I had a real eyeopener in recent weeks. It seems that what I once thought was a failed marriage on my part was nothing more than an “unfortunate series of interactions.”
I had been set up for failure, largely because the person I was involved with (notice that I no longer honor the role with the title of an ex-anything), was something of a narcissist. Wait, let’s take off the gloves here for a moment. Erase the “something of a…”
I didn’t know this, of course. I had no idea she was one when I met her. Even after the house of cards we called a series of interactions crumbled, I didn’t know. I didn’t know until a week ago. I guess the thought had never occurred to me, but once I labeled it, I found that there is a whole support network of people who have been victimized by others who put on a highly calculated act to secure your love, then devalue and discard (D&D) you when you no longer suit their needs, leaving you feeling as if you are entirely to blame for the failure of a relationship that had absolutely no chance of ever succeeding in the first place.
Yes, the whole “series” started off swimmingly. I was the object of her desires and the pursuit was swift and final. It was even perfection, me being lured away from all of my support system, becoming so isolated 3,000 miles away that it was quite easy to become completely beholden to her charms.
But it’s was a no win from the get go. In a narcissistic relationship you will be discarded once you stop worshipping the ground your narcissist walks on, glorifying his or her very presence in your life and the life of others, and hanging on every word they speak, no matter how often it is delivered in a passive-agressive manner.
The one time love of your life eventually sees you as the source of all their unhappiness. You have sold them a bill of goods that you couldn’t deliver and never could to start with. They will tell you that you’re not the person they thought you were and slowly you will earn their blame and eventual disdain.
More than likely you never saw it coming. I certainly didn’t. Oh sure, I knew we were having some problems. The once bright glow of love had given way to a competition for attention among our friends and the circles we moved in. We were seemingly the ideal couple, and yet, rather than work as a team, we worked against one another. Or, at least, that was her story.
I now realize that I could have never made this work. No matter how much of my soul I sold (and I sold almost all of it near the end), I could have never earned her respect, let alone her love, because she only had love for herself.
That is still a hard thing for me to admit. I really thought she loved me. But true narcissists can’t love anyone but themselves. It’s not their fault, and believe me, this is not a diatribe about the evils of this person, for I understand that she couldn’t help it, that’s just the way she was.
Instead, it’s about the place this series of interactions now has in my life. At one time, the fallout was almost unbearable. Read any RobZerrvations during that period of time or even my pirate memoirs and you’ll see a guy who was in an awful lot of misplaced pain and anger. My whole world had shattered in the space of six months – from thinking we were madly in love with one another to borderline hatred.
Few of our closest friends could see the threads of this relationship unraveling at the seams. She was careful to portray us as the ideal couple when in the presence of others, only to give me a good dressing down behind closed doors. Our friends used to think that we were going to the bedroom to make out. In reality, we went there so that my behavior could be noted, analyzed and corrected on the spot, with its usual threats that if I didn’t shape up I would have hell to pay.
Small wonder I sat in a chair in the corner at parties and looked as if I had checked out. I had. I had become a shell of who I once was, disassembled piece by piece by a supposed love who showered me with indifference at the same level she once showered me with love.
And in the end, this narcissistic house of cards came tumbling down. The shiny new toy from the Northwest had become old hat. She was bored with “us” and began to disconnect, vilifying me to our friends, dismissing my overtures readily, saying that I had changed, and seeking the nearest exit, a divorce coming lightening quick just 24 days later.
Small wonder I was shell shocked and that I didn’t know what side was up anymore. I didn’t see any of it coming. Even a last ditch effort with a therapist was for naught, as my narcissist boldly stated that she “wanted out” in our first couples session.
Within weeks she had moved on with her life, even picking up with an old boyfriend who worshipped the very shaky ground she walked on. Me, I was left to pick up the pieces of my life, 3,000 miles away from my only support network, having only a few friends left in Florida – she taking most of them in her need to continue to have her legion of fans.
Now, I’m not pretending I was the total victim here. I could have resisted her overtures on several occasions and I chose not to. I certainly accept my role in this. But what I’ve learned recently is that this unfortunate series of interactions was doomed from the beginning and the outcome was inevitable. And in the end, as with anyone in a narcissistic relationship, I did nothing wrong, for there was nothing I could do to make it ultimately work.
If you want to learn more about narcissists, check out this article. It’s a real eye opener.
In the Emerald City, narcissist free and free to be me,
– Robb