Not ready (yet)

In the past I’ve heard people come out with the old cliche “I’m just not ready for a long term relationship” and always thought ‘what a cop-out’. It’s not been until now, at the ripe age of 31, that I understand its “a thing”. 

I’ve been dating a girl I knew from school for a few months now. I thought that after such a long drawn out break up, 6 months no contact and a seemingly improving mood I was OK to start seeing someone regularly. It seemed fine, she was stunning, kind and thoughtful yet as the months progressed, and she seemed to get serious, I found myself feeling stressed out. I couldn’t put my finger on why really. We had good sex, we had good nights out and had shared interests yet I had this underlying disinterest. I just couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm for the relationship. I wouldn’t look forward to seeing her like I did my sociopath ex and I found myself thinking about the differences which was unacceptable. I wasn’t being fair to her or myself – I’m not ready. 

I explained that I’m not ready for a serious relationship and she kind of understood but didn’t sound very happy. I had to tell her and end things before they progressed and I ended up really hurting her. I liken it to a crack addict trying to get the same buzz from a can of red bull; Its not going to suffice. That’s not me saying that this drug is something I want or need as its harmful and would have ultimately killed me. I have to face that my character is (no – was) addicted to these types of girl. Its too soon in my recovery to start dating. I haven’t managed to heal myself in order to appreciate the right kind of girl yet. The girl I was seeing recently may well be the type of girl I need in a years time but for now – I need to be alone. 

I understand that my psychopathic ex wasn’t a real person. I know that she wasn’t a soul mate and that we never really had all of those shared interests etc but I’m obviously still grieving and coming to terms with that reality and ultimately the loss. 

It’s a recovery rollercoaster

The recovery from a sociopathic soul leeching nutcase really is a painstakingly nauseous roller coaster ride from hell. You feel that one minute things are finally on the up, your mood is levelling out and you can sense the end then whoosh – you’re hurtling downwards into darkness again. On your way down all you can hear are words once spoken; their riddles, lies, manipulative flattery and pity seeking sob stories. You see flashes from moments of intimacy and feigned affection. You feel really gullible and sad as you wonder how you could have been so naive when it was, in hindsight, so obviously messed up.

“How did I dedicate so much love, time and effort to such a disturbed person” rings through my mind regularly. 

The good thing is that when you’ve been on this ride for a while you learn how to cope. You even minimise the effect of the dip. It stops sickening you so badly and you actually start to accept that it happens; you’ll soon be on the way up before eventually levelling out.

That’s enough of the rollercoaster analogy – it’s useful but I’ve got the song ‘Love Rollercoaster’ by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers in my head now and it makes me smile because it reminds me of Beavis and Butthead. This isn’t helpful because I’m trying to document the dark moments but instead I’m sat here at my desk with a smile on my face – oh well, I can forgive myself and my weak attention span just this once.

So, to summarise my weird ramblings – I came back from Jamaica last week and really felt down. I was tired, I had the holiday blues, I was jet lagged and these elements combined left the door to my mind open for my ex to enter and throw her darkness around again.

I watched Divergent last night (I hope you’ve seen it) and in the film the main character is sedated during a test and forced to face her worst fears. During the dream she quickly calms down and tells herself ‘this isn’t real’ at which point she can break her way free from danger. This made me realise that you can apply the same principles when you’re suffering in the fog from the sociopath. The relationship just wasn’t real; it was completely artificial. You were sedated, just like Tris, and the sooner you tell yourself ‘it’s not real’, coupled with the fact it wasn’t your fault, you quickly smash free from the flooded glass box and take a breath. In a mad way the very personal thing the sociopath did wasn’t personal. There was nothing different you could have done that would have made this a lasting AND HEALTHY relationship. The key is to remember the healthy part (in my opinion). You probably could have done some things to prolong the agony and keep this poisonous creature in your life but it would never have been healthy. The moment they set foot into your life you were on a path to Shitsville.

