I Almost Married A Narcissist

• 

A break up, a two-and-a-half year hiatus, a death, a proposal, and the start of a new journey without him … in that order …

The Breakup

A smooth and handsome narcissist, with whom I had consistently experienced narcissistic abuse from, deeply betrayed me by choosing another woman [with the same name] over me. I recall feeling so unbearably broken that I thought I would never be able to recover nor heal from the immense amount of heartbreak. This heartbreak had encapsulated me within an overwhelming sea of waves with billowing tides of emotions. I was a broken mess.

I cried for an entire week almost nonstop. I recall barely being able to function at work because of continuously fighting back the tears and the urge to just break down and cry my heart right out of my chest. After a full week of crying, I finally stopped crying over the loss of someone I considered to be the love of my life and my best friend. After what felt like a massive heartbreak of a lifetime, I never cried for this smooth and handsome narcissist again. He had literally emptied the well of my tears dry with his cruel and callous letdown.

One-Year Hiatus

During a two year period following the breakup, I attempted to work on mending my broken heart and seeking to work on myself. I read self-help books, I prayed, and I attended group meetings for struggles with codependency. Just when I thought I was rebuilding myself, about a year into the hiatus, the smooth and handsome narcissist left a letter underneath the flap of one of the windshield wipers on my car.

I recall a twinge of anger rise up within me when I saw his handwriting, but then I immediately became anxious because I presumed that I had been watched for some time. In fact, it had occurred to me almost as soon as I became aware of the knowing that he had been watching me, I remember that just days prior to the note, a relative of the narcissist came to my place asking if I had the narcissist’s contact information. Of course, I did not. Why would I?

Anyway, the note left on my car detailed not only how much the narcissist claimed that he missed me but also how much it appeared that I actually did not miss him. I did miss him, and this note made it terribly difficult to not just break down all over again. Had this smooth narcissist not realized how much pain I had endured because of him? Did he care?

I had to carry on with life, but the attached note had brought up an emotion that I was surprised by, and that was the emotion of anger. I felt a huge gulf of anger that overwhelmed me. My only thoughts were: How dare he act like I had moved on to spite him! I had moved on because I had no choice. I had moved on because he deserted me! I had moved on because I wanted to live! He had no idea how enormous the weight of depression was that vowed to sink me into an unmarked grave! Yet, to him, my life appeared to have moved on without him. Of course! This was his hoover, but I did not know this then.

Two-Year Hiatus

Into year two of the breakup, I continued moving towards a path of healing and change. I had not even noticed the changes within my career that were progressing me towards greater things. My life continued improving despite my emotional heartbreak. Then, just like that, out of nowhere, this smooth and handsome narcissist appeared in the flesh making an attempt to hoover me.

He had not returned because he realized the error of his ways and wanted to apologize. No! He apparently wanted to check the state of my emotional condition. He wanted to see if I was a broken mess, torn down, and painfully bitter after betrayal. He may not have been able to tell that I was an emotional mess, but he might have thought he had seen a broken mess by the state of my physical appearance. I had gone from a size four to a size 10 in clothing. I had gained weight.

Yet, I was actually satisfied with my physical appearance because the years of narcissistic abuse I suffered under his relational reign had affected me in such a way that I never had an appetite for eating. Now, fast forward to his visit, I appeared as a different woman. I actually appeared as a woman and not the young girl he loved bossing around.

As he stood in front of my door, I could instantly tell while I stared into his eyes that he had quickly made up a lie. He claimed that he had heard that I was very ill. Yeah … okay … liar. I wanted to ask him whether his pants were on fire because they appeared to be smoking. Like nice try. Why lie?

At the time, however, I thought the purpose of his visit was to gloat … to show me that his life with the new namesake (yes, his new love at the time shared my first name) was going great! Based on his behavior, though, I could tell that he was unhappy. What he was attempting to present to me was not true. Even still, I was in a good space with myself and could not bear to regress. I told him in friendly terms to have a nice life.

