Tag: marriage

Emotional Manipulation #4 – Setting Smoke Screens

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Narcissist throw a smoke screen over whatever it is that you bring up and use another issue as a diversion from the actual topic. Narcissist don’t want you to be on the topic of holding them accountable.  If you really want to talk about the issue that’s bothering you, you’ll have to  continually try to get back to the subject at hand, which is difficult in the first place.  And then of course there’s the fear of  their reaction.  

When I confronted the narcissist about anything, he would change the subject or make everything seem like a joke.  On one occasion during our divorce, after his constant invasions of my personal space I asked him, “Why do you keep breaking into my room and going through my personal files?” 

The Narcissist replied, “You’re the one that abandoned the family,” completely changing the subject in attempt to shift the blame. If I complained about his neglectful parenting, he would point out a mistake or event that happened years ago.   Somehow he would turn the tables on me.  

When I asked the narcissist about his non-status quo purchases during our divorce, he replied, “Why don’t you get a job so you can pay for all your drinking with your new boyfriend.” I wasn’t out drinking and I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time.  It was frustrating to say the least.  But over time I began to learn and recognize the pattern and his smoke screens.    It’s not me.  I’m not crazy.  

I also learned there’s no arguing with the silver tongued devil.  I would never win, nor would I ever get the answers to my questions through his smoke and mirrors.

One Year Ago – Liberation Day

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One Year Ago . . . a day of reflection

I’m jumping ahead here to my journal entry from one year ago on 9/11.  It seems to be a day of reflection.  What a difference a year makes.

I had met Scott thirty years ago to the day.  I remember vividly because it was my friend Karen’s birthday all those years ago back in college.  And being that it falls on 9/11 also makes the date easy to remember.  I will always remember 9/11 moving forward as my Liberation Day.  The day I singed our Settlement Agreement.

Psychiatric Evaluation Results 

Our attorneys had asked to meet prior to my deposition to see if we could finalize a Settlement Agreement regarding the few remaining issues prior to our scheduled trial to begin the following day:  Child Custody, Alimony and Child Support.  (Scott had already been disposed by that point.)

To my advantage and delight we finally received the psychiatric evaluation results that morning.  Scott’s entire case was based on claims that I was an unfit and uninvolved mother — which, after his deposition, we knew was a lie.  Scott couldn’t answer a single question regarding our children.  Scott’s only alternative was to claim that I was mentally unstable, bipolar, delusional, etc….  Everything was riding on the psychiatric evaluation results.  For us both! 

I received the results literally as I was walking out the door to meet Kelly, my attorney a few minutes prior to our Settlement talks.   I couldn’t read through the report fast enough as my heart pounded, with each sentence filling my heart with joy. 

The results were even better than I imagined! Having just read the report myself, I couldn’t help but gloat.  It was Scott’s final nail in the coffin.  He had no case against me.  He had to know that if we went to trial he would surely have lost taking into consideration both his deposition and his personal psychological assessment results.  Then there was my boat load of evidence pertaining to his forgery, perjury, documented abuse through police reports, hacking, evidence of staging and lying to our co-parenting therapist, plus my documentation of over 100 violations.  Scott really had no choice but to settle. 

*           *            *

September 11 – Settlement Agreement, My Liberation Day! 

During our final negotiations, we knew Scott wanted to avoid going to trial.  However, his settlement offer was much less than what I wanted, but significantly more than his original offer of ZERO.  Slowly over the course of the morning we made headway.  During our negotiations I stood my ground and refused Scott’s last offer.  I had calculated an amount that I thought was fair and refused to go below that amount.  (It still wasn’t what I wanted financially, but I also wanted it to be over!) 

My attorney, upset with my stubbornness, actually asked me to step outside into the parking lot.  As we stood there, Kelly with her voice raised proceeded to tell me while pointing her finger in my face that I was making the biggest mistake of my life if I wouldn’t accept their latest settlement offer. It was much less than I was willing to go; especially after my research in talking with my CDFA and court ‘calculated’ recommended amount.   I dug in my heels and for the first time I stood up to Kelly and said “I am willing to take my chances.  I’d rather go to trial than compromise my integrity.”  Which is exactly what I would have done if I had agreed to Scott’s pittance of an offer.  Up to this point I’ve been fighting for my life.  I was not about to quit, after everything Scott’s put me through not just this past year, but in all the years before.    My attorney couldn’t possibly understand the pain and mental anguish I’d endured. 

Kelly, not happy with my refusal, stormed back into the building.  Throwing her arms up in the air as she walked into the conference room announced “We’re going to trial.  Negotiations are done. Offer refused.”  Following a few feet behind Kelly I sat down and clipped the mic on stating that I was ready to start my deposition for our trial tomorrow. I was not playing around.  The look on Scott’s face was priceless, seeing I was dead serious, he stated, “I told you she would do this,” to his attorney and stepped out asking for a few words in private.  

Approximately ten minutes later, they came back into our small conference room where I was waiting with the court stenographer who was there to record my deposition.  Scott had agreed to our Settlement offer and alimony from our last round of negotiations (still lower than I hoped, but I could live on).  There was no reason to continue with my deposition nor preparations for trial. We also agreed that we would continue the personal property and status quo violation issues with the arbitrator (Big Mistake – Huge.)

The four of us proceeded to write out the agreement around the conference table dividing the assets effective September 1st retroactively.  We all were then required to sign the document.  When the papers came around to me, I had a last-minute thought and refused to sign. The silence in the room was deafening. I proceeded to state “I will only sign our agreement today if I get the dog.”  Scott had threatened all along to take the dog as well as the children from me.  

Scott actually began to refuse and argue, when his attorney hit him on the arm and told him, “Give her the damn dog!”  Scott reluctantly agreed, and I signed.   I was disappointed in the final numbers, but happy that chapter was nearly closed. I actually felt guilty that I was so happy – so close to freedom!  (I was so misguided — it was far from over.)

I was hopeful that the divorce was nearly over and the Judgement of Divorce (JOD) could be entered. (It wasn’t entered until January!)  We still had a few loose ends with the arbitrator regarding our personal property and Status Quo violations, but I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I was nearly free!  For the first time in what seems like ages I could breath and feel a sense of hope for my future.

Signing the Settlement Agreement was by far my biggest mistake leaving the rest of the issues in the mediator/arbitrators hands.  I should have gone to trial.  As part of our Settlement Agreement I agreed to waive all attorney fees.  This was also a huge mistake.   It wasn’t mutual.  Meaning that Scott did not agree to waive attorney fees and would come after me for Arbitration and Mediation attorney fees later.  Scott’s attorney fees were 2/3 higher than mine.  But Kelly insisted that it would be difficult to get reimbursed given that the fees were already paid in full.  But according to Kelly, going to trail would cost significantly more, and I would be taking a chance at recouping those attorney fees and sanctions.  One can’t predict the future, but in hindsight, I had already come so far, I should have taken the chance.  It wasn’t over.  Not even close and Scott would continue to bleed me dry after signing the Settlement Agreement.

*           *            *

The Aftermath 

Scott lost the battle; we both did.  The only winners were the attorneys.  Finally, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel.  I should have been relieved, happy that this war was nearly over.  But I had this foreboding feeling that there was more to come. (There was!)

As anticipated, the malicious messages came rolling in immediately.  Using all the manipulative tools Scott knew, he tried to shame me; guilting me by projecting his own insecurities onto me through a barrage of texts. Scott said, “I hope you’re happy. Now I can’t afford to support our children’s education.”  He continued calling me greedy, claiming that the children would suffer because of me!   

I couldn’t help but reflect how much money we wasted, literally thrown out the window, much in part to Scott’s actions (and significant attorney fees).  Yet he blamed me, using the only weapon he had left to hurt me, the kids. Just as I feared. Just as he threatened.  Scott had 14 days to write me a check for half the equity of the house, boat, cars and E-Trade compensation.  (Having those funds allowed me the financial freedom to move out finally). Scott didn’t want to give me one cent, but he  was a smart man, backed into the corner with his failure of a deposition and an even worse psychiatric evaluation in hand. He was a wounded warrior, out for revenge.

I should have refused to settle and gone to trial. What I didn’t understand at the time and do now is that the narcissist show their true colors in conflict. One should abandon all hope of a reasonable negotiation or mediation; the true narcissist does neither. The narcissist’s policy is to scorch the earth, destroying everything and leaving nothing behind.

Staging #3 – Gun

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January Journal Continued . . .

Not bothering to knock, using his key Scott let himself into the master bedroom, and approached me again with his phone in hand recording.  Clearly, Scott had carefully planned and orchestrated what he would say next.  Dropping the bombshell Scott said, “I’m afraid of you. I don’t feel safe in our home because you have a gun in your room!” 

