Narcissistic Lover

by K. R.
(Johnson City TN)

Red flags flew from the very beginning. At the time, I had two children already and was 23. I was still naive when it came to love.

I was already in a relationship when I started paying attention to my soon to be abuser. My current boyfriend was a no good loser who sat around all day and smoked weed and didn't help me with the family duties that needed to be done. All we did was fight and I thought my life was terrible. I wasn't in love with him from the beginning. It was kind of like a teenage rebellion love that I ended up settling with.

When I started talking to my so called Prince Charming he was everything a girl could want. He was good looking, built and told me I deserved better and I was too good and too pretty to be with deadbeat loser...It was time for me to be with a real man. He always wanted to be a family man, and wanted to be there for my two boys. He was text me all the time filling my head with sweet nothings.

I quickly fell for his lies. After the first year of dating I found out he was cheating on me with his ex and they had been together for at least six months.

At that time my life was upside down, I had given up absolutely everything to be with this man; my home and all my belongings. I was currently staying at a crack house because that was the only "friend" I had that would take me and my two kids in. So I thought.

After I found out he had cheated he panicked and invited me to live with him...and his mother. He claimed he cheated because I wasn't there for him and didn't give him enough attention. Although he always told me he was in class or sleeping. He said by me being there every day it would comfort him and motivate him to be the man he needs to be. Foolishly I forgave him. I think partly because I needed to get out if the crack house and because I felt sorry for him. (I've been a victim of abuse growing up so I know how to make excuses very well)

Not even a month after moving in I found out I was pregnant. I remember being uncertain because of everything that had just happened and I had a feeling he wasn't who he tried to make me think he was. A couple weeks later it all started.

My mother had only a couple months left to live. Knowing this I spent every spare time I could with her. That made him jealous. Even though I offered for him to come along he never would. Then he would turn around and accuse me of running around cheating instead of being by my mother’s side. One night I told him that I wanted to stay with my mom since she lived alone and was too sick to care for herself. I was over there all the time anyways. He flipped. As I started walking towards his door he grabbed me, threw me on the bed got on top of me with his hand over my mouth and told me I couldn't leave. When I tried to fight back he threw me on the ground, got in top of me once again and head butted me, busting my head open and blood pouring out instantly. Immediately he got up and was apologetic. He grabbed me a rag and held it to my head as he sobbed. He was sorry. He had never done anything like that before to anyone.

As I've said earlier, I grew up in domestic violence so it was easy for me to make excuses for him and forgive.

He wasn't there for me when my mother passed. He told me to suck it up and move on. He didn't know her so he didn't care. I wasn't allowed to be sad or show my feelings, or it would upset him. I had no friends at this time because he accused me of cheating (even though I was pregnant). so I had to go back to when I was a child and learn how to cope silently and independently.

As time went on, and my belly was getting bigger the abuse kept getting worse. He would slam me down getting me in head locks, and choking me.

When we moved into our own home the violence escalated quickly. He was now pounding on my head since I was about to pop and couldn't hit my stomach. He would still choke me out, but while choking me he'd make sure he lifted me so my feet were off the ground. So now I had to choose to either hold my stomach trying to protect my sweet unborn baby or hold his arms so I could try to breathe and balance better I guess. He would bite my face leaving bite marks across my whole cheek. He held knives to my throat and stomach telling me he would kill me and my two boys who were always watching as he threw me around.

The violence didn't stop after the baby was born.

There were times I knew he was coming home mad so I would open all the windows hoping that would save me from his abuse. Making him feel like he shouldn't do much because others would hear, but that would just upset him more when he observed it.

I've tried running out of my apartment screaming, just to have him chase me, put his hand over my mouth, slam me to the ground then drag me inside as I'm bleeding just to punish me even more. He's broken my cellphone and hit me with a baseball bat.

The last time he put his hands on me was because a GRAND TOTAL OF FIVE PEOPLE liked my Facebook profile pic that I had recently updated that day. He was very jealous. He snapped and started pounding on my head. After he started walking away I sobbed and told him he couldn't hit me anymore. He ran back and told me he did what he wanted. He pounded on my head a couple more times. Curling up in a ball to trying to protect myself, I accidentally hit him in the testicles (from early on I learned I cannot take on this man who was 60+ lb heavier and had a black belt in karate and wrestled all throughout high school. I just had to take the blows he gave me. I never fought back. It would rage him more) sure enough that set him off. He choked me until I started seeing white. I couldn't breathe or scream or make the slightest noise. The only noise heard was me slapping his arm to get off me and the couch I was pinned against. I was staring in his big black eyes as he had me a blank stare studying my face. Finally letting go he got me in the headlock and threw me on the ground...just to choke me again. After letting go and me frantically trying to make my breathing stable, He started head butting me over and over again until he noticed a bulge over my eye making me look like Sloth from the movie the goonies. Immediately he stopped. Once again sobbing he grabbed an ice pack and became apologetic. I knew immediately this this may very we'll be my last beat down. Next time I could be dead.

His abuse wasn't just physical. He always blamed me for his unhappiness. Even though I bent over backwards and did everything a perfect housewife (even though he didn't respect me enough to wed me) was supposed to do everything was my fault. He didn't like playing the father role to my boys and they constantly had to be separated off in their rooms. They couldn't even eat with us.

He made me feel terrible for things I couldn't control like my daughter looking like me instead of him. He gave me ultimatums like choosing him or my son. He hated my oldest four year old and wanted me to, “get rid of him". Although I always got nothing but compliments on my sons, to him they were nothing but loud unruly brats who did nothing, but shit and eat and didn't contribute in anyway. By the end, he was just like the deadbeat loser I was with before him, except worse. Abusive, lazy, ungrateful, jobless, selfish, and smoked weed.

As I'm lying in bed right now reminiscing it breaks my heart knowing I put my children through this as well as myself. But I'm excited because even though I had lost everything (materialistic) I gained in such a short time I know my children and I are safe.

Although we are in bunks sleeping at a Women’s Shelter I know this is the beginning to my new journey. I heard a saying the other day that has stuck with me... "Every journey begins with a single step" and this is the best step I've taken so far.

If you're being abused get out NOW!!! Even if you are alone with no family, like me, there are so many resources available and it's all so easy you just have to make the first step and the whole world will be yours ;)