Ripe For The Picking - The Introduction
So, I may have fibbed a little.
I had said my last blog about the subject would be the last, but I've since come up with a new idea (not to mention I have so much to say!).
It became quite apparent that my experience with my narcissist has been helpful to others and so I will continue.
I've talked about the three phases that take place when you're dealing with a narcissist and so I thought I'd approach each one on their own and tell you a few stories about each. It's helpful in recognizing how to spot the narcissist in your life and frankly healing for me to get it off my chest.
Narcissists pick people who are successful, smart, and attractive HOWEVER these people almost always have some type of insecurity issue or something happening in their lives that is making them needy at the time.
When my narcissist met me I was 'ripe' so to speak. My life has been a series of 'adventures' and by the time he came around, well I was at the end of my rope. In order to fully understand my story I have to go back (way back).
I had said my last blog about the subject would be the last, but I've since come up with a new idea (not to mention I have so much to say!).
It became quite apparent that my experience with my narcissist has been helpful to others and so I will continue.
I've talked about the three phases that take place when you're dealing with a narcissist and so I thought I'd approach each one on their own and tell you a few stories about each. It's helpful in recognizing how to spot the narcissist in your life and frankly healing for me to get it off my chest.
Narcissists pick people who are successful, smart, and attractive HOWEVER these people almost always have some type of insecurity issue or something happening in their lives that is making them needy at the time.
When my narcissist met me I was 'ripe' so to speak. My life has been a series of 'adventures' and by the time he came around, well I was at the end of my rope. In order to fully understand my story I have to go back (way back).
I suppose one could say that my first brush with abuse was
with my father. I am not sure if he
actually abused me at all but I do know he was an abuser with one of his
victims being my mother. Children who
grow up in an unhappy or abusive household, whether it’s hidden from them or
not; tend to absorb the negative energy that surrounds them.
In looking back on my life I would say that I
was a nervous and insecure child. It
feels awkward to say that on paper because for most of my life I’ve done a
really great job at convincing people that I am strong, secure, happy,
intelligent, confident and funny. It’s
almost akin to the battered housewife syndrome where the wife keeps her home
spotless and clean at all times to mask the real mess going on when the doors
are closed.
Children want a sense of
normalcy, they do not want to appear different to their peers and I believe I
developed these parts of myself; the funny girl-the confident girl-the “I don’t
take no bull” girl in an effort to make myself appear as normal as my friends.
My father committed suicide on June 12th,1981. It was my mother’s birthday. I don’t
remember much about this time quite honestly.
I heard details later, and still hear them today but all I knew as an
eight year old girl was that my father died, which meant he wasn’t coming
back.
One might think that I would be happy that this abuser
wasn’t coming back, but that is not how I felt at all. I remember feeling nothing. I suppressed any memory of my father’s abuse
on my mother but I remember clearly trying to impress my father all of the
time. I never felt I was good enough for
him. I was only a young girl and so my
memories are not always clear but I remember that feeling from him that I was annoying.
There was this one time that I remember clearly for some
reason, I even remember that I was wearing a purple tank top. My father was sitting in this chair in our
den. There were John Denver album covers
tacked to the wood paneled wall as well as an old guitar. My father was bouncing my brother on his knee
and I wanted to play too. I remember
Duncan (my brother) was laughing and laughing and I was laughing also as his
laughter was infectious. I approached
and asked for a turn to bounce on my dad’s knee also but my dad stopped the
bouncing abruptly. He said something
like “Now we have to stop because Heather needs to ruin everything” or
something of that nature, but I remember it.
There were other instances that are not as clear as this one
but it is quite obvious to me that my need for approval started then;
especially male approval.
My father’s suicide changed that normal life appearance I
had tried so hard to create as I was now from a broken home. I was from a broken home in a teeny tiny town
who knew everything. I was from a broken
home in a teeny tiny town where my father was the boy scout leader; normal was
forever changed for me.
I was first married in 1995.
