It's the silent kind. It sneaks in quietly, subtly, unnoticed. It leaves its victim wondering if its really there. It makes them feel paranoid, as if they're maybe going crazy.
If you know what I'm talking about, you're doing better than so many people.
During the process of my divorce, I submitted almost two hundred screenshots of evidence detailing descriptions my ex gave of his sexual escapades and deviancy. Details that while I was collecting them made me sick to the stomach and left me crying harder than I've ever cried before. These screenshots led my attorney to change his attitude of just another client to "geez, this is messed up and I need to get this woman out!"
These screenshots resulted in, much to my ex-husband's chagrin and protest, the judge ordering him to undergo a forensically informed psychosexual evaluation. Due to confidentiality laws my ex instated because he is afraid of people discovering the truth about him, I cannot discuss in detail what was uncovered, but I can say that this highly trained professional diagnosed him as narcissistic. This Narcissism was the element of him that tortured me for years unnoticed by almost everyone around me, even myself.
That's right, the beast I mentioned in the beginning is emotional abuse. I was abused. My mind was twisted, altered, strangled, all by the person who was supposed to love me. The person whom I gave up my whole life to build a new life with. The father of my children.
The thing with emotional abuse is that it comes slowly. I've likened it a lot to the story of the frog in the pot. If you toss him in while it's boiling, he'll jump right out, but if you put him in and slowly heat up the water, he won't realize what's happening until it's too late. That is exactly what emotional abuse is like. I think back and remember a time when things were good. We had a lot of love in our marriage. But I can't pinpoint exactly when things changed because of this slow disintegration. It was likely a little thing here and there I let slide to keep the peace, then he added more and more inch by creeping inch. Once I was in too deep and floundering, I believed deeply it was all my fault. I had ruined everything.
I think the worst part is that people can't see it from the outside. There are no bruises, no broken bones or black eyes. It's completely invisible, and the victim can't even see it happening to speak out for help. So they're stuck in a torture pit believing they deserve it because they somehow caused it. Especially with a narcissist at the helm. The only way it can be noticed is someone seeing that the victim's personality is altered.
For me, I didn't have anyone. I'd left my family and people who had known me well on the other side of the world. They are the people who would have seen my personality shift in a blink, but my narcissist ex didn't have them watching him. When I came here, he basically severed my relationships with people who did know me relatively well. He would tell me my close friends didn't like him so we couldn't be around them, and he'd tell me how his friends thought I was useless and I shouldn't be around them. Whenever I tried to reach out and make new friends, he would make some excuse to block me from really forming solid, long term bonds. He and his family also kept me locked outside, never ever being able to be worthy enough for their acceptance. Isolation plagued me, and provided my ex the perfect cesspool for my torture.
Looking back, I can see the damage he caused. Hindsight truly is twenty-twenty. As I mentioned, my entire personality was altered. People who have known me before I married, and even people post divorce will tell you I'm a positive, friendly, a bit silly, confident, and driven person. I always liked who I am, and since going through a healing process, I've begun to like that person again. However, that person vanished. Anxiety always seemed present for me. Anyone who knew me in high school would know anxiety was never much of an issue for me, even during exams I'd usually be pretty chill compared to others. Even during my time of persecution, anxiety was never something I dealt with, it was more distress. But I did become anxious. I grew depressed. Worried. Stressed. Overburdened. Exhausted. Nothing was ever good enough. I'd reach and strive, and be cut down. Even my own connection to the Savior was undermined and my prayers and personal revelation ridiculed. Considering my prayers are a sacred gift that have always been so strong of a connection to the Lord, the fact that my ex managed to make me doubt my connection and caused me to cease using it is a testament to the power he had exerted over my mind. I was no longer me. I was afraid of making friends because he would breath into my ear that people didn't like me to the point where I would simply tell myself that without his prompt. I believed myself a hideous person inside and out.
I think the worst part is, again in hindsight, that people in the church turned a blind eye. I want it to be clear first before I delve into this; I love the Savior. I love the gospel. My spiritual connection with the heavens saved me and brought me through the darkest times. My testimony will never falter. However, the gospel and the people of the church are two separate entities. My ex is part of a long standing, well "respected" family within the area. Many people knew him growing up and knew his family for years before I even stepped into the picture. And so, when I was painted as a villain, they accepted it. Why wouldn't they? If these people they knew so well said so, then clearly I was. This blind eye fed my abusers. Because I wasn't a decent person, I could clearly lie about the way I was being treated or felt. Instead of seeing the way I was spoken of as the abuse it was, they allowed and even accepted it. When the divorce came, they didn't want to know the truth in that my ex had adulterated with barely legal young men, multiple of them, that he had a bestiality deviancy, that he'd delved deeply into a shady crowd known for their sexual "openness" of all varieties and would go to parties where he would drink until he passed out. No, it was my fault we got divorced. Because I wasn't a good enough wife and I drove him to madness. His choices were to be made accountable to me because I forced him to make them... apparently. And thus, the abuser taught those around him to abuse me as well.
Although, not all church members fell for this. My ward rallied around me. I have received such support and love from my ward I can't fully express the gratitude I feel for being placed among these wonderful people. And the best part? They watched me transform after the separation and saw the real me emerge. They told me they loved and admired the real me. After years of being told how worthless and ugly I was, this brought me back to life.
Although I still see the scars from the abuse, I know I am healing. My children also still suffer from the abuse they witnessed their father dish out on their mother and I struggle everyday to overcome the damage done to them, especially my oldest. He abused them too, not as much as me, but the abuse of me caused them considerable damage that will take me years to repair and may never completely go away. Nevertheless, I am grateful for a watchful Father in Heaven and Savior who have taken care of me and my girls and have broken us free of our bondage. They protected us through the divorce, and continue to protect us now.
I am so glad I am back to being me. Except, I feel stronger. Fear has been driven out. I can see nothing but hope for my future, all because I'm a survivor. I speak out because no woman deserves to feel the way I did. We were married in the temple, and so I clung to that for dear life, fighting even when my ex made it abundantly clear he'd prefer to break me than love me. Just because I married him in the temple, it didn't mean I had to stick around. The Savior taught me that. He told me to get out and gave me an escape, then promised me my temple covenants remained in tact. The Lord loves his daughters. When we are mistreated He grieves, and when we are abused His heart breaks and He wants to break us free. I am so glad I accepted His hand to liberate me.
Abuse isn't always beatings. I speak up because I want people to see this invisible abuse. When a woman becomes quieter, when her husband and/or his family speak badly about her, when she seems sad more than she's happy, when her husband always seems to speak for her or over her, these are some of the signs. I experienced them. I survived them.
I am not a victim. I am a survivor of emotional abuse at the hands of a narcissist.
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