Hold My Halo and Pass the Wine

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

I sit and think of that childhood phrase probably way more than I should. There is a method to the madness behind such a statement – words cannot hurt you; at least not in the way sticks and stones do. Sticks and stones, fists and feet, bottles and cans, hell even a TV remote – they hurt. They leave marks. They are everyday things that are made into weapons in the blink of an eye, and sometimes leave someone with a black eye.

Words, however, are invisible. They have no physical shape, or tangible weight to them. They are just forced air, mixed with vocal sounds, and formed through different shapes of one’s mouth. Nothing more than mere vapor. So no, words cannot hurt us the way sticks and stones can.

But words have a way of hanging around. They stick to the senses. When someone you care about tells you for the first time, “I love you”, that phrase becomes a sound in your ears that you force your brain to remember. You remember the smell of the air at that moment, the visuals of that moment are etched forever in your brain, the feel of the air or the temperature around you, and every time you hear that person say “I love you”, those individual senses bring back that exact moment, over and over again for as long as you can remember. The same can be said for the first time you hear your child say their first word – the moment and all of those senses remember everything in that very short moment.

The brain does not discriminate. It will hold the cherished with the traumatic, and you have very little control over it. And if you happen to have the type of memory that I have been blessed/cursed with, well I truly mean it when I say, “I’m sorry”.

When we were children we saw TV shows, read books, and occasionally saw a local news article about an abused child, and all those stories told how that child was beaten, broken, discarded. We would be glad that we were not the children in those stories; that we were lucky to not have those experiences. We learned lessons in those stories: tell a trusted adult if someone was being abused, adults telling you to keep secrets was not good, and that we are protected by the law. But no one ever talked about was the other form of abuse – the type of abuse that leaves no visible bruises.

I lived in an abusive marriage for years and I never knew. I had no idea what I was dealing with, who I was dealing with. I just knew that the way he treated me was not good. But it wasn’t “abuse”. He was just someone who got mean. Honestly, I think I thought he just had a really bad memory, but what I discovered over the years, and especially in the last twelve to eighteen months, was that his memory was not just fine, but he was also a compulsive liar, a manipulator, and an abuser.

Family Matters

As I sit and write, I feel the urge to provide the following PSA: “Writing this has caused a lot of self-reflection, and I realize had I known then what I know now, I would have seen the red flags.”

For example, family dynamics and their relationship with their family MATTERS! When I look back on conversations with my ex-spouse, even when we were dating, he was foreshadowing what my eventual marriage was going to look like. Looking back, I am not only shocked, but saddened with a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach. When he would tell me about how his dad behaved, how his dad treated his mom, how his dad refused to interact with his in-laws, he was not only sharing with me about his past but reading the script for what would eventually be my own marriage.

I remember him sharing stories about his childhood. His family had very traditional roles. His dad worked, his mom was a stay-at-home wife and mother of three children: a daughter, a son, and a daughter. Dinner was to be ready and served as soon as his dad came home from work. Activities that the kids wanted to do were to be outside of the dinner hours, everyone was to be home, doing homework, and that was it. He also told me of his memories of family events with his mom’s side of the family. The car ride there always involved a fight between his mom and dad, and how his dad would just complain about his in-laws. The time at the event was filled with tension, and they never stayed long. When his dad wanted to leave, they left. No questions asked, no finishing conversations, leave and do so now. The car ride home then consisted of his dad yelling at his mother the entire drive home about how terrible her family was to him, no one talked to him, they all thought poorly of him, and he was sick of it. Eventually there was some huge altercation between his dad and his grandpa that ended with his dad never attending a family event again.

It was made apparent to me that I entered the picture shortly after this occurred. My first event with his family, meeting his parents and sisters, was his younger sister’s high school graduation party. This was held between two properties, as his parents lived next door to his dad’s mom. Both sides of the family attended, so I met aunts, uncles, cousins, grandma’s, a grandpa, and other family friends. But it was very clear to me the dynamic of how the family interacted or rather how interactions were avoided between certain people. I remember it being a lot all at once, but even with the tension, it did not seem that bad. I mean, it wasn’t like we were living with them, so if those people did not get along then that was their issue, not ours. Little did I know that these issues would be exactly that – my issues.

The Dating Years and the First Missed Red Flag

Mark and I dated for 5 years before we were married. During this time, nothing seemed too worrisome. We did events with my family and his family. I remember being excited about doing things with his family. I only had one sibling, a brother about 5 years younger than me. Dating someone who had two sisters, I was looking forward to a relationship with his sisters, especially since I did not have any sisters of my own. I shared this with him, and he seemed happy that I wanted to develop relationships with his sisters.