I mentioned in my last blog that I’d be putting together my relationship rule-set soon and I can promise anyone that might be interested that it’ll be my next blog. I just wanted to capture these up and down moments because I know people out there are suffering in the same way.

Please share your thoughts, feelings or criticisms (preferably constructive) in the comments.

Speak soon, J

Harsh Lesson

Harsh Lesson

I said that I was going to keep anyone interested in my recovery updated so here is an update. I’ve been on such a painful journey these last few months (as documented) and I’m finally glad to announce I’M ON THE MEND! I’ve been no contact for over 6 weeks now and she’s no longer haunting my dreams. I went through a stage of seeing her every single night. I would wake up at 3am feeling genuinely upset, get back to sleep, then wake up again at 5am having had her abuse me in my sleep again – ridiculous.

Hindsight is NOT a wonderful thing in this context. Hindsight has caused me massive amounts of pain; yes it’s necessary, but just so uncomfortable. I see what a pathetic shell of a man I allowed myself to become. Her games, inconsistencies, lies and manipulation drove me to lose sight of so many things. She was my priority, every single day, but fixing that toxic relationship should have been well down on my list. She never deserved the status in my mind because she had never earnt it.

I have talents locked away inside me, I have things I want to do, I have interests, I have books to read, podcasts to record, songs to write, webpages to develop, gym sessions to complete. Then, above all of that, I have a daughter to raise.

This truly has been a harsh lesson. I feel like the sociopath was a necessary evil sent to wake me up and refocus my mind. She’s taught me to put me first; my wants, my needs and my interests. A relationship is no longer my priority and it never will be.

In my next blog I’m going to write up and share my new life management system. It’s a set of policies and rules that will be guiding me from this day forth. I’m going to strengthen the foundations of who I am and then rebuild my life based on self-love, boundaries and new found wisdom.

Anyway – I fly to Jamaica tomorrow to fulfil my best man duties at a wedding (That’s if hurricane Matthew finally moves out of the way) so I’ll catch up with you all after that.

Have a great week and I’ll speak to you soon.

J x

The soul pirate

Well, isn’t shaking off the effects of a psychopathic relationship an uphill struggle. The problems are enhanced by the way the experience isolates you from the vast majority of your friends, family and everyone you know because they simply do not understand. My mom says “I knew she was strange, oh well, just never speak to her again and find yourself a nice girl”, my best friend says “block the bitch and get a new bird”, my colleague says “Mate, it sounds like you’ve dodged a bullet” then quickly changes the subject to football; while all of these are valid comments in any normal context they just don’t make me feel understood. I know it’s not their job to understand, I don’t expect them to understand but it would be nice if someone outside of counselling did.

I’m going to see my new counsellor tonight and she does get it. She says things like “wow that must be really crazy making” which has a massively calming effect. When I explain the way this psycho infected my life – she gets its. When I talk about how every song, every TV show, every place, sound and smell ties into her she understands the extent I’m talking about. These psychopaths mirror every single hope and dream you have. If you want to travel across America; they want to travel across America, if you want to live in a little village; they want to live in a little village, if you want to be trampled on by stampeding rhinos; they’ve always wanted that as well. They infect almost every aspect of your mental imagery and make a gullible fool like me feel like I’ve been found by my soulmate – I was finally understood. 

I’d been lost at sea for a while when this beautiful creature found me. She boarded my already fragile life boat, made me feel safe and told me she knew a way to dry land. She made out that we’d fix the boat together and then proceeded to drill a hole in the hull before leaping off and leaving me to sink. The sad thing is, even though I knew she’d caused the damage, I paddled after her for near 2 years whilst desperately trying to plug the hole. She was already boarding other boats, ignoring me and occasionally appearing on the horizon in her pirate hat and shouting “I’m still here – keep paddling”. 

