ANGER AND ARGUING
Though I've faithfully kept to not contacting him in any way, my narcissitic abuser has decided to stir the water. As hurtful as his dabbling fingers have been, I was able to see some differences with him. He monologued, about his past, about his feelings, about changing. But there was no talk of his coming back.
In the past, he would appeal to my heart, to what he knew I wanted with him. He would talk about really wanting to change, understanding how abusive and hurtful he'd been. He'd say he loved and needed me. He would tell me how important I was, and how he wanted a life with me. He said he would do any and every thing necessary to have that life with me.
They were the feelings and desires that I'd always wanted him to express. The life that I'd wanted to have with him. But over time, I'd learned the pattern, his pattern. That despite what he was saying, and what he may have actually believed in the moment, his efforts would be short-lived. I knew he would slip back into being abusive, and that it would be even worse than the time before. At the same time, still loving him, still wanting us to make it, there was some small hope. That if we could get the right help, get proper tools in place while he was still in the place of wanting to change, we could get through this.
His admissions and appeals seemed so heartfelt. He seemed truly to want to make things work. It was a wrenching inside me to turn him away when he was apologizing. I didn't want to discourage him when he seemed to be sharing his heart and wanting to change. So when he'd said he wanted to try, and that he would do the work, I came alongside him, agreeing to work, as well. I wanted so much more for us, and it was my hope that this time would be the one.
That time did not come. Instead, years of him drawing me close and being very loving, then growing discontented and highly irritated, to erupting into rages and violence, to cruelly shoving me far away. Again and again. But in believing him, forgiving him, working things out with him, repeatedly, I was being worn away.
Now, a different tactic. Now, I'm no longer his main supply. No longer the sweet and heartfelt cries. He comes around, distant, aloof, saying, "I love you, but...", "I miss you, but...". This time thinking that if he pushes, I might pull. This time he's different. But this time, I'm different, too. Nowhere near healed, but I've broken away, had time outside of his storms. I've been able to see and hear and understand. Aching-aware that he is no longer my center. Despite my love, I won't pull him to me. I won't chase. And I'm letting go of the hope that he'll come back to me, whole.
I believe he sees it. I've never been this way with him, never stayed away so long. Where we were once so entwined that we seemed one life, we now live quite separately. Not truly wanting me, but needing me to want him, he's resurfaced, tossing crumbs. Not asking to repair us and the relationship, just telling me he still loves me. That being apart has been so hard for him, and he has so much work to do on himself. He's staying distant while dangling bait. My role would be to close the gap, step toward him with encouragement and hope. Tell him that I still love and want him, and want to support his efforts. Tell him we could make this work.
But again, I'm in a different space. Because I don't respond in kind, with love, he switches tactics, to churn my hurt and anger. Tells me that I'm so beautiful to him, but he's had to take note of the absence of anger and arguing since we've been apart. He says that has to be meaningful for the both of us.
So there it is: WE argued and WE were angry, and WE caused the failure and destruction of the relationship.
One of his tried-and-true strategies, which had always worked to hurt and upset me. To make it seem like we just didn't get along, and we were so incompatible. That the problem was just US trying to be together, but we just didn't work. He would say that there was too much chaos, confusion, strife, and it was just too difficult for us to stay together. And when he wanted to drive the knife all the way through, he'd say that I was just too difficult to be with.
Even after months apart, he was still trying to make me responsible for things that he alone had done.
The constant "anger" he speaks of is really years of his own malignant abusive behaviors. His uncontrolled rage, and his violent eruptions. The "arguing" was my confusion, upset, tears, pleas. Trying to talk with him about the abuse, how it was hurting me; looking for answers, reaching out for help; trying to set small boundaries; showing any signs of being hurt or upset about the abuse; daring to use the word abuse - he called these things argumentative and contentious, and declared he couldn't be with a woman who "behaved" like me.
A classic marker in narcissistic abusive relationships, to berate and blame the partner for being traumatized. My traumatized responses to his abuse were wrong. His being abusive, he completely overlooked. My responses became the focus, not his abuse. And my responses were causing the problems that were destroying the relationship.
When he brought this up again recently, I chose not to respond. I know he knows the truth. He'd admitted it countless times over the years, and again recently during his first resurfacing. He said he knew he was abusive, that he'd abused me, and had done terrible things to me. He knew he'd deeply hurt me and my children, and had caused such pain and destruction. But now he was back to blame me. I wanted to respond, but I knew what he would do. I knew what he expected me to do. I would defend myself, and try to explain the truth. He would grow indignant, angry. He would say that my upset proved to him he'd made the right decision in staying away from me. He'd immediately shut down all communication. And I'd be left feeling frustrated, hurt, and unheard. Table successfully turned.
I knew I wouldn't be able to talk with him about it. I didn't want to awaken his mastery of talking in circles, skirting the main issue, and deflecting. So I left his statement unaddressed. And he dropped it completely.
It has been painful, having him resurface. Dealing with my own feelings and thoughts. Trying to reconstruct my health. Being out in public and feeling safe. It has been tiring, frustrating work. His reappearance, like a derailing, deepens the pain.
I believed I would never see him again, yet he's back, only to make a new wound. Punish me for staying away. His aloof movements and calculated distance, let me know I'm no longer his One.
