Tag: narcissistic personality disorder

Conflict Avoidance

Bones

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I have been conditioned to avoid conflict.  I have been punished, ignored, cold shouldered, berated, insulted and put down whenever I rose to a conflict instead of rolled over, whenever I voiced an opinion that was contrary to what was being said.  I didn’t realise it was happening – it started off small, and phrased like a concern for me “you shouldn’t argue with people on the internet”.  By the time it was blatantly “don’t do that, that’s rude” it was too late, I was hooked into the narcissist and I wasn’t getting out.

Despite the many years I’ve been away from Him, I am still not free.  I have identified an immediate aversion to conflict, to the point where I will go along with things that I do not like, things that I feel are unkind, because I cannot deal with the conflict.  If someone says something unkind about someone else towards me I’ll smile and play along – doesn’t matter who it is, I just shut down, go into conflict avoidance and people please mode, and my brain disconnects.

I never used to be like this.  Back in high school (a friend of mine reminded me of this) I was sitting at a group of desks and another girl came over and said she wanted it.  I politely said no, and when she persevered, I told her to fuck off.  In exactly those words.  I had no issues telling two girls who were harassing me at home to fuck off and never come back again.  I had no problems standing up to bullies.

I am now into my fourth week of fluoxetine, and I have discovered an amazing effect.  I’m getting my backbone back.

Today a colleague was rude about one of the people I provide support for.  This particular individual is Chinese.  The rest of the office is not.  This particular colleague asked me to tell the Chinese woman to see her “once she’s done with her jabbering”.  Instead of my usual response – a polite, mincing smile and a churning of discomfort in my gut – I felt immediately angry.  While I couldn’t vocalise it properly, I certainly let it be shown in my face and posture.  This colleague was being very rude and racist about another colleague, one who she works with, and one who works harder than damn near everyone else in the office.

And for once, my first response wasn’t conflict avoidance.  I was, and still am, intensely proud of myself for that.  I feel more like me than I have in a decade.

The Difference Of Intent

Bones

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Intent.  It’s something you can never directly see, and yet it impacts all actions.  It’s something I’ve been thinking on a lot these past few months.

Because the amazing human being in my life does some of the same things that He did – not many, but enough for me to have occasional flashbacks.  The difference between the two is as clear as night and day, but certainly not something I would ever have seen at the time.  It is a difference in intent.

Where He supported my interests because they reflected well on Him, this amazing human supports my interests because I’m interested in them.  Where He looked after my animals because it made Him look good, this amazing human looks after my animals because he loves them.  Where He would spend a lot of money on takeaway food because it was Living The Life, this amazing human spends money on takeaway food because it’s easy and tasty and it’s a nice treat (for both of us) after a hard day of work.

Where He would interact with my friends and, when they (very rarely) visited, suggest some things He thought they might like, it was all to reflect well on Him in some way, to make them like Him more.  This amazing human suggests things they might like because they might like it and because he cares.

And now, looking back, the difference of intent is so clear.  It has just taken seeing the behaviours expressed from a selfless intent to see the difference in the resulting behaviour expressed from a selfish intent.

And you can tell, you can really tell.  The words they use, the way they put them together, their tone of voice, and their body language.  The feeling left in your gut afterwards (never ignore your gut, it knows a lot more than your brain does).

I am intensely grateful to the amazing human being I now share my life with.  He is helping to heal a lifetime of trauma by simply being his incredible self.

Narcissistic Abuse and Expressing Emotion

Bones

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I was in a long term, committed relationship, with a narcissist for a long time.  Almost a decade.  Almost a decade, to be precise, throughout my twenties.  As a result of this, I have a myriad of issues I am unpacking and unpicking, including PTSD, but one issue I’ve noticed (and I’m working on really hard) is the inability to express emotion in what I perceive as a correct and healthy manner.

As an autist, I have always experienced emotion very intensely, to the point of physical pain or discomfort.  As an autist in a relationship with a narcissist, I … edited my emotional output and expression to be palatable to the narcissist’s inability to cope with anything other than superficial expressions of emotion.  I would, in a sense, tense up my emotions, whip them up so they were light and fluffy enough to be appropriate for the target audience – Him.  This, in a sense, prevented me from fully appreciating the depth of emotion that I could experience.

