Abuse

I hear a lot about narcissistic rage. And there's so many terrible stories on this board about mean and abusive spouses. But my ex-boyfriend never raised his voice to me. He never got angry, or even upset. He was patient and helpful and caring. Actually, he made his best to be the most caring boyfriend in the world. He once even drove five hours through a blizzard to help my father, who has a heart problem, to shovel snow.

This sometimes makes me doubt that he's a narcissist. And it's making it hard for me to feel happy that he's gone. I would never wish to experience the things that some of you brave and strong women in this forum have had to live through. But sometimes, like this morning, I can't help thinking that it would have been easier getting over him if he had been meaner. Now it's so easy remembering the nice guy. 

But then I started thinking about different kind of abuse. And realised that no, my ex-boyfriend has never yelled at me, or called me names or hit me or ignored me. But that doesn't mean that he hasn't been abusive. 

He has broken up with me several times during our relationship. Always telling me that we're not compatible. That he's not really in love with me. That I'm not the kind of woman he wants to spend his life with. Because I'm not getting a phD, or have lived abroad, or read the Economist, or like to drive very fast. He has made it clear to me that he chose to live with me despite all my shortcomings. That's a kind of abuse. 

He used to talk and talk about all his ex-girlfriends. Comparing us. Telling me about their faults, but also about their accomplishments. Their language skills, their intelligence, their impressive hobbies. Oh yes, I was always the best. Because I was...kind. But I could never compete with his big love. The one that got away. The supersmart doctor in chemistry who used to be a model and was his true soulmate. The one he still, six years later, would burst into tears over. No one was good enough compared to her. And he would let me sit there and listen and comfort him. That's a kind of abuse. 

He had other women. Maybe he technically didn't cheat more than once, even if I now suspect that he did. But he did cheat when my best friend was in hospital for a difficult operation. And he was always unfaithful in his mind and soul. Keeping other women as a back-up. Chatting with them on the internet, sending text-messages to them, meeting them for coffee, sleeping at their places when he was out of town. And he always made me aware of the competition. That's a kind of abuse. 

He withdrew himself from me. He stopped kissing me, and didn't want to have sex when I wanted to. And whenever I needed some kind of commitment he backed away. He made me act like a cat stalking a mouse. Waiting for the right moment to discuss our future without him running away. Always waiting and hoping. Happy for every little sign of love. That's a kind of abuse. 

And he left me without warning. One day telling me that he loved me and wanted to try for another baby, the next day announcing that it was too much pressure. He threw me away like an old sweater, and instantly replaced me with another woman. And he did it when we were supposed to be there for each other. When we had lost the most important thing two people could ever have together. When I was already weak and grieving and needed him the most. That's a kind of abuse. 

I have to remember this.