This is my first ever blog! As you might have seen on my landing page I’m a gentleman in his early 30’s who has been through a pretty awful few years with a cluster B mix up sociopath. I’m not exaggerating here. Its been bloody awful. I feel compelled to not only use this blog to vent but also to start it in the here and now so I can capture this journey. I’ve slowly been tortured and manipulated and eventually dropped in the last week. I’d like to give you an insight into the backstory, take you through the problems and continue on to thrive, be my old happy self and share some laughter.
“A day without laughter is a day wasted” – Charlie Chaplin
I have been through 3 problematic long term relationships with seemingly disordered individuals. “Oh well she just wasn’t the one” and “You just need to find a nice girl” are barely comforting things to hear when you’re suffering in the aftermath of being shit on from an almighty height – AGAIN. I’m a 30 year old man and society tells me that a man should just ‘fuck that bitch off’ and get out there and shag my way around the city until I find ‘The one’. That’s just not me. I was in love with my dementor. I had already found ‘The one’ and this time I want to know WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED? and WHY? It can’t be the same outcome, 3 times, with me feeling let down and betrayed by accident. I think I’m playing my part and inviting this reoccurring nightmare into my life.
I’m no psychology expert, I will never claim to be, I’m not sure I have the time to be one, but I am a problem solver. I am moderately intelligent, self aware and I function normally in the world most of the time. Sunday morning hangovers can be the exception there but generally I’m OK. These traits and these abilities have sent me on a quest (I might dress as a wizard from now on) to work out whats happened to my relationships. Especially the last one. I had met my soul mate a few years ago and the wheels came off dramatically and the relationship turned into a genuine wake up with shit in the bed nightmare. I’m pretty sure I’m suffering with post traumatic stress disorder and even today I considered walking into the local hospital and demanding they put me to sleep for a week or so just to stop my brain, but hey, you’ve got to laugh haven’t you.
I have discovered some facts so far. My ex is, and it pains me to say this, a sociopath. I’ve been in denial about this. I’ve been telling myself that her lack of empathy, having watched me crumble, was fake. I thought “Shes just being this cold and unloving because she loves me” – have you ever heard denial like that? Its horrendous.
I’ve suffered with denial all my life. My parents were perfect – denial. I just keep accidentally picking the wrong girls – denial. KFC isn’t going downhill and starting to taste shit – denial. I’m a denialist (that might have been a good blog title. Always the way!)
So, what am I doing here, on WordPress, and why? I’m gathering my thoughts, starting at the beginning of a recovery process, seeking help and support and hoping to reach and help others at the same time. This is still raw and while I’m trying to remain positive, jovial and lighthearted the truth is I’m gutted and feeling utterly heartbroken. I’m a softy when it comes to this. I met someone who I thought understood me like never before, I could be my true self, we shared so much in common, she told me I was her soul mate, she said things like “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you” and “You’re my world” then proceeded to rip our relationship to shreds before my very eyes. Over a period of 3 years it gradually got worse and worse. I was being abused. I was being played like a fool and even though I tried to break free, contemplated dating other girls, contemplated sex with other girls, toyed with ideas of moving away, changing numbers, my denial drove an inner voice that screamed “This girl is your soulmate, stick it out, it’ll come good and one day she’ll wake up”. The inner denial drove me mad. It put me on the edge of sanity, made me do stupid things at the cost of my self respect and made me look like a top ranking arsehole.
In the last few days I’ve learnt that shes back with her ex husband, who apparently raped and beat her, and I’ve finally been tossed aside but in a really odd fashion. Just last week she was pondering a trip to London with me, the week before she was deciding whether our relationship was worth another go yet this whole time shes been seeing her ex husband / husband (I’m not sure they ever divorced). Inside the last two months she was round my place, we drank, played games, watched TV, had sex and then she left the following morning and texted me saying “I had such a great night, I cant wait to see you again”. This is what has driven me crazy. Its been death by 1000 cuts. Silent treatment, games, sneakiness, blocked calls and whatsapp messages then, when it suited her, a night together that was amazing, just like old times, and Mr. Stupido Mugson here has just clung onto that. Why? Why did I do this to myself? Do I subconsciously like to be emotionally tortured?
Here’s a prime example of her odd behaviour. On Wednesday I called her, I’d already caught her friend out lying about her whereabouts (her apathetic enabling best friend is a story for another day) and she, my ex, I’m going to call her ‘Mindfuck’, realised I knew she was away with someone else. Just the day before Mindfuck had left me an angry voicemail telling me “I’m not with my husband, I’ll never get back with him, now get a grip and leave me alone” yet a day later, as I backed her into a corner, she reluctantly revealed “I’m away with the kids dad”. The weird thing is this unbelievable outcome had visited me in a dream many many months ago. My dream generator told me that she was going to go back to her ex and when I told her about it she told me “You’re sick, your dreams are fucked up, I’d never go back with him after what he did to me”.
So, learning that my dreams and subconscious were accurate, I was pretty fucking shocked to say the least. There were only two possibilities here. She was either sick enough to lie about rape, and her problems bonding with her daughter after what he’d done to her, or she was sick enough to go on holiday with a rapist. That’s it. There’s your options. What a lovely girl. Absolute fucking winner this one.
I was pondering all that stuff when the phone rang. It was Mindfuck. 15 minutes after she had told me where she was and who with. She called and asked “Are you alright” in a pretty sheepish but soft manor. I replied with “Please refrain from calling again”. That’s a lie. I shouted “Don’t ever fucking call my phone again”. I wish I’d been colder. She knew I was pretty fucking annoyed and she didn’t deserve that last feed on my emotions.
I was sick to my stomach. I am sick to my stomach. It was the final ‘I see you now’ moment. I’d been wrestling for two years to remove this mask. I’d seen glimpses beneath it but with her total inability to admit fault and take responsibility she had managed to fend me off. My denial was her ally but now; now I finally see. I see the hideous, snarling, angry creature with a face like a wart covered arse under that beautiful exterior. It was what I needed. I’d been stirring, I’d been snoozing for a long time but now, this final realisation was the kick in the bollocks I needed to wake the fuck up and get myself sorted.
I am awake.