I now realise that I wasn’t paddling after my lover’s boat. My frenzied romantic pursuit was comparable to chasing a half-eaten chicken nugget down a hill through nettles and broken glass – It was completely embarrassing. What made it all the more embarrassing was that this was happening in a stadium with friends and family all sat looking on and thinking “What is this complete and total moron actually doing – he must be insane”.

The whole thing was a delusion. In my desperation and sheer exhaustion I’d been fooled by my own brain and groomed by a crazy women. The problem wasn’t that she was a psychopathic manipulator (that’s someone else’s problem now); the problem was that I was lost at sea in that tatty boat in the first place. These twisted pirates exist and learning that has been difficult. Snapping out of my ignorance has been an experience I’ll never forget and nor should I. 

It’s hard to accept that the whole thing was a lie. It’s so hard. I want to feel that unbelievable connection again but not at the cost of being soul raped. Is that the problem? Is my thirst for that connection the root cause of my problems? Why is that thirst there? Do I even need to connect with someone on that level? Where does all of this come from!?

I’ll keep you posted.

Tortured Soul

I’ve spoken in my blogs so far about the pain I’ve been caused. My cold, unloving and often spiteful ex-girlfriend has really torn me to pieces – but was it justified? I keep wondering ‘Did I bring this on myself?’ and here is the reason why.

Just to recap – We were in love (well, I was anyway), we’d had an amazing holiday together, we’d found our soul mates (yes, there were warning signs – see ‘Broken border controls & an elusive dragon’) but we were happy. We were always talking, texting, sending voice notes, laughing and we’d see each other often. I had a good relationship with her 2 kids and I was really, really happy with the whole situation. Those 6 months, minus a few minor bumps, were the happiest of my life. I felt a connection like never before.

Then she broke my heart out of the blue. She started behaving irrationally. She ruined our weekend at a music festival and then she ruined my 28th birthday (by taking a stranger to Ibiza instead of me). She had seemed to completely lose her grip on reality. She wouldn’t listen to me, she wouldn’t hear my views and she wouldn’t apologise or meet me half way. It was her views, her ways or nothing. That was a betrayal of my trust. People have disagreements and don’t see eye to eye occasionally but this was just insane. My gut told me this person wasn’t right and after the weeks of stress I felt different. Well, I thought I felt different. I told her my feelings had changed and she seemed really upset. Whilst she seemed upset about it she never really did anything about it. She never apologised for what she’d done. She never resolved any of this conflict. In her eyes, now that she was over it, I was over it but, she’d caused a lot of damage. Her being unable to acknowledge my hurt feelings was much more problematic than either of us realised – it was toxic.

I remember thinking ‘her violent psychopath ex-husband still seems to be on the scene, she’s sneaky, she’s selfish and she makes me feel confused – something isn’t right’. Our relationship was near over. We had both said it was over.

My friends had arranged to take me out for my birthday to try and cheer me up after she’d made me look a fool (by taking her new friend to Ibiza). I was left feeling really embarrassed by that. I was in a group of about 10 lads and after a few drinks in a local pub we headed into town. I had a call from her, my ex, to tell me to have a good night and that she loved me. She knew I was hurt and feeling let down by her so she called to be nice? Fuck with my head? Stop me from getting with another girl? Who knows but she always remembers to mention “I told you I loved you”.

I was drunk, hurting, angry and confused. The group I was with merged with some girls that we knew and I ended up being kissed by one of them. I told her I had a girlfriend, even though it wasn’t really true, and she apologised and said she’d been told I was single. We all headed back to a friend’s hotel room. There were about 6 of us in there continuing the party, messing around, being silly but then I sobered up. The girl was open to me and her lying down together but I kindly refused and left.

