Jessica's Story

I have no idea if my ex is a Narcissist, sociopath, or just extremely messaged up. Also, after 3 years of emotional abuse I often still sometimes wonder if I’m to blame for the demise of our relationship. I appreciate anyone who is willing to read my story and share their thoughts.

My ex and I dated for 3 years, 2 of which were spent living together. Our relationship had some red flags from the start...he had just broken up with his girlfriend of 4 years when we starting dating, it was whirlwind from the get-go (way too much too fast) - i.e. instantly meeting his family, basically living at his parents’ house out of a suitcase, moving in together after 1 year. He had issues being intimate - difficulty with normal arousal. He said that he's always had anxiety around performance in the bedroom and I did my best to make this environment less pressuring for him. I noticed, though, that he tended to blame me for the problems he was having, and he’d have some pretty extreme needs (always upping the ante and looking for new things to try). He told me fairly quickly that he used pornography as an outlet for sexual exploration, and said that as a young guy he would switch on and off of fetishes almost overnight. In one strange conversation he told me that in first year University he was accused by a girl of rape (never made it to the police, but she spread the rumor that he had raped her) which he adimently denied - I didn't dig too deep into that, but given the issues he told me about, I always wondered the details of that situation, especially in hindsight. He also told me about his other relationships, one in particular always bothered me. He left his first girlfriend suddenly after a year and a half of dating, and subsequently sunk into a deep depression. He couldn't pinpoint a reason for leaving her because he loved her, other than he didn't see it going anywhere.

I had my own issues going into the relationship that I was independently working on and had been for some time. I have always had issues with self-esteem, and historically stayed with men who weren’t that good to me. I thought in the beginning that I had finally broken old patterns based on how things developed. Initially he went through some hard times, but the excuse I made for him was residual baggage from his recent breakup. It seemed to get better with time, so I didn't focus too much on the things he did or said in that initial few months we were dating (mostly extreme moodiness, hot and cold behaviour). About 6 months after we started dating he went to India for 3 weeks. Before his trip, he didn't seem to care about seeing me or spending time with me and he barely made time to say goodbye to me. Part of me understood - he was busy tying up loose ends at work and was short for time, but it still left me incredibly anxious. Just the sudden change in behaviour, if that makes sense. Prior to him leaving I barely slept, which compounded the anxiety. He left for his trip and as soon as he landed would not keep out of contact with me. Every moment he had to spare he was on messenger, or calling me, or texting me from the international phone they got. I was relieved, I was able to sleep restfully and the anxiety dissipated. I chalked it up to my own issues with insecurity and moved forward. He on the other hand became incredibly anxious. He was having a lot of difficulty staying happy, he would call me in what can only be described as dissociated states where he could barely formulate a thought. Although I was very worried about him I was comforted knowing that I could help him through his anxiety and I was glad he could relate to my anxious moments, it drew me closer to him. About 2 weeks into the trip he sent me a message while I was at work, he had to talk to me right away. It couldn't wait. I had to literally put my work day aside to deal with whatever it was he was going to tell me. He addressed our issues with intimacy by telling me that from a young age, he has been worried about his sexual orientation, or was anxious/scared about being gay and this caused him a lot of anxiety when having sex. On his trip these issues were impacting him a lot and he had come across articles on HOCD - in short, obsessive thoughts and fears about being gay. He told me he struggled with other obsessive thoughts as well, essentially if he thought something it could/would happen sort of thoughts - even about hurting people. I was completely dumbfounded - blindsided - sick to my stomach. He was across the world, and I was hearing about this on Facebook chat. I wasn't even sure I knew what to feel besides confused as it had caught me completely off guard. I couldn't talk to anyone about it because of how personal it was for him (he made that very clear). He tried to calm my concerns and made me feel special because I was the only one he'd ever felt comfortable telling this to. He spent the rest of his trip reassuring me and telling me how amazing I was and how much better he felt. Although I was confused and unsure of the situation I was able to initially keep my anxiety at bay because of how much he communicated with me about it. He promised when he got home we'd continue to talk through it all. Because it caught me so incredibly off guard, I never processed it all properly I don’t think.

