I struggle with my reactionary behavior to my Narcissist (then) husband.
When I finally had hard proof of his affair with Debra, and all the other financial misuse, I confronted him. He was proud. He was proud to the tune of a 5 hour long rant fest on all the reasons he HAD to have the affair. All the reasons, I FORCED him to this action. How awful I was, how I didn't satisfy his needs, how terrible I was at sexually pleasing him and how I was a moving target and he could NEVER please me. How SHE got him, understood him, made him feel alive....because I made him feel dead.
Hard words to hear. The first in our 20 year marriage that he ever expressed ANY dissatisfaction at all. So what did I do? I begged and pleaded with him to give me another chance. To show him how much I loved him. I could be better. I could do better. I could be whatever he wanted, just give me a chance!
***Read that again***
For the next several years, I researched how to get my marriage back on track. I read anything I could on how to be a better wife and mother. But during this research, I discovered something. It wasn't all my fault. I started putting pieces back together and I started to get angry because he had placed all the blame on me, when it wasn't ALL my fault. I was blamed by him, his mother, his brothers and their wives for everything. He had the affair, but it was all my fault. I was destroying lives.
But then, I started catching him in lie after lie. He had absolutely zero interest in working on our marriage together or even attempting to rebuild trust. He wanted to be single with the benefits of a marriage that he was SO miserable in. Yeah, that didn't make much sense to me either.
As time went on, I became more and more upset, frustrated and angry with him. I kept trying to talk to him, to tell him (like the books and my therapist said to do) let him know how his actions hurt me. But he would just sit there, like a child, no responses, no interaction, nothing. Just total and complete silence. And as my frustration grew, so did my anger and these moments would often end up with me trying to defend myself. All his examples of how I was a horrible mother surrounded my mother's death, post partum depression, going back to work 6 weeks after having a c-section. He dismissed the email from a co-worker, his "late nights" out and times where he would be inaccessible to me or the kids for HOURS at a time. So many lies that I caught him in, were rehashed in an effort to explain my hurt, my anger and why I was so desperate. So many times, I left the house. Went for walks at 2am or drove and sat in a nearby Kohls parking lot and cried. He would wait hours before finally sending a text to come home. When I did, he rarely met me with any concern. It was always irritation, or he was in bed, asleep.
Didn't matter. But then I found his soft spot. Debra. If I attacked her, I would get a reaction out of him and at least that was something because then we would actually have communication. It didn't matter that it was destructive communication, because in my desperation, I didn't care what I was doing, just that I got him to FINALLY respond to me. But that came with a price. When we finally started communication, it often involved him backing me into corners, physically. The bathroom, My closet, The corner in the kitchen, up against a wall. He was 6" taller than me and would tower over me, screaming in my face. Then he would grab my arm, or push me with his chest or spit at me and I would fight back. But there were also times where his absolute arrogance and his demeanor was so offensive that I would slap him. He actually enjoyed that and kept saying things over and over to illicit that response. I should have walked away. I should have left. But I couldn't give up. I loved this man so much and hated him at the same time. I could not understand why it was so easy for him to be so cruel to me. How this person who said I was the love of his life, the person he'd been waiting for, who he wanted to start the rest of his life with, now, was able to flip that switch like nothing mattered. How he would needle me into provocation to start a fight. How he would blatantly ignore me, or make wall paper out of me or gaslight me to the point our daughter even noticed his behavior. But then would blame it all on me.
I struggle with my reactions. All the "Should'ves" run through my brain like wildfire, keeping me up at night. I would waffle between blaming myself and being angry at him for his inability to accept any accountability. How I would catch him in lie after lie. How it was always my fault. How he would test me to see my reaction, and I always fell for it. Because I wanted to believe he wanted us as much as he said he did. But they were just words to get me to shut the F up. Be quiet about his bad behavior so he could return to "his" normal where he continued to treat me as a piece of garbage. He would tell me how anything I was asking for was wrong, that I was out of line, over controlling or invasive into his privacy. How he didn't have to be accountable to me. How I just needed to get over it. Occasionally, he would sulk and say how everything was his fault. It was always with the premise that he was the victim and it usually elicited me trying to be understanding or forgiving and he would always flip it on me and make me regret any forgiveness.
He wasn't happy unless I was feeling unworthy, insignificant or invisible. He took great joy in seeing me tear myself apart and of course loved the ammunition I gave him of being abusive. I learned so much about myself, through that and I have had so many conversations regarding this behavior. However, to this day, I see myself as the abuser. I see myself losing control out of frustration. I should have been better. I shouldn't have let him get to me. I should have...should have...should have...
And this is what keeps me up at night. This is what makes me ashamed. This is what hurts so badly because I am NOT this person. Am I passionate? Yes. I will defend myself, defend my beliefs and my truths. But HOW I did that with HIM? I just want to crawl under a rock...and die.
And I am sure he would LOVE that.
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