Good Memories

A person once said to me after 15 ½ years of marriage there must have been some good memories; the only good memories were the ones I created by not rocking the boat, walking on eggshells, remaining silent, being a good little girl and following the script exactly the way he wanted it to go. The best memory I have is the day I left and never went back. I could finally breath and the burden of what I had been living in was lifted from my shoulders and the possibility of a new life free of abuse was within my reach. It was the hardest step, but one I had to take in order to move forward. The four years since I left haven’t been easy; still get bouts of PTSD. I’ve made mistakes and bad choices along the way, but it’s all okay because I’m in the driver’s seat; I decide when to brake and when to go; I don’t like to parallel park, so I don’t. I have the keys and I don’t have to let anyone else drive unless it’s my choice.

My daughter shares all of the things he says about those good memories and sometimes I wish she wouldn’t share them with me, but on the other hand it reminds of exactly who I was married to. Listening as he dissects and picks me apart piece by piece; devaluing and attempting to annihilate me as a person all because I know what’s behind the mask; the narcissist worst fear is exposure. His words use to ring loudly in my ears, now they’re just an annoying whisper and eventually they will fade altogether. He attempts to poison our child against me, but all he really is doing is sabotaging any future relationship with her. Some of his phrases are new and some he’s used on her since her memory has served her. “Your mother and I hated each other from the beginning.” So, if this was true, why did we get married? “Your mother never wanted you.” This was his continued attempt at parental alienation. “Your mother is crazy.” Only while I was married to him! LOL “Your mother lives in her own reality.” Just another way of him indicating I’m crazy. “Your mother only prepared cheap and easy meals.” Yes, that’s why I used to spend 2 hours every Sunday morning preparing my menu for the week. It’s a shame but our daughter has come to the realization that her dad hates me more than he loves her.

He resented anything I did for myself because that made me selfish…..and in the last 3 years of marriage when I was being selfish a.k.a. doing things I enjoyed on his time that’s exactly what he would throw in my face when he’d blow up. How dare I go to church on Sunday? How dare I spend my Saturday’s working on an art project while I was attending college? How dare I attend my weekly support group for domestic violence (he always referred to it as my man haters group) every Wednesday evening and thus forcing him to prepare a meal. You see I was doing things for me and they were taking from his time. There was an unwritten rule that I was allowed to do things outside of him but only while he was at work; all other times I was to be at his beck and call; he even tried to control what time I went to bed. I was not allowed to have a life outside of him. When you’re married to a narcissist he becomes your jailer and you even help him unknowingly put up the bars that imprison you with him. It is only until you realize that you are a prisoner and unshackle the chains of fear that have kept you imprisoned then you are truly able to be free. It’s not quite as simple as that, but it’s where your change begins.

I have to remember according to him I’m crazy, bipolar, and I live in my own reality and I’ve made this all up, if only that were true. Four years in a support group for domestic violence taught me my memories are quite real and all too familiar with the other survivors in my group.