I’m not going to throw my ex-husband under the bus or anything because
truthfully out of all of my relationships he ironically did nothing wrong. I believe we were married however because we
were both insecure people who ‘needed someone’ in our life. He was different than any of the guys I had
ever dated. He was responsible and kind
and loyal. Unfortunately however there
was no love and after nearly ten years of marriage and a son we were divorced.
During this time in my life I became healthy both mentally
and physically. I was finding myself;
figuring out who I was. When you get
married at the age of twenty one you haven’t really figured out who you are
yet.
In 2007 I was married again.
This time I was married to someone who I had more in common with. I felt like he was my best friend. There were warning signs here that I chose to
ignore over the course of our marriage.
His need to go out by himself all the time, his disrespect of me in
front of his friends, hiding his texts and sending messages to pretty
waitresses at the bar, but here I was again allowing this behaviour to happen
because all I really wanted was to be normal.
I wanted a normal life with a husband and wife and a handful of kids and
I thought that his treatment of me was something that I had to endure in order
to achieve the end goal. He wasn’t mean
or violent with me but again, just like my father he showed me that I was not
good enough.
In fact he told me I was boring.
In the spring of 2015 while I was training for a half
marathon I woke up one morning ready to head out on my long run only to
discover my husband hadn’t returned home from his evening of drinking with his friends. I was suspicious but didn’t say very much
because truthfully we had been having some issues. It was a few days later while I was sitting
at work arguing with him over text (because text was the preferred method of
communication) when he sent me a text that was meant for someone else and well,
the rest is history.
My husband was having an affair.
My first feeling was not anger. Sadly my first feeling was shame. I wondered how I could have failed at
marriage twice. I wondered what was
wrong with me. I tried so hard to not be
boring. I invested in myself, I took care of my body. I
would plan our date nights and I would spend time to look extra nice. I provided for our family and I couldn’t
figure out what was so wrong with me that made him go to another woman.
During this period of time I was feeling down trodden and
depleted. Not only did I feel like a
failure but I felt like I had let my children down again. At this point in my life in addition to my
son, I now had a daughter and had become a step mother to his son. Wasn’t it the job of us as parents to keep
this together? How could we take an
already blended family and shake it up even more?
I picture myself during this time standing on the edge of a
cliff. I didn’t know whether I wanted to
live or die. I was very depressed. One night as I was driving home I actually
contemplated driving my car into an on-coming semi. In the year preceding this I had taken a year
off and trained to be a police officer, I had pushed my body to limits it had
never been to. I had been feeling strong
and good. When I decided to return to
business I secured a job with a well-known company that had a great reputation
and I was feeling really good about it and now this. Here I was again. Whenever good things
happened in my life something bad would happen to even it out. I wasn’t good enough. I was alone, and I felt as though my life
were cursed.
Very soon after this happened I met a man, my narcissist. He was not
really my type quite honestly but he had a kindness about him that resonated in
his eyes and in his smile. He was funny
and made me laugh all the time, even when I wanted to cry. He came into my life at a time where I was the
most vulnerable and he told me I was beautiful.
He came into my life when I felt that I would never be good enough for
anyone ever again and he told me I was worth it.
The first month of my
relationship with him pulled me out of my depression. I was laughing again. I felt attractive and smart and funny; all of
the things I had not felt for so long.
No man in my entire life had ever looked at me right in my eyes and said
“you are worth it”. My insecure self appeared and with childlike ignorance I jumped into this relationship with
both feet. This man had seemingly come
from nowhere to save me and I needed saving more than ever.
And that is how the story of me and my narcissist begins. After speaking to many men and women I now realize that this is almost always the way. He saw my insecurity and my neediness and I let him in.
So without further adieu, with all of these stories inside of me I've decided to keep sharing them.
Thanks for your support xo.
Keep sharing Heather. I think too it's important that a lot of people do not "meet" their narcissists - some are just in your life and have been forever (like family). A lot of the same end results - but also hard to escape. Different coping mechanisms too.
ReplyDeleteThanks Robyn xo
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