Stunned, I stopped putting away the laundry, shocked at his comments. Had I heard him correctly? I asked, “What did you say? A gun?” 

In my bewilderment, Scott replied, “I know you have a gun in your room, and I’m notifying my attorney immediately.” 

After Scott turned around and strutted out of my bedroom, perplexed I searched my bedroom.  Sure enough, in the top drawer of my dresser Scott had planted a BB gun under some clothes.  The same gun we had used to shoot the iguanas to scare them away from relieving themselves in our pool in Puerto Rico!  It was an air pump BB gun, relatively harmless.  But Scott just accused me of having a gun in my room and recorded it, stating he was now afraid of me! Thus admitting at the same time that he had broken into my room earlier and gone through my drawers and clothes.

I contacted my attorney Bob the next day and asked him what to do?  With a chuckle, Bob said, “Carefully place the BB gun in a plastic bag avoiding making fingerprints and hide it somewhere safe.” I was completely dumfounded.  Had Scott really just staged something in an attempt to frame me?! Hell Yes! I didn’t think it was funny.  Not at all.  

My intuition was right.  And that was just the beginning.  I had every right to be afraid.

Certified Financial Divorce Advisor (CDFA)

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January Journal Continued  . . .

It was time to put my support team together.  After loads of research I learned there was such a thing as a Certified Financial Divorce Advisor.  That was exactly what I needed. I was still working on the hundreds of interrogatory questions and needed help, especially with the financial portion.  And so I hired a Renee, and asked her to review our taxes since, when living abroad, were very complex.  Scott’s company had provided the firm KPMG to prepare them annually. And I had many, many questions.

CDFA

The role of a Certified Divorce Financial Advisor (CDFA) is to assist the client and lawyer how the financial decisions made today will impact the client’s future.  And, after divorce how to best position your assets.

Back when we lived in Puerto Rico, Scott told me that KPMG had miscalculated our taxes as part of the tax equalization process and we owed $60,000.  I was shocked.  That was nearly our entire savings and we supposedly had to pay that money back to The Company. In all the years since, it never sat right with me.  Our taxes had always been around just a few thousand dollars that we either owed or received in return, not $60,000!  And the check for the payment was written to our local bank, not to the IRS, not to The Company.  When I had questioned Scott about it then, I was dismissed.  Scott said, “You don’t understand finances. You’re stupid when it comes to numbers.  You don’t know what you’re talking about.”  So now I asked Renee to look for that transaction and documentation.  Nothing.  I then asked my attorney, Bob, to add that to a second set of interrogatory questions for Scott.  

When Scott saw I’d hired the CDFA (using our joint accounts), in retaliation he began bombarding me with requests for my business records and receipts.  I crafted as a hobby and for stress relief.  I was crafting like crazy at the time!  Sometimes I would sell my wares at craft shows.  I spent more on supplies then what I made back in sales.  But Scott always refused to claim my income, concerned that it would raise red flags with the IRS.  Then Scott accused me stating, “I know you’re hiding money.  You’re a spending whore,” amongst other choice insults.  My hiring Renee spooked Scott — he was unusually assertive and angry. 

Renee was a huge help.  But I never got the answer about the missing $60,000 from Puerto Rico.  All of our Puerto Rico bank statements also mysteriously disappeared at that time during the divorce. We even went so far as to subpoena the Puerto Rican Banks. They refused to respond stating they were a US territory and needn’t comply with US rules and regulations.  Later I also hired a PI – to look for hidden funds.  Just for a domestic sweep (within the US) cost $750.  To do an international sweep I was told would cost thousands – thousands I didn’t have access to at the time.  I’m sure Scott got away with it all.  Living internationally, it was easy for Scott to stash cash.

 

 

Staging #2 – Amicable

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January Journal Continue . . .  

With his phone out and obviously recording, Scott approached me in our home office and asked, “What do you want?”  Scott then continued on to say for the camera, patting his heart and giving me the sad puppy eyes, “I just want a peaceful, painless, and amicable divorce.” I couldn’t help but laugh.  All his actions leading up to that point were anything but peaceful.  

I replied, “If you want our divorce to be amicable, as you’ve so often said, then please respect my boundaries.  Stop breaking into my room, my car, my files.  Our divorce is not going to be amicable until you are amicable.” 

“So, you’re saying you are a not going to be amicable?”  With a big grin, Scott then said, “Thank you very much.” He turned, and walked away saying, “Thank You. Thank You,” repeatedly chuckling under his breath walking out the door.   

(Over the course of the divorce, Scott would stage more than 30 events in attempt to set me up and/or even going so far as to trying to put me in jail.)

Police Report #2

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January Journal Continued . . .

Today I returned home from Chicago to find that Scott had hired a locksmith and gained access to the master bedroom — the lock that I had installed just a few days prior.  It was pick proof, but not locksmith proof. (This was just the start of the Locksmith Fund …. more than a dozen visits over the course of the divorce costing more than $1,000.) 

“It’s my house, my room and now I have the key,” Scott said.  “There’s nothing you can do about it.  Legally I have the right to be here.”  Taunting me, he refused then to give me a key. There was no sense in trying to reason with him.  Even with our counselor reaching out to him, reminding Scott of our agreement, Scott will do what he wants, when he wants with no regards for my privacy.  He meant to torture me, throw me off balance.   

Scott went through my files on the home computer before.  This time I discovered he went through my personal files I kept locked in my bedroom.  Is nothing sacred?  Can’t he allow me one place to be my personal space?  No!  Now Scott had the key to use anytime he felt like gaining access to me and my room!  I won’t stand for it!  Not now.  Not anymore.  Why was he so obsessed with my personal space?  I just couldn’t wrap my head around it!  It was abuse no matter how you looked at it.

In a panic and angry I called the police.  How am I supposed to continue to live in fear with no privacy and no sleep?  I couldn’t just pack up and leave, forced to stay in the marital home for the sake of our children with no money of my own.  (Police Report #2.)

The police came shortly thereafter and asked Scott to give me a copy of the key. Reluctantly he obliged.  I asked the officer what I could do about Scott consistently breaking into my bedroom?  I told him how Scott had terrorized me numerous times in the middle of the night.  I told the officer how Scott had assaulted me before and how his anger outburst scared me.  The officer proceeded to tell me, “Legally you both own the house. Therefore, he has the right to access your bedroom, regardless of your agreement. Unless it’s written in a Court Order, there’s nothing we can do.” 

But one officer did suggest I contact the Personal Protection Order (PPO) offices as an option.  I had been there before back in October when Scott hurt me the last time. But that was a while ago.  Usually to file a PPO there had to be evidence of recent physical harm or eminent danger.  Did I have to wait until I was beaten again, or worse?  In the meantime I contacted my attorney – apparently there was an alternative option.  I needed to file a Motion for Exclusive Use of the Home.  It was obvious Scott was not going to let this divorce be amicable or peaceful as he repeatedly stated over and over.  His actions proved otherwise.

(Looking back, I think this was all a part of Scott’s intricate plan to get me out of the house with his constant invasion of my privacy. More on that later.)  

Exiled 

The following day I removed Scott’s access to all my social media accounts, including Facebook.  He went ballistic.  Scott couldn’t stand not having access to my accounts, by bedroom, my car.  I was a piece of property he owned and everything that went with it.

So in retaliation once again, Scott said he is taking our oldest son, Brandon to Las Vegas for his 21st birthday and our daughter to Miami for spring break.  Scott knows I don’t approve, which I stated on record.  Brandon had just gone on my birthday cruise, which was also to have been his early 21st birthday present.  Lindsey was going to California. 

I don’t understand where all this money was coming from?  I expressed my concerns while taping the conversation on my phone to Scott.  I stated, “these extra trips of yours were not planned jointly nor agreed upon. Therefore you are the one now violating the MSQ and MRO orders as you so often accused me of doing.”  Scott just laughed and walked away.  The rules didn’t apply to Scott.  (And, he got away with it all.  Spend now, ask forgiveness later rule.)

Chicago Bound

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January Journal Continued . . . 

I needed a break and I needed to get my finances in order which meant meeting with our bank branch in Chicago. Road trip time.  For the first time in months I actually smiled and felt a thousand pounds lighter leaving behind all that baggage — and Scott.  I couldn’t wait to be free.

Before I left, Scott sent a text demanding I leave the master bedroom door unlocked.  It was His room, His bed.  Of course I refused.  I hadn’t worked hours upon hours moving all his belonging to the guest room for no reason.  Who knows what he would do now – possibly start selling off my jewelry?  Hack my files?  Who knows! His erratic behavior and outburst were anything but status quo. Scott scared me. And he didn’t like it when I didn’t obey his demands.