Death

Six months later, life was not so kind for him because he experienced a profound loss. His mother had died, and being the toxic empath that I was at the time, I shoved all of my issues to the side and chose to stand by his side while he grieved his loss. All had seemingly been forgotten in terms of the pain I suffered during our relationship because I wanted to be there for him. So I was there. I liked his mother a lot.

He grieved, and I was there. He needed to talk, and I was there. He wanted a friend, and I was there. Not knowing then what I know now, I look back and see that I was setting myself up to be the perfect supply for his narcissistic cravings even while he was in grief. I was also setting myself up to be back in a cycle that I knew was not good for me.

Although his girlfriend, at that time, was also present, I continued to be his friend. I did nothing outwardly to disrespect the girlfriend, but she and I both knew that I was the narcissistic supply that he was leaning towards the most during that time. His behavior showed her that I obviously knew him in a way that she did not know him, and this was a masterful triangulation of competition he planned to see which of the two of us could provide the most narcissistic support.

Although I gracefully bowed out of their physical presence, I was there for him when he needed to talk. All he had to do was call me, and I became a great listener. Although I sincerely wanted to be there for him because of how much I believed that I loved him, I would be lying if I said I was not pleased by his sudden view of me as the perfect woman and the one that he let get away.

I felt like I was being vindicated when the girlfriend knew I was his actually his girlfriend and not someone confused about my sexuality when the two of them cheated together behind my back. It was during this time that she knew the truth about me, and not once did she ever utter a word to me even though she had plenty to say to me in the past.

Nevertheless, I hated that it took the loss of his mother for him to realize what he had lost in me. I hated that his return in my life was precipitated by great loss on his part. How did I know that I was not a rebound? To make sure, I did not see him for a few months. If he was real about me, I believed that he would pursue me.

Half-Year Hiatus

Months after the death of the narcissist’s mother, we had maintained contact. He broke up with the then girlfriend, and he moved on to rebuilding his own life. He seemed incredibly sorry for the hurt he had caused me. He claimed that the loss of his mother had caused him to reflect on the pain that he had caused others. He reflected on how how his mother wanted him to be happy and realized that happiness just might be with me.

Hearing those words filled me back up with a sense of peace. Although I heard what he was telling me, it did not fully connect with me nor register to me. I actually felt dissociated from my emotions. I felt numb. When he spoke to me, I felt like there was distance. I needed to believe his sincerity, but I did not feel the sincerity in his words. I felt that there was some phoniness going on, but I could not put my finger on it.

Not long into my attempts to retry love again with the narcissist, I had already continued moving forward with the process of advancing in my career. To my surprise, I was presented with an out-of-state career opportunity of a lifetime. I wanted to take it. It would mean a whole new life for me. I had not even discussed this opportunity with the narcissist. He never even entered my mind regarding this opportunity.

I actually realized that he was oblivious to the occurrences in my life because he never showed an interest. He really did not know anything about me, and this would be an argument he would use against me from time to time. Despite me being there, I was not there. He did not see me. He just wanted to know that I was in his corner. Although I was there for him, I was shielding myself, and I did not understand why this was the case at the time.

One evening he stopped by to see me, and I recall him saying that I seemed so distant. So I told him about my career opportunity. I thought he would be upset, but he seemed very happy for me. When I told him the location, he did not seem to flinch. He thought that this was sign of change coming in our future.

Somehow, without me clarifying anything, there was the implication for me to commute even though my travel at minimum would be about an hour drive. I am not sure how he gathered that I would accommodate a life change for him, but he did, and when I objected based on distance and based on the duties that the job entailed, he became annoyed by my attitude.

He was so agitated that he accused me of trying to ruin his plans. I thought: What plans? His plans? His plans for what? At the time, I was unaware of what his plans were for the future. I was not going to assume the plans included me. There was something off about his behavior, but I still could not put my finger on it.