Another part of my abuse was the constant pressure to be perfect, to always be happy, to never be sad or angry or upset.  Everything was always fine.  Everything was always okay.  Nothing was ever wrong.  This caused me to avoid situations that might bring up any negative emotion, to seek only things that brought me enjoyment, and to ruthlessly clamp down on feeling.

It’s so ingrained it’s now part of my coping mechanism, and it got me to where I am today.

I realised it was a problem late last year, with my now partner.  In an effort to correct this, I would spend considerable time before talking to him sitting, breathing, relaxing my stomach muscles and allowing myself to feel.

It’s taken a long time, but now I can look at him and there is no tension in my chest.  I can look at him and allow myself to smile and know that it is a genuine one, not a pinched, repressed one.  The fluoxetine definitely helps with this, but it has also been months of hard work, months of patience on his part, months of care and consideration.

It feels amazing to be at this point.  I know there’s still a ways to go in this specific area of recovery alone, not including all the other ticks I’m trying to shed, but just this level of progress is so heartening.

PTSD Awareness Day

Bones

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I didn’t even realise it was today, yesterday, the 27th of June.  PTSD awareness day.  We should all be aware of it, and realise that it is occasionally a sequellae of trauma, a bit like how reduced kidney function or renal disease is occasionally a sequellae of an acute kidney event.  Some people only need a bit of an acute event for their kidneys to be severely impacted.  Others need more.  It can be managed, but it often cannot be cured.

Well, that’s the same with PTSD.  People are individuals, and it is not your perceived level of the trauma the person went through that indicates the impact it has on the person, or the validity of the impact it has on that person.  Rather, it is the level of severity of the impact on the person as they experience it.

I have PTSD.  I was with a narcissist for many years in a romantic relationship.  I’m talking narcissistic personality disorder here, complete with impacting every area of his life, not just your regular old arsehole.

I have a moment I can remember and identify as a PTSD flash back.  This happened while I was on holiday.  I’m sure there were many before this, lost in the haze of ‘dealing with it’ (before I even vaguely understood what was going on inside my own brain), but this is the one memory I can pluck from my brain and say “see this, this is a PTSD flash back”.

He was, as many narcissists are, obsessed with the perception of power and wealth.  “Keeping up with the Joneses” style.  One of the things he loved to do was go to fancy hotels, have a luxurious full meal, spend a bit of time in the casino, and stay the night.  It was like a “stay-cation”.  It was all very posh.  Sometimes he would dress me up.  Later, he would insist I wear things that would make me appear unappealing and unattractive, or awkward in such a setting.

While on holiday earlier this year, my travelling partner and I briefly checked into … okay, it wasn’t that fancy of a hotel, but it was on par with what he used to like to go to, decor wise.  I was waiting in like for the desk to check in.  My travelling buddy was waiting with our bags.  I was tired, a bit over stressed because of wanting to get checked in and get some sleep before the next leg of our journey.

It hit me like a brick to the face.  I would turn around and it would be him standing next to the suitcases.  My stomach dropped, I wanted to vomit, and I’m pretty sure if I had opened my mouth it would have been my heart that came up.  I was shaking.  I forced myself to turn around, knowing that as soon as those suitcases were in sight … it wasn’t him I saw.  Instead it was the amazing, loving, equally tired human being I was on this mad journey with and I welled up with tears of relief.  It took a bit to stop myself from crying then and there, and even longer for the shakes to subside.  I was back to crisis control – everything is fine, nothing is wrong, it’s all okay, everything is fine.

It wasn’t okay, and it’s not okay, and it will probably never be okay, because every time I see someone who looks like him I want to vomit.  I have nightmares that this new life I have built for myself is just a figment of my imagination.  I will not enter certain places to eat because they are affiliated with him in my mind.  I will not act in certain ways because those ways were associated with him and the abuse.

Words cannot express how much this trauma has impacted me, how PTSD affects my life even now, almost half a decade since it all ended.  There are many more years of slow healing in my future, assisted by amazing human beings, animals, good music, medication, and a whole load of therapy.  Even then, I suspect there will be some things that I will just never be able to do, or experience.  And that is totally okay.  Because there are other things that I can do, thanks to being free of him.