I met her in high school back in 1989. She was beautiful, but there was always something a little off about her. She was fun to be around and always the life of the party, but there was a very deep, dark side, which found its way to the surface later. We used to eat lunch together in high school, but I always felt like I was out of her league, so I never pursued dating her. We graduated and went our separate ways. I went into the military and she ended up getting married at the age of 23.
Fast forward to 2009. While dropping off my daughter at daycare, I ran into her, and she recognized me first. We got to talking, and I found out she had divorced the previous year, as did I. We chatted for awhile, I gave her my business card, and left. Not 5 minutes later, she was calling me. We talked some more, and agreed to meet for dinner later that week.
The relationship immediately fired up with sex on the first night! It was incredible, but I knew in my heart that no healthy relationship begins this way. From that night on, she was overwhelming and full of energy. I could not make sense of it and my head was spinning. It wasn’t love; it seemed to be obvious desperation on her part. I didn’t really care because no one had ever been this interested in me, but something still told me to be cautious and take my time.
After a few weeks of being together, I broke the relationship off because on top of all of this, I was dealing with PTSD and going to the VA hospital for mental health treatment. She seemed devastated and said that she wanted to help. Her crazy making behavior was not helping me to focus on getting well at all. I told her I was not able to continue until I got treatment for my own issues. She agreed, eventually, and we went our separate ways.
After my treatment, I decided to give her a call. Once again, she rushed right over and we ended up having sex. I told her I wanted to try to make the relationship work, since I was feeling better about myself.
She was living with one of her brothers, and by all indications, it looked like he was in the process of kicking her out. I helped her move into an apartment, and we began to see each other. She did not have a job, and was living off of child support. Soon, everything became about money, but at the same time, she had no problem having fun, and spending mine. She asked if I would open a joint checking account with her. (Yea right! I would put money in it and she would have drained it!) She asked me to co-sign for the leather couch that she was “buying”. (Uh, no thanks..) When I told her that I would help her, but she would have to handle her own finances, she used the old guilt trip. “Just don’t worry about it!”; she said. I gave her a laptop so she could look for a job. She ended up using it to go on a dating site to find a date. When I confronted her, she lied about it. The first of many lies. She lives her life on lies, deception, and guilt-tripping people into meeting her ridiculous demands.
After about 7 months, she got to the point where she was having trouble paying her rent and car payment. (what a shock!). Like a sucker; I paid one months rent and a car payment for her. We were at odds over her not looking for a job. Eventually, I offered to let her move in with me, so that she did not get evicted and lose her car. (Mistake # 1). After she moved in, she immediately began to take over my house and my life. She tore down wallpaper and started painting every room in the house. Landscaping was next. Spending hundreds of dollars of my money without discussion. She then proceeded to pull up all of the asbestos tile in my basement. (I was going to have it professionally removed because of the health risk). She seemed unstoppable and was not listening to reason! It was a constant topic of our arguments. I told her that I required her to do only 2 things. 1.) Find a job, and 2.) Take care of her son. She was not interested in either. This is how the malignant narcissist gets her way. She just goes through life doing whatever the hell she feels like doing, while demanding that everyone feel sorry for her. (Just like a 6 year old)
Every time I paid attention to my daughter, she would get jealous, yet she paid very little attention to her now out of control son. She was always bothered greatly by someone laying their coat on the couch; and the like, but she was unmoved by the safety and wellbeing of her own son. She was jealous of the dog. She was jealous of the cats. She was jealous of any activity outside of the relationship that drew total attention away from her. She, however, never met a stranger, and always put herself out there for the adoration of other men. Classic one-way-street.
In 2010, we attended our 20 year high school reunion. At some point during the evening, she decided to smash a piece of cake in my face. Ha Ha, kind of funny, but it did not stop there. She did it a second time with more force, and I literally had cake stuck up in my sinuses. Now, I’m a little peeved. I go to the restroom, kind of embarrassed that people I have not seen in 20 years witnessed this event. After I clean myself up, I leave the restroom. Bam! She did it a 3rd time, as I came out the door. The third time actually triggered PTSD symptoms, and I was overwhelmed with fear and anger. I went over and sat at the bar for about an hour, and she just went about socializing like nothing happened. (I guess she felt like I was stealing too much of her fire, so she had to do something stupid and embarrassing in true narcissistic style, like ruining her boyfriend’s 20 year reunion!) Finally, I left. I started walking home. I did not want to be around anyone, and I was livid with rage.
