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[gonocontact]

A Break from the Takes.....

*Squeezing in a Disclaimer again*

Being involved in a Narcissistic abusive relationship is already a mind fuck all on its own. But it seems as though the survivors of these "relationships" know nothing of these types of things BEFORE. Naive? Maybe. I think we think that nothing like this is a reality in the first place. Nobody this cruel could exist in the world, right? This fact is true, we give people the benefit of the doubt. That is, until we experience the Narcissist first hand. After that, our outlook on the world definitely changes. 

Herein lies my experiences with my Narcissist that took place within a three-year period, from Summer 2019 to Summer 2022, and then the year after that, from MY point of view. I will try my best at recounting these experiences to the best of my memory. This is not only therapy for me but it is also to bring awareness to you, the reader. Gawd I hope you never experience anything like this in your life. This mental health condition, in its wide array of degrees, is quite damaging to the Narcissist and their co-parts. 

Keep in mind, I am NOT a medical professional, nor do I work in the medical industry. Most of the time people with these conditions aren't even properly diagnosed (scary). But when something leads you to a laundry list of check boxes within the DSM-5 (and you actually check every single box more than once, or it's subcategories), one is bound to make an educated decision. Also, when you stumble upon an online communities with thousands of posts of others' experiences STRONGLY resembling your own, it tends to validate a number of things for you. 

Here is my disclaimer:

Ahead lies, in as much raw truth as I can tell, much vulgarity, substance abuse, physical violence, mental abuse, verbal abuse, trauma bonding, gaslighting, Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, adultery, suicidal ideation, reactive abuse, psychological abuse, deception, and all-in-all fucked up shit. I'm telling you, I am no Saint, but this is my bare truth. If any of this will trigger you, I implore you to stop reading HERE.

From here, until my story is complete, I will try and keep this updated with a weekly submissions. It will showcase how the slow burn of an abusive relationship with, quite possibly, a narcissistic individual can slowly break down your being. It will also describe my sudden exit and road to recovery, and it's aftermath.

Be good to yourself. Take care.

[gonocontact]

Take Four: Austin, Texas

We keep talking, hours upon hours upon hours. Video, text, phone call. Rinse. Repeat. I was beginning to fall behind on my schoolwork. So, one day I decided to let them know that I really needed to do some catching up and that I was going to be offline for hours. They seemed ok with it and encouraged me to take care of business. NOPE.

I would say that I was all of about fifteen minutes into my work, and then, they proceeded to blow up my phone. "What. The. Fuck." Call after call. After about the fifteenth call, I answered, highly irate. They were having a breakdown. Yeah, "breakdown." 🚩They went on and on about gawd-only-knows-what and none of the stuff that was spewing out of their mouth made any sense. Ok....You NEED me. What do you need me for? There wasn't ever any real straight answer. This, I hate to say, became a normal pattern. When I did something for ME or things were going good for ME, Dipshit would conveniently have a breakdown. It was almost like a toddler throwing a fit. Dipshit would suddenly break, get depressed, not answer the phone, or call obnoxiously, couldn't get out of bed for a week, forgot to take their meds, ugly cry, "not remember" things, the whole nine. Now that I look back, I should have left back then. You know what, they have strategies though, just think like an attention hungry child. They did it to cause chaos and throw me off balance.

Jeez, I'm getting anxiety at this memory.

Regardless of the fits (it's so stupid to say now), I kept in communication with them. I felt like this poor person was so abused and just needed to know love, love that I could provide. I could love this person back to health (even though now, I would highly discourage). DUMB ASS!

There were two shows that I wanted to see in Austin, Texas that November. These were two concerts that I had to make and I am always willing to travel. I asked if they would want to meet in Austin, see a couple shows, reconnect, see how it goes. It all sounded good. Sounded like a plan. Then the day of travel came. Their text indicated that they couldn't make it to Austin. "What?! Why?!" They said they were sick and scared. Scared?

After a bit of digging, they finally admitted that they were in love with me, that maybe they have always loved me...and it scared them. Stupid, stupid me believed it. Stupid stupid me returned the gesture. I think back about it now and remember feeling like I had to. No excuse. I also explained that we could throw that out the window if it didn't pan out in Austin. They agreed to come. In a matter of hours, I would find out why they were trying to back out.