I got home in the early hours, lay in bed and thought ‘you did the right thing, ok you kissed her, nothing major, well done for not letting it go further’ and then fell asleep. I was woken by a call from my ex who was not a happy bunny. In fact she was fuming. A video of us all in the hotel room had surfaced on Facebook. I was seen with a girl trying to hold me up with her legs playing some stupid game. It was the girl I kissed. My ex was fuming, asking me what happened, accusing me of all sorts and I told her “You finished with me, we are over, why are you so angry?” but I quickly felt consumed by guilt. I felt like I had done something awful. She asked me for weeks “Did anything happen with that girl?” over and over and over again, after initially refusing to tell her anything, I blurted out “Look, I kissed a girl that night”. She seemed to be really upset. She wouldn’t accept that was all that had happened and, being fair, I understand that. Things were stacked against me. I was in a hotel in the video and I’d kissed someone. I fully see where she was coming from but I was telling the truth and, let’s not forget, she’d finished with me before it happened.

I spent over 2 years paying for that mistake. I was a monster. I was a cheat. I endured nothing but emotional torture from that point onwards. I was lied to constantly, I was ignored and the abuse really was relentless but – this is where I struggle. I really beat myself up. Yes, she had caused a lot of problems. Yes, she had broken my heart with her behaviour and pushed me away – but now I was in the wrong. It’s such a complicated set of circumstances. I had only kissed a girl (a girl I didn’t even find attractive) whilst drunk and AFTER I’D BEEN DUMPED – did that mean I deserved over 2 years of abuse?

I kept on going back for more. 95% of the time, over the course of the following 2 years, it was me chasing her. I was on my knees. I’d made a terrible mistake. The fact that she’d been so carless and selfish before this kiss was irrelevant to her. We went on weekend’s away, spent nights together and went on holiday (when it suited her) but it just progressively got worse. Nothing I did worked. I thought ‘If I hang in there, show her I love her and prove I’m sorry then she’ll eventually forgive me and we’ll go back to how we used to be’. I tried so hard but she was never going to drop the ‘you cheated on me’ stick and stop beating me with it. She enjoyed it. The getting ‘back to how it used to be’ idea plagued my brain. She had her hooks in me from the love bombing days and I still feel the pain from them now.

In my mind, shortly after the kiss incident, once the dust had settled, we should have both made a choice. We both forgive one another and move on, which would have meant that we both accept responsibility for the mess, or we end the relationship. That would have been fair in my eyes. In reality, dealing with facts, we had both made mistakes. She had guided our relationship onto a path destined for failure and I had compounded things further by kissing another girl. Seems simple doesn’t it – two people living in the same reality, accepting responsibility for their mistakes and moving forward. We could (and should) have resolved our conflict and been stronger for it – but no. She didn’t want to play along. She was innocent. She was a victim and I was the evil monster.

After all of the time spent trying to prove myself by taking her lies, her sneaking about, her silent treatment, her snapchat flirting, her made up stories, her accusations and her secret holidays abroad mixed with spending weekends together, going away, telling each other we still loved one other and that it’d all be ok (when it suited her) she’s dropped me and gone back to her ex-husband.
I feel like I committed a crime, served my time, then on my day of release, after promises of freedom, she led me to a gas chamber to be executed.

Here I am, surrounded by the toxic fumes, fighting for breath while she plays happy families with a man who she claimed had raped and beat her. Head = fucked. I asked her how she could go back to a man who raped her and her answer was “Well when he raped me he didn’t use violence”. Oh, that makes sense, that’s really good to know. He’s not a violent rapist. He keeps the violence and the rape separate – comforting. That’s fair enough then. (I hope you sense the sarcasm). Can anyone smell that bullshit?

Having witnessed her lack of empathy first hand, heard her mention her weird dislike of animals, caught her lying 100 times and even listened to her talk about how she would manipulate a person for money; I’m 100% sure she’s a narcissistic sociopath. Nothing I could have done would have made this relationship last. I was not going to get my happy ever after fairy tail but – I still have an intermittent voice that whispers “if you had understood her more you’d have been able to keep her happy, this is all your fault”.

Broken border controls & an elusive dragon

The last 6 months have been a real test. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that the love of my life wasn’t going to change. I had to face the fact that the amazing relationship, that had me head over heels in love, was gone and unrecoverable. Then I had to face the idea that I might have something missing or corrupted inside my own personality.

