My name is Jordan* and I married a covert narcissist.
At the start, I didn’t even know what a narcissist was. I was starting a relationship with a quiet lady who just wanted to be loved. My world was not complicated and it seemed a simple thing to do.
We barely made it back from our honeymoon before I felt awkward. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it seemed like we were not on the same page. My wife was just never quite happy, the house, our plans and especially my friends and family. She didn’t want to go out any more. She would listen in when I talked on the phone and sometimes shout to join in the conversation. I felt awkward, she said that’s what married people do.
The constant snooping drove me nuts, I was used to just being myself. Now everything I did was analysed. I needed “permission” just to go to the shops. We tried some counselling. My wife was always agreeable during sessions, but the next day it was like they hadn’t happened.
Then I really stuffed up. I thought that my wife was just bored and a child would give her a distraction to leave me alone. If you’re reading this thinking a family will solve your problems. Please talk to some friends honestly. It is such a cliché. I was prepared to do whatever it took to make my marriage work. My friends had great marriages and I was too proud to admit mine was failing. I told myself, I just needed to try harder.
Along the way we constantly moved house and changed cars. There always seemed to be a problem with somebody or something. When it came to family celebrations, the party dates would keep changing which made it harder for my family to attend. Every year my wife would change jobs at least once putting stress on our finances. I was working flat out to increase my earnings just to cover those times when I was the only money coming in.
After 10 years, I was exhausted, I had done everything I could to make it work. But listening to hours every evening of the same repetitive negativity about why everybody else was to blame for my wife’s sad moods made me feel depressed. We did more counselling, spiritual healing, exotic holidays, a million facebook posts on how great our lives were. But I could barely bring myself to come home from work. In my car I had a set of clothes and sleeping bag for those evenings where the fear of seeing her was too much. Most of my friends had given up on me, and the ones I did have left, I called from work to avoid the snooping.
In my mind, I searched for answers. The only way I could describe it was like being married to somebody with the emotional maturity of a 13 year old. Everything was about her, and the big world was a scary place – best avoided or engaged only through the “protection” of social media. My wife needed constant reassurance, every single day. Anybody that didn’t comply was the enemy and no longer allowed in our bubble.
Eventually, I went for another round of counselling and I was in for a shock. My counsellor asked me if I thought my behaviour was normal for two people in an equal relationship. I admitted it didn’t feel equal. Then my counsellor asked if I knew what domestic violence was! Of course, I did, it was when people hit each other. Wrong again, 60 seconds on Google and I am staring at a list of behaviours I recognise. Threats to take her own life, isolation from my friends and family, emotional coercion, demanding to read my mail, inability to go out without being subject to interrogation, asking me or the children what we have spoken about. These are all types of domestic violence, and my children and I experienced them constantly.
My counsellor showed me that I was being subjected to emotional abuse. And this isn’t the normal, pang of empathy or sympathy you occasionally feel. This is every single day, being told that I needed to change myself in order to make somebody else happy. If I didn’t comply, then the dial would go up to tears or anger followed by rage. I’ve never seen my wife make an honest apology because she never accepted any disagreement was her fault. I was kicking myself, why did I never spot the obvious before?
Then it got awkward. Because of the children, we had three by now. I had some heart searching sessions with my counsellor. I admitted that I could see the children were subject to the same emotional controls that I was. Especially the eldest who was already getting into arguments with his mother just like mine. It was just a matter of time before the other siblings reached the same place. My counsellor made it clear that I had a duty to protect my children, and asked whether I was prepared to let them experience the same abuse that had happened to me. It was tough.
So the diary was started. I recorded every event where I felt my wife’s behaviour was detrimental to the children. Suddenly what had been excused as one off events turned into patterns. I urge anybody thinking they are coping with a narcissist to start honestly recording events. I learnt a knew term – gaslighting. My wife was telling me that my recollection of events was wrong, the events still happened, but key details were twisted to make my wife look like the victim every time. It had always been her word against mine, but now I had my notes to know I wasn’t going crazy.
In a last ditch effort. I was very clear with my wife, the behaviour needed to stop or there was no future for us. There would be no-more house moves, no more blaming schools, friends, work. I wanted to help her so bad and it was tough being so honest. I offered to pay for private counselling and even to cover her if she needed to stop work again. Maybe she could go live with her parents for a bit and re-discover herself. All these ideas were rejected. I was the nasty husband for saying these things and I was thrown out the “bubble”. Because of my dis-loyalty, I was now the enemy.
I have never felt life was so tough before. I tried to tell my friends the truth, some believed – they had their own suspicions. Others didn’t. I called a mens-helpine only to be accused of assaulting my wife. I later learnt this is because some helplines are trained to deal with violent males, they are not ready for that call from somebody in the opposite position. When my wife physically assaulted me, the police operator remarked that we must be as bad as each other. The assault was witnessed by our eldest child and was horrific. Abuse, inside the home is a difficult subject and it was clear. Nobody wanted to get involved.
This is my diary. My children motivate me and I owe them everything.
* OK my name isn’t Jordan. All names have been changed of course.