Another text from Scott followed with, “Don’t tell anyone while on your ‘visit’ that we’re getting divorced.  It may impact my career.” I’m sure Scott doesn’t want me telling any of our friends about our impending divorce.  Besides, I don’t believe for one moment that a major Fortune 500 company will fire an employee for getting divorced.  It was all about his ego, and Scott’s need to maintain the perfect image.

Secret Mission

I went to stay with our friends Tim and Alyssa Johnson.  We met 26 years ago when Scott started working for “The Cereal Company” the same time as Tim.  They have continued to be our dear friends ever since. We visited them constantly over the years after we moved away.  They even managed to visit us while living abroad in both Ireland and the Caribbean. 

Now while staying with them in Chicago, I confided in Alyssa about the divorce.  She wasn’t surprised having known us for so many years and the struggles I’ve endured.  I asked her not to tell her husband, Tim, initially about the divorce.  First, I wanted to quiz him about the various savings and investment plans The Company offered.  Tim was close to the same level in The Company as Scott and I needed to know exactly what investments that entailed. So, over the next few days I cleverly worked in various questions about the plans and retirement programs that they were both participating in and took meticulous notes.  

Inside Scoop

Shortly after filing for divorce I’d reached out to another Company wife, Kim who had recently signed her Judgment of Divorce.  She had a difficult divorce as well, and warned me early on, even bringing me a journal instructing me to write down everything during the process. I am forever grateful to Kim for her advice and gift that day.  It’s the same journal I am referring to now.  She indicated that her ex-husband had failed to disclose a few of those retirement plans during their divorce. To her dismay, there was nothing she could do now to recoup those lost funds.  Knowing what had happened to Kim, I wasn’t about to let that happen to me as well and so I drilled Tim for information as best I could.

Retaliation 

Scott continued to inundate me with messages while I was in Chicago, now proclaiming that he was taking the kids to Florida for spring break among other things.  We had discussed this before and had agreed that, because our daughter had won the state competition for DECA, she was going to go to California for the national competition.  We simply couldn’t afford to do both.  Besides, we had agreed that she couldn’t take that much time away from both her high school and college classes. Scott just wants to punish me for going to Chicago. It was ok for him to travel and go on numerous “guy trips” each year.  But not ok for me to even take a weekend away.  That was his retaliation.  

(Scott claimed later that every time I left the house I was abandoning the family – even when I would drive an hour away to meet with my attorney.  He would state this repeatedly in our child custody and arbitration hearings.)

I spent a few blissful days with the Johnson’s free from obligations and divorce able to exercise my free will and just go with it.  I can’t remember the last time I did that.  I also made the rounds and visited a few other friends from the old neighborhood where we used to live in the Chicago suburbs.  Finally I met with our banking account executive and got access to the accounts online and a working ATM card. I informed him of our divorce and asked that he alert me if Scott made any other changes to our account. 

(I am surprised that our bank neglected to inform me that Scott had made special arrangements to cash out our E*Trade stocks at that local branch receiving $71,000 in cash just a few days prior.)

Moving Day

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January Journal Continued . . . 

I was exhausted by Scott’s continuous efforts to pick my bedroom lock, always having some lame excuse; claiming he needed access to the thermostat, the medicine in the cupboard or something else.  Our therapist Sally reached out to him, reminding Scott of our agreement that he would reside in the guest room. Finally forced to acknowledge our agreement, he was now procrastinating moving his stuff to the guest room stating he didn’t have time due to work constraints.

I couldn’t take another sleepless night by that point, and so that morning I proclaimed it moving day.    I called a locksmith who assured me that the new lock he installed was “pick-proof.”  After the locksmith left, since Scott refused to move his belongings to the guest room, out of the kindness of my heart (and for my sanity) I moved everything.

Initially I considered throwing everything out the windows like you see on TV. But that would mean violating the MSQ/MRO orders if I removed anything of his from the house.  Instead, I packed up Scott’s clothes and personal items and moved them to the basement, two floors below, taking one step at a time.  Stairs were difficult since my second knee replacement revision.  It took me hours and many, many trips, but worth every bead of sweat to get him out of my personal space. Being a bit obsessive-compulsive, I actually color-coordinated all of his hanging clothes and put the others neatly in the dressers.  Anything that didn’t fit or wasn’t seasonal I put into moving boxes and labeled each one accordingly. I then wrote Scott a letter and posted it on the master bedroom door explaining my actions. I asked him to respect our agreement so we could move ahead peacefully and amicably. 

When Scott returned home later that evening and saw the new lock I had installed on my bedroom door, he lost it and angrily began banging on my bedroom door. I was thankful that both the children were away, and tried to ignore his temper tantrum as he shouted, “You have no right to move my stuff!”  Further adding “It’s my house and my bedroom!”  He accused me of violating the MSQ/MRO orders, even going so far as to make a copy of the Orders and sliding them under my bedroom door.  Imagine what would have happened had I thrown all his stuff out the window! 

I felt safe for the first time in a long, long while having the new lock in place. I slept well that night. But that didn’t last long.  

Scott would later claim in court that I  threw all his clothes down the stairs. Thankfully, I took photos of all of his items that I had neatly moved, hung and put away.

F is for Felony

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January Journal Continued . . . 

Scott left again on another one of his business trips. I am beginning to question his ‘business trips’ which seem to be increasing in frequency.  Not that I mind. I am glad, even grateful, when Scott is away. I can’t sleep when he is at home, I’m always afraid he will pick the lock on my bedroom door, day or night.  

While Scott is away, the texts have started rolling in like a thunderstorm.  Scott continues to proclaim that our agreement with our marriage counselor never took place stating “You’re crazy. I never agreed to stay in the basement; you’re delusional to think that you have the right to lock the door and keep me out of my own bedroom!”

In another text Scott threatened, “I will call the locksmith when I get home if you still continue to lock the door.”  

Desperate and sleep-deprived, I reached out to our marriage counselor, Sally. I asked if I misunderstood our arrangement. Was I delusional?  Had I misinterpreted our conversation that day while in Florida?  That was one of the worst days of my life, holding my sobbing father after hearing his life was at stake, and then choosing OUT of our marriage per Scott’s ultimatum.  To my relief, Sally confirmed that “Yes,” during the conference call from Florida Scott had agreed to reside in the basement guest bedroom. She reassured me stating “I will reach out to Scott and remind him of the agreement.” 

I immediately took a photo of her text and saved it to a zip drive. I have started stockpiling loads of texts and emails against Scott should we go to trial.  (Thank goodness I started keeping track of literally hours upon hours of videos and recordings as well as hundreds of emails and texts, in addition to this journal.) This evidence will be crucial later when questioning my recollection of events, dates, times, etc. as well as my reality which has been brought into question numerous times because as Scott implied “I was delusional.”  However, I have come to realize this isn’t true. Our agreement with our therapist is a perfect illustration of the crazy wheel Scott kept me spinning on. I have to constantly reach out to friends, family, therapist, and my own journal to validate my perceptions and beliefs breaking down any self-doubt. 

While Scott was away on his current ‘business trip’ we later discovered that without my knowledge and approval Scott cashed out some of our stocks and took the check sent by overnight express from E*TRADE, forged my signature, and withdrew more than $71,000 in cash from our Chicago bank. Not only did Scott violate both the MRO and MSQ orders, he committed a felony by forging my signature! 

Police Report #1

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January Journal Continued . . . 

The kids needed cash for various things such as ski club and travel money for our daughter’s upcoming Distributive Education Club of America (DECA) trip.  Scott refused to give me or the kids any money.  So, I went to our local credit union and withdrew $100.  Scott even stated that he will not pay the overdue credit card bill that is in my name, purposely damaging my credit.   

I had opened a new card about a year ago to get the double airline miles.  When I applied online, I couldn’t figure out how to add another name.  Besides, I thought at the time I should start building credit of my own, having contemplated divorce even then. But I considered it a family account as I put all the monthly utilities and joint expenses on that card, most being direct debit and all paid from our joint bank account.  

“I refuse to pay for anything that isn’t mine; you have to pay for your own expenses and attorney fees,” he said. (I was so glad I had secretly began recording our conversation, showing proof of his attempts to alienate me from our finances.)

When I expressed “You know I don’t have any money of my own. It’s all in our joint account,” Scott then stipulated, “Well then, I guess you need to sell some of your jewelry or go get a job.  I’m not paying your credit card bill.” 

Having heard enough, I left and headed over to a neighbor’s house where we drank a glass of wine and soaked in her hot tub.  I did not want to have to deal with him anymore that day knowing there was no way I could battle with the silver tongued devil.  When I returned to the house later that evening, Scott pounced on me in the kitchen the moment I walked in the door.  He was obviously drunk, slurring his words and visibly angry with his stance.  

He wanted to know, “Where did you go?  Who were you with!?”   Once again if insinuating that I was having an affair.  Then he accused me of being drunk having noticed that I took a bottle of wine with me when I left earlier.  

