Bryan and I were reflecting on how hard it was when we realized we were going to have to get a divorce from our abusive first marriages.
We were both previously married for 22 years. When we met, I was separated, and he was divorced. Our first marriages mirrored each other. We each stayed in very toxic unions where we suffered emotional abuse and mistreatment in front of our children, many of whom couldn’t see our value because of the messaging from the abusive parent.
In narcissism, the abusive person will successfully destroy the image of their prey in the eyes of the family and social circle that isn’t emotionally mature enough to self-reflect and see the gaps in an otherwise obviously abusive union.
I did all the chores; I knew my neighbors realized I was the only woman in a house of five men, and yet it was me dragging the garbage to the street, week after week. A single mother raised me, and that’s all I knew. I, too, was the head of my family when my then-husband was away for long stretches, working on many of our military bases worldwide. It may seem honorable, but it was about the career, not our soldiers.
There was no need in our situation to work so hard and leave your wife to raise the incredible sons alone. I was a great child-mom, but I had no idea what I was doing when they started to become men, and I was the only one invested in disciplining them.
The neglect I had because of my trauma fed the mental illness.
The high-powered career fed an insatiable hunger. The work-justified absence felt like rejection to me; I knew my generational wealth meant he could have had any job he wanted, and it wouldn’t have changed our lifestyle. He chose to be in Hawaii, Guam, Okinawa, and Washington, DC, overnighting when I was forty-five minutes away in Annapolis, raising our sons. The absence was a choice I knew it, I felt it, and eventually, it became a great relief from the intense pain of our failing marriage.
Spending time with me was never a priority for anyone before now, except my precious young boys. They all loved me so well before they were trained to use me, not to connect with or honor me. My job was done; it was time to be taught by the abusive hierarchy that showed them they don’t value women.
The pain of the neglect and the isolation I endured in my family system, before now, had a traumatic effect on my mind. It impacted all aspects of my life because of the deep insecurity I felt from unbearable rejection. My social skills in healthy crowds kept me out of prosperous social circles. The abuse had a tremendous impact on my mind; it all but arrested my ability to function for any length of time.
The fear of further rejection incapacitated my ability to accomplish goals, increasing the understanding that I was as loathsome as my family treated me behind closed doors. I was suicidal for fifty years, and I have been hiding it from anyone who wasn’t close enough to see it and run.
I tried to earn my worth. I worked overtime to prove I was worthy of companionship. I, regretfully, did everything for the males in my care, to the detriment of raising disciplined individuals who were taught to own and honor each person’s ability to contribute, whether male or female.
I was not supported in disciplining my sons, whom I raised essentially alone. For example, one of them needed to face a major consequence, and I grounded his phone. His dad took him right out to get a replacement. My tongue was metaphorically removed. Not only could I not share my value system with my children, but I was also blamed for everything that felt like discipline, as if I was against them. It was widely accepted to be my fault that one son spent Christmas in rehab, his senior year of high school. No one had any empathy for the shattered mother’s heart, which had endured such heartbreak after trying her best to give everything for her family.
As they grow up, they will realize it. I am sorry that my insecurity kept me from showing them my worth beyond what I did to make their lives easier. I am sorry for the lives of the people who must be with someone whose mom was so scared she wouldn’t be loved that she wouldn't ask anyone for help. I sacrificed my life for the sake of a home and family I was not willing to lose. I didn’t want to impose or leave anyone feeling uncared for, so I profusely served others until cancer made serving impossible as I stared death in the face and realized something needed to change.
When I made the necessary changes to care for myself, I lost them all, which was amazingly eye-opening about how everyone really felt about me before I authentically came out of hiding. When I started caring for myself and stopped serving others in search of a love that didn’t exist, I found myself. I’m so much better than being dedicated to people who couldn't care less about my heart.
People wonder why abuse victims don't just walk away. For one thing, it doesn't hurt all the time. The good times feel so good that they make people forget the pain, and hope it is finally eradicated and will never come back. Survivors shift from victim to warrior once they come to recognize the false hope that is designed to string them along just because they can. Those who stay attached to abusive marriages are dedicated family people and would do anything to keep the family intact.
For updates on my upcoming book, The Bible on Narcissistic Abuse, and to see my other titles, please stay in touch at https://charlottessoul.com/
#charlottessoul
#spoiledrottenrichkidadifferentkindoftrauma
#thebibleonnarcissisticabuse