I left husband number two in 2013 and by that time I was suicidal. Fifteen years with a narcissistic control freak really did a number on me. I don’t want to get into a rant of all things he has done but I will mention the top four.
One thing he did a lot was gaslight me thus making me question my reality. He would tell me I didn’t remember things right, that I was making up stories and telling lies. He was the only one who could remember anything accurately.
He was so controlling sometimes during an argument he’d corner me in a room and not let me leave, he’d block my way. He’s forced himself in to a room I was in before I could lock the door, he’s stalked me and even chased me down the highway for an hour before I could lose him.
He was so dismissive of my needs he wanted to abandon me on the day of my grandmother’s funeral to go list a house (he’s a successful realtor). When my uncle was dying and the family was called in, I was asked by my cousin to watch her kids so she could say her good-byes. That was a no-no, so my was going to see him before he passed away. I went anyway but it was a huge fight.
There’s much much more but this post isn’t about all the wrongs he’s committed. This post is about how, in spite of his manipulation, I resisted the urge to go back to him for a third time. He’d always been able to manipulate me into coming home in spite of me knowing the mental and emotional abuse would not get better.
The final straw was when I punched him in the face as he was driving down a busy street with my infant granddaughter in the back (that’s a whole story in of itself and maybe one day I’ll post about it). Suffice it to say that one punch in the face potentially put us in danger, pedestrians in danger and other drivers in danger. I couldn’t let him push me that far again, what if there’s a next time and I’m holding her?
I needed to be cold and unfeeling towards him or I knew I was doomed to repeat the past. I needed a little ice in my veins to ignore his overtures of love, affection and his promises to be a better man. I had to remain stoic in the face of his tears. I’d heard it all too many times before and each time, things ended up back where they were and then would get worse. I had to be firm in my resolve, there would be plenty of time to fall apart later. Leaving him was step one on the road to better mental health.
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My Phoenix Rising 