Finally he got around to the real subject that was bothering him.  He had noticed the tax files were missing from our home office, and asked, “Where are the tax files!?” 

I explained, “I dropped off the tax files to be copied.” I did not tell him I had left the tax files with my new attorney. But it didn’t really matter either way.  His reaction was NOT normal, unless he had something to hide.

Because I had temporarily removed the tax files Scott was now accusing me of violating the MSQ and MRO orders. Scott then demanded to know when, where and with whom I left our tax files with?  When Scott didn’t get the answers he was seeking, I could tell his anger was quickly rising.  He stood within a few feet of me, purposely invading my personal space, screaming now within inches of my face demanding answers.  

Not knowing what else to do, I bolted, running up to my room.  Scott was right behind me as he chased me into the master bedroom. I managed just in time to lock myself in the master bathroom slamming the door in his face. Terrified I dialed the police.  I didn’t doubt for one second it could have escalated to physical abuse if I hadn’t locked myself in the bathroom.  He was crazy mad, and Mr. Hyde was banging on my door yelling “I’m pressing charges! You just assaulted me with the door!” (Keep in mind, I am recording everything.)

Not long after I made the call, the police came and made sure I was ok. The officer told Scott to leave me alone, and left.  Instead of listening to the officers, Scott’s irrational and erratic behavior escalated.  I had to take refuge in the master bathroom again while I heard Scott pacing outside the bathroom door shouting more obscenities and ranting. (Thank goodness I had video taped Scott’s erratic behavior that day, proving I hadn’t assaulted him with the door. It would come in handy later.)

When all was quiet and it seemed like Scott had given up, I went to check on Cooper. I hoped our son slept through the whole ordeal. I was relieved to find him sound asleep.  When I went to go back into my bedroom a minute later I found the door shut and locked. Scott must have waited for me to open the door, then snuck in while I was checking on Cooper. I was banished to the basement again without my PJ’s, toothbrush, and my medication.  I could have picked the lock, but I wasn’t about to sink to his level, nor did I want to disturb the drunken Supreme Being, afraid of his retaliation.  I’d had enough of Scott that night.  Best to stay away. 

Unbeknownst to me, Scott sold more E*TRADE stocks that day and requested that the check be sent to him via overnight express. Another MRO & MSQ violation. 

Words of Affirmation – Emotional Manipulative Tactic #2

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Emotional Manipulation Tactic #2 – Words of Affirmation

“Words of Affirmation” are just what you want to hear from your significant other – that they love you, how important you are to them, they are sorry, and how they will never hurt you again. The only thing is – you never hear these things from them unless you are extremely upset and threatening to walk away. Or when they feel the need to exert their power over you in some way. It could be when you’ve reached your boiling point, like a frog about to jump out of the pot, but these words of affirmation are what your abuser knows will get you to stop being angry and stay. Unfortunately, this probably isn’t a true feeling of love or respect for you. It’s just giving you what you want to hear (or gifts) to calm you down – that’s appeasement, not love. 

After Scott’s last physical attack in October, I threatened to leave.  Scott then claimed to have an epiphany, that he would change and do whatever it took.  He bought me Hallmark cards of affirmation daily and wrote me letters stating how much he loved me and was sorry for all that he’d done in the past. (Looking back I think he was just buying time, hoping I wouldn’t press charges or file a PPO – Personal Protection Order.)

Upon returning from my birthday cruise (that he went on without me), Scott presented me with a beautiful platinum 5 diamond ring stating, “Happy Birthday. I love you with all my heart and I want to make (US) work.  It was the nicest piece of jewelry he ever gave me. But his words didn’t sound sincere, even then.  So Scott was making this grand gesture at the time trying to save our marriage by buying me gifts and showering me with words of affirmation.   “I will change and do whatever it takes” he proclaimed.   That lasted about a month, if that.  

January Journal Continued . . .

I awoke to Scott shaking my shoulder. I bolted upward and asked with my heart pounding a million beats per second. “What do you want now?” indignant that he had picked the lock, again.   Sleep was becoming difficult.  I never knew when he would ‘pick’ the lock and let himself into my bedroom.  My bedroom had become my invisible prison.  It was the only place I felt somewhat safe.  But was it?  After all, according to Scott it was HIS house, HIS room and HE could enter anytime HE felt like it with no regards to my wishes, privacy or our agreement; which apparently never took place.  I was crazy and delusional.

Standing over me in the dark Scott clamored “Where’s the ring I gave you for your birthday? I need it back!” 

“What?  It was a gift.  I’m not giving it back to you” I said, refusing his demands, pulling the sheets up trying to protect myself (and hide the ring I had on). 

In the most patronizing voice Scott could muster, he demanded, “I need it back so that I can pay attorney fees!” He said, angrily shouting at me, now holding out his hand expecting me to comply. 

Groggily I actually laughed with disgust upon hearing this. Rolling over, turning my back to him I replied, “Nope.  Sorry” hoping that he would go away and leave me alone.

I firmly believe if it came in a box, wrapped with a bow and a card that said Happy Birthday, it’s a gift.   If he feels that he needs the money that badly, let him sell one of the numerous watches or electronics I had bought him over the years.  It was ridiculous – and why that ring?

Not happy, Scott replied “Well, we will just see about that after I speak with your attorney. Good luck on paying your attorney fees!”  He knew I didn’t have any money of my own, that all our finances were held jointly.  And, he was making sure that I didn’t have access to those funds. Threats and more threats filling me with worry and fear.  Exactly what he wanted.

It took me hours to fall back asleep after he stomped away. Damn him for making me worry, not to mention scaring the hell out of me in a deep sleep. I had the ring on, thank goodness, and I was scared he would try and rip it off my finger.  I bet he had gone through my jewelry already looking for it. After that night’s incident, I wouldn’t put it past Scott to take anything of mine worth value.

Once again, we later learned that day Scott had sold additional E*TRADE stocks and changed the statement mailing address to that of his work office. That way I wouldn’t see his selling/moving of our funds. This also was in violation of both the MRO and MSQ orders.

Gaslighting – Emotional Manipulative Tactic #1

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Like a stubborn child stomping his feet, having just returned from his ‘business trip’ Scott flatly refuses now to move his belongings into the guest bedroom or basement.  Not only that, he claims to never have agreed to sleep in the guest bedroom.  Nevermind our conference call with our marriage counselor and the half-dozen messages where Scott states he would move his belongings before I returned home. The guest bedroom is part of a walk-out basement with full-sized windows, a walk-in closet, and a full bathroom.  It’s larger than most apartments.  We live in a 6,500 square foot home, with a 2,500 square foot finished basement.  Scott refused to respect my boundaries. He has to have control. Always. With utter disregard for my privacy and the original agreement, Scott stated “It’s my home, my bedroom, and I have the right to come in any time I want.” Looking back I should have had that printed on a t-shirt for him, having heard it more times than I could count over the course of the divorce. So much for an amicable and peaceful divorce.

Then to add insult to injury while in bed that night, I couldn’t believe it when I heard Scott picking the lock on my bedroom door!  Frightened I quickly hit the recording button on my phone.  Scott nonchalantly entered and walked to the bed in his boxers and wife-beater t-shirt. To my shock, he climbed into my bed while I was still in it! He put his ear plugs in and blindfold on and proclaimed “It’s your turn to sleep in the basement.” Then he rolled over and turned off the light.  The Supreme Being had banished me to the basement — and so I went like a good, obedient girl.

 As I laid there in the guest bedroom bed I thought “If that’s how he’s going to act, the war over the master bedroom is on!”  What is his problem? It is pragmatic that I sleep upstairs in the master bedroom. Scott travels a significant amount of time.  I am the primary caretaker of the kids, waking them up in the morning and getting them ready and off to school every day.  Plus, that was our agreement with our therapist during our conference call when I was at the hospital in Florida with my father.  Of that I was certain — I’m not crazy or delusional. I can’t believe Scott now claims that conversation never took place. I thought to myself, “Who’s the crazy one now?”  I was so frustrated and sick of all of Scott’s games already.  I needed help, and a new attorney. 

Emotional Manipulation #1 – Gaslighting   

“Gaslighting” was one of Scott’s strongest manipulation tactics.  Gaslighting is a form of persistent manipulation and brainwashing that causes the victim to doubt oneself, and to ultimately lose their own sense of perception, identity, and self-worth.  Gaslighting statements and accusations are usually based on blatant lies or an extreme exaggeration of the truth.  The term is derived from the 1944 film, “Gaslight”, in which a husband tries to convince his wife that she’s insane by forcing her to question herself and her sense of reality.  When someone is gaslighted, the narcissist will tell you, “That didn’t happen.  You imagined it.  You’re crazy. You’re delusional.”  In a nutshell, the narcissist will lie and that instills doubt.  Scott now proclaiming that he never agreed to reside in the guest bedroom during the divorce was a perfect example.  It’s easy to see how powerful this can be, as it allows the abuser to deflect all focus from their own actions and shift it to something completely irrelevant. Or, Scott would twist it so I would doubt my perceptions of what really happened time and time again.

