THE RULES OF THE GAME
This was something I lost at pretty much the entire duration of the relationship: The game I never knew I was playing, with unspoken rules that were constantly changing. Though I often felt I was failing at something, I never understood what it was. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what or why.
When things seemed to be well with us, we would talk endlessly. On what we wanted for ourselves, each other, the relationship. Agreeing on how we'd interact and handle conflict. We set measures of protection. We made plans, set goals. We were creating together. It seemed we were aligned.
But at random moments, and later, during his many rages, everything would change. All that we'd planned, all that we'd promised, what we'd agreed on - it would all be discarded. It was dizzying, the frequent turns and sudden changes. Anything that had been settled or decided between us, could suddenly be undone. Without word or warning, it could simply cease to be.
Thankfully, quietly, I knew it wasn't me. I knew there was nothing I'd misunderstood, misheard, or misspoken. I wanted to work it out with him, but struggled to understand him. How he could say and believe things in one moment, and have a completely different view in the next. Maybe I could find a way to manage this vast, unsettling behavior... I wildly tried to make sense of it.
This became the constant. It colored almost every aspect of us. I could see it when it was happening, I knew it was terribly wrong. But I had no name for it, couldn't even really say what it was. And so it was hard to speak against, and seemingly impossible to stop.
It broke through my awareness early in the relationship. We were discussing social media, agreeing not to post conflicts there. We didn't want to disrespect each other. We didn't want to have others take sides against us. He said this was important to him, that so many relationships had been destroyed this way. He wouldn't allow it to happen to ours. He wanted to protect me, us.
But this changed very soon after. His facade was gone by then. The disordered behavior was unleashed, the abuse intensified. To my alarm, he started sharing it online.
His posts were heavy with insinuation, thinly-veiled references to things we'd just gone through. He had craftily reconstructed his episodes of rage - I was cast with an enemy light, and women sympathized with him. They were praying for him during his hard times. Assuring him he was a good man, undeserving of this treatment. Whoever was doing these things to him was wrong.
This was everything he said he wouldn't do. All he said he'd protect me from. My heart broke; I reached out to him. I told him I didn't understand why he'd done it, when we'd agreed not to. With face blank and cold, he stated that it was his social media, he could post whatever he wanted. He would not let me control him or tell him what to do.
My mind was saying, No... we talked about this, we agreed... And so I spoke. I told him I wasn't trying to tell him what to do, I wasn't trying to control him. I was trying to talk with him about what we'd both agreed on. He immediately resisted, stating again that it was his page, he could post what he wanted. If I didn't like it, I could stop reading it. I could be blocked. He declared that we were done talking about it, and walked away.
I didn't know how this had happened. I didn't know what to do.
He continued to do as he wanted. I tried a few times more to reach him, to bring him back to what we agreed. Maybe I could find a better way to say it... Maybe then he'd remember. But he would not budge. He did not acknowledge. He continued to rage that he could post what he wanted.
A couple months later, there was a new retelling. He said I alone had made these rules. I had tried to force him to follow them. I was selfish and manipulative. He refused to be controlled by me. From now on he would be making and following his own rules. If I didn't like it, I could leave.
I was reeling. How did he continue to misunderstand? How had he come to think of me in this way? I felt frantic with trying to figure him out. Despite knowing the truth, I could not reach him. He would not be convinced.
This went on the entire relationship. He changed the rules by breaking ours, and making it seem as if they'd never existed. He made strict rules for me to follow. They would change in an instant, and I would scramble to readjust. It was something beyond my experience. I could not have fathomed the possibility that this was being done intentionally. And that's most likely why it was most effective.
It is all strategy. A well-used device in narcissistic abuse. It is a way to create instability. A way to instill fear. Fear of what will happen if we don't follow their rules. Fear of what will happen if we can't figure them out, or if we guess wrong. It gets us to constantly appease them, to be compliant, and when we fail, to try even harder to comply. It repeatedly takes our attention away from their abusive behavior. It happens in countless ways:
A routine is established, and we become comfortable in it. The narcissist suddenly changes our routine, and when we ask about it, they rage.
Or, they tell us their needs. These are really their rules. They tell us this is how we can better relate to them. Doing these things will help them become better, improve the relationship, save it. We love them, so we accommodate. And it's fine for awhile, we smile a bit, and then suddenly things are not okay. We aren't doing enough, we aren't doing it right. Their needs have changed, and so have the rules.
Or they create rules and don't tell us. So they're suddenly angered or hurt by something we've done. We're confused, apologetic. We didn't know. We ask what we've done, so that we won't do it again. They tell us to figure it out ourselves. They say they don't have time to list all the ways we've hurt and angered them. They say any person with common sense could see what was done wrong. But they never tell us what it is, so we continue to guess, and we continue to fail.
No matter how sincere they may seem at times... No matter how real it is for us... for the narcissistic abuser, the relationship is a game. They do not want us to win, they just want us to try really hard to.