I arrived in Austin, got my bag, and immediately wondered if I had made a mistake. I wondered if they were coming at all. I had some time to kill, so I took my time meandering over to different spots throughout the airport. Too nervous to eat or drink anything. Finally after a few stops within the airport, I finally made my way outside. They probably weren't even coming. I had accepted that this may be a possibility. What was I doing? Who would bank on such a ridiculous "reconnect" trip.

I was sitting on a concrete bench, cross-legged with my luggage. They had walked up behind me and to my left. They muttered out the nickname they had already given me. That nickname they gave me at that point (yes, from Avengers). I got up immediately and hugged them. They looked sick as all hell. We caught a cab and rode quite a while to the hotel where we had booked a room to stay for the duration. It was quite a long ride. During this time I remember realizing that something was wrong but I had tried to hide it by burying myself in their embrace. 🚩

I remember the hiccups, the burps, the sweating, and towards the end of the ride, the wretching as though they were going to puke. I asked what was wrong and they kept brushing me off.🚩 Ride ends. They pay. Checking. Load onto elevator. Enter room.

After some time of bodily functions and wondering what the fuck, they insist that we go down to the hotel bar. Ok. We got downstairs, sit at the bar, and they quickly order a drink. Gentleman Jack and Coke. The bartender couldn't make that drink quick enough, serves it, they immediately order another as they suck down this rocks glass. Second one is served. Sucks that down. Orders a third. I began to realize that their "sickness" is alcoholism, bad.🚩 There was a sense of relief as their nervous system begins to settle. They become more coherent and less sweaty, shaky.....less of a mess.

The rest of that day was kind of a blur, to say the least. All I know is that we missed the Acid King show that night because they were passed out in the room. I wasn't happy about that. Finally, I went to bed.

At some point during the night, I remember waking up to more sickness. I tried to help, showed concern but was met with a wall. Went back to sleep.

When I woke the next morning, they were gone. 🚩In a way, it was a relief. I tried to contact them to see what happened. Nothing. I continued with my day, a little worried. I made it a point to go to the second show that I had bought tickets to, there in Austin. I got ready, ordered and Uber, arrived at the place, scoped it out, got a drink, ordered some food, and sort of enjoyed the solitude. I was thankful I attended, even alone. The band had recognized me and greeted me so kindly. I enjoyed the set and bought a shirt. When it was over, I caught an Uber back to the hotel.

Once there, I began to wonder what happened to them. Were they OK? I called and text again. No answer. Again. No answer. At this point I began to get worried. Again. Nothing. By late evening I was leaving voice-mail, texts, video messages, wondering, pleading with them to let me know they were OK. I finally went to sleep.

By the next morning I still hadn't heard anything and at that point I was a little frantic and feeling guilty. I began to call every jail and every hospital in Austin. Only to turn up with nothing. I had this feeling in my gut. I began to call nearby detox centers. Then, they finally returned my call. We spoke for a few minutes and they apologized for everything. They ended the call abruptly before I could get any information. I made contact again, we exchanged affections for each other.

Next thing you know, I was packed up early and in an Uber to spend my last few hours in Austin with them.....laying in a hospital bed next to them.

I should have let that be the end, but sadly, it wasnt....

[gonocontact]

Take Three: Hey Stranger

Summer of 2019, I had already been in school for a few semesters. I had been moving right along and actually enjoying school, which was unexpected. I was attending school full time, bartending, attending to my children and their extracurricular activities. I would become engulfed in any DIY project I found to do around my home. I had purchased my home three years prior and was completely in love with my children, my home, my life. Sure, being a single parent had it's bumps and potholes, but I always managed to turn my lemons into lemonade.