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Loneliness – Part 2, Loneliness v. Alienation/Isolation

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Loneliness is normal. It can be both a good and bad thing.  On the positive side, solitude can be an integral and indispensable part of the human condition, absolutely essential to self-exploration, growth, and understanding. It’s in those moments that forces you to reflect, research, learn and understand which ultimately leads to healing.  

Many times loneliness is triggered by certain life circumstances out of one’s control such as death, children heading off to college, parents separating or finding yourself single when all your friends are married.  Other times, loneliness comes from alienation/isolation from your friends and family members. Narcissists have an arsenal of abuses, but isolation is one of their foremost weapons. My ex knew one of my greatest fears is being alone.  

Knowing this, Scott isolated me from my family and friends, enabling him to manipulate and control. Moving as often as we did, it was easy.  Not only that, when it comes to their partner and children, narcissist isolate them from the outside world, from one another, and even from their own sense of reality.

I recently read an article that loneliness is is related to sense of self: the less solid and stable sense of oneself there is, the less connection to our innermost true self or “soul” we have, the more likely we are to suffer from painful loneliness. In a way, we are unable to fully appreciate our own company, to amuse ourselves, to be good friends and companions to ourselves. This commonly occurs when the narcissist makes us question our own feelings, thoughts or values, which results in low self-esteem, bad boundaries, pathological anxiety, and an inability to tolerate aloneness because of the loneliness it brings.  In a sense, we are unconsciously missing and lonely for ourselves.

Once I made the conscious decision to leave Scott, beginning with my Lightbulb Moment, I struggled — and so I began to research and educate myself.  I also reached out to friends and family for support.  Tragically, when survivors reach out for support, their family and friends often dismiss their experience, due to the fact that the narcissist had already planted those seeds of alienation and launched a smear campaign, further isolating and confusing the survivor.

To make matters worse, very few people truly understand narcissism, isolating sufferers even further. is just one more way that a toxic narcissist will abuse you. Everyone needs a certain amount of social and interpersonal connection and contact to maintain a healthy emotional state as I stated in my previous blog – and the truth is, this need is nearly equally important as other basic survival needs like food, water and sleep.

When isolation doesn’t work, that’s when the narcissist will attempt to launch a smear campaign.  I will talk more about this later in my blog.  By doing so, their preemptive strike sabotages your reputation and slanders your name so that you won’t have a support network to fall back on — especially when you try to break free of that toxic relationship.

Many people lack the imagination to understand things beyond their immediate experience. But, to add insult to horrible injury, narcissistic personality disorder is so particularly complex, insidious, ruthless and destructive that it is virtually impossible to comprehend unless you’ve lived it (or something like it) first hand. Even if they know something about the disorder, most people have no idea what narcissistic abuse really entails.

How to Find Support

Survivors of narcissistic abuse often try to go it alone. Fortunately these days there are many resources about narcissism and its related trauma. Books, blogs, websites, online forums, and YouTube videos, often created by survivors themselves, are now widely available. But they don’t replace personal support. There are many people experiencing what you are going through. Seek them out through your network of friends, support groups, and online forums. If you have a loving partner, educate him/her about what you’ve been through. Find a therapist who is trained in narcissistic abuse recovery. Don’t let the narcissist continue to isolate you even after he is out of your life.

Loneliness can often take you into the deepest depths of despair.  Don’t let the narcissist win.  Now is the time to swim, kick back to the surface, reflect, understand and find those people who support the best you.  Find what makes you happy. Be happy with yourself. Believe.

 

Isolation pdf

Loneliness – Part 1

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I’m deviating from my book a bit – and doing some introspection/self-evaluation.  For me, loneliness is my greatest fear.  I’ve moved a lot.  I was isolated, from friends and family always having to start over.  Maybe that’s why I stayed in a toxic relationship for as long as I did. I hate to be alone, plain and simple.  I’ve never done sit and still well.  Now, as I sit here alone in my home, its hard.  So hard.  The silence is deafening. But I have lots of friends, thousands. All over the globe. I have thousands of Facebook friends. I support the U.S. postal service significantly during the holidays sending out hundreds of Christmas cards to those I care about. But I’m lonely – lost in a sea of people.

And now I find that I’m surrounding myself with new people, that don’t necessarily (for a lack of words) build me up.  I constantly try to fill that void.  Instead, I’m “pimping” myself out – metaphorically. Just because I hate to be alone.  I find friends who want to use me…..  essentially a door mat.  Or those who fill a need.  But don’t really care.  Why do I do this?  Why, after all that I’ve been through, fought for, do I allow this emptiness to permeate my reasoning? Fear plain and simple.  It’s powerful.

Then there’s those people who, I believe my guardian angel brought into my life for a reason — to help me when I needed it most. For those of you out there, you know who you are, thank you. You are a gift that I will be forever grateful for.

Loneliness can hit anyone at any time. Sometimes you might not even feel lonely for an obvious reason, and what you’re experiencing could always be connected to other things like depression or anxiety. But it’s true that a lot of people tend to feel lonely during big life events. Maybe you’re moving house. Maybe your parents are getting separated. Maybe you’re going from high school into college. Or maybe you suddenly find yourself single, and all your friends are married.

Loneliness is painful. Clearly the pain is one in which the lonely individual feels damaged, as though somewhere their spirit was crushed. It hurts to feel lonely and it hurts even more because we don’t have anyone to share it with.

Feeling lost, having no sense of direction

Very interestingly, in my reading individuals described lonely as a feeling of being lost, and not knowing where they are going. This is true in my case. Why do I feel so lost when I am lonely? I think it’s because other people help give us a sense of meaning and understanding of the world. When you have a problem that you can’t figure out for yourself, what do you do? You go and talk to someone else about it.  Especially us girls.  We talk it out.  People help us to figure out what talents we have, what our good points and our bad points are. In other words, people help us maintain a sense of identity.

When we are lonely, and no one is around to give us support, we can begin to lose our sense of identity, no one is there to point out our mistakes, to give us a different point of view, to praise us when we do a good job. Then we tend to fall down that rabbit hole that the narcissist made us believe.  We can become encircled in our own delusions and thinking without the benefit of others to break us out of the vicious cycle. It is no wonder then lonely individuals feel lost and confused, it’s because there is no one out there to maintain our sense of identity, our sense of self.

Feeling of Nothingness

Another frequent feeling is that of nothingness. It has also been described as a void, a black hole, an abyss, hollow, and empty space. Basically there is a feeling that something is missing. When we break up with someone, or we are missing someone we loved dearly, we often describe that feeling as a hole in our heart, an emptiness somewhere in the space of our chest. Even if that relationship was toxic.  What is this emptiness that we feel? This emptiness is a hunger for others, for others to be close to us, for others to love us. When we are hungry for food, our stomach growls, we get an empty feeling in the pits of our stomachs, we can’t stop thinking about food, and sometimes it even hurts.

Overwhelming Feeling

In some cases, loneliness can be overwhelming, so overwhelming in fact that lonely individuals may feel like they are about to burst! There is a feeling of despair, not knowing how much more of this painful loneliness one can take, feeling as if one is going to break apart at any minute. It’s like blowing up a balloon past its normal capacity. People who are lonely may feel this way because very often one is experiencing a wide variety of emotions and experiences, and yet there is no one to talk to, no one to share it with. Imagine having a problem with no one to discuss it with. Imagine making the greatest discovery of a lifetime, and yet there is no one there to share it with. These feelings may just be pushed down inside our minds, pushed into a bottle. But there is only so much the bottle can hold, there is only so much our minds can handle. If we don’t tell others, if we don’t share, if we don’t let it out somehow, we may indeed burst.

So I write.  I share.    I know I’m not alone in my loneliness.

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Obituary – death of a marriage

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January 8 – Obituary

I packed my father’s things and brought him home from the hospital today.  I set up interviews and hired a nurse to assist him over the next few weeks with his medications in preparation for his surgery.  There were just too many for him to keep straight.  

Obituary

After dinner my father pulled out one of his yellow legal pads and handed it to me along with a perfectly sharpened No. 2 pencil that he always managed to have around as a retired engineer.  As we sat there together, he asked me to help him write his obituary.  Somehow, it comforted us both.  He had lived a good life—married to the woman he loved for over sixty years.  He and my mother had raised three wonderful children and were surrounded by grandchildren in their later years.  He had run a successful company for years that he later passed down to my brother, Greg.  He had travelled the world, sailed the seas, and still went skiing even into his eighties.  He was truly blessed with a full life and loving relationships.

