Positivagirl, has an awesome blog about Dating a Sociopath every post is full of solid information and advice. If you or if you suspect someone you care for is in an abusive relationship, do yourself a favor and check out her blog you might just be dealing with a sociopath.
Recently, she shared that she also had experienced the same sorts of magical coincidences and signs that I mentioned in this post when getting involved with a sociopath of her own. I am actually thankful that I am not the only person who has experienced this, as much as I would never wish for another person to have to suffer cognitive dissonance that follows, it would be nice to think that possibly there is some reasonable answer. Honestly, my whole life has been plagued by this stuff and all truth be told, despite my Pollyanna complex which forces me to make the best of every situation, it has dealt me nothing but misery. I am no longer amused, and I’d like a fucking explanation.
I am still trying to come to grips with the betrayal I feel from the universe. It pushed my faith in love over the edge. I have theories to patch myself together and continue with some sort of faith because the other option is… See, this is where the tattered remains of my analytical mind break off, because I’ve seen too much, I do not find solace in any scenario my head creates. (God is a bully.)
Currently, I am terrified of the very things I once thought meant I was on course. As though the stars I thought were firm in the heavens fell from their spheres, those signs took me on a one way joy ride through the battlefields of hell from which I have not been able to find my way back. I still bear the scars from the injuries endured. Not scars, really but more like open, bloody, infected wounds that never seem to heal. I followed those signs and allowed my intuitive voice to be completely drowned out by his war cries and my pleas for justice.
My intuitive voice is understandably disgruntled by my blatant disregard for the wisdom offered. I failed, and I have to look in the mirror every day and know that. I failed, myself, my kids, even him. I didn’t listen to my own voice that screamed his behavior was far outside what anyone could justify as normal. I chose to forgive him, and have faith in all those bizzaro coincidences. I chose to believe in love, while he gleefully pretended that relationships are a game and hearts are disposable toys.
That I endured his foolishness for so long is painfully embarrassing, and yet for as much as I loved him, there was an equal portion of fear concerning which of the innumerable threats he had made he would actually carry out. The past had taught me that he was ruthless. We had spent nearly as much time trying to end our relationship as we did trying to be together. His ultimate aim was to make sure that he took all my stuff, got me committed, and I lose my kids; not because he wanted them but because he didn’t want me to have them.
Though my intuitive voice had been taken hostage, beaten, bound, and gaged I understood that there were things that I would have to do to get away and ensure that he would not be able to influence me anymore and without provoking an outrageous attack that could harm my daughters. Despite that fear, I stayed in faith and I stayed in love, because my heart and all my dreams were invested in our family. I was committed to him, always hoping for a miracle, and we enjoyed plenty, but it was never enough for him. There is never enough good to fill the bottomless void of a human who will not tame his flesh, has no compassion, and no conscience.
I gave him every last opportunity to change his mind and choose love, but ultimately, my love for my three little girls outweighed my commitment to him. Their lives are a clean unwritten book. I didn’t want a misogynist father setting the script for the rest of the story. As hard as it is for little girls to go through life without a dad, their odds are truly better this way, and that is a very sad fact to admit. Sad for all of us because little girls need a father so they can learn to be truly brave and strong, and fathers need their daughters, so they can learn to be gentle and compassionate. There are few things in this world that have given me more joy than watching him be a father to our children, this scenario is nothing but sorrow and loss for all of us, but it is better than the ending where he killed me.
I told him early in the relationship, “I don’t know what you are accustomed to, but I can’t take you yelling at me like that because it makes me want to die.” He would seriously say some hateful ugly things.
His response was, “If Jesus were here, he’d tell you to pull the fucking trigger cunt.” It was likely the most shocking, hateful thing anyone had ever said to me in my life. At the time, I was very hurt that someone would feel that way about me; (about anyone?) particularly someone I thought was the most magnificent person on the planet. That was only the beginning of the psychological and verbal abuse I would face. Now I am so dead and calloused I wonder how he said it with a straight face. Most of his adult relationships have ended with his girlfriend in the mental hospital. I survived for several reasons.
- I understood early on that he had some mental illness, and therefore, many of the things that he said and did were recognized as a breakdown in HIM and not my fault despite his insistence that I was the source of every woe that ever befell him.
- I loved him so much I would forgive him anything to just to keep peace and see him content. I was able to separate the terrible behavior from who he was.
- My faith in those blasted signs. I just always thought he would see the light and come clean. He honestly made progress while we were together, but his backsliding was devastating.
The Yogis all tell me it is due to settling karmic balance and past life agreements. Maybe so, our connection was amazing perhaps it had been developed over lifetimes past. I honestly do not see much merit in putting all sorts of time and effort into any explanation where you have to blame situations in your current life on things the person you are today had no control over. If it happened, those memories are erased for a reason and the whole point seems to be to make the very best choices to make the most of the life you have right now.
Maybe I was the only person on this planet strong (and naive) enough to love him and really give him a chance to be a family. Maybe he was my soul mate and he accumulated so much karmic debt in this life by wasting his mind on hatred, drugs, violence, womanizing, and alcohol he could not step up to be the man our family needed him to be. The truth is he could have made a choice at any point to make an honest, logical, loving, commitment to our family. He could have chosen love. It was just more exciting for him to choose the other stuff. He is addicted to the rush of the chaos and the drama; it means more to him than human relationships.
Perhaps it was so I could blow the whistle on him, and share my experience and insight to help others who are traveling a similar path, although I admit that idea is likely a quiet whisper from my disheartened Pollyanna Complex and offers me absolutely no comfort, honestly. I don’t ask “why?” any more. It just doesn’t matter. Perhaps that is a reflection of my waning faith. Perhaps I have more important things to think about. I’ve wasted enough of my life and headspace on him. I prefer to direct my thoughts elsewhere. Perhaps I should follow Macey’s lead and just consider him dead.
As for the coincidences, de’ja vous, and other signs and wonders that still occur in my life, I meet them with a healthy dose of suspicion. Perhaps I have become immune to the wonders of the universe. I’m still not entirely comfortable in states of deep meditation due to his meddling. He has interfered with my spiritual progression; he not only kept me from growing, he shoved me way, way, back. Due to my faith in a kind and loving universe, love, and him, I followed and allowed it to happen. I feel my children and I have been betrayed by all three. I question my value. In addition to the worldly, physical, and psychological destruction this relationship caused, the judgment and terrible council I received from those claiming to be more evolved as I tried to escape worked in collusion to destroy my faith in God. I feel like my daughters and I were sold out. I question again the point in trying if we are all just disposable, or perhaps despite my best efforts, I just didn’t make the cut.
Currently my very bruised ego still on occasion sends out a big “fuck you” to the universe, as well as a, “staythefuckawayfromme,” to anyone fool enough to approach me in the real world because the companionship is not worth the risk of being misjudged, misdirected, and taken advantage of. I recognize I am unstable, and I have no desire to perpetuate that instability on anyone else. I’m not the sort of individual who would fill the void in my life with another person, stuff, or mindless addictions. While I know truth is the only thing that has ever satisfied me; I’ve been lied to so much there does not seem to be enough of me left to care anymore.