I realised that I’m susceptible to problematic and disordered partners. I’m the male equivalent of a girl who goes for the bad boys. That’s awful. I always berated those women and it was difficult to realise that I’m in their group. I’m a male Britney Spears.

So I’ve had that gut wrenching realisation. I’ve googled the hell out of borderline personality disorder. I understand codependency. I’ve read about complex PTSD and I’m now aware that my eventful upbringing has me slightly twisted up. I’ve found myself a counsellor who specialises in trauma and I’m going to work this stuff out and shake off this dark cloud that plagues me.

I can see how some people, men and women, would just come out of a relationship like this and just bury their heads in the sand. They would pour scorn over their ex. They’d tell their best friend what a bitch / bastard they were and feel comfort when they hear “there’s plenty more fish in the sea” and “there’s lots of people who’d love to be with you out there”. It’d be easy for me to think ‘bitch’ and just move on, get into Tinder or POF and just start looking for someone new. I’m not going to take that risk. I can’t afford to. I feel that with every relationship that fails, in this god awful fashion, I get closer and closer to being sectioned under the mental health act. I don’t want to end up convinced that the CIA are listening to my phone calls whilst sitting in my studio flat, on my own, in a tin foil hat. That doesn’t strike me as a path I should take. I refuse to accept that I’m destined for a life of drama. I don’t want to constantly fail at relationships and be drawn in by predatory women. The sooner I get this sorted the better.

So here is how the borders to my heart and soul where breached. In hindsight I’ve identified five security failures that will be addressed:

Breach  # 1 – I met her using a dating site and she had a fake account. That should have been it, end of conversation, thanks but no thanks. Her reason was that she didn’t use the site and she was just messing around using her friends profile. That, my friends, was pure bullshit. She was using a fake profile because her ex was still on the scene and she didn’t want him to find out she was hunting for men online. If I’d hazard a guess she was probably sleeping with her ex weeks before I met her. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Big mistake.

Breach # 2 – Sex on the first date. Yes, it takes two to tango. I know that. I’m not going to lie in these blogs and try and portray myself as Mr. Perfect. This was a lesson I learnt for myself but this action on her part, coupled with the fake profile, should have been another boundary. I should have left it there. She never really had a reason for the sex on a first date. She claimed I was only the second man she’d ever slept with but I find it really difficult to believe.

Breach # 3 – The hidden phone. I never EVER saw this girls phone screen. I remember once that I caught a glimpse of her typing her lock pin into the phone and she immediately changed it. The phone was either out of sight or face down on silent. She never even used it to take pictures of us together. Her reason? She said that she’d always been a very private person. Who am I to try and change a girl!? I just weren’t that bothered by this at first but after a while it got weird. It was over the top. I wouldn’t have ever checked it, tried to get into it or read her texts. I wasn’t insecure enough. Now, looking back, this along with the other two – I should’ve shut this relationship down.

Breach # 4 – Ex on the scene. Her ex wouldn’t leave her alone. It was drama all the time. She was scared he’d knock the door. She’d notice missed calls and texts. We’d go away for the weekend and he’d call and cause trouble with childcare arrangements. OK, some people end up with crazy ex husbands, but this man apparently raped her. He was violent, he was a monster and a pest yet she wouldn’t change her number? She never reported him to the police? She never had a restraining order? Something here was amiss. I never saw a text message, she never explained what he was saying on the phone, she never gave anything away. I had no idea what his problem was. I think she’d probably been playing him, screwed with his head and strung him along just like me. Speculation? Yes. Speculation is all I have. Regardless, no matter the reason why, the alarm bell should have been sounding loud and clear.