I remember putzing around in my bedroom when I heard the Facebook Messenger ding. At this time, I didn't use the Messenger a whole lot. I was more for texting but the occasional message came through via Messenger. I unlocked my phone and saw the bubble with a profile picture that I didn't normally ever see. I clicked it. "Hey Stranger..." Once I saw the name, I was quite surprised. Why did they have the sudden urge to message me? Now, I admit, I had always had a little crush from our days in the military. It wasn't unlikely for an old battle buddy to pop up here and there throughout the years. We would catch up, check-in on one another here and there, normal stuff. But this, this was something that I could have never in a million years imagine. I never thought these two words would turn into three years, four if you count the aftermath.

I replied, pleasantries were exchanged, the normal "What have you been up to all these years?", "Got kids?", "You miss the Army?" This was to be expected. One thing we also had in common and was always the subject of any communication in years prior was TOOL. We both loved the band TOOL. I had been to about fifteen or so TOOL concerts at this point and had been waiting for their newest album to be released that summer. TOOL conversation was the main subject for the first few conversations, all this via messenger text.

That conversation ended but I remember feeling a little off. I didn't know why and didn't think anything of it. That first conversation led to the subsequent hours upon hours of texts, phone calls, and eventually video calls during the next few months. I had not spent this much time on the phone with anyone since I was a teenager. Half the time, we were both astonished at the number of hours we would spend in communication with each other.

Then, one conversation, I noticed it. They were drunk. I teased about it a little, not in a bad way. Aaaaand it all came out. The breakup. They were freshly out of a relationship three months prior, or so they said. But at the time, I didn't question it. Apparently they owned a bar together in a different state. Things went bad after the move and the other half became hurtful, horrible, and cheated with everyone in town. They were used. Later down the road, the same theme played out in their divorce. Poor them, they were shit on by the people they loved. I related to the though, I had been in relationships that ended this way so I know what it felt like.

What's more, is that their breakup trauma led to the onset of their PTSD from our deployment. This is the same thing that I went through when I split from my ex. Already, they were pulling at my heart strings. They admitted to going downhill from there. By this time, they had relocated back to their hometown, a thousand miles away from me. Their drinking had spiked to an unhealthy level but it was all they could do short of crawling away into the darkness.

Now, let me tell you something about me. I go all in for the underdogs, the castaways, those with injustices. I guess I'm sort of an activist at heart. But the rest is this person who feels the need to take in a project and build a better version, remember the DIY projects I mentioned earlier? As I learned later, I try to fix anything I can. So, I guess I felt the need to take this hurt and broken person off the floor and try to make them a better person, show them the love they were deprived of. Stupid decision in hindsight. That, and I knew absolutely nothing about Narcissists or narcissistic abusive relationships. Nothing. Nada. Nein. Splat.

This stupid decision, with the best of intentions, would lead me down both the best, and the worst, relationship-escape-room experience that I have ever been through thus far. What I was convinced was the love my life, also was my scariest demon. That kind of demon that will not only take your soul, but will convince you to hand it to them on a silver platter. That kind of demon that will show you your happiest moments but tell you that you were dead for all of them. 👺

[gonocontact]

Take 2: 2019

In the years between 2005 and 2019, a lot had happened for the both of us. For me, it was exiting the Army, marriage, children, moving, working, and so on and so fourth. Sure, we were friends on the infamous Facebook, with the occasional "Happy Birthday" sprinkled in for good measure. There were maybe a couple of very short conversations through Messenger, but definitely nothing to write home about.

Then, during the summer of 2019, that all changed. What I did not know or expect was the damage to follow. Now let me preface by filling in some blanks. I had myself, been in some abusive relationships (in one way or another) in the years leading up to this. I had also done a lot of self reflection and did benefit from its growth. But I also had good relationships, that ended for whatever reason at that time. There weren't many relationships, but still, they did count.

The year 2010 holds a significance to me in the fact that it was the year I began treatment for my combat PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). This was delayed and most likely brought on by my marriage dissolving. That traumatic event kicked my PTSD into high gear. I'm talking insomnia, hypervigilance, the whole nine. When I think back on those years, its a wonder how I made it through. But as any parent will tell you, its the kids that keep you going, especially when the other parent leaves.

A couple months passed, I argued with myself internally, then finally came to the conclusion to relocate my family back to my hometown. There we go, pack, pick up, travel, settle in, get kids in school, find a good (or a few) bartending gig, buy a home, begin my education.

