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Narcissist Survivor’s Guilt

Narcissist Survivor’s Guilt

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Each night, it takes me a good long time to fall asleep. So when I lay down, rather than stewing about why I can’t snooze off, I let my mind wander. I usually try to direct my thoughts into pondering happy scenarios like what my dream future house would look like or what it might feel like to be completely healed from the effects of my narcissistic ex. Recently, as I was drifting off, an unbidden thought floated out of my subconscious: I should have never divorced Cory.

This unprecedented idea jolted me awake. As part of my healing, I try not to judge myself when unusual thoughts jump into my head. Instead, I simply try to pause and be curious. But this one really came out of left field. I know that I made the right decision to end my marriage and it’s been a long, long time since I had any compunction that my divorce was anything other than a divine blessing.

After some consideration (and not much sleep), I realized that I was experiencing my own version of survivor’s guilt. My daughters are really struggling at this time. There are many reasons, but one of the key sources of grief is the cognitive dissonance they experience as they come to grips with their addict dad. Cory presents himself as the nicest, most low-key guy in the world. This version of their dad is the man they have known their whole life. But the true Cory is a narcissist. And like all people in the Cluster B spectrum, he is spiteful and aggressive. When you back him into the corner, he comes out swinging. My daughters have now had ample occasion to see that narcissist—the true man their dad is. One of my daughters described his behavior perfectly: vicious.

The real Cory, with his facade laying shattered on the ground, is unbelievable when first encountered. Particularly when his monster-like behavior comes at a juncture where he is vying to reestablish his membership in the church. He texts and talks about the atonement and Christ’s healing power, all while behaving in an emotionally abusive manner. There is no humility, there is no grief, there is no sorrow. It’s just a DARVO message of how he is tired of being judged and that he is a changed man…and the kids better get on board.

I am used to this and I’m not sure whether saying it doesn’t bother me much anymore is a triumph or a tragedy. But for my kids, this confusing behavior is relatively new.

Before everything about Cory came out, my kids had a great life. They enjoyed two parents who seldom fought and seemed happy, at least on the surface. They had the security of a decades-long marriage and the stability of a traditional family life. But now they have the reality of a single mom who struggles on a daily basis and a dad who is essentially out of their lives.

Enter in my survivor’s guilt.

I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking that if I had just stayed married, this wouldn’t have to be my children’s experience. I had not been happy for a long time anyway, so why couldn’t have I made the long-term sacrifice—their happiness for mine? It’s not as if I am shouting my joy from the rooftops now. My life is a significant daily challenge. Why not just stay the course and let them at least enjoy personal peace?

Because I deserve happiness. Because my children’s struggles, while awful to behold, will make them stronger, more compassionate individuals. Because we all have a right to live in a home with unfiltered access to the spirit. Because our loving Heavenly Father would never say it was my fate to exist in a marriage with a man who mocks everything sacred.

It was interesting that a year and a half post-divorce this was the first time I’ve ever had a dialogue like this in my own mind. It is always going to be awful to watch my kids in pain. I would give anything to take that away. But I know that once we all come out on the other side of this awful grief, there will be beautiful takeaways we will be able to share with the world. I may not be able to automatically turn off the survivor’s guilt, but I can look for the lovely miracles that will happen as we fully accept our reality and process our pain.

I am Not a God of Fear

I am Not a God of Fear

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On Thursday, I returned home from a short vacation with my kids. Of course the virus was in the news before we left, but it was not a serious issue yet. We returned home after a wonderful time together and it felt like we entered a war zone. I ventured out to the stores yesterday to pick up the things from my lengthy shopping list. I don’t stock up on perishables before I go out of town because why buy things that will just spoil? In addition, since I might be moving in the near future, I have been actively reducing my food storage so I don’t have to transport it. I had heard the lines in the stores were crazy, so I felt pleasantly surprised when I saw the normal amount of cars in the parking lot. I walked in to see the produce section quite well stocked and heaved a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be okay.

