EDITOR’S NOTE: It is NOT my intent to air Lynn’s dirty laundry. I only felt obliged to begin writing it last weekend when she began lying about me, our situation and assassinating my character, as she is prone to do. I have not cheated on her nor did I leave her for someone else. Period.
My story
It will soon come to light that I left Fort Myers Beach and all it had to offer behind, including a romance that was doomed from the start. I’m talking March 2012 when we were both still married. That should’ve been enough of a red flag to us both. Only one of us heeded it and spent ten years healing, growing and changing.
When I got back to what once was my happy place, I set a course for new adventure but ended up going right back to relearn the lessons I thought I had mastered the first time. Nope, I ran right past all of the red flags. You see, the dreamer in me wanted to rewrite the ending of our saga. Here is how I started that last chapter in 2024.
What I quickly realized is that my partner, the one who I called in the blog post linked above “my person,” was not any different than the psychological mess—the wounded child—I’d left here on Mango Street in February 2014! I’d assumed, and given her the benefit of doubt, that she’d likewise grown, matured and changed over the ten years of separation. I was wrong to assume anything. Turns out, I had to learn the lessons all over again. So that instead of writing a love story, what I was actually finishing is a horror/thriller ride.
It has finally come to an end.
I walk away licking my wounds once again. This is no call for sympathy, just a cautionary tale. Good guys easily become suckers. I fell for the damsel routine once. I didn’t believe I was falling for it again. I thought I had come back to find a strong, empowered woman who had discovered and learned to love herself. Instead, I found the same damsel whose victim game is well worn and tattered, who needs to learn to own up and lose the girl who cried wolf routine.
While no one can undo the damage to the little girl, the adult woman can decide to heal, forgive and move on. That’s what I have decided to do. I need to heal once again from the emotional scars that two trips down this road have left deep inside me.
This isn’t abandonment 2.0 regardless of what some others might believe. She never really wanted me here. She obviously wanted to continue punishing me for the sins of her father and the abusive men who came before me. Added to that she had a personal vendetta for what I “did to her” in 2014. This isn’t me leaving. It’s her pushing me out the door. She’s been doing it since June! I have all of the receipts in my journal.
I fought her on it the first few times in June/July, refusing to leave “her house.” Funny how she called it “Doyle Beach House,” in one breath and her place the next, threatening me with police-enforced eviction more than one time. When she did this again in August, I left. I never felt so liberated.
She used counseling to manipulate me back inside her world. She promised her counselor and I to never kick me out again. She kept her word on that. I was back to being “pawpaw” or her “hubby boy” within weeks. We celebrated my September birthday with a short cruise to Freeport.
Fast forward through two hurricanes and many fights later…
We were at a hotel in town where we chose to evacuate with our pets during Hurricane Milton. I once again made the mistake of pointing out her poor choices/bad behavior. The child lashed out again, leaving me there the night of landfall and telling me she didn’t care if she or our animals survived the night.
So she kept her word of never kicking me out. But giving up and leaving me is no different. Our relationship ended that night. I slept on the hotel room floor once she came to her senses and returned to safety. Once home, I was determined to leave her for good. It took weeks, but my plan eventually materialized.
Fast forward again to this past weekend. She attacked me for being the opposite of everything she typically says that I am, “her perfect man.” This is the game the narcissist plays with their narc supply—you are their hero one minute, Satan the next, there is no in between. I’ve suffered in this no-win situation far too long. I no longer want to be her hero, the villain OR the victim.
So I left.
Monday I packed my things and walked out the door. I’m never looking back. Narcissist abuse is real. My suffering was very real. Therapists will all tell you to cut off their supply and go no contact. That’s what I am doing.
No regrets and no shame. It was just another misadventure. It was a mistake I MADE TWICE! Never again.
(Edited and posted in Pittsburgh, PA)
No comments:
Post a Comment