Nightmare on Narc Street!

I have been the victim of narcissistic abuse my whole life in various forms: parent, partner, and even friends!

This is the story of how I got played by an instrumentalist of the highest order and my seemingly amazing ability to attract such beasts!

I was the perfect victim: damaged goods, vulnerable following a horrific marriage breakdown (that’s a whole other story, but he also displayed highly narcissistic traits and his final blow was to run off with my best friend)!

Then one unfortunate day I met the man who I thought was going to change my life. He was unlike any before him; he was my soulmate, the Romeo to my Juliette, the happy ending to my fairy tale, my destiny. I was head over heels in no time at all. He perfected the Love Bombing stage like a Trojan; in fact, in those early days I often said, wow, you are just too good to be true! Sound familiar?

On the surface I appeared to have it all: great job, high energy, two beautiful daughters, a nice house. I fit his criteria perfectly; I even had curly blonde hair (like his ex-wife — you know, the crazy ex they all despise). I was his perfect trophy.

I was vulnerable, naïve, blind to every red flag — you know them well, I’m sure. He knew all the lines to capture me in his web: we only need each other; you’re a bit special; I’m going to make you need me; I know how to treat a woman like you; you shouldn’t be alone; music to my codependent ears on every level. He must have rubbed his murderous hands with narcissistic glee. I was wide open to his game of soul-destroying, psychological murder. I was addicted, trauma bonded, he had my brain rewired in no time at all.

Being independent and generous by nature, I offered to pay for things, this became my downfall too as I set the expectations that would continue throughout our relationship. My financial security became at risk, leaving me more dependent on him.

In a desperate bid to please him I rented out my house and moved into a place with him, this is where the nightmare stepped up! I needed him to pay the rent, I needed him to feel safe in a house that wasn’t my home but I soon realised, I was trapped in a prison. It was here, the place I now refer to as the house of hell, that my nightmare became a living, breathing, daily reality.

He spoke in a low mumble, almost under his breath. I often struggled to hear what he said. At first it was just an off the cuff remark here and there, leaving me questioning if I’d even heard correctly. A slight put down, a suggestion of how I could do things better, and back in the early days when I reacted, his responses made me feel like I had misunderstood. He didn’t mean it, he was just offering advice, I was too sensitive.

His insidious abuse was ruthless, my boundaries were smashed to smithereens over and over; his cruel words, oh yes, they all seem to have this secret language only known to other narcissists — I still don’t understand it, are they born with the script? Do they go to narc school? Yet at the same time I am finding us victims also have a similar language as we try to get others to understand what has happened to us, all to no avail. I know now that no one other than another victim could ever begin to understand; it really is an indescribable form of abuse that takes you to the depths of hell.

I became a modern-day slave! He criticized my cleaning abilities, often leaving my house because he couldn’t stand the mess, the carpets gave him asthma, and each time he left I fell to pieces. I couldn’t understand why he would leave over such insignificancies. I felt lost and broken. He returned, oh he returned, over and over, but each discard became longer, the cutting insults more brutal and more frequent. On each return, I tried harder and harder to please him, to make him stay.

I was subjected to every trick in Narcville; he played me hard and fast, put me on that Narc pedestal, idealized me, and then began the devalue stage. They are masters of deceit, something I would later learn, as unbeknownst to me, he had no capacity to love, to empathise, to show any form of compassion at all, and while my energy was being depleted daily, he displayed all the typical behaviours of every Narcissist Personality Disordered person my research has lead me to understand.

Soon I was clinging desperately for that idealised life to return, the one he promised me, that perfect man, my soulmate to come back, but it was too late. By this time I was merely his puppet and he was pulling my raw strings to shreds. The crazy making, the oh-so-murderous silent treatment, the manipulations, the threatening misogynist behaviour, the crippling disrespect, the smear campaign during the many abandonments, the inequality, the punishments dished out each time I dared to defend myself — and believe me I desperately tried — igniting his narcissistic rage over and over until I was broken, just a shell of my former self.

I felt worthless, my shame engulfed me, overwhelmed me, isolated from friends and family (they either didn’t understand why I was allowing someone to treat me this way or they didn’t meet his exceptionally high standards and were discarded). I mean, what sane person would take someone back who forced them to return to the house one night with threats of killing my dog and then jumped onto my car whilst I was still inside it, punching my windscreen and making threats to strangle me once the glass broke. It was like something from a horror movie; as I reversed out of my drive with him still on the bonnet of my car, windscreen smashed and shaking from head to toe in fear and disbelief.

I became so unwell that I couldn’t work; my job was now at risk too, my security, the one thing that kept my head above water as a single mother, yet now I could barely function with simple day to day tasks, never mind a stressful managerial job.

My intelligent brain knew he was killing me, literally, but I just couldn’t escape. Each time he left in a “narc” rage, I researched; I spent hours, days and months desperately seeking answers, for a cure, for anything to explain what was happening. I knew it was wrong, I knew he was deflecting (gaslighting) all his nasty, evil ways onto me but I was addicted, trauma bonded to a monster.

I needed my fix (HIM) and he knew it; abandonment is my weakness (I shared that with him, my raw pain of childhood abandonment) and he used it frequently to punish me.

My mental health deteriorated fast; no article, book, or counselor could give me the answers I so desperately needed. I eventually fell to the depths of despair, I had a nervous breakdown, I no longer cared if I lived or died. I became so ill I just couldn’t see a way out and just as I was on the verge of giving up, a miracle happened.

I found the answer. I met my lifesaver. Wow, I wouldn’t be here now telling my story, hoping to help you too, if I hadn’t met her. She validated everything I knew I had been feeling for so long but could not understand, she knew my story before I even opened my mouth, just like she and I will know yours. She showed me how to cure my addiction and wow, I’m so grateful, thankful to finally have found my freedom, the answers I had been seeking and my life back.

Following the initial detox, I still had a journey to take; I still do, we all do, but it is a journey that excites me, gives me a reason to get up every day and smile at the day ahead and you can have this too. Trust me, it’s so worth it, and the day you realise you are no longer addicted, the fog has cleared and you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, you will experience such liberation, such joy, and a sense of peace that you’ve probably forgotten what it felt like.

Thank you for reading my story; I desperately hope if one other victim reads my story, you will too break free. Educate yourself, seek help; there is a way out.