But then, I started to walk up and down the aisles. The milk and egg coolers were barren. The aisle that normally contains soups literally had nothing on it. I have lived through a lot in my life, including natural disasters, but I have never seen shelves empty to this level before. My heart began to accelerate as I abandoned my list and began to wander the aisles aimlessly looking for anything that I needed.

Virtually nothing.

I began to get that alternatively hot and cold feeling racing down my spine. I’m sure there is a medical term for this sensation, but I like to call these the “creepy crawlies”. I went into full-on panic mode. Was my family going to be okay? How long was it going to be until there was food on the shelves again? Then, my mental frenzy became more global. Surely, this kind of event was going to cause the economic free fall we’ve anticipated looming on the horizon. My business would most likely implode immediately. And I had a house to buy in the next nine months. How would I do that if my business went away? How would I sell my home if the housing market shut down due to economic worries like it did during the last recession?

By the time I got home with my meager spoils, I had transitioned out of panic mode and moved into a spot I find quite comfortable: poor me mode. Why does my life have to be so difficult? Why do I have to navigate everything by myself? Why did I have to marry a man who is so awful, even after we are divorced? How come I have to live without security and peace in my life? Don’t I at least live a life worthy of that? Seriously, what did I do to deserve my miserable existence?!

Yesterday was a fearful day. This morning found me searching the scriptures for verses that would calm me and put me back in a healthy mindset. I eventually found my way to 2 Timothy 1:7 “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

Yes, these are scary times and it is possible that I might temporarily lose a lot of my income. Of course it might become almost impossible to sell my home if our economy falters. Those are terrifying unknowns. In times like these, which we all will experience, I must turn my mind to what I do know. I know that Heavenly Father is in charge of my life. I know that He perfectly understands my pain and worry. I know He cares and is blessing my journey. I know that I would rather live every terrible and frightening day alone than with a man who hides in a disingenuous life. I know the Spirit can dwell unconstrained in my home because there is no one actively mocking God, affecting everyone with his sin. Those are things I can rest on while the world goes mad around me.

I am going to do everything in my power to keep my family afloat. I will work hard at the business I have now. When supplies return to normal, I am going to beef up my food storage. If I have to move it, so be it. I will continue to live a frugal life. More on point, I will be on guard for the messages of the adversary. He delights when I transition into that scared, lonely, confused, and helpless woman. When I forget I have power. That’s a big win for him. But most importantly, I am going to pray more fervently, listen more carefully, and diligently build my faith levels. I become scared when I think I have to figure this out all on my own. I can’t do this by myself, and I don’t want to try.  When panic takes over, I can take a deep breath and remind myself to lean on my heavenly helpers, because they never fail me. Heavenly Father does not desire for me to live in fear; He alone gives me everything I need to navigate the vicissitudes of my life.

Recognizing a Miracle-Finances

Recognizing a Miracle-Finances

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I promised awhile back, after processing some darker feelings through my blog posts, that I was going to keep an eye out for miracles and post about those as well. I have no doubt that miracles exist everywhere in my life and that angels surround me. It is up to me to be in tune, or not. Today, I want to note a seemingly tiny miracle, but one I am incredibly grateful for.

When I first found out about my husband’s sexual addiction, I went through the normal, devastating emotions of shock, denial, anger, bargaining, etc. However, as I worked and worked in an attempt to try to understand my new reality and how to get better, I realized that there were many layers to my recovery and multiples of trauma that I needed to mourn. One of those was my husband’s financially disingenuous behavior. When I discovered his porn usage and other ways he acted out, I realized that this involved a lot of hidden money. Even though my kids were small, I always worked, even if just part-time. Prior to discovery, it seemed like we never quite made ends meet. I would try to pick up extra freelance work and always operated our household as frugally as possible. When I discovered that the truth of our financial struggles lay mainly at the feet of my husband, who had been consistently hiding and siphoning off money, it was another unfathomable betrayal in my already complex network of grief.