In refusing to respond, no longer giving chase, I realize I no longer think of you as My One.
In the past, he would appeal to my heart, to what he knew I wanted with him. He would talk about really wanting to change, understanding how abusive and hurtful he'd been. He'd say he loved and needed me. He would tell me how important I was, and how he wanted a life with me. He said he would do any and every thing necessary to have that life with me.
They were the feelings and desires that I'd always wanted him to express. The life that I'd wanted to have with him. But over time, I'd learned the pattern, his pattern. That despite what he was saying, and what he may have actually believed in the moment, his efforts would be short-lived. I knew he would slip back into being abusive, and that it would be even worse than the time before. At the same time, still loving him, still wanting us to make it, there was some small hope. That if we could get the right help, get proper tools in place while he was still in the place of wanting to change, we could get through this.
His admissions and appeals seemed so heartfelt. He seemed truly to want to make things work. It was a wrenching inside me to turn him away when he was apologizing. I didn't want to discourage him when he seemed to be sharing his heart and wanting to change. So when he'd said he wanted to try, and that he would do the work, I came alongside him, agreeing to work, as well. I wanted so much more for us, and it was my hope that this time would be the one.
That time did not come. Instead, years of him drawing me close and being very loving, then growing discontented and highly irritated, to erupting into rages and violence, to cruelly shoving me far away. Again and again. But in believing him, forgiving him, working things out with him, repeatedly, I was being worn away.
Now, a different tactic. Now, I'm no longer his main supply. No longer the sweet and heartfelt cries. He comes around, distant, aloof, saying, "I love you, but...", "I miss you, but...". This time thinking that if he pushes, I might pull. This time he's different. But this time, I'm different, too. Nowhere near healed, but I've broken away, had time outside of his storms. I've been able to see and hear and understand. Aching-aware that he is no longer my center. Despite my love, I won't pull him to me. I won't chase. And I'm letting go of the hope that he'll come back to me, whole.
I believe he sees it. I've never been this way with him, never stayed away so long. Where we were once so entwined that we seemed one life, we now live quite separately. Not truly wanting me, but needing me to want him, he's resurfaced, tossing crumbs. Not asking to repair us and the relationship, just telling me he still loves me. That being apart has been so hard for him, and he has so much work to do on himself. He's staying distant while dangling bait. My role would be to close the gap, step toward him with encouragement and hope. Tell him that I still love and want him, and want to support his efforts. Tell him we could make this work.
But again, I'm in a different space. Because I don't respond in kind, with love, he switches tactics, to churn my hurt and anger. Tells me that I'm so beautiful to him, but he's had to take note of the absence of anger and arguing since we've been apart. He says that has to be meaningful for the both of us.
So there it is: WE argued and WE were angry, and WE caused the failure and destruction of the relationship.
One of his tried-and-true strategies, which had always worked to hurt and upset me. To make it seem like we just didn't get along, and we were so incompatible. That the problem was just US trying to be together, but we just didn't work. He would say that there was too much chaos, confusion, strife, and it was just too difficult for us to stay together. And when he wanted to drive the knife all the way through, he'd say that I was just too difficult to be with.
Even after months apart, he was still trying to make me responsible for things that he alone had done.
The constant "anger" he speaks of is really years of his own malignant abusive behaviors. His uncontrolled rage, and his violent eruptions. The "arguing" was my confusion, upset, tears, pleas. Trying to talk with him about the abuse, how it was hurting me; looking for answers, reaching out for help; trying to set small boundaries; showing any signs of being hurt or upset about the abuse; daring to use the word abuse - he called these things argumentative and contentious, and declared he couldn't be with a woman who "behaved" like me.
A classic marker in narcissistic abusive relationships, to berate and blame the partner for being traumatized. My traumatized responses to his abuse were wrong. His being abusive, he completely overlooked. My responses became the focus, not his abuse. And my responses were causing the problems that were destroying the relationship.
When he brought this up again recently, I chose not to respond. I know he knows the truth. He'd admitted it countless times over the years, and again recently during his first resurfacing. He said he knew he was abusive, that he'd abused me, and had done terrible things to me. He knew he'd deeply hurt me and my children, and had caused such pain and destruction. But now he was back to blame me. I wanted to respond, but I knew what he would do. I knew what he expected me to do. I would defend myself, and try to explain the truth. He would grow indignant, angry. He would say that my upset proved to him he'd made the right decision in staying away from me. He'd immediately shut down all communication. And I'd be left feeling frustrated, hurt, and unheard. Table successfully turned.
I knew I wouldn't be able to talk with him about it. I didn't want to awaken his mastery of talking in circles, skirting the main issue, and deflecting. So I left his statement unaddressed. And he dropped it completely.
It has been painful, having him resurface. Dealing with my own feelings and thoughts. Trying to reconstruct my health. Being out in public and feeling safe. It has been tiring, frustrating work. His reappearance, like a derailing, deepens the pain.
I believed I would never see him again, yet he's back, only to make a new wound. Punish me for staying away. His aloof movements and calculated distance, let me know I'm no longer his One.
In refusing to respond, no longer giving chase, I realize I no longer think of you as My One.
Comments
Post a Comment