When he got home from India I was expecting our bond to be on a new level. Instead he was anxious, sick, troubled and distant. His trip had drained him emotionally, and I was supposed to be his rock. If I expressed needs or asked more from him or urged him to talk about what he had told me in India he'd get defensive, criticizing me for not understanding that he wasn't feeling well. My anxiety started to build again. My sleep became difficult when I was in the same bed as him. I turned to alcohol for relief of my anxiety and as a sleeping aid because my lack of sleep was affecting my mood and performance at work (which eventually led to me losing my job - I was just unable to handle any additional pressure or stress).

Knowing he obviously had lots of things to work on, I should have been more persistent with him to deal with them outside of our relationship and I most definitely should have sought help for my anxiety (I deeply regret not doing that for myself). At first he went to talk to the doctor about it and the doctor prescribed him anti-anxiety medication. Unfortunately the pills made his issues worse, as the side effects basically erased his libido. Just as quickly as he went on the medication he was off of it again, which has its own physiological impacts or side effects. Although I supported him and truly loved him unconditionally, I continued to harbour serious concerns about his well-being and mental state. I found myself constantly walking on egg shells, never knowing what would upset him or cause a disruption in our relationship. Unless he brought the issues up I rarely spoke about them. We had a lot of sex....some of it what I would deem to be "normal" but most being done for validation - him I guess for his manhood, and me to validate our relationship. As I mentioned earlier, sex was always escalated to something other than the typical sexual encounter. I felt almost more of an object than a person in it all and knowing his issues in the back of my mind didn't help.

His moods were troubling to me. In public he'd be one way -the life of the party, friendly, smart, witty. Charismatic. Behind closed doors or while we were on a date by ourselves he could be incredibly hard to be around, usually in some sort of funk acting like he didn't want to be where we were. He told me I should feel good because he could be himself around me. I found it exhausting trying to engage him into having a good time when it was just us. Because of his charm in public, my growing anxiety became unacceptable to people and I began to feel incredibly alone and isolated. I sensed that they couldn't understand how I would be in the state I was in with such an awesome guy, although I thought his parents understood on some level. Over time, it became clear that he was devaluing me to his friends and family which exacerbated my feeling of isolation. To my face, we were going strong and he was a fully invested partner but to others he wasn't sure about me and if he wanted to marry me. I felt to blame for the things he said even though I had no idea what I had done. Sometimes I would drink way too much, and my anxiety and related feelings that I was afraid to tell him would finally release itself ....words would spill out of me, I'd want to address every concern I had in one late night conversation with him. I assume to everyone else I was George's unreasonable girlfriend who drank too much. I'm speaking entirely about his friends because those are the only people we ever hung out with. I grew to become very resentful of the charming front he put out around his friends, and as a side effect, was very uncomfortable when his friends were around. He wasn't a fan of most of my friends, coming up with reasons why he didn't want to hang out with them. Simultaneously he criticized me for not having hobbies or interests. It was crazy making.

Besides how he spoke to me, I also noted how he spoke about other people - his mom, in particular. He spoke about her as being a disappointing cook, bad house keeper, unmotivated, "we wonder what she does all day since she doesn't work, she just talks on the phone". His mom couldn't have been nicer, a more dedicated mom and an awesome cook. He spoke with great distaste about his recent ex., and more fondly about a girl he had broken up with a decade ago.

There were the “good times”, and despite the content of this we managed to have a lot of seemingly happy moments. Good times meaning no drama, defined as a combination of his head being under control, me not needing much from him (less anxious). During those times I could not have felt more loved or valued. He wanted to integrate me in his life in every way, to the point where I came to expect that love and attention, he definitely put me on a pedestal. Shortly after India he also asked me if I wanted to split a home with him. Being young and naive I thought it was very sweet and reaffirming of our relationship. We looked at houses and I fell in love with one that was in our budget. We put an offer in, it was rejected, and when I pushed to put in a counter offer, he shut down. His entire family thought I was pressuring him into buying property with me when it was his suggestion from the get-go. I could tell they thought this because he framed it that way, he even started to believe this himself. Again, crazy making behaviour and made me question my own sanity. Needless to say the house talk quickly went off the table. My anxiety persisted, I'd say this was the turning point of it getting much worse. I couldn't understand his motivation for making me look bad to his family when I was excited about something I thought we were on the same page about. It didn't make sense to me and made me question myself and my intentions.