Breach # 5 – Delusions. This really should have been the final straw and in many ways it was. We were about 6 months in and we spent 2 nights at a music festival camping. We’d had an amazing first day. The second day was also amazing – or so I’d thought. In the middle of day 2 I saw a group of friends and my ex had her sister and a new girl she’d met with her. We were all stood near to one another enjoying the music. A group of girls approached me, one asked for a cigarette lighter and another asked me if I had a girlfriend. I said yes and looked at my ex. The girl smiled, said “Oh OK, that’s a shame” and walked away. I thought nothing of it. I jokingly said to my ex “did you see my fan asking if I was single over there” she said no and asked me to point her out. That was it. We laughed about it and we carried on. I was really enjoying the music, I had my friends around, we were all drinking and my ex was nearby with her friend. About an hour passed and me, my ex and her new friend left that tent, spent hours wondering around other music tents, then we made our way back to the campsite. I was still buzzing from the night, singing, laughing and loving life. I was oblivious to the shit storm forming around me. We got in the tent, we lay down, I hugged and kissed her but she was dismissive. She shoved me away and told me I was a bastard and our relationship was over. I went from being on a high to hitting the ground at 1000 mph. I was baffled. She said that she couldn’t believe what I’d done. I’ll try and cut this short. She said that the girl in the tent had been abusive to her, shoved her and intimidated her and I stood by and did nothing. I hadn’t seen a thing. This was the first I was hearing some 5 or 6 hours later. She refused to listen to me. This argument went on for 2 weeks and I ended up apologising to her. I said that I was sorry about what happened but I hadn’t seen a thing. She wouldn’t accept it. She said that I’d done wrong but I just hadn’t see it. It was awful. The evidence was all there. I was obviously oblivious to there having been a problem that evening. I had absolutely no reason to lie. Not only did she cause this argument, weeks of pain and needless stress she then decided, just a few weeks later, to take her new friend to Ibiza for my birthday instead of me. She took a stranger to Ibiza for my birthday and left me in the UK. It was out of the blue. I was convinced we’d go and get over this silly argument but she just compounded things further. I was heart broken. I felt a right twat. My friends were as shocked as me. My best mate said “What the fuck are you doing with this girl mate, she’s obviously mad”. She returned from Ibiza, sat before me and joked and laughed about the time she’d had. She told me stories about how some lad had her name tattooed on his body for a laugh and I sat there thinking ‘This girl is evil’. Surely that was it? Surely I’d end this shit show? It was close. I told her my feelings had changed. I thought I wanted this relationship to be over.

These five breaches were all significant. Why did I let them go? Why did I stay after all of this bullshit? I did it because in between these events and behaviours this girl was my soulmate. Our moments together were so inexplicably brilliant that I just just threw all of the shit in the denial compartment of my brain. We shared so many things in common, she’d told me I was her hero, I was the most important part of her life, she couldn’t imagine losing me. She had been through so many hardships; I needed to save her. I loved to feel so loved by this beautiful girl. I needed to feel that loved. She was a drug that I craved and even though I noticed it was harmful – I needed the high.

From this point onward I would be chasing the dragon.

A pattern emerging

Well it certainly wasn’t third time lucky for me in the serious relationship department; although I really thought it was. I want to show you why I’m in this position, looking for a solution to an evidencable problem, confused and feeling used and betrayed again.

I’m not a professional victim. I just wanted to get that out there. I’m not heading into relationships then lying, cheating and being a general bastard and then crying out “how could you do this to me” after causing the pain myself. I’m not one of those guys. This isn’t me trying to justify some terrible behaviour. No, I’m not perfect, but the fact is I’ve chosen three genuinely troublesome females, all with similarities, and each time they have done the same things. They all walked all over me, cheated on me, lied to me and then replaced me.

It’s not easy typing this stuff. I do feel stupid. I’m a man who gets treated like a doormat and often begs for more until  I realise I’ve been replaced. That’s my boundary. As soon as I realise they’ve chosen someone over me I’m gone and I never return. You might think ‘well, that’s not a boundary, that’s them leaving you for another bloke you retard’ and yes, to some extent, you’re right, but they still seemed to expect more after this final kick in the teeth. 2 out of 3 have been back. The latest one has been back with her husband a matter of weeks so I’m not sure how that’ll play out – but it’s irrelevant. They don’t get another chance after that point.

