our calls. There was no pressure or insistence, no feelings that something was wrong. I thought this was just his way, and it felt pretty nice.
In the beginning of our relationship, I was smitten by this. It was something I'd never done. He introduced it right away. He would call and text often, saying he just really enjoyed my conversation and company. After some time on the phone, chatting and laughing, he'd express what seemed to be sweet and genuine reluctance to end our calls. There was no pressure or insistence, no feelings that something was wrong. I thought this was just his way, and it felt pretty nice.
I thought this showed how much he wanted me, and how much he wanted to be with me. It seemed his desire for me was intense, and that he couldn't get enough of me. It felt nice to be wanted that way. If we weren't able to be together physically, we were together by phone. He was able to go to bed with me, wake up with me, share my day with me, all by phone. It seemed romantic and endearing.
This became our "thing", a sweet and intimate routine that we'd created. It was our way for some time. I had no reason to think it was anything other than what he was presenting. I had no reason to question it.
HOW IT CHANGED
I did not know that this wasn't love. That it wasn't about him genuinely wanting me. I did not know that this wasn't healthy, and that it was actually a huge warning sign. I didn't learn - until very recently- what it actually was: that I was purposely being groomed and conditioned for severe control later on in the relationship.
I did not know that this wasn't love. That it wasn't about him genuinely wanting me. I did not know that this wasn't healthy, and that it was actually a huge warning sign. I didn't learn - until very recently- what it actually was: that I was purposely being groomed and conditioned for severe control later on in the relationship.
The shifts were mere shadows, things you could barely see.
He'd remind me to charge my phone before going to bed. He didn't want me out the next day ending up out of touch and stranded because my battery had died. Being an officer, he'd seen too many incidents arise from seemingly routine things. He wanted to be sure I was safe and accessible, if he needed to get to me quickly for whatever reason.
He began to check with me to make sure I had my bluetooth with me before I left the house for the day. He would remind me to charge it the night before. He said he knew I didn't like holding the phone to my ear while I was out, which was true. Having the Bluetooth on freed up my hands. I could talk with him, while taking care of the things I needed to get done during the day. He didn't want to impede on my responsibilities.
He knew I was able to get around the city, to meet with various work clients. It was my livelihood and I'd done it for years. Now that he was in my life, he just wanted to make sure I was safe, along with just wanting to be a part of my life in whatever way he could be. He offered to drop me off and pick me up to meet with clients during the day, as well as take me around on errands and bring me home after work.
If it happened that he wasn't picking me up after work for some reason, he'd remind me to make sure I turned my ringer on right after I got off so I'd hear when he was calling. Anytime I was away from him, he would ask me to call and let him know when I'd arrived. When I got home, just to make sure I'd got into the house with no issue. When I met up with friends, just to make sure I'd made it and everything was going ok with them. If I was out on my own, just to make sure I was safe and didn't need anything.
When I did call, I'd let him know I was ok. We would chat, and it would often transition into him staying on the phone while I was doing whatever it was I doing. Nights and weekends, I was doing a delicate balance of being there for my children and giving him the one on one time he was craving with me.
In some ways, this was sweet. It seemed he was showing concern for me, and wanted to protect me. Again, his being an officer, he had this way of making me feel cared for and safe. I did feel safe. Not only did I have feelings for him, but I knew he would watch out for me, take care of me, and he was in the ultimate position to do so. With his care and desire to see me safe, came a bit more insistence that I be accessible to him so he could make sure that I was alright. If I forgot my bluetooth, if my phone died, or I missed a call, he would ask me about it, talk with me about. He wanted to make sure there was no other reason these things had happened, and that I was ok.
At this point, I was completely hooked into him. His strength, appeal, charm, kindness - I knew I wanted to be with this man long term. Still, there was a slight stirring of something beneath our surface. What had started off as something new and different and exciting between us was now leaving a slight aftertaste.
There was an inkling of a feeling that I couldn't quite name.
WHAT IT TURNED INTO
It became a very vivid and inescapable nightmare for me.
He was now demanding that we maintain this ritual. We'd been together 4 to 5 months. Because we'd spent almost all of our time together, either in person or on the phone, there was this feeling of deep connection and comfort. I still had intense feelings and desire for him, and he professed the same for me. But he was now openly expressing his anger whenever he was away from me or couldn't get in touch with me, and his anger was fierce.
I didn't know how to manage the change in him. We'd always had an easy rapport, made plans and spent time together without issue. Now, he was laying down strict expectations, and erupting in irritation and anger over routine things. He seemed less interested in the sweet things, and more focused on knowing where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. Answering his calls and texts, letting him stay on the phone with me whenever we were apart, giving him my schedule for the day was endlessly discussed. It seemed it was becoming the only thing we discussed.
I took all of this in with stunned silence. It was such a vast difference from the loving, charming man I'd met months ago. His anger over cell phones dying and not answering calls while at work left my mind thick with struggling to figure it out. Logical explanations of spending time with family or friends, being in meetings, were not accepted. It fueled his rage, increased his suspicions and accusations. I'd never experienced this before, had never heard of anything like it. And the only thing I could think to do was to try to calm and reassure him. Even with his change, I loved him deeply. Maybe I needed to do a bit more to help him be at ease.
I wanted him to be ok, and for us to go back to how we had been. But I was unsure of what had happened to us, or why it had happened. And I was afraid, of his anger, and of the relationship ending because of something I'd done wrong. I went along with his demands
Most of my routines were rearranged or completely eliminated to accommodate. Early morning prayer and devotions. He would listen to every conversation I had throughout the day, commenting and questioning me on anything he felt was suspect . He would hear everything my family and I talked about. He stayed on the phone while I used the bathroom, while I showered.When I went out with friends, or had a day alone, he was on the phone. I had lost all independence and ability to interact with anyone without his involvement and surveillance.