That’s when I realized I didn’t quit my marriage.  I survived it.  I know deep down I am making the right choice.  It is hard to accept that my marriage had failed.  But I knew Scott wouldn’t be there for me to the end, holding my hand if I ever got ill like my father had for my mother.  Scott isn’t the type to hang in there when times get tough. Scott proved he was nothing like my father; Scott lacked compassion and integrity.  I deserve more.  I deserve better.  Filing divorce papers was like writing my own obituary:  “We had good times, raised three kids, travelled the world, blah, blah, blah…”  

Big Mistake

During the conference call with our counselor at the hospital I told Scott that I planned on returning home on the 11th and would prefer that he move out.  I wasn’t surprised when Scott refused.  Scott was not willing to look for an apartment claiming that we needed to save money.  Aware of Scott’s abuse over the years, our marriage counselor assisted us with this agreement as we hashed out the details.  Scott asserted with our counselor during that conference call that he will remain in the house, agreeing to sleep in the guest room until the divorce is final. Scott assured us both stating that he wanted the divorce to be an “amicable and peaceful process.” LOL

Having Scott remain in the house was a huge mistake. . .  I had no money of my own, all of our finances were joint.  And for the sake of the children I was forced to stay in the marital home during the divorce process, even when he refused to leave. I had asked for a monthly stipend, that he of course refused.  It wasn’t until later that I learned in order to get a mortgage, you need to show income for at least six months.  By his refusal, he essentially locked me in his invisible prison.  

I suffered through stalking, verbal and physical violence, hidden cameras, malevolent financial intrigue, and his flamboyant and unpunished violations of court orders.  I lived in a House of Horrors and was imprisoned in a dungeon built by his malice. Months following resulted in court hearings and appearances for Exclusive Use of the Home, and Personal Protection Orders – all because he wouldn’t leave or let me leave.  For the narcissist, its all about control — and in this case, about revenge.  How dare I abandon him.

I had no privacy, no safe place. He broke into my bedroom, my car, my files, my emails, –  stating it was his house/his property and that he had every right to invade my privacy whenever he felt like it.  On more than thirty occasions, he carefully orchestrated devastating attacks designed to make me look crazy, even staging events trying to put me in jail.  He set out to destroy me, just as he always threatened.  Words cant even begin to describe what I went through that year.  But somehow, I survived and lived to tell the tale. . 

Now What?

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December 28th – (After my lightbulb moment) Happy Anniversary

Once I made the conscious to decision to leave Scott, letting the hotel screen door slam as I walked out, I wiped my tears and pulled myself together.

I was eerily calm riding in the back of the beat up old Uber van. The driver barely spoke English and couldn’t find the hotel I booked last minute. I had called my brother, who has a place in Marco Island. He said I could stay with him for a few days while I figure out next steps. So I picked a hotel midway between Sanibel Island and Marco, near the airport in Naples where my brother graciously offered to pick me up in the morning.

After Scott left me in full panic mode in that small hotel room to go have dinner with his mother and kids, his last words echoed over and over. “Suit yourself. You’re being selfish. You’re overreacting. You’re a horrible wife and mother. How dare you abandon your family. You’re a fucking psycho bitch.” Plus much, much more. Happy Anniversary.

Then the messages started rolling in from Scott. Most would think your partner of 30 years would be worried. Show concern. Ask if I was ok. Beg me to come back. Or, even give me space to breath. Nope. Instead I was inundated with hateful, spiteful, messages. Even lists. List of all the times he ‘claims’ I left the family. Lists of times he claimed I overreacted. Lists upon lists of mean, hurtful, hateful words.

It was abuse – verbal and mental abuse at its finest. I’d already come to recognize the signs having read Patricia Evans “The Verbally Abusive Relationship” that really started it all on my path to understanding and breaking free. (If you haven’t read it, you should.) More on that to follow.

Both Scott and the kids had the following week off for “winter break.” So, I knew I wouldn’t be putting a burden on anyone with my absence. I just couldn’t fathom getting on that plane tomorrow. It’s difficult to explain how strong the feeling was — like a lightening bolt hitting me with complete clarity. Call it sick sense, panic attack, divine intervention, who knows. I had no doubt whatsoever I was doing the right thing. I knew I had to make a change and now. My life depended on it.

It didn’t really hit me until the kids called after their dinner. They wanted to know where I went. All I could think to say was that I wasn’t feeling well and decided to stay with my brother and family in Florida for a few more days while they headed back to the arctic tundra where we now reside in Michigan.

Now in the airport hotel room, the tears began to flow. This time in great waves. I cried for my children. I had stayed in this marriage thinking that by keeping the family unit intact, I was helping them.  Instead, I was doing the opposite.  I had hoped this vacation would bring us all closer together.  But it only verified what I knew to be true but couldn’t accept; our family was dysfunctional.  That’s not the message I want our children growing up with any longer.

I cried that my marriage had come to an end. The very foundation of my marriage was broken and couldn’t be fixed.  That became abundantly clear when my knight in shining armor wouldn’t go to battle for me.  He didn’t want to put a mark on that glossy veneer.  Scott’s threats over the years haunted me. He said he would destroy me if I ever found the courage to leave. And I believed him.  I cried because I was scared as hell. Now what?

In the Beginning

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We met in college.

I was an over-achiever. A member of a sorority and the governing board. I was heavily involved in their events while pursuing a double major. I was also a Student Senator and assisted the President of the University by hosting events and providing tours to special guests.

The cheerleaders were at one of those special University-sponsored events to hype up the crowd. That’s when I first saw him. Yes, Scott was a cheerleader. He was totally my type. Clean cut, he had thick, sandy brown hair and piercing baby blue eyes. He had chiseled features, a strong jaw, thin lips, and a small, pointed nose. He was just like the hero in a romance novel: tall, broad-shouldered, and in amazingly good shape because of his cheerleading.

We started dating shortly after that night. People often commented that we looked like Barbie and Ken – although I was a rather short Barbie. Scott seemed like a good, Catholic boy. He was working in the dorm cafeteria to pay his own way through college. He was a cheerleader. He wasn’t into drugs. He was polite, chivalrous, opened doors for me, and pulled out my chair. On our official first date he treated me to frozen yogurt at TCBY, picking me up on his moped. Scott didn’t have any money, scrapping together what he could to pay for school. He came from a very modest family of four children and grew up in a small town. I fell for him, hard.

* * *

I gave Scott nearly thirty years of my life. We were married right out of college, both having achieved our degrees. I had a good job planning special events and Scott was managing a group of nightclubs. Our lives were on completely different schedules.

People ask me, what it always bad? No. The honeymoon phase was AMAZING. Our sex life was off the charts. Our chemistry together was. . . explosive (in a good way). We couldn’t get enough of each other. He had this pure animal magnetism.

Sure, there were warning signs early on. He cheated on me while we were dating. Then later, shortly after we were married, I discovered that he had gambled away all of the money we received for our wedding. We also had arguments where Scott’s temper scared me. Just one year into the marriage, we were already at a crossroads. But, Scott professed his love, begged me to stay and got a day time job with “The Cereal Company” that moved us to Iowa. Luckily, I was able to transfer with my company as well. Thus, the cycle began.

We were moving every couple of years; each time, I had to start my career over again, always putting Scott’s first. During the 27 years of our marriage we moved more than thirteen times, both within the United States and abroad, where we lived as expatriates. Five years into our marriage, while both of us were working full-time, we started our family. During the years of never staying long in one place, Scott’s career continued to grow while I gave up my career. I took part-time jobs. Later I started my own home-based business to support him while raising our children. When our youngest was just six months old, I sold my business and we moved with Scott’s career internationally.

Our first international assignment took us to Ireland. I was not allowed to have a work visa as part of the Expat package with The Company. I was busy adjusting to living in a foreign country, raising our three children and immersed myself into the culture volunteering my time and joining the school PTA. I became the quintessential “executive wife,” raising our children and playing my proper role. We had live-in au pairs which gave us the opportunity to travel significantly visiting one country or another. Having live-in childcare gave us the opportunity to “date” again. Life was good. For the most part. I missed my family and friends terribly. Essentially, I was alienated — Scott and the children were my only constants in my universe. We travelled extensively, visiting more than 20 countries while Scott was in charge of sales for Europe. It was during that time while on a trip to Amsterdam that Scott found his passion (and addiction) for marijuana, which would only increase over the years.

Scott’s second assignment took us to Puerto Rico. I didn’t know the language but continued to try and contribute to the family finances through various odd jobs. I sold jewelry and my paintings as well as guided snorkel tours for the resort’s guests, many of which were celebrities. We lived in a high-end beachside resort community that featured four ocean side golf courses, multiple fitness centers, full-service spa and even a waterpark complete with a lazy river and water slides. We were living in paradise.