The same could be said for me getting to know his friends. He was always wanting to do things with his friends, include me in these events, and making plans with me to do things with his friends. His friends seemed to like me, they would talk to me, and seemed welcoming. I was completely focused on being received by his friends and family. It all seemed to be going well. He would praise me for being so easy to get along with, and how he was so glad I did not bring drama into his life like the other women in his circle. I was achieving amazing girlfriend status. And then I started to hear things.

It wasn’t too obvious at first, and I understood that not all people get along with everyone. I knew I was outspoken, had my own views and opinions as any 22-year-old, and I would not always readily agree with everyone; however I also knew that I was a people-pleaser. So when Mark started telling me things his sisters were saying and his friends were saying, I was was not only shocked, but also worried and embarrassed. This first scenario I can recall is with one of these friends. I don’t remember the exact timing of this situation; I only remember that my friend (his ex-girlfriend) and I were at his house when he brought the rumor to my attention. He started asking me a few questions, did I know a certain guy, confirming with me recent events and places I had been as well as my college schedule. His attitude about was not aggressive towards me. I did not feel accused or anything like that, and his demeanor was pleasant. Once I confirmed everything with him, I asked him what was going on. What he said next would be the beginning of several similar cases that would carry over into even after we were separated.

He then told me that one of his friends was telling their group of friends that I was cheating on him. Of course, he knew this was not true, and he was going to handle it. The number of emotions I had in that moment are difficult to put into words, but here is my best attempt. I was furious that someone would lie to me. I was embarrassed because I had worked so hard to be that perfect girlfriend, and now one of his friends was wrecking my reputation. I wanted to confront this person and ask him why he was telling people I was doing this horrible thing that I wasn’t. But Mark would not have it. He said he would handle it. He knew that a group of the guys were out that night, and that his friend had parked his truck in a driveway just down the street. He said we play a prank on his and teach him a lesson. Amy and I were okay with this. What harm would a little prank do anyway? So we got in Mark’s truck and down the road we went. And just like he said, there was his friend’s truck, in the driveway, and no one home. Just like he said. Looking back, I am now slightly curious as to how he knew where the friend’s truck was and that it would be unattended, but this guy was attempting to ruin my reputation, so I didn’t think anything about it.

What I did not anticipate was the “prank” that Mark had in mind. We pulled into the back of the large driveway to hide his truck, while he went up to his friend’s truck. He said he was thinking about dropping the drive shaft. Apparently not difficult to do now difficult for his friend to fix – just a major inconvenience after a night of drinking with the boys. Never once did it occur to me that this really was not dealing with the situation. His friend was spreading a horrible rumor about me, and Mark was messing with his truck. I was snapped back to the task at hand when I heard him say that dropping the drive shaft wasn’t going to work – he did not have the correct tool to do it. (Let me say quickly that I have no idea how to drop a drive shaft nor if there even is the “correct tool”.) The next thing I know, Mark has opened the driver’s side door and urinated in the floor of the truck. I remember just staring. Then, we were running. He just kept yelling for us to run, get in his truck, we had to go! And we ran. Amy and I ran and jumped in his truck, and we were off. But not without a forever reminder of that event. In running to the truck, Mark tripped and fell on the gravel driveway and was left with a decent sized scar on his right hip bone.

Now, first, yes I realize I probably should have been concerned about this behavior from him. I cannot remember exactly what he said to make it not seem like a huge deal, because now in my 40’s yes this should have been my ticket to exit and exit quickly, but I didn’t. I remember him saying something to the effect that the truck was a farm truck and has the plastic floor so he could just hose it out, or something like that. Second, I will simply claim young and dumb, and move on. Now, I said this story was just the beginning and now that the pattern can be seen years later, this situation is what I now know as triangulation. Looking back on all these situations, they all make perfect sense and are the ideal conditions for narcissistic abuse. Again, something I would only discover decades later.

There were other scenarios as well, not only with his friends, but he would say things to me that my friends were saying to him, things his sisters and relatives were saying to him about me, and even people at my work. These did not have happen on a regular basis, but if I had brought up something I wanted to discuss with him about something I was unhappy about, he would at times suddenly have this inside information about me, secrets that people were whispering behind my back. He was my defender. I was the social burden, and how lucky I was to have someone like him talking to all these people who were obviously out to get me or were fake friends or just simply nice to my face and that was it.