At that time in my life, I had decided to stay married to Cory because I believed and hoped his earnest protestations that he had changed and would continue to evolve as a man of God. I felt terrified, unsure, and definitely had not surrendered the illusion of control in his recovery. I had always kept ahold of the reins of our finances, but I went into hyper-drive, obsessively accounting for literally every penny that went in and out of our home. I spent hours over my Excel spreadsheets reckoning and reconciling. I figured that if I could track the minutia of expenditures, I could control his addiction.

How wrong I was. I knew my husband was gifted, but I had no concept of what he could accomplish when he combined his intellect and desire to sexually act out. Of course, the money manipulation never stopped, it just became more deeply hidden and grew exponentially as the years went by.

Last night, I mobile deposited a check for thirteen dollars and change. As soon as the deposit was accepted, I made my way to my computer to note that tiny addition to my income. And then I stopped…and I realized that I don’t have to obsessively track thirteen dollars, because I don’t have anyone in my life who is stealing from me. Nobody is taking the funds I am saving for my daughter’s college education and spending it in strip clubs. I’m not figuring out how to buy groceries while the man I should trust with everything in my life is dating other women. My heart swelled with joy as I halted my progress toward the computer. I’m free!

Of course, I still budget and watch my finances, but what an indescribable blessing in my life that I can work hard for my money and that no one is going to use my own drive and ambition to cheat on me ever again. It is beautiful and I thank the heavens for reminding me of a miracle that might seem small, but is actually huge in my recovery.

My Self-Care Myths

My Self-Care Myths

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Everywhere you turn in the world of betrayal trauma recovery you seem to hear something about self-care and how essential it is to healing. I have had a somewhat lukewarm attitude toward self-care because I didn’t truly understand what it entailed.  I made the mistake of believing that self-care looked like the lives of one of my friends, who I’ll call Sandra.

Sandra posts a lot on social media. A LOT! She talks about how she takes care of herself by getting pedicures every few weeks. Oh, and when her hair is bugging her, she nips over and gets a whole new look in one afternoon with hair extensions. She recently hired a running coach to help her perfect her gait. We won’t mention the bikini-clad pictures uploaded from every exotic location you can imagine. She recently launched her own YouTube channel to talk about lash extensions, make-up, and fashion.

Somehow I convinced myself that Sandra’s life was the sum total of self-care. And, good on Sandra, but that is not my kind of life. I was raised to be a frugal and practical gal. I honestly went most of my life believing that reaping an honest paycheck for a day’s work is enough of a reward and anything above and beyond that was frivolous and self-indulgent.

And the fact of the matter is I barely have time to do my hair, not to mention worry about its length and luxurious fullness. My idea of fashion is matching a different sweater with the same five pairs of jeans as I rush to get ready for a client conference call. And you’re just going to have to trust me on this one: nobody wants to see me in a bikini. See, I’m a divorced, single mom, and business owner. Time and money are precious commodities.

Since I couldn’t, and didn’t want to, live a life like Sandra, I thought that self-care was something that was not ever going to be in my wheelhouse.  When therapists would ask about it, I would offer vague and perfunctory replies about my progress in that area. It felt awkward to openly admit that I simply didn’t have the time, energy, or cash for self-care. However, as I did some research on self-care around the Valentine’s holiday, I found  an enlightening article which stated that self-care can be as basic as taking a few minutes a day to have quiet time.

Excuse me?! Could it really be that simple? It didn’t have to be an over-the-top, guilt-ridden exercise in pampering to be effective?

What did I have to lose?  I gave it a shot because surely I could find a few minutes in my day to practice self-care if that was a true definition of what it entailed.  I have a cat who cries to be petted each night. I decided to make that my self-care time. It is calming to be next to her warm body, feel her thick fur, hear her content sawing-purrs, and view her face as she stares at me in utter adoration. Simultaneously giving and receiving love—well, there isn’t much better in life, is there? In the past, while we had our bonding time, I used to check email, catch up on social media, or perform some other mindless task. Now, I sit at the top of my stairs looking out the window at the glorious night sky. I consider the vastness of the universe and the love of a precious house cat. I think about my day. I dig into my thoughts and feelings. I notice pain and worry present in my body. I speak kindly to myself, reminding myself of all the people who love me, and that I am in the care of a loving Heavenly Father.  I tune into my truth: this is a really rough time of my life, but I’m going to be okay.