When we become aware that this is what they're doing, it becomes a stepping-stone. Each new moment of awareness is another stone, and another, and another, which eventually becomes our pathway out.
When things seemed to be well with us, we would talk endlessly. On what we wanted for ourselves, each other, the relationship. Agreeing on how we'd interact and handle conflict. We set measures of protection. We made plans, set goals. We were creating together. It seemed we were aligned.
But at random moments, and later, during his many rages, everything would change. All that we'd planned, all that we'd promised, what we'd agreed on - it would all be discarded. It was dizzying, the frequent turns and sudden changes. Anything that had been settled or decided between us, could suddenly be undone. Without word or warning, it could simply cease to be.
Thankfully, quietly, I knew it wasn't me. I knew there was nothing I'd misunderstood, misheard, or misspoken. I wanted to work it out with him, but struggled to understand him. How he could say and believe things in one moment, and have a completely different view in the next. Maybe I could find a way to manage this vast, unsettling behavior... I wildly tried to make sense of it.
This became the constant. It colored almost every aspect of us. I could see it when it was happening, I knew it was terribly wrong. But I had no name for it, couldn't even really say what it was. And so it was hard to speak against, and seemingly impossible to stop.
It broke through my awareness early in the relationship. We were discussing social media, agreeing not to post conflicts there. We didn't want to disrespect each other. We didn't want to have others take sides against us. He said this was important to him, that so many relationships had been destroyed this way. He wouldn't allow it to happen to ours. He wanted to protect me, us.
But this changed very soon after. His facade was gone by then. The disordered behavior was unleashed, the abuse intensified. To my alarm, he started sharing it online.
His posts were heavy with insinuation, thinly-veiled references to things we'd just gone through. He had craftily reconstructed his episodes of rage - I was cast with an enemy light, and women sympathized with him. They were praying for him during his hard times. Assuring him he was a good man, undeserving of this treatment. Whoever was doing these things to him was wrong.
This was everything he said he wouldn't do. All he said he'd protect me from. My heart broke; I reached out to him. I told him I didn't understand why he'd done it, when we'd agreed not to. With face blank and cold, he stated that it was his social media, he could post whatever he wanted. He would not let me control him or tell him what to do.
My mind was saying, No... we talked about this, we agreed... And so I spoke. I told him I wasn't trying to tell him what to do, I wasn't trying to control him. I was trying to talk with him about what we'd both agreed on. He immediately resisted, stating again that it was his page, he could post what he wanted. If I didn't like it, I could stop reading it. I could be blocked. He declared that we were done talking about it, and walked away.
I didn't know how this had happened. I didn't know what to do.
He continued to do as he wanted. I tried a few times more to reach him, to bring him back to what we agreed. Maybe I could find a better way to say it... Maybe then he'd remember. But he would not budge. He did not acknowledge. He continued to rage that he could post what he wanted.
A couple months later, there was a new retelling. He said I alone had made these rules. I had tried to force him to follow them. I was selfish and manipulative. He refused to be controlled by me. From now on he would be making and following his own rules. If I didn't like it, I could leave.
I was reeling. How did he continue to misunderstand? How had he come to think of me in this way? I felt frantic with trying to figure him out. Despite knowing the truth, I could not reach him. He would not be convinced.
This went on the entire relationship. He changed the rules by breaking ours, and making it seem as if they'd never existed. He made strict rules for me to follow. They would change in an instant, and I would scramble to readjust. It was something beyond my experience. I could not have fathomed the possibility that this was being done intentionally. And that's most likely why it was most effective.
It is all strategy. A well-used device in narcissistic abuse. It is a way to create instability. A way to instill fear. Fear of what will happen if we don't follow their rules. Fear of what will happen if we can't figure them out, or if we guess wrong. It gets us to constantly appease them, to be compliant, and when we fail, to try even harder to comply. It repeatedly takes our attention away from their abusive behavior. It happens in countless ways:
A routine is established, and we become comfortable in it. The narcissist suddenly changes our routine, and when we ask about it, they rage.
Or, they tell us their needs. These are really their rules. They tell us this is how we can better relate to them. Doing these things will help them become better, improve the relationship, save it. We love them, so we accommodate. And it's fine for awhile, we smile a bit, and then suddenly things are not okay. We aren't doing enough, we aren't doing it right. Their needs have changed, and so have the rules.
Or they create rules and don't tell us. So they're suddenly angered or hurt by something we've done. We're confused, apologetic. We didn't know. We ask what we've done, so that we won't do it again. They tell us to figure it out ourselves. They say they don't have time to list all the ways we've hurt and angered them. They say any person with common sense could see what was done wrong. But they never tell us what it is, so we continue to guess, and we continue to fail.
No matter how sincere they may seem at times... No matter how real it is for us... for the narcissistic abuser, the relationship is a game. They do not want us to win, they just want us to try really hard to.
When we become aware that this is what they're doing, it becomes a stepping-stone. Each new moment of awareness is another stone, and another, and another, which eventually becomes our pathway out.
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