My Narcissist Ex-Husband
You know the old saying, “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall”? Well, I have felt like a fly on the wall for most of my life. I watched my family from the outside, never really fitting into their mix. Also like the fly, I was only really noticed when I made a move to bring attention myself, which usually meant chaos for me. A fly buzzes by catching your ear and you go on the hunt to swat it, right? My mother would go on the hunt to hurt me as soon as I was heard. I learned to keep my head down and step quietly to keep off of her radar, which meant I was unnoticed by most. I thought I was okay with being the uninvited fly on the wall. I thought I didn’t want any attention. Then, senior year, someone saw me and I began to delight in the acknowledgement.
LJ was a year older than me. He was working and going to college when we started dating. He gave me the kind of attention I had never received from my family. I was no longer the quiet fly on the wall. He showed me kindness. I thought LJ was a good person and I let my guard down for probably the first time in my life. I didn’t see his darkness because his every move was a manipulation disguised with intense sweetness. I thought he was protecting me. I thought he loved me. He put me on a pedestal and I thought I would be taken care of, seen for who I was. He merely saw me as someone he could easily control.
We dated for nearly a year before we bought a place together and became engaged. Cohabitation had a few challenges but nothing I saw as big, scary red flags waving at me. We were both responsible people. We both had decent, full time jobs and our bills were paid on time. We were also clean people who both shared the responsibilities of household chores. I thought we would be fine because we were similar in those ways. Our problems were beyond cleanliness and responsibility. His ever changing expectations and manipulations became too much for me to bear.
I was always a submissive person due to having a narcissist for a mother, so his beginning criticisms were not unreasonable to me. He didn’t like my perfumes because they gave him a headache. Instead of continuing to complain about my chosen scents, he bought me vanilla perfumes which didn’t cause him headaches. Vanilla is a little boring but I didn’t mind the smell, so I switched to what he had chosen. The next issue he had with me was my choice of nail color. He did not like crazy colors or designs. Bright red was his favorite. He bought me a case full of many shades of red so I could choose which one to wear. This was his little way of controlling me without me truly being aware of his intent. I thought he just wanted me to look good for him. He even took his mom clothes shopping for me. They spent a bunch of money and acted as though it was just to spoil me because my family had never done that sort of thing for me. They chose what they thought I looked nice in. I wanted his adoration so I went along with what they had chosen even though I didn’t feel like myself when wearing them. Plus he made me feel special by telling me he wanted me to have nice things. He called me his princess and I felt like he meant all the sweet things he had said.
When the time for wedding planning came, he was very involved in EVERY decision. He came along to choose my dress because “he knew what I looked good in.” He chose our wedding day based on what his mother liked. Our colors and decorations were not my choice but his and his mother’s picks. The night of the wedding, I slept on the couch because we had a huge fight over my makeup. Our mothers hired a makeup artist for the day and he thought I looked like a slut for our wedding. That night should have been a red flag for me…
He continued to make the decisions for us over the next couple of years. He decided when we needed new cars and what they would be. He would always trade in my car to get a new one for himself, leaving me with whatever vehicle he was bored of. He decided the vacations we would take, the groceries we would buy and the dinners I would prepare each night. He nitpicked at everything I did, because nothing was ever done to his standards. I was suddenly a dirty person who wasn’t even capable of vacuuming the living room carpet properly. I was sad. I had escaped my mother’s abuse only to be lured into another abuser’s cage. I had no one to turn to and was once again on my own, trying to blend into the background to avoid any tensions.
Not long after, I was pregnant. I thought this would make things better for us. I thought he would be happy with me. This was not the case. I had barely gained enough weight to satisfy the doctor’s recommendations for a healthy pregnancy. LJ let me know regularly how disgusting and fat I was. He took on a new job and was only home to shower and sleep. He thought I should go to his mother’s daily so I wasn’t alone. I did for a while but between the pregnancy and work, I was exhausted and I started staying home to rest. I learned he only wanted me to go to his mother so he could keep tabs on me. He accused me of cheating on him. He started saying the baby wasn’t his. He began keeping track of my mileage and freaking out if I went anywhere beside work and home. I socialized with no one. I only left the house for work and to go with my husband for groceries or to see his family.
I loved the little guy in my belly so much and I thought, as soon as he held his baby, LJ would be in love too. He wasn’t. He put on an act around others, pretending to be a caring new father. At home, he wanted nothing to do with the child. Our son was seen as nothing but a burden to him. Someone to steal my attention away. LJ was jealous of the baby.
I had to return work as soon as possible because “kids were too expensive” and he wouldn’t pay for the things a baby needed. I hated leaving my son behind to go to work, but I had no choice. Being a mommy to my little guy was the best feeling and I was alone in that feeling. I worried LJ would not properly care for our son while I was away. In less than a month, he was complaining about having to wake up and feed the baby. He was too tired and declared he would no longer “babysit” our son. I still had to work so I had to start taking the baby to grandma’s house over night. In the mornings, I picked up the baby and went home to care for him. My only sleep each day, was the nap I took when the baby napped. I was beyond tired, but I took care of our son and tried my best to keep my husband as happy as I could. Sometimes, my attempts to keep the peace were fruitless. There were days he would come home in a horrible mood, and nothing I could do would set it right. He was mean. I wanted a better life for my son. I began pulling myself away from him little by little and he could feel it. He grew darker and tried every tactic he could think of to pull me back.
He threatened suicide often. There were times when I wanted to scream at him, “just do it already.” I never said it though. Instead, I begged on my hands and knees and pleaded my love. I never feared he would harm himself, but rather harm me or the baby or both. The fear became constant. I smiled on the outside, never allowing my worries to show. A day came when he called our baby terrible names and became so angry over not being able to control our son’s actions. I realized that no matter how much I wanted him to change, it was never going to happen. He couldn’t be the husband or father I wanted him to be. I wanted my son to have a close relationship with both parents. Something I had never had with my own parents. I wanted my child to grow strong and confident and be a good man. With a controlling father, who treated others terrible, my son would struggle to flourish. I needed to get my son out of the unhealthy environment we were living in.
We got away. Leaving wasn’t easy. I had to lie to LJ in order to escape. I had to take my son and hide for a while. We ended up in a safe house until I could secure a home for my son and me. I even had a PFA (protection from abuse order) for a bit. Being on our own was scary. I struggled financially. I struggled with making decisions alone. LJ was the decision maker for many years. I also struggled with fear for a while. I was afraid of LJ. What if he decided to come after us? What would he do if he did come for us? What would I do if he showed up at my door step? A PFA is just a piece of paper. We couldn’t be saved by a little piece of paper if LJ decided to show up at my doorstep. A friend from work began staying with me. My friend’s presence offered me the security I needed to begin healing, which has not been an easy task, but I am getting there.
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