He told me how his friend’s wives did not really like me, but they were all stuck up bitches anyway. He told me how his sisters did nothing but start drama. Every time before going to his grandma’s house for a family event or holiday, he would start the conversation about how he knew how difficult this was for me to be around his bitchy sisters. He told me that he really hoped they would not say anything to me or start anything with me because that would be so upsetting to his grandma, but if they did he would take care of it. I would then spend the entire family event looking over my shoulder, scared of saying the wrong thing, or at least saying something that would ignite the obviously impending conflict. I would leave these events exhausted and relieved that no altercations had happened. Although I remember thinking what I had done or even not done to cause them to just be so intolerant of me. To this day, I still have no idea how his family truly ever felt about me. However, after our divorce, I am sure everything he was telling them about me came to fruition in their minds. because in all of this, no one, including me, ever stepped out and talked to the other party.

Similar events occurred with other friends. He would tell me how his guy friends never invited him out for “guys’ night” because they all knew how much of a raging bitch I was. (If you have not guessed yet, “bitch” was his favorite word to use towards all women when he was speaking down upon them.) But yes, his friends did not invite him because I always yelled at him once he came home. False. When his friends did invite him, he would tell them no because he knew I was going to say he could go and then get pissed once he did. False. I would even call his friends directly and tell them to invite him out for one reason or another. He would then tell me after the fact that they never called him because they knew I was trying to trick them. False – although I did not know this was false until after we were separated and one very brief conversation with one of friends did occur. I was told how the people I work with thought I was incompetent and should be fired. I was told my parents thought I was incapable of managing my household. I was completely devastated. All these people in my life, all the important people, thought so little of me. Mark was the only one who saw the person I really was. Who appreciated how hard I was working. Who acknowledged my drive to continue my education, to earn higher degrees, to obtain additional certifications, all so I could advance in my career, in my pay, and in a better life for us. He was the only one truly on my side. What I know now is that I was living in a world of triangulation and lies.

Triangulation: AKA Third Party Manipulation

So, what is triangulation? Triangulation in the context of narcissistic abuse involves the manipulative tactic of bringing a third person into a relationship dynamic to create jealousy, insecurity, or confusion. Narcissists use triangulation to assert control and undermine their partner’s self-esteem by comparing them unfavorably to others or by making them feel excluded or inadequate. This third party could be an ex-partner, a friend, or even a family member whose presence or mention serves to destabilize the victim’s sense of security and worth within the relationship. Triangulation is common strategy narcissists use to maintain power and exert psychological dominance over their partners. I would experience this throughout my entire relationship with Mark.

So, I know some of you are probably thinking why would not see the pattern or reach out and talk to these people? Trust me, I have asked myself the same questions. The blatant answer is that I did not see the pattern because I did not want to see the pattern. At least not that pattern. The pattern I chose to see what how he was always “defending my honor”. I wanted to ask. While I am not a confrontational person, I still felt I had the right to defend my reputation or at least have the opportunity to confront “my accuser”. Mark would always have an explanation as to why I should not. I now see how this behavior was a covert method used to control all of the relationships in my life. There was never an intent to look out for me, to help me, to protect me. The only intention Mark had in this behavior was to control the relationships I had with other people, and to control how I interacted with them. Reflecting on that now, well yes, I do feel some anger and also sadness, as I think that I probably missed out on some great friendships with some of those people.

This is a lesson I have learned the hard way on my journey, and it is a lesson not only because I learned something, but it has also forever changed how I interact with people, how I handle information, especially “rumors”. It has made me a more direct person; depending on the day, this is a blessing and a curse. It has also increased my own accountability of myself. If I hear that someone is talking about me, has a concern with me, then I address it with that person. I avoid the telephone communication line and get to the source. From there, well each situation is handled as best I can.

If you or someone you know may be dealing with this type of abuse, I recommend seeking the help of a counselor or through a crisis hotline. I have started to link resources on my page of books I have read that I found very helpful in my journey. Most of these resources are available on Amazon and Audible. As stated before, I am not compensated in any way from the resources on my page. I share these because I have found each resource to be vital in my healing journey. It is through this healing process and numerous resources I have the courage to begin to share my story openly on a public platform. I encourage anyone who is healing from psychological abuse to find at least one person, a friend or professional, with who you can share your story. Silence only benefits the abusers.