Empaths attract narcissists
This is the 15th in a series of posts about “My journey through anxiety, panic disorder, depression and psychosis.“ Read about how I attract secret narcissists. You can read parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII and XIV for the backstory. It might make more sense.
My last post ended with “We’ll look at How to leave a narcissist in my next post.” However, I think it might be worth telling you firstly of my final relationship with an almost deadly narcissist, Andrew.
Things happened so quickly
I’d been happily single for 9 months before I bumped into Andrew while we were both on jury service. He’d seek me out each break and at lunchtime, bringing me coffee and pastries from the canteen.
He looked so gorgeous in his expensive suits and shirts, casually open at the neck, and he smelled divine. I’d spoken about him to my friends and laughed “If he doesn’t ask for my number on the last day, I’m going to ask for his.” I’d never done that before and I’m not sure I would’ve but, in the end, I didn’t have to. He waved his phone at me with a questioning but confident lopsided smile and I melted.
He was amazing, offering to pick me up and drop me off at work then picking me up again each evening. I only lived round the corner from work but I loved being with him, even for that 3-4 minute drive each day. He asked lots of questions about me, my teenage sons and my life and empathised with my disastrous relationships.
He took me to meet his parents and family fairly early on, I liked them all and the feeling was mutual. I hadn’t yet told the boys about him so that first Christmas, we were apart, and he left to go skiing on Boxing Day. I missed him like I’d miss a limb, though he phoned every day, and on the fourth day he told me he loved me. He said he’d never met anyone like me, and I was besotted.
Lots of loving going on
Not long after, it was my birthday and we’d arranged to meet a few friends, along with my brother and my youngest son who was still at home, in one of my favourite restaurants. After a wonderful meal and many bottles of heady pink champagne later, he’d picked up the bill and had paid before anyone could argue. As we were leaving to get taxis, my youngest said, “I like him, mama.”
“Uh-huh, me too Sunshine.” The boys, my brother, my parents all loved him and vice versa. My family were delighted to see how well he treated me, with his quaint old fashioned gentlemanly ways. He’d taken me on holiday rather than the other way round, as had happened with my two previous disasters and he wouldn’t let me spend any money.
I was feeling so relaxed and happily settled and my mental state was stable for the first time in ages. I no longer experienced anxiety or panic attacks and my sleep pattern had improved ten-fold.
You had your chance and you blew it………..
However, around this time, my ex, Mark had started texting asking me to get in touch. Can you believe it, some ten months later the b*astard who’d thrown buckets of water over me now wanted to see me. We’d just settled one evening when Mark called and Andrew could see the name so I thought it best I answer. With my heart beating out of my chest and cottonmouth, I told Mark I was seeing someone else now and not to call again before hanging up.
He called back immediately, so Andrew answered and I could hear as Mark spluttered some carefully practised words ultimately meaning he wanted me back. “She’s with me now, please don’t call again,” warned Andrew.
“Okay but let me speak to Caz first. Caz, I love you…..” his pathetic voice trailed off before Andrew hung up. Mark called me at work the next day to say he’s outside and if I didn’t come out, he’d come into my office. My heart was in my mouth and I could feel the onset of a panic attack. I should have just called security. But I didn’t. I went out to see him, and he only offered to take me for lunch. Ha! That was a first, and I refused.
Mark professed his undying love for me, bleating that he never wanted to be apart from me, and asked how could I have moved on so quickly. You’d have thought I’d hate him I’m sure. But I didn’t. I felt sorry for him.
Why do some men do this, let you fall in love with them then hurt you over and over? They deny this and tell you you’re a maniac or a psycho and that you need help. They make you so mad you eventually end the relationship — then after an age — they want you back.
From this moment……….
Christmas wasn’t far away when Andrew had asked if I’d like to go skiing in France on Boxing Day. I had to say no, as it was always my time to spend with the boys. He’d said, “No problem, ask the boys if they want to come.” I’d said thank you but my eldest, Nic wouldn’t leave his girlfriend as they were at different universities and didn’t see each other very often. “No problem, see if she wants to come too.”
So off we went with a crowd of his friends and their families, my first time ever skiing. What a treat and guess who was actually quite good at it? Andrew and I went again in January and by this time I was hurtling down red runs at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. It was exhilarating. All his pals and their kids thought I was a real pro and I felt so proud. I could tell Andrew was proud too.
We went again in February, but after the first day I caught a tummy bug and there was no way I’d dare hit the slopes, so I stayed in our room. This really annoyed Andrew and he snapped at me constantly, telling me it couldn’t be that bad. Really? I loved flying down the mountains and had attempted all of them but the black runs. These have minimal ledges and no safety barrier like trees to stop you from tumbling down a sheer drop.
I see your true colours
Everyone gathered in the bar after dinner each evening and I missed not being able to join in. On the last night, Andrew returned to our room rather worse for wear, which was okay — until I refused his advances. I still had stomach cramps and had to use the bathroom every 10-20 minute ffs, so I was in no fit state for intimacy.
Well, he erupted! Yelling and cursing, practically foaming at the mouth and spitting as he lurched and stomped around the little room. I was both shocked and terrified in equal amounts, and I scrambled out of bed, intending to escape. But he caught me roughly by the arms and threw me back onto the bed, still screaming nonsensical obscenities.
I thought I’d been rescued when one of his pals rapped loudly on the door telling him to pack it in, but I’m not sure Andrew heard it over his frenzied ramblings. After about 30 minutes, only when he’d literally exhausted himself, he dropped to the bed and before falling into a coma, he dared me not to leave. I lay there rigid with fear, my mouth was dry and my heartbeat pounded in my ears until early morning, when we all got up for the long drive home.
Andrew appeared to have no memory of the previous night and as we had another couple in the car, I was unable to confront him. Shaken and upset, I remained silent much of the journey, too afraid I’d say the wrong thing or burst into tears. (I think) I loved him but I knew this should be over. I’d promised I wouldn’t put myself through this again.
Once home, I told Andrew I was tired and I needed to sleep before work the next day and that he needed to go home. I really I just wanted time to think, and I did — think. I thought it was out of character for him, he’d had a little too much to drink, I’d let him down by not being out there on the slopes with him.
Andrew phoned the next day and surprised me with a two-week holiday to Florida in June. What was a girl to do? I know what I should have done.
Over to you
Hhhmm, what do I say uh? Okay, what’s your thoughts? What do you think of the angry outburst? I’m looking forward to your comments and happy to answer any questions.