I was married for over two decades to a man that was, in almost every way you could measure, a good husband. And I loved him the best way I knew how. Life dealt us a series of devastating blows and losses that two years of personal and couples therapy could not heal. We decided to go our separate ways. It wasn’t conscious, but the grief I did not take the time to process opened the deepest wounds in me. The wounds of not good enough, undeserving and failure. Even though everyone warned me, take your time, wait to date, I couldn’t hear it. I jumped right in ready to give love another chance. And another.
Guess what? The universe served up a man that was happy to tell me I am, in fact, not good enough, undeserving, and a failure. At first, the relationship felt amazing. I know now what I experienced was “love bombing” but at the time, the attention, compliments, constant contact, gifts, and push for commitment made me feel special and LOVED. This guy quickly filled up my not good enough, undeserving, and failure hole. I felt so special, I overlooked every red flag. The relationship was so ruinous and destructive, I barely recognized myself in the end. I went from successful, happy, optimistic and alive to numb, lifeless, and unable to make even the smallest decisions. I lost my intuition and lifeforce. I became isolated from friends and family. I stopped socializing and enjoying my favorite activities. My happiness was replaced with nothingness and irritability. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t do anything except work. The more he criticized me, the harder I worked to achieve perfection. To make up for the affection withheld or withdrawn from me, I put even more energy into my work so I could garner the approval, praise and attention of clients and, subconsciously, I was working to earn his approval. In the course of that year, I managed the renovation of one home to prepare it for sale, the restoration of the home we were moving to, and the biggest professional project of my career to date. My greatest fear during that time was that a close friend or family member would ask, “Is everything ok with you?” and I would fall apart. And who would believe me? Turns out, that’s exactly what got me out of the mess. It was the question I needed to answer.
During an annual wellness exam, my physician asked “How are things?” My eyes filled with tears and the words fell out of my mouth without thought, “I don’t want to be here anymore.” Over the course of the next few minutes, I confessed that I thought I might be in an abusive relationship. That was all I said on the matter. I was scheduled for an emergency consult with a therapist and a band was placed around my wrist indicating I was under watch for 48 hours and a pre-authorization for hospitalization was initiated. I remember staring at that band and wondering “what does this change for me? I still have to go home.”
I went home and drew a hot bath. I stayed there staring until the water was cold. I heard the sound of footsteps through the house and the turning of the knob to the bathroom door. He stepped in, looked at the band on my wrist and said, “What’s this?” I explained that I was under watch and he replied, “I’m going to play poker” and left. I don’t think I felt anything at all.
The hard part was over. I said the words out loud. I admitted that what was going on behind closed doors in my life was not the picture of happiness that I projected outward. I began weekly appointments with a therapist and we discussed my lack of desire to be here and also my relationship. It took me a while to identify the abuse because it was slow and erosive. It wasn’t one specific thing. It was sneaky, subtle at times, and psychological. It was, at first, occasional but near the end, I felt I was being tortured from sunup to sundown. The abuse took the form of financial, emotional and coercive control. My partner would use his size to intimidate me, motion as if he was going to strike me, and push through or break doors. He ridiculed me for the panic he caused. He shamed me for my reactions. He threw things, grabbed me by the arms and shoulders, and backhanded me once, but I couldn’t bring myself to call it abuse because, I told myself, I wasn’t bruised and battered. He didn’t hit me with a fist. This was the imaginary line I had created. It is only abuse if he beats me. I kept making excuses for him. He’s under stress. He’s depressed. Subconsciously, I deserved this treatment because I am not good enough, deserving or worthy.
I found my therapy appointments helpful. I was experienced with Cognitive Behavioral Therapy so we incorporated some mindfulness into our sessions and some talk therapy. Each week I felt more clarity and mentally stronger. I began to observe interactions and stand up for my experiences. This didn’t work for my partner and he threatened to leave me repeatedly. About six weeks into our work, my therapist asked me if I have ever heard of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I was familiar with the origins and term narcissist but not the disorder. He said, “I can’t diagnose someone who is not here under my care, but I would like you to research this disorder and read the experience of people who survived this type of abuse. You may find reading these experiences helpful.” When I returned home, I began researching and reading about NPD and felt sick. All of the gaslighting, control, criticism, episodes of love then hate, attention then withdrawal of affection, were purposeful tactics. I had new terms to understand and make sense of my experiences, like cognitive dissonance and intermittent reinforcement. Just as I was waking up, the worst of his abuse began. Our primary residence sold, we moved into our new house, and my huge project was successfully completed. I thought things would begin to settle. But because I was mentally stronger and he could no longer control me and distort my reality, he no longer had a use for me and I began to go through the final phase of this type of abuse…the discard. The discard left me confused, grieving and struggling to figure out my new life just as the pandemic was peaking. He had no use for me any more.
The hardest part of this experience was the way he stripped me of support. He reached out to associates and friends sharing fantasy victim stories, or dropped things into conversations he knew would upset them and counted on them not verifying like, “You know Tracie never liked you.” It was the deepest hurt. He was harming relationships that mattered to me more than anything. It was unfair. It was the lowest moment of my life.
I spent months devastated and alone but slowly, I came back to life. I read every self help book I could find, kept my therapy appointments and began to express myself through art and a daily writing practice. I put my energy into gardening, found alternative healing modalities and began a spiritual practice. I started going on small solo outings like hikes and pushed myself to ride my bike a bit farther each day until I was consistently logging 17 to 20 miles a day. The worst experience of my life created the most whole version of me in my life.
I’m only touching on my experience and will continue to share in a series with my primary focus on my recovery from Cluster-B abuse. Healing from this type of abuse is the most challenging thing I have done in my life because it crushed my spirit, not my body. I’m not sure I would be here today if not for the support of others who had been through the exact experience, were further ahead of me on the healing path, and reached their hand back. I learned how to ask for support, receive it, and I learned something else that is vital in stopping this type of abuse. Abusers thrive in the shadows. They count on silence from their victims. Unfortunately, there is plenty of research to support the silencing of women. I highly recommend reading In a Human Voice by Carol Gilligan. It is highly unlikely if you experienced this type of abuse that you were the first and I believe when we choose to heal, we are healing forwards and backwards. We are healing the previous victims and preventing future victims.
My recovery from abuse unfolded like this…
Admitting to myself and my doctor I wasn’t ok.
Seeking support through therapy, people I trusted like family, friends, and social workers
Giving myself the care I had always afforded others.
Learning everything I could about the abuse I experienced from books, support groups, blogs, websites, content creators, videos, therapy and social workers.
Expressing my feelings through creation (sewing, writing, painting, drawing)
Accepting that I cannot control what is said about me I can only control my behavior, choices, reactions and character
Adopting the mantra “self care is healthcare”
Recognizing improving physical strength creates mental strength
Learning self-love is the most powerful love and lack of this type of love (low self-esteem, low self-worth, low self-respect, feelings of unworthiness or not good enough, etc) contribute to attracting abusive partners. Fortify from the inside out.
Building a spiritual practice - putting my faith in something greater than myself created a sacredness in my life that made way for miracles. I have had a lot of miracles show up!
Learned to identify and reconnect to the guidance systems of my body, guy instincts,, the wisdom of the heart, and intuition - my inner guide
Recovery of my voice. This is the hardest and the reason why I am using my voice to hopefully help others and to help create dialogue on the abuse in the shadows that needs to be brought to light
My sincere hope is that my own experience becomes a light in the dark.
Help is here:
xoxo
Tracie
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