I am happy to report that indeed self-care doesn’t have to involve expensive spa treatments or social-media-post-worthy events. If all you have are a few reflective minutes each day to give to yourself, you are on the right path. And you are most definitely worth it!

No More Words

No More Words

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When I was a small child, I discovered a gift that would be one of the most momentous influencers in my life: words. Words created sentences, which created paragraphs, which created books. Stories carried me off into other worlds and allowed me to experience adventures I might never have had on my own. It became my life mission to follow my siblings and parents around the house haranguing them to read to me. This love affair with words has never ceased. I make a portion of my living using words to write for companies and help individuals to effectively use words to create their own stories. What a blessing in my life.

Unfortunately, unlike the false proverb of sticks and stones, words really can hurt us. Especially when wielded by addicts, abusers, and Cluster B personality disorder types (narcissists, psychopaths, sociopaths, etc.).

I was cleaning out a cabinet the other day and found  a letter from my then-husband. There was no date, however, judging by the contents, I figured it was something he wrote to me about eighteen years ago when I very first discovered his pornography and sex addiction. It said: I know we are going through a rough patch, but I love you, and I promise I will never do anything to hurt or betray you ever again.

It renders me speechless to attempt to describe much I wanted to believe those words. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.

Sadly I’ve learned the hard way that words can be empty nothings when produced with sole the intent to falsely influence. I have experienced this so painfully that I literally do not take anything my ex says for truth unless it is somehow verified by a third-party source. He could tell me the sky was blue today, but I’m going to look up and see for myself.

I often hear people question aloud while they struggle with the heartbreak of their new reality, “How do I know if my spouse/ex-spouse has changed?” May I suggest it is not through his or her words. It is through action where we notice authentic efforts in the journey to become a transformed person.

My ex-husband often exclaims to our children sometime along the lines of, “I am doing so much better! I’ve changed! I won’t ever fall into temptation again!” Yet, in that very same conversation, he will also break firm and communicated boundaries and display complete emotional disconnection. His actions are in direct opposition to his words.  

The fact of the matter is that it is unnecessary to crow about how hard of a worker we are, of what an amazing parent we are through copious posts on social media, or how incredible our recovery is going, because some truths are self-evident. Others around us will feel, see, and notice how our efforts are yielding a new path by how we behave.

Our Savior was a quiet and ordinary man in the eyes of the world. He did not need to shout about his miracles and service. People around him saw what he did. They felt his devotion and power. Our loving Father sees and gives us, through the gift of the Holy Ghost, the power to understand transformative change for ourselves. I’ve learned that when words and actions don’t mesh, I always have spiritual power at my behest to let me know what is truth and what is a carefully constructed act by a spin doctor. All I have to do to access that saving truth is to live worthy of the spirit and then humbly ask.

Say What?!

Say What?!

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I had a highly triggering experience this past week. There was a death in the family of my ex-husband. After careful consideration, I decided to attend the funeral to support my former-mother-in-law, who was in my life for over thirty years, but also to be an anchor to my children. I knew it would be a difficult experience, particularly because my ex is a narcissist and I could already see traces of manipulative behavior starting before the day of the funeral even dawned.

When we arrived at the church viewing, we knew that my ex’s new fiancee, her children, and even her parents would be in attendance. As my mother and I moved into the chapel while the family said their final goodbyes and closed the coffin, I was approached by one of the new fiancee’s daughters. I was impressed and touched by this young woman’s bravery. That must have felt intimidating, making the first move to break the ice. Once we chatted for a few minutes, she invited me to come over and meet the rest of the family. I took a deep breath and accepted her kind invitation.