Several months later (1 year mark of our relationship) he somewhat impulsively bought a condo on his own. His dad gave him the down payment, I could tell he wanted George to move in with me and settle down. I wasn't involved in the process as I said although he did let me walk through it right before buying to see if I approved. I didn't really approve, but also didn't let on because I knew it would only cause a problem. He told me he wanted me to bring things there and feel comfortable being there as much as I wanted to. Our first really troubling fight was over me bringing dishes and my bread maker to the condo. This apparently was me imposing myself on his place, I should know when to give him space and after having a very hurtful argument, he made me sleep at my parents for 3 days. A very sudden devaluation that seemed to come out of nowhere, over nothing. Of course I just took this in stride, even though it destroyed my heart. I also began to not trust him to be honest with me about how he was feeling, it seemed in a hot moment he could change attitudes at the flip of a switch and reveal emotions I had no idea he was feeling – true Jeckly and Hyde behaviour. After each argument I was expected to bounce back immediately, and if I couldn't, I was punished by him for it. That punishment would usually come in the form of passive aggressive behaviour or by invalidation... "just get over it" or "are we still on that" type of mentality, and he would act extremely annoyed if I wanted to talk about it. Our second troubling fight came up a number of times and was about my financial contribution to the condo. We decided that I'd pay him a certain amount per month and in addition buy groceries. He flew off the handle because he didn't understand where the money was going, that I wasn't buying the right groceries and that I needed to do things differently. I almost felt that he was accusing me of lying or cheating him out of something even though I wasn't even sure what I had done and knew that I was genuinely trying to get things I thought he wanted. This added to my distrust in his emotions and made me seriously question his love for me. I almost had the courage to leave after that, but unfortunately didn't follow through. Somehow, he’d always suck me back in through his excuses for his behaviour, and his manipulating which always pinpointed me as the person to blame for our troubles.

To fast track a bit, every year of our relationship grew more toxic and I developed some pretty troubling insecurities. I would literally need to hear from him immediately after I texted him or I'd have an emotional breakdown. I didn't trust what he was doing, how he was feeling, and waited in anxiousness for the next time his issues would spill over on to me and what that would look like. I always feared what he wasn't telling me, things that I knew would surface eventually – when he’d go from loving and doting, to emotionless and cruel. I could tell at this point that my anxiety had taken over but I didn't even know where to start in terms of fixing it. With some luck, he'd switch modes and extend himself enough to bring us back to center. It was odd, almost like flickers of light when he'd realize something that would be obvious to most, but cryptic for him (I boil this down to the few times he was able to feel empathy, an emotion he’s typically void of). If he was able to do this my anxiety would calm down long enough for me to regain a bit of strength. Typically that's when we were at our best. I put on a huge front to family and friends, mostly because 1) I was manipulated into thinking I was the problem and feeling isolated and 2) I just wanted it to work so badly. I knew if I told them the full extent of his behaviour, I'd have to deal with the obvious - that I needed to leave. Emotionally, I was sucked in and I knew that wouldn't be possible. The easier way out at the time was the front, that George was perfect, loving and caring and that I was happy. I swept his behaviour under the rug and just dealt with it.

As time went on, we spoke less and less about issues, his in particular. I was led to believe that talking about it had healed him, that he was fine, and that he didn't need to talk about it anymore. The dissonance being that I knew he wasn't fine, when he'd drink he'd say a lot of things that made it extremely clear that he was struggling. I was living off of an average of 4 hours of sleep at night, some nights no sleep, and was in a perpetual state of depression and anxiousness. Near the end of our relationship the anxiety made me physically sick and taking care of me was something he seemed to resent. He reluctantly brought me things that I asked for (food, water) but all the while I could feel he thought I was being dramatic or making it up for attention. I was so desperate to feel better, I talked to him about my anxiety but it didn't make sense to him, no matter how many times I tried to explain how I was feeling he could only provide at most, topical support – and even worse, would later condemn me for never talking to him about what I went through (gaslighting). He criticized my drinking, would decline basic requests such as me asking him to get ready in another room so that I could sleep a bit longer in the mornings... I could tell he was checking out of the relationship or already had, but he wouldn't admit it. He kept telling me that no matter what he and I could get through anything, the message always being though that are problems were because of me, not because of him.

