Wednesday, 8 October 2014
Feeding my Narcissist Addiction
Maybe it turned out for the better in the long run. He was very remorseful. Apologized over and over again for everything he had done to me. I felt loved and safe again for a few minutes. And then he started lying about how often he had met up with Debbie from the early stages of our relationship. I already knew the facts because Debbie had confirmed them for me ages ago. But he lied and denied and made up other stories to explain his absences - best one was 'I was going to see my ex-wife to argue about finances. but I didn't want to tell you because you were so critical of her'. Ugh.
But watching myself being lied to, and observing my inner turmoil and confusion was so interesting. I started believing him. Even though I knew the facts. He was slowly but surely beating down my rational logic and persuading me. He was doing it in an abusive and punishing way, and I soon began to feel my heart rate speeding up and my soul diminishing.
I've been reading a blog called Chumplady which is a support site for people who are recovering from people who are multiple cheaters. She has a piece called "Stupid Shit Cheaters Say" which I highly recommend if you need a good, wry laugh! but I really did get one of those remarkable lines from John today: "I told her I love you". Said with pride. Like somehow telling the woman you're fucking behind my back on my couch, in my lounge that you love me is something to make me feel better and cherished? Like loving someone and fucking someone else is even possible in the real world??!!!
I was challenging him about timelines to rationally challenge the facts he was presenting me with - timelines that did just not add up. When I asked him about the chlamydia I caught, his response was to challenge ME - he couldn't have possibly have caught it from Debbie because he wasn't doing anything with her that would transfer a STD! So it must have been ME who was fucking someone too. SO WHO WAS IT...??!!!
I am proud to say this is the moment I got up and left. Shaking. With my heart racing. Walking away and heading straight home to my bed. Measured my heart rate once I had been lying down for 15 minutes: was 135! No doubt in my mind that this man is responsible for the crazy stuff my body is doing. I know in my grownup head that I must flee!
I'm still not fleeing. Just waiting. It's embarrassing - everyone in my life would be horrified if they knew: they've seen me almost die over the past few weeks. Fuck! It's hard, people!