Her grandmother immediately reached in for a hug, such a sweet action. While we were hugging, she whispered in my ear, “Your ex-husband is a good man and you can take some of the credit for who he is.” A tingle of ooey-gooey horror raced down my spine that she would say such words. I actually held the hug longer than I normally would in order to give myself an extra second or two to process her statement. I finally pulled away, saying nothing. She grabbed my arm and said, “I’m serious. You should take credit for what a great man he is.” It took every bit of training in basic principles of polite behavior and therapeutic work I’ve completed since this all started not to blurt out, “Excuse me?! The thought of taking credit for who he is is entirely abhorrent to me. I want nothing to do with any kind of credit for such a horrible, abusive man.” The extremely awkward and painful conversation when forth, with me tilted a bit off axis by her highly curious remark.  

That interaction left me in a semi-state of shock and I sat numbly through the service. All the rest of that day, I kept thinking: How could she have said such an insensitive comment to me? After all the pain, abuse, and anguish I’ve gone through, how could she say that he is a good man? How could she think I would ever want to claim credit for who my ex is? Was she mocking me?

But, no, it didn’t seem like the comment was made with ironic intent. She presented herself as a genuinely earnest and compassionate woman.

I didn’t sleep that whole night and woke up feeling emotionally hung over. And completely puzzled.

But then I remembered. This is my ex we are talking about here. This is the master manipulator. More and more people are informing me that he is spreading a rumor that we divorced in a mutual, amicable fashion. He sadly states to our shared acquaintances how we simply fell out of love with each other and it was time we finally end a mutually unhappy reunion. Of course, he fails to point out that after giving him every chance to change and be a better man, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, and is still full of the same enmity to this day. He somehow forgets about his years of cheating, lying, and betraying our relationship. He doesn’t remember to mention that his own children will do anything to avoid him because they are tired of his constant boundary-breaking cruelty. His soon-to-be-wife nor her family can see how he is isolating her and already grooming her for future abuse. I will give him credit, because the act goes on—at least he is dedicated to that.

I’ve now been divorced for over a year and I lived with the puppetmaster reality-shifter for twenty-nine years. I don’t know how I continue to be caught surprised by what he is capable of. It’s still difficult for me to believe that such profound levels of human evil exist and that people can find personal fulfillment through play-acting. I don’t live in or understand that kind of world. Of course that sincere woman was not mocking me. She is being manipulated by the master. She really believes that her daughter has caught a wonderful man who was just the unfortunate victim of a relationship with a cold, distant wife. And guess what? I bet my interaction with them seemed cold and distant because I was completely taken aback by their “everything is awesome” attitude and open admiration for my past husband. When she hugged me, I wanted with everything in me to whisper in her ear, “It’s not too late! You can save your sweet granddaughters from a sexual predator. Please save them!” But this isn’t my place. I’ve already warned their mom. Yet, there she was at the funeral, staring at my ex with eyes overflowing with adoration and with a sparkling, new engagement ring on her finger.

This is just another example in a long list of how I need to turn this situation with my ex-husband over to Heavenly Father. I can’t change what is going to happen to those innocent girls. I tried. The interaction with the grandmother was a difficult reminder that when innocents are caught in the concentric circles of an abuser’s grasp, they may say things that seem harmful, cruel even. But the truth is they are victims too, being fed a completely false story. Their concept of reality is being purposefully altered by a person who has no empathy, compassion, or true ability to love. These are decent people who believe, because they have no reason not to. I’m grateful that I was reminded that this family is one who deserves my prayers and sympathy, not my ire.

Save Yourself

Save Yourself

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I have the great honor to volunteer as a betrayal trauma mentor. One of the common themes which comes up in our discussions is the wish that we could save the future romantic “victims” of our ex-spouses. I feel so blessed to work with incredibly amazing women. Their capacity to love and feel concern for others touches me continually. Even though they are barely figuring out how to survive themselves, they are worried about another daughter of God.

I too used to suffer with this need to rescue. Okay, let’s be honest, sometimes I still do. My ex-husband moved on from his relationship with me at lightning speed. Of course, it was easy for him because he never was faithful and he never felt emotions of true love for me. He had two new girlfriends before he had even moved out of our home and after he had promised to be faithful.