We all have to have that line. Mine, yours and everyone else’s should be way before we get replaced by another victim. My line should’ve been 3 years ago before she even did this to me. I realise that now. I shouldn’t tolerate years of emotional abuse and then decide enough’s enough when they’re with another man. The alarms bells rang but I put my fingers in my ears and shouted “la, la, la, laaaaaa!”.

This is something, as a man, that’s hard to take. It’s hard to admit these things. As a man you’re expected to be tough. You shouldn’t be abused. We’re blokes we don’t get abused by women. I hear “just man up” but that’s unhelpful and just wrong. I’m not a weakling. I don’t hide from a fight. I’ve been brought up around confrontation, fighting and boxing and I was always tough enough to survive. I’ve never stood for shit from people and I’ve often defended people I love. I’m physically fit and strong and I don’t get bullied but, when it comes to women, I know how to pick a real star. I’m going to explore what makes me such a target. Am I too soft and kind to these girls? Do they not respect a man who will bend over backwards to make them happy? Do they not respect a man who will try to keep the relationship alive? I know it’s a cheesy well known saying but from experience the nice guy really does finish last.

Here’s the 3 troublesome relationships that have led me to this point:

1. The violent bitch. This went on from the age of 15 to 19. We met in school and I let her walk all over me, physically hit me and scratch my face, shout at me in the street and really kick start my career as that doormat. When she eventually started sleeping with another lad I was devastated. The pain was unbearable. Then, soon after, I realised I had fuck all in common with this girl anyway. She’s tried to suck me back into her nightmare twice. Once a number of years ago and once again recently. It’s been 11 years, she’s married and she’s messaging me on Facebook telling me she’s been thinking about me a lot. She got told to go away – satisfying.
2. My daughters mother. This started when I was 20 and followed the same on / off pattern as the last one until I was 25. The only difference here was we’d had a child. Within months of us meeting she was pregnant after she actually told me “I can’t get pregnant, my ex beat me badly and doctors told me I’ll never have kids”. Brilliant. She wasn’t violent but she was a lying cheat. I later discovered that she cheated a few times. So, what happened in the end? She replaced me and I felt devastating pain – again; but I never went back. She tried to get me back a number of times over the years. She’d show up to collect my daughter dolled up with make up on, perfume on and her hair done. She’d be suggestive. I’d be able to tell when her new relationship had failed because the contact would increase and I’d have to make it apparent it was a no go.
3. The Mindfuck. The fucking Mind-FUCK. The soul rapist, the energy vampire, the unrelenting shape shifting nightmare. We’ve already spoken about this one in my last blog. I met her when I was 26 and I finally found out she replaced me last week. This one is the pick of the bunch. She was by far the coldest, most calculating, lying, double life leading nightmare I’ve known. The other two were bad but they look like Mother Teresa and Mary fucking Poppins compared this one. She drained my soul away. She literally fed on my energy, my kindness and my empathy but she was the victim. Oh yeah, it was me, not her. She always had a reason. She always had an excuse. The difference between the other two and her was that the other 2 felt guilt and revisited objective reality on occasion. This one felt no remorse, never took any responsibility and never EVER said sorry with any sincerity. Number 3 will be the springboard for me sorting myself out. Mindfuck will feature heavily in this blog because she was, by far, the worse human being I’ve ever come into contact with. That’s not me being bitter. That’s me being truthful.

Thank you Mindfuck for shocking me so badly that I had to wake up from my snooze. I was wrapped in a denial blanket and oblivious to the “I love to be fucked over by women” sign flashing above my head.

That sign will be switched off and my new found awareness is going to carry me forwards. I will be unattractive to crazy people. I’ll be surrounded by people who share a common and fair reality. I’ll be happy.

Speak soon.

The long snooze

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.