Madness

Ever looked into someone's eyes & you knew that something was wrong somehow?

Instead of saying "nah" to your gut, listen, & listen carefully.

Today was a revealing day at work. It's sadly common for women to be in abusive relationships with narcopaths. Unfortunately for many they don't live to be able to speak about what happened to them. I'm on a mission to get the truth of what I went through out there & to help others, men & women, who have had to deal with abusive situations.

The sad thing is, it's so brushed under the rug, the reality of how devastating the physical & emotional abuse is.

At the age of 15 I already had a broken nose from merely asking a simple question. It flew against what he expected. I was supposed to believe this insane lie that I was talking to a "rockstar" on the telephone. You see, he set up what would have been an awesome Birthday present, however, it wasn't a rockstar. It was an elaborate scheme, a joke. Every time I asked about it's legitimacy I got slapped, my nose broken, my face went flying into a brick stair. I stopped questioning him for fear of it getting worse.

He threatened to kill pets if I left him. When I left to go to school he killed our family dog!

He threatened to kill my friends & make it look like suicide if I left or became successful without him.

My family did an intervention to get me out.

I still feel guilty to this day. What's even worse? Friends of mine have died from suicide. Yes, I have contacted the police.

The crazy thing is this, he maligned my character so badly when I got out of the relationship, that all of the friends I had prior to knowing him. Well, they all believe his side of the story.In therapy I found out that I suffer from what's known as Selective Mutism. There are days I can't even form words when I'm asked to talk about what happened to me. When they did inquire about what happened I stammered, I cried, I pulled my knees up to my chest, & didn't want to deal. They called me crazy.

Major medicines for PTSD made me groggy & zombie like. I was no longer the vivacious young actress/photographer/artist that I used to be.

I needed the job I had with the insurance I had. I earned very little at Tower Records, but I loved my job. I actually earned a little money acting & doing photography, but not much. Ah, the life of a starving artist right? Well, I got some call-backs for major things, so I felt like something I was doing must have been working. Then came the weird comments from people at auditions & I realized that my ex had contacted them & had lied about the situation. Years ago I got offered a major role, this was before I left him. He threatened to kill more pets if I took a role & moved to Germany. It killed me inside instead. All of the hard work, all of my dreams dashed, & continuous threats from someone I didn't even want to be with made me suicidal. I attempted it several times, he tried killing me too. Poisons, choking me, attempting to rip my head off, smothering me etc.

I'm still alive. I shouldn't be, but I am.

Am I mad?

Of course I am, well I take that back. Mad is an understatement.

We're all a little crazy. we all have something that makes us different.

I was in a relationship with an abusive narcissist from the age of 12 to 25.

I'm no angel. I threw a coat at him once after I bought a paper & he yelled at me & called me an idiot. I punched his arm gently when he said "Jurassic Park is stupid."

You know what's funny, well, not funny, but sad & ironic? He flinched from a little tap on the arm. I got sucker punched, he broke my nose, threw me into a hot stove, threw me across a room into a fireplace, put bruises up & down my arms every day from grabbing my wrists hard in his fists , put scars on my face from slapping me when he had sharp finger-nails. I have a major issue with my lower back- I can't have surgery, it's not an option, I have to learn how to "manage the pain." I have severe nerve damage, so I have to deal with neuropathy every single day of my life.

He says I'm "cray cray," "mad as a hatter," ""psycho bitch." He tells people I'm a lesbian, which I'm not. He has called my places of work & attempted to bad mouth me, he's gotten me fired, & he still shows up to stalk me.

So, who's the crazy one?

I have 2 PT jobs, write blogs, help people get out of & cope with relationships with people with personality disorders, teach meditation, teach voice lessons, sing, write music, sketch, paint, doodle cartoons, do photography, write books, & come up with characters out of the blue to keep my husky/hybrid on his toes. Does this make me a sociopath because I'm bored? Um no. I can't help it that I need to vent in a creative way. If that's madness, then I'll stay mad, thank you very much.