One of those relationships stuck and he was discussing his potential engagement two weeks after our divorce finalized. I was absolutely paralyzed with worry for this woman and her teenage daughter. I wanted to warn her! Help her to see! Save her! My mind churned with what I could do to get this innocent woman away from Cory.

Well, that relationship petered out, probably when she found out he had been lying to her all along, but then the next woman came along. Immediately. And my worry began to churn anew. One day, this new girlfriend reached out to me. I’ll admit, I was initially freaked out, but then I felt a surge of hope. Finally! A real opportunity to save a woman and her children from my ex!

Well, guess what? I was vulnerable and transparent, telling her a LOT of information. Details that she could not deny were true and should have sent her running for the hills. This woman also has teenage daughters (do you see a theme here?) and when I could not appeal to her own personal safety and worthiness for better, I appealed to her as a mother for her children’s safety.

And it backfired in a big way.

I don’t know what my ex is telling her, but she just wanted more and more “proof” that what I said was true. Finally, though devastating, I cut off contact with this woman because engaging with her was not emotionally healthy for me.

This girlfriend recently became engaged to my ex-husband. It makes me sick to think of what will happen to her and her children. I lose sleep over it. However, my experience with her taught me a valuable and needed lesson: I can’t save anyone but myself. As people who are trying to live the best life we can after divorce, we have a natural desire to help. However, some people are not emotionally healthy enough to receive our assistance. Perhaps, as in my case, the ex is a brilliant narcissist who plays the role of “good guy” so well that he could win an Academy Award. I am not match for his cunning deceit. I don’t want to try to be. I suppose I can see why she would believe him over me.

I realized the worry for this woman was hijacking my thought processes and emotional well-being. It was circumventing my own necessary efforts at healing. As a result, I went to the temple, the place I go with all of my problems. After a session, I spent considerable time in the Celestial Room. I told Heavenly Father I was turning this woman and her children over to Him. I needed to mentally walk away. After, I put her name on the prayer roll and I said out loud, “It is finished.”

Heavenly Father is in charge. He loves every single one of us, even our deeply misguided ex-spouses. I don’t know why He doesn’t stop my ex from hurting others. However, I do believe the principle of agency must be allowed to follow its natural course. When given a chance, I attempted to save this woman. Oh, how desperately I wanted to save her! But ultimately, I learned I can only save myself. This is something I have to remind myself of, at times, on a daily basis. I hope that as you navigate your journey you too can remember that the only person you can save is yourself. You alone are worth that time and energy.

You Hang in There

You Hang in There

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One of the surprising aspects of being a divorced woman is the amazing people I meet and talk to as I go about the business of changing my life. As I shift names on credit cards and other personal details, I spend a lot of time telling a lot of strangers about what is going on in my life. And here’s the weird thing: most of them have gone through it too. As a whole, I have found these individuals to be infinitely kind, patient, and willing to help.

The other day, I called up the credit card company to get my name changed. When the customer service representative asked me for the reason why and I explained, she said in a lilting Southern cadence, “I know what you are going through, when I went through my divorce, I got down to 82 pounds.”

As we concluded the call she said, “Now, Miss Azalee, you hang in there. Things are going to get better.”

I wished I could record her affirming voice, filling in the names of all the ladies I know who are traversing the living hell of ending a marriage and navigating the unbearable pain of betrayal trauma. So, I’m going to say what that sweet lady said: you hang in there. Things are going to get better. You are going to heal.

I am fascinated by the picture that I have used to head this post. The woman appears to sit on a swing over a chasm. Yet, she doesn’t give off the sense that she is desperate or unsure. She’s got her hands on a safe surface, but she’s not gripping in panicked desperation. Though it seems she is perched over an abyss, there is a confident command in her posture.

She’s hanging in there.

We may be hovering over own personal abyss. One that was not of our making or choosing. I would have given anything to save my marriage and keep my family together. The tumult of an unknown future may be all that we can see when we look forward. But we can face this with quiet confidence–because we’ve got this. Many of us haven’t been given any other choice.

We’re going to hang in there. We are going to trust that a loving Heavenly Father knows us and is in charge. Always. Forever.

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