Ah yes, here we are, summer of 2019. I was in my second year at the community college and, quite frankly, I was enjoying school. Life was good, we were happy, I was single and certainly not looking for a relationship. I was focused on school. I was working ahead, blocking off time to work in my home office, sticking to that schedule as well. Everything felt like a fresh warm day in the spring time.

My combat PTSD had improved ten-fold with regular visits to a psychiatrist. No manic episodes or anything crazy. I was of sound mind. I was on antidepressants that worked pretty good. No personality disorders. But I will say this about myself, I guess to level out the playing field of one's own faults. This whole tale is one of honesty and truth.

When you take regular young adults and drop them in a adrenaline-fueled environment for twelve-plus months, in other words, a combat zone, you then create a normal baseline that is surely not normal. Once the soldier comes home to "normal life", the soldier will have trouble with this "new normal." We lived on pure adrenaline for the better part of a year. The result of that become our addictions. This isn't to sweet talk you into believing that my addictions are ok. No, this is truly what happens.

For years (some not) I have used a controlled substance. Does everyone know? Well they sure as hell do now, whereas they most likely did not before. This was intentional as much as it was private. Did my kids know? Not at all. Family? No. VA doctors? Yes. Did I live a normal life at that time? Yes, complete with soccer games, gymnastics sessions, roller derby, homework, family nights, school, homework, and bartending. I guess I was functional, as functional as you could get using a controlled substance. And when it was appropriate, I did dabble in psychedelics. Take that all how you will. Remember, I am leveling that field.

Plus, there's no way I'm a saint....I'm fucked up too.

[gonocontact]

Take 1:

I had met the Narcissist, the first time, back in 2004 while deployed in Iraq. I remember seeing them and noticing how attractive I thought they were. In passing, we would smile at each other, say "Hi" and go about our day. At some point, I don't remember exactly how it happened, the Narcissist had invited me to hang out and watch a movie.

At that time, I was twenty-years-old, they were twenty-one, although I thought they were a couple years older. The invitation excited me, one, because of my attraction to them, and two, because every other person around me just went googly over them. The Narcissist chose me.

That evening came and I went to their "room". Now, you have to understand, during the Operation Iraqi Freedom II deployment, soldiers were not living under normal circumstances. Essentially, we were a bunch of soldiers thrown together in a dust bowl with weapons and ordered to "civilize the country of Iraq" and "here, live in Saddam's palaces in Tikrit while you're at it." So, we lived in this HUGE palace that sat over a lake, The Water Palace. Inside were these enormous rooms that could comfortably house a platoon all on its own. I lived together with about ten other soldiers on the second floor in a room that had twenty foot ceilings, grand windows, marble, crystal, gold and porcelain. Our rooms were sectioned off with plywood and studs and we made do. Honestly, it wasn't all that bad, I suppose.

The Narcissist lived down on the first floor with much of the same set up as I had. So, that evening, I walked down this dangerous ass staircase, that had no banister (I always found this hilarious, especially when the lights didn't work) to the Narcissist's cubicle-room. The evening wasn't very interesting because apparently, they had popped some sort of pill beforehand. They put on a movie for us to watch and pretty much passed out from the effects of whatever meds they took. Already there were red flags...

So, that was an abrupt end to that night. After that, they seemed a little shameful but would throw a smile here and there in passing again. A few months later, still in Iraq, I had met the person that was to be my future spouse and parent to my children. In a way, now, I look at that as sort of a saving grace. At the time, I was young and naïve, and the Narcissist most likely would have had many more years to take advantage of.

Let's fast forward to 2019, right before the COVID-19 pandemic.....

[gonocontact]

I first shared this with blog a group of very trusted friends. I don't really know why I chose to share. I guess maybe because I am a very private person and I felt brave enough to share some insight into my soul. Part of me also wants to experiment to see how far these stories will travel.

So.....if you know me in real life, just keep my identity private if/when you share.

Please let me know which blogs you can see/have read and where you are from, I'd appreciate it.

The following posts are my story as I remember it, from MY perspective.

Nothing but Love.