He was always there.
There were short periods of calm between the suspicions and rages. I felt it was safest then to try to talk with him about easing the way he was handling things. He would immediately get angry. He blamed me for messing up something we once thought was so special. We had done things this way from the very beginning, now I was the one trying to change it all. He said I was so difficult. Because I no longer wanted to stay on the phone with him day and night, he took it to mean that I must be cheating, leading another life, with countless other men. A new rage and punishment would begin over that.
I didn't know how to manage the change in him. We'd always had an easy rapport, made plans and spent time together without issue. Now, he was laying down strict expectations, and erupting in irritation and anger over routine things. He seemed less interested in the sweet things, and more focused on knowing where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with. Answering his calls and texts, letting him stay on the phone with me whenever we were apart, giving him my schedule for the day was endlessly discussed. It seemed it was becoming the only thing we discussed.
I took all of this in with stunned silence. It was such a vast difference from the loving, charming man I'd met months ago. His anger over cell phones dying and not answering calls while at work left my mind thick with struggling to figure it out. Logical explanations of spending time with family or friends, being in meetings, were not accepted. It fueled his rage, increased his suspicions and accusations. I'd never experienced this before, had never heard of anything like it. And the only thing I could think to do was to try to calm and reassure him. Even with his change, I loved him deeply. Maybe I needed to do a bit more to help him be at ease.
I wanted him to be ok, and for us to go back to how we had been. But I was unsure of what had happened to us, or why it had happened. And I was afraid, of his anger, and of the relationship ending because of something I'd done wrong. I went along with his demands
Most of my routines were rearranged or completely eliminated to accommodate. Early morning prayer and devotions. He would listen to every conversation I had throughout the day, commenting and questioning me on anything he felt was suspect . He would hear everything my family and I talked about. He stayed on the phone while I used the bathroom, while I showered.When I went out with friends, or had a day alone, he was on the phone. I had lost all independence and ability to interact with anyone without his involvement and surveillance.
He was always there.
There were short periods of calm between the suspicions and rages. I felt it was safest then to try to talk with him about easing the way he was handling things. He would immediately get angry. He blamed me for messing up something we once thought was so special. We had done things this way from the very beginning, now I was the one trying to change it all. He said I was so difficult. Because I no longer wanted to stay on the phone with him day and night, he took it to mean that I must be cheating, leading another life, with countless other men. A new rage and punishment would begin over that.
I could not get through to him. He would not be reasoned with. He maintained that as a man - as my man- it was his responsibility to protect me. And that when he didn't have access to me, no matter the reason, that kept him from being able to do that. So, he was always there.
THE AFTERMATH
I look at my life now, the aftermath and the eerie silence. The narcissist abuser had touched down within my space, lifting me off my feet. It was a heady and intoxicating whirl, and I felt I wanted to be swept up with him forever. What I couldn't have seen was the destruction that would happen in being taken up with him. He gathered himself up into an intensity and velocity that swept violently through everything in my life. My hurt and fear fueled him. There was no control and no direction in his aim. He was a consuming force, everywhere all at once, ripping out, hurling aside, disintegrating anything of me. Intense chaos, projectiles, raw fury, for years.
Then he was gone. The devastation left in his wake, complete. Just as deafening and terrifying as his presence had been, the abrupt cease of it all was equally so. Standing in the middle of it, looking at my life, in disbelief, confusion shock, pain. So many shells and carcasses left behind. Fragments.
So now I assess my surroundings, take inventory of what's left behind. Feeling overwhelmed with the scale of rebuilding. But I have time, will take time, to get back to myself. I have quiet and space to think and feel. Years of living at breakneck-highs slowly draining away, I'm trying to find my way in this sudden calm. It's a hard thing to manage, everything so completely still. And oddly hurts, because of why it came to be.
I look at my life now, the aftermath and the eerie silence. The narcissist abuser had touched down within my space, lifting me off my feet. It was a heady and intoxicating whirl, and I felt I wanted to be swept up with him forever. What I couldn't have seen was the destruction that would happen in being taken up with him. He gathered himself up into an intensity and velocity that swept violently through everything in my life. My hurt and fear fueled him. There was no control and no direction in his aim. He was a consuming force, everywhere all at once, ripping out, hurling aside, disintegrating anything of me. Intense chaos, projectiles, raw fury, for years.
Then he was gone. The devastation left in his wake, complete. Just as deafening and terrifying as his presence had been, the abrupt cease of it all was equally so. Standing in the middle of it, looking at my life, in disbelief, confusion shock, pain. So many shells and carcasses left behind. Fragments.
So now I assess my surroundings, take inventory of what's left behind. Feeling overwhelmed with the scale of rebuilding. But I have time, will take time, to get back to myself. I have quiet and space to think and feel. Years of living at breakneck-highs slowly draining away, I'm trying to find my way in this sudden calm. It's a hard thing to manage, everything so completely still. And oddly hurts, because of why it came to be.
It's the calm that comes after calling out my abuser. Deciding that I couldn't survive his abuse. It's the quiet that descends once he realized he'd lost control over me. He would not stay where he did not have total control. If he couldn't control me, get me to feed his fury, he would try to completely destroy me, then vanish.
He was everywhere, in everything, in every aspect of my life. Every day. A constant and insistent presence. As painful and disorienting as the sudden absence feels, I'll take these long stretches of time and quiet. The vast, empty space. I no longer want to be caught up in the fury and destruction of his storm.
He was everywhere, in everything, in every aspect of my life. Every day. A constant and insistent presence. As painful and disorienting as the sudden absence feels, I'll take these long stretches of time and quiet. The vast, empty space. I no longer want to be caught up in the fury and destruction of his storm.
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