During that time I also wrote and published my first children’s book, Animal Bridge. I continued in my role as the boss’ wife, which was typical of the group and culture where we lived. I joined the school board, planned charity events, and was essentially Scott’s personal assistant. I planned and hosted Scott’s staff holiday parties, dinners, and other special events. I ran errands managing many of his day to day activities.

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Scott was in charge of the Caribbean, el Jefe, or ‘the boss.’ I’m sure Scott received A LOT of attention with his good looks and prestigious position. We travelled extensively, hopping from one island to another in the Caribbean and British Virgin Islands, living the picture perfect life in our high-end beachside community. It was resort living 24/7. Scott had no problem adapting to that island party mentality. To those around us, it seemed like the perfect life — glamorous even. The good times were really good. The bad were worse. Much worse. I was living in hell, trapped in paradise. (That’s all for another book later.)

I raised our children essentially as a single parent while Scott traveled a significant amount for his position with The Cereal Company. Each time we moved, we had to start over. I had to find new schools for the children, doctors for the family, and new friends. Because our oldest son had special needs, this was an especially challenging job.

I also began to develop some physical ailments. While we lived in Puerto Rico, after years of hitting the moguls skiing as a youth and later when tennis took its toll, it became imperative that I had to have knee replacement surgery. Shortly thereafter Scott convinced me to go on a spring break trip with the kids to St. Marten. I was hesitant having just had my knee replacement a month earlier still in pain and walking with a cane. But I didn’t want to disappoint Scott or my children, so hesitantly I went.

I agreed to a family excursion to a famous beach that day. It was post card perfect strewn with tiki huts and restaurants. The sun was beating down, glistening on the clear blue water calling my name — the perfect place to do my physical therapy. Getting into the ocean was easy, however, getting out was a whole new ball game. I sent our son to get help from his father, not more than thirty feet away working on his tan. Then, just as I feared, the steep incline coupled with the waves crashing proved to be too much for my unstable knee and I fell.

Our son who was eight years old at the time, ran to his father and pleaded, “Mommy needs help getting out of the ocean, she’s in trouble!” Scott, obviously irritated at having his quiet time disturbed, ignored our son’s plea for help.
“Mommy will figure it out,” he said. Upon hearing this, our daughter jumped up and came to my rescue.

After our daughter helped me out of the thrashing waves, I hobbled out of the ocean and sat there in the sand in shock, hurting and trying to gain my composure. Taking a few minutes to catch my breath, a few kind bystanders brought me some ice from the local restaurant. I sat there in tears from the pain. I felt mortified as my bathing suit had filled with sand in every orifice possible when the waves had rolled me around like a rag doll. Reluctantly, more out of obligation now at this point seeing the crowd around me, Scott finally got up from his beach chair and slowly wandered over to see what he could do to help.

Words can’t describe all the emotions I was feeling as I made the trek to a little makeshift shower to rinse off. I didn’t emerge for quite some time. I sat there sobbing with the realization that my well-being didn’t matter to Scott. In fact, in Scott’s eyes I knew he now considered me to be broken and discardable. Scott had no patience for my physical limitations. I was no longer that token wife, skinny and fit. I was used and broken no longer serving his ego.

As the years went by and Scott climbed the corporate ladder, so did his ego. The verbal and physical abuse also escalated, as did Scott’s substance abuse. While living abroad, these issues caused us to seek marriage counseling. When Scott’s abuse got to the point where the policia in Puerto Rico wouldn’t help, I knew I was trapped and in trouble.

Scott continued to control me through the finances as well. He made me believe we didn’t have any money because of poor investment choices he’d made when he bought three properties in Orlando, just prior to the crash in 2008. Scott lost over half a million dollars on those investment properties. Our entire savings was gone. Or so I thought. Scott also invested heavily in the stock market without consulting me. Many times those stocks went belly up. Considering how intelligent Scott is in the sales field, he wasn’t investment wise.

When I threatened to leave Scott after one of his physical assaults, Scott threatened that he would leave me with nothing and turn our children against me. Scott devalued me and made it clear I would be left with nothing, making me believe I couldn’t make it on my own. And, given some of my health issues, made it clear I would no longer be covered under his health insurance. I most certainly couldn’t afford it on my own should I leave. Or so I thought.

After we moved back to the States, I can honestly say I gave the marriage 100% and tried just as hard to save it. I enlisted the help of marriage counselors, therapists, and even a family coach. Although I’d had two knee replacement surgeries by that point, I still tried to help with the finances by crafting and working part-time decorating while taking care of the children. Of course, Scott always placed his appearance and work as his priority, and rarely helped around the house or with the children. I even hired an attorney as soon as we set foot on US soil, contemplating divorce back then. I wasn’t sold that this new beginning was just that. You can’t change a leopard’s spots.

It wasn’t until a few years later that I knew in my heart I had given all that I could. I needed to break away from the invisible prison Scott kept me in. I needed space to heal, find clarity, peace of mind, and focus to find myself once again. It was imperative that I show my children that every person deserves respect and dignity; something they never learned from Scott. I was at fault too. I failed to set proper boundaries over the years which only got worse as time progressed.

This divorce was the battle of all battles, and I was up against Goliath. The only winners were the attorneys. Ironically, the day I met Scott was the same time that “War of the Roses” debuted in theaters, circa 1989. Nearly 30 years later to the day we met, on 9/11, was my Liberation Day from Scott – or so I thought. That was just our Settlement Agreement. There was much more to come.

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“So now you’ve got some knowledge setting the scenes to come. What is a psychopath? What is a Narcissist? Our history. How we met. Then leading to my light bulb moment on our wedding anniversary when I knew it was time to break free. The following blogs will be my journal entries of my Year of Thorns when I started the divorce process on my road to recovery and freedom.”

I will never understand fully, or even begin to comprehend Scott’s need to destroy me. I understand now its all a part of his underlying sickness. But to this day, it’s still difficult for me to wrap my head around it all. I only hope that he will “Let It Go” one day, allowing me to live in peace and stop using the children as weapons.

Please Scott. Stop.

Why stay in a relationship that is toxic?

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Why Did I Stay? 

Why did I stay despite everything?  Many of us get into unhealthy situations because our partners held up a facade. I felt I had met my soul mate — that one special person in the universe just for me. It’s no surprise that I fell in love with someone like that! Scott once seemed perfect, but once I was married the relationship changed slowly over time due to children being born, job changes, and other major life changes.  Eventually I began to see a completely different side of him.  It was clear that I had married Dr. Jekyll and was living with Mr. Hyde, or the Supreme Being. The person who once seemed perfect became an angry, demeaning, demanding, and harshly critical narcissistic psychopath.  Sure there were warning signs from the very beginning, but I was in love and felt an obligation to stay. Plus the sex was off the charts.

For most people in abusive relationships, we carry around with us internal obligations that tend to make us want to stay in the relationship. One being the feeling of love for our partner. These feelings can persist and be very strong even when our partner doesn’t give or show us love in return.  We stay because of the few crumbs fed to us along the way with words of affirmation and/or actions along the way.  Like a carrot dangling at the end of a rope.  The second is a feeling of responsibility and obligation to our partner, our family, and even others beyond that. Our disordered partners often work hard to build up this feeling of obligation, hoping it will keep us locked in despite the way they mistreat us. 

I also stayed because of the way Scott’s manipulative behavior effected how I viewed myself.  He made me the victim, and my acceptance of that role allowed Scott to keep his control over me.  Scott projected his issues onto me, leaving a husk of the person I used to be, to feed his ego. I didn’t see through Scott’s ruses.  I didn’t call them out fearful of his repercussions.  I allowed Scott’s behavior to go unchecked by not actively taking a stand against it — and for good reason.  When I did stand up to Scott, he punished me, abusing me both verbally and physically.  I failed from the beginning to set proper boundaries. 

 Scott started the negative comments and hammered them home until I believed it entirely. When you start to feel so low and worthless, you genuinely believe that they are your best option. You believe that no one else will ever love or accept you because that’s what they’ve conditioned you to think – even friends won’t accept you. Because of that, you fear the thought of being alone (one of my greatest fears).  You think no one else will fill the gap in your heart that has been pried wide open with manipulation and malicious criticism. You fear that all the insults and criticisms were true. I let harsh words and his poisoned opinions rule my thinking. 

Alienation was also a major factor why I didn’t leave. While living abroad for ten years having three small children including one with special needs, I just couldn’t pack up and leave. We moved so frequently it was easy for Scott to alienate me from friends and family that supported me. I was also alienated financially, having given up my career to support him in all our moves.  We relied solely on Scott’s income. My career was long gone.  I was terrified at the thought of getting a job having been out of the workforce for so long with my skillset being significantly outdated, or so he made me believe.  