Then, the breakup. It came after an awful night, we went to a party and I saw a girl flirting with him and putting her hands on him. I went over to her and pushed her hands off of him. George didn't express a problem with what I had done until the next day where he told me I was acting childish and that I embarrassed him. He kept saying that I ruin perfectly happy moments. I apologized as I always robotically seemed to do and tried to explain how I was feeling. Falling on empty ears as usual, although he said we were fine. We had plans to go out for a "fun" date night the following day. I was very excited and was hoping that this date could bring us back to a good place again. When he came home from work he went and sat on the couch to turn on his video games. I asked him if he was going to go shower so we could leave to which he replied "in a bit". I said to him "Please don't make tonight another night like they always are" and I went upstairs. I could hear the door to the condo slam shut, he had walked out. He wouldn't pick up my calls, I was confused and frantic to understand why he walked out on me, although somewhere inside of me I knew exactly what was about to come. His messages were about to shatter my world : "Go fuck yourself. You make me miserable. I dread coming home to you. Get some boxes, pack your shit and get out, it's been a slice". I likely called him 100x, pleading with him over text and voicemail to come home so we could talk. He refused, and when I begged him to stop saying such awful things to me he told me to stop making this all about me and let him talk. When I told him I was worried about my mental state, he told me he'd call my mom and tell her that her daughter isn't stable. Again, I could tell he felt as though I was making it up. He finally came home at 11PM, 6 hours or so later to blankly look me in the eyes to say "this is done". He told me that I don't know how to be happy, and that he's sick of perfectly happy moments being ruined. When I pleaded with him he told me that I was embarrassing myself. He told me that this is why people cheat, because of who I was and also that he was as mean as he was only because of my behaviour – I caused this anger, I made him like this. Dr. Jeckyl was back, I didn’t even recognize the person standing in front of me. So cold, cruel and lifeless. He left me alone that night, eyes swollen shut from crying, shaking from anxiety and stress. At this point I completely blamed myself for what happened. I begged him through text to give me another chance and that this time I wouldn’t mess everything up. I contemplated suicide a lot that night. I so badly wanted to have the "courage" to use it to escape the pain. Something got me through the night. The next day (Easter long weekend, I should note) my parents came and immediately moved me out. I was numb.

I couldn't eat or sleep for weeks. Every aspect of my life was affected and he could care less. He wouldn't respond to much I sent him, except to insult/criticize me or drop a bomb, only to disengage right after. The mixed messages were unbearable - he told me he loved me very much and did this because he was worried about me and wanted what best for me, and then weeks later has told me he was capable of loving, just not me. He refused to admit the depth of his behaviour, even denying that he kicked me out. When I reminded him of the things he said, his response was “That wasn’t a serious request, I was angry”. I was so traumatized by everything that I was convinced for a long time that the issues lay only with me because that's what he told me. I questioned everything about myself. I read up endlessly online about mental illness, personality disorders and anxiety, I became obsessed with figuring out a solution to my problems. My parents were in disbelief and felt sick to their stomachs because they saw (primarily) his charming side. The act.

It's been 7 months. Although I've had my share of moments where I still hope that the right message will bring back the person I thought he was, I'm getting stronger and happier every day. It's been a long process of acceptance that this person that I loved never existed, and that I was too anxious and drawn in to leave sooner though I should have for my own health and well-being, but most importantly that I am not crazy or responsible for what happened. I went on anti-depressants (and continue to stay on them, for now), which helped with my moods and anxiety. I'm sleeping much better, and although I still have issues with alcohol from time to time, I'd say it's 75% better than it was. I saw a therapist to help me through it which has been life changing for me. I'm reconnecting with myself and with other people and gaining some confidence back. My anger towards him is coming out now (for a while I put a lot of energy into being compassionate for him) but the anger at this point feels much more genuine. As I write this and read it all at once, I see how fortunate I am to be out of that situation. The recovery has been the hardest part, and something that I expect to deal with for the unforeseeable future.