For years I tolerated psychological warfare and narcissistic abuse in hopes that if I just worked hard enough I could turn my husband’s anger at me around. If I could just be patient enough he would see I was trying so hard to support him. For years I was told: what a disappointment I was, asked how anybody could possibly be proud of me, what an embarrassment I was to my family name; to my grandparents legacy. For years I silently suffered with knowing it was all bullshit, or at least hoping it was all bullshit. I couldn’t be that bad could I?
Fast forward to the last 7 months.
I have not told many people what I’ve been going through. That is weird for me. Usually I’m an open book. However this experience has left me with wounds that bleed often and out of the blue. Wounds that I’ve only begun to clean out and address. Wounds that are embarrassing. Wounds that I don’t deserve. Wounds I never thought I’d suffer.
Although I never did any homework on psychological/narcissistic abuse previously I never thought I was the type to get hit. I was opinionated, educated, outgoing, stubborn, did alright with confrontation, and was uniquely me. People either related or they didn’t. It didn’t really matter to me one way or the other. My friends love me for who I am, I thought my family did also. Everybody else just didn’t have to associate with me. I was fine with that. I somehow, incorrectly, thought that only timid people with zero self confidence fell victim to abuse. Boy was I WRONG!
Post discovery, post recognition of being a survivor of abuse, post acceptance that this was not my fault; I started researching. It’s kind of what I do when I can’t sleep.
As it turns out I was a prime candidate for this specific type of abuse. Because I was headstrong I put up with it for far too long. Because I like to believe in the good side of humanity I reasoned away all the bad days and poor behaviors. Because I wanted to believe he was still a good man way deep down; I didn’t fight back as hard as I should have from the beginning. Because he got into my head with massive manipulation, I changed my focus from what I would and wouldn’t tolerate to trying to find a way to fix the irreparable; his mind, his choices, his free will to do good or to turn evil.
I thank my genetics everyday for being as strong as I am. For my ability to tolerate abuse and come out with my head on straight. For being able to do some of the hardest things of my life; with clear conscience and purpose. I’m thankful our situation isn’t any worse than it was…. because I know it easily could have been.
Having said all that…. the few people whom I’ve turned to for support, or the ones that have come to me knowing something is wrong, have been absolutely amazing! They haven’t passed judgement. They haven’t placed blame. They haven’t been accusatory. They have felt my horror; my betrayal. They have shared their own experiences. They have offered any support they can: emotional, spiritual, artistic, some even with donations to help my family. They’ve been more of a family to me than some of our traditional “family” has been. Now please understand, some of our family has been very generous, and highly supportive. Others not so much.
As it turns out:
I’m no disappointment.
I’m not the one dishonoring their family legacy.
I’m strengthening my family legacy a little bit more every day.
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