The rest was fear, plain and simple.  Fear of the unknown and Scott’s continuous threats I’d heard so often:  if I ever left, he would leave me with nothing and ruin my relationship with the children.  Scott did exactly that.  But I did survive, and I hope that our children will one day come to understand his illness and forgive me for staying as long as I did in a toxic relationship that ultimately dragged them into the middle. 

We often stay in abusive relationships for reasons that are healthy, even though the situation isn’t.  Scott projected his insecurities as a detached parent onto me making me question my sanity and parenting abilities, the very thing that mattered to me the most. Then there was my internal conflict to keep the family unit intact for the children.  But soon I realized while my vows were pulling me in one direction, the need to care for myself and my children in the other direction had to be my priority. I had to save myself and my spirit if I was going to take care of our children, stopping this dysfunctional modeling, hoping they would learn what a healthy relationship is eventually. 

When we think about making major changes in our lives, our thoughts naturally go to the world around us. We not only want to do what is right in principle; we also want to do what others will approve of. I guess one of the things that surprised me most in my educational journey was how strong this feeling was for me. I was always a people pleaser, needing validation and social acceptance. I hated being alone. I was really carrying around a strong feeling that an awful lot of people would judge what I did, especially living in such a small community. Even writing my book/blog, I worried what others may think knowing what happened behind the closed doors of our seemingly perfect Facebook life. 

I felt shame and embarrassment; I never thought I would get divorced, no matter what Scott did to me.  I had to work hard to get a handle on this. In reality, people didn’t really care. The negative judgment from others really isn’t there. The thought that I am a good mother because I kept my family unit intact needed to be set aside, replaced with thoughts that are centered in more basic ideas. “I am a good mother” because I care about my children. Now I have the courage and ability to hopefully be a role model to my children. I want them to also be free from their father’s manipulation to truthfully assess the goodness of their lives. I am a “good person” because I love and care for myself, my children, and for others.  

It’s time to believe.

Believe . . .

To accept (something) as true; feel sure of the truth.  

Hold (something) as an opinion; think or suppose.  

Believe in yourself, your intuition, your courage, your strength, your future.

 

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My Lightbulb Moment

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It was the last day of our Florida vacation.  I was running late.  All five of us, Scott, our children, and I, were crammed into a small hotel room with two double beds and a blow-up mattress. Our kids varied in age from twelve to twenty-one, and we were all ready for some space. The kids were in the hotel room and everyone was fighting and arguing. Our two oldest children were speaking to me like Scott always does — with complete disrespect. They learned it from him.  Or maybe I should say they never learned respect from him.  Then, I snapped.

I couldn’t breathe.  I was in tears and trying to keep my temper intact.  

Maybe it’s a panic attack?  

I don’t know.  I’ve never had one before.  

 “I‘m not feeling well,” I told Scott when he entered the room with his drink in hand, stepping over luggage and strewn clothes everywhere. “Something’s wrong.”

It was Scott’s responsibility to plan our anniversary dinner that evening, which turned out to be dinner with our kids and his mother and her husband. Our marriage counselor had suggested we take turns planning a date night, and it was Scott’s turn that night on our anniversary. I wasn’t expecting any grand gestures, but I was hanging on to hope by a thread.  I hoped that Scott would make an effort, knowing I already had one foot out the door.  I had met with the YWCA Domestic Abuse Advocate a few months earlier after Scott had beaten me — again.  I had also met with someone at the Personal Protection Order (PPO) office and had also considered filing assault and battery charges at that time.  But Scott professed his love, actually admitting he was wrong for the first time in our nearly 30 years together. I believed him.  

Earlier that day, our family had decided to take a trip up to Captiva Island to enjoy our last day of vacation at the beach.  I was exhausted having tried all week to make our family vacation a happy and memorable one.  It wasn’t easy.  I was hoping to end our last day of vacation on a positive note.  

On our way back to the hotel after the beach, Scott and Lindsey, our daughter, were arguing.  I tried time-outs, but tempers continued to flare. Cooper, our youngest son, was in tears in the backseat of the car as Scott and Lindsey got louder and louder.  In an attempt to divert or stop the argument, I suggested that Scott pull over at a nearby beach. I said that I wanted to search for driftwood, hoping we could all just breathe. Scott agreed, and our daughter, grateful for the reprieve, joined me.  

After we got out, Scott decided that he didn’t want to stay. He sped off with a sting of gravel spraying in our faces.  It was a blistering hot afternoon, so we waved the cloud of gravel dust from our eyes and headed down a narrow path to the beach, with the understanding Scott would be back in an hour to pick us up.  I was hoping that would give everyone enough time to calm down.  It was a small beach, just under and around a small bridge.  There was parking for a handful of cars.  You couldn’t walk far and there wasn’t much to see as we ventured out, but I thought there may be a few pieces of driftwood, as it was an outlet to the ocean.  There were a few other people hanging out, fishing or taking in the sunshine.  Lindsey and I wandered awhile, then took a few pictures — she wanted a couple good photos of herself from our vacation.

Hot, tired, and thirsty we were disappointed that Scott never returned as promised, as it was now well-past an hour. I repeatedly called him and got no answer. Two hours later, needing a bathroom desperately, I called his mother. I asked her to tell Scott we were ready to be picked up.  Scott was not happy. Not only had I called his mother, but he was going to miss happy hour at sunset on the last day of our vacation.

 Okay.  

Now back in the hotel room the five of us were getting ready in a mad dash. We wanted to be on time for our anniversary dinner with his mother.  I was last in the shower with only a few minutes to throw myself together, thanks to our teenage daughter. The kids were being disrespectful and argumentative with me.  Instead of defending me and correcting their behavior, Scott jumped on the bandwagon with them. 

That’s when the light bulb came on.  That one defining moment was like the final drop of water into a billion drops collected over time that creates a flood.  The gates opened and there was no stopping it.   For the first time I dialed in and listened — listened to my inner spirit who was screaming with fire, fury and frustration.  Moved by such an extreme feeling of discontent I knew I had to do something.  Fueled by powers of prayer, I had a moment of clarity.  It was crystal clear.

To an outsider, it may have seemed like nothing.  So what?  A crappy day; dinner with the mother-in-law; no roses.  Big deal.  But inside, it was the culmination of years of abuse.  My heart and soul were screaming.  It was time to protect what little I had left of myself.  It was fight or flight — the physiological reaction that occurs in response to a perceived harmful event, attack, or threat to survival. 

The very foundation of our marriage was broken.Living in my comfort zone was easy.  But as I sat there on the creaky, old hotel bed, I felt like I was buried in a pile of rubble, unable to breath.  The walls were crumbling around me.  No longer able to detach and deny, I accepted the truth.  My reality.  With this discontent rising up like a kettle about to blow, I knew that something had to change.  I had to change.  No more brokenness.  No more abuse. I needed to rebuild my life, not just for me, but for our children.

Not wanting the kids to see my distress, I told them to go ahead to dinner with Grandma and her husband without me.  I wasn’t feeling well and went into the bathroom and wept.  Scott knew I wasn’t ok, but it was apparent that I didn’t matter to him.  

“Suit yourself,” he said, leaving to take the kids to dinner. 

Now, I know that Scott is a narcissistic psychopath.  The universe is all about him and how things affect him.  But I didn’t know that then.  That night I gave Scott many opportunities to help me keep US together – a last-ditch effort to show me he could be different. That he could still change my mind and save the marriage.  Was I overreacting?  I didn’t think so.

A short while later, Scott texted me, “There’s a wait for the table.  I can come get you if you’re finally ready?” 

Again, I explained, “I’mnot ok.” I really wasn’t.  I couldn’t catch my breath and felt like I was going to faint, breaking into a cold sweat.   I knew what I had to do.  Scott only got angrier.  How dare I stand him up on our anniversary; in front of his mother, no less!

“I can’t believe you’re acting like a child.  What am I supposed to tell my mother?” he said angrily. He wasn’t worried about me.  It was all about him.  

That’s when I knew I needed some space. I couldn’t fathom getting back on the plane the next day with Scott and kids bound for home. 

So, I told Scott, “I’m leaving.”  

 “What do you mean?  You’re over-reacting, being selfish.  You’re making a big deal out of nothing,”  he texted. Something I’ve heard all too often.

 “I need some space, time to think,” I replied.  He didn’t respond like some might, begging me to stay or making any effort to be reasonable.  

Instead he said, “You’re a terrible wife and mother.  How dare you abandon us. You need help, you’re a crazy bi**h.”  That was it.  My proverbial last straw.I collected myself as best Icould, packed my bags, and called an Uber driver, letting the hotel room door close behind me.  quote 8