That event galvanized my opinion of her. We began to argue more and more. I was making a list of all of her offences, and it was killing me inside to think that this callous woman had ever really loved me, or was just using me for breaking up with her the previous year. I felt like I was becoming a narcissist ass because at this point I was always mad and trying to make sense of all of the red flags. I was becoming very empty inside. My depression was getting much worse, as I was unable to control a single decision within my own home.
Her behavior was becoming more and more unpredictable. She was not looking for a job and her pattern of doing whatever she wanted was getting worse. She was throwing away my belongings in an effort to compulsively house clean, never once checking with me to see if she was getting rid of something important. At this point, I felt like I was in the way in my own house. It felt like she was just going to take over and cast me aside. (I mean, how dare I have feelings of my own, or try to enforce boundaries of any sort in my own house. It was truly like dealing with a 6 year old.) I knew she had issues with depression just like me, so I always tried to make sure that she was taking her medication. I tried to get her to go to couples therapy with me, but she wanted no part of it.
Finally, I gave up! I could not drive myself crazy worrying if she was cheating on me, lying to me, or any of the number of unpredictable things she had gotten herself (and me) into. It had been obvious for a long time that this woman was nothing but a 6 year old trapped in a 40 year old body.
This turned out to be a mistake. Without supply, a psychopath narcissist will make you pay dearly. The fights with my daughter were causing my daughter not to even want to stay at my house anymore. I was losing the light of my life to the demands of a psycho girlfriend.
I gave her an ultimatum. Get a job, or get out. I could not stand the stress any longer. This woman had no love or empathy or respect for anyone, and her 8 brothers and sisters knew it, but did not say a word. Her ex-husband was suing to stop paying her child support, and I was throwing the narcissist out before she had a chance to secure a new source of narc supply. She was panicked and out of options.
On the morning of March 22nd, 2012, she went into my closet and got my Ruger 9mm pistol. She lye down on my pillow, put the gun in her mouth, and fired!
The bullet passed through her tongue, and to the left of the spine. It was not a hollow point bullet, so the wound ended up being superficial. She ended up spending 2 weeks in ICU and 3 weeks in a mental ward. As I understand it, this was her 3rd attempt. Once when she was a teenager. The second time after her husband handed her a divorce for cheating on him, she washed a bunch of pills down with bleach. And the third time… In my bed, on my pillow, with a gun. Wow! The ultimate guilt trip for not getting her way 100% of the time. And still, after 3 attempts, she refuses to seek therapy. Unreal!
After she got out of the hospital, she moved in with another one of her brothers. After a few months of doing whatever the hell she wanted, he told her to move out. She then moved in with an older couple from her church. After 3 months, they threw her out. She then moved in with one of her sisters. Her sister’s boyfriend was not going to put up with her behavior either, so they threw her out. So she ends up moving in with some guy we use to double date with. After about 5 months of her smothering the relationship with her demands, he dumped her, made her sign a contract of acceptable behaviors, and made her start paying rent. What a classy woman! She never listens to anyone’s advice. She just does it her way. Rules don’t apply… EVER!
Now, she is out there ruining other lives, smiling and faking her way through life; cheating people like a true gypsy. I hear stories from time to time, but she is right back to her same old tricks. I asked her after the incident why she did it. Her answer was that she wanted me to find her dead. She just wanted the pain to go away. It has been the most devastating thing to ever happen to me in my life. I think about it every day. The depression is unbearable sometimes. I never could wrap my head around how someone could be so selfish and callous to serve only themselves, and leave a careless path of destruction in their wake.
I am so conflicted. Part of me wishes she had died, while part of me is thankful she lived.
That’s my story.