Change

Fast forwarding ahead, my new career would be starting soon, and I had decisions to make. A commute so long morning and evening sounded just too taxing a drive. I began planning for a move. I had shared my plans with the narcissist, who suddenly became excited about the idea … that we could have a home away from home. I was hopeful, but I was not happy about this. I wanted a fresh start.

I did not understand why he was holding on to wanting to remain in the area. I was ready for a change even if that meant leaving him behind, and this was a first for me. I was tired of the smooth and handsome narcissist. I felt like he did not care about my happiness and only endured this new career change because of the huge increase the change meant for my salary. I do not know why this would affect him until he wanted to have a very important conversation with me.

Without telling the narcissist, I secured a deposit on a place for me in the future home of my new state. I was not going to commute. I wanted to live near my new job. Even though I would not be moving for another three weeks at least, I slowly made arrangements to shut down my “old” life in my then present apartment and state. I packed. I gave items away. I cleaned my old apartment. I made ready for a new journey. I recall how, although the narcissist seemed happy for me, his demeanor showed me something else. I was not sure he was so thrilled, but this move represented a much needed change for me … a very different journey.

A Proposal

The smooth and handsome narcissist came to my apartment on a Friday night wanting to have a discussion. It was clear to him that I was packing. There was a reverted childlike look in his eyes … a mixture of fear and insecurity. It was a look on him that I had never seen before. I was not sure whether he was concerned or agitated, but he also appeared uptight. He paced back and forth in one position and then told me to sit down. I was not sure what to think.

The smooth and handsome narcissist then talked about several things regarding “us” as a couple such as how long we had known each other, how close we had been, how we connected, and how many ups and downs that we had been through. I listened. My body felt like stone. I could not tap into my emotions. He seemed to have a flat affect himself. I actually wondered if he believed what he was talking about. There was no emotion. Even still, he continued on about “us”.

Before I realized what was happening, he was down on one knee. He told me that he loved me and that he loved me very much. He had never said these words in the years I had known him. He had avoided them at all cost no matter how I often I professed my love to him. Although I paid attention and held on to his words, I still could not “feel” him. I watched and listened incredulously as everything I have always wanted to hear him say was finally being said to me.

He exclaimed that he had thought about so many things when we were apart for our two-and-a-half year hiatus. He claimed that he knew how much he had hurt me. He was sorry. I heard him without believing him though, and I thought this was strange. What was wrong with me? He said so many other things, and when he finally said the one thing I believe he thought would connect us, my heart literally closed up and turned to stone.

I stared into his eyes and saw another story. I saw another person. I did not know this man talking to me. Although his mask had long been cast off to reveal that he was indeed a narcissist, I had not understood the new face that I had become acquainted with over the years. I was only vaguely aware of narcissistic personality disorder. So, the understanding of this disorder had not yet invaded my world.

I just knew in that moment that his question, “Will you marry me?” did not penetrate my being in the way that I had expected it to or long for it. This man that knelt before me was the man whom I embraced with my whole being. However, this same man not wholly embrace me. In fact, I always felt that hated me on some level.

Even though he sometimes idealized me and made me feel special, he often devalued me and discarded me like trash. He even looked at me with contempt as if I disgusted him. His behavior towards me made me question myself all the time. He gaslighted me relentlessly. The bulk of the time I did not know if I was going or coming. I was often made to feel crazy.

I was accustomed to his choosing everyone and anything else over me, and when he ultimately chose to denounce me in front of another woman – hinting to her that I was just a roommate who questioned her sexuality – I was completely stunned. She believed him up until his mother died when he finally professed his love for me. All the time that he had lied to her, he had also lied to me.

This smooth and handsome narcissist had hurt me tremendously, but here he was on bended knew proposing that we spend the rest of our lives together. My central nervous system immediately went into lockdown, and I found myself frozen – literally unable to respond even if I had wanted to respond. It was a fight, flight, or freeze situation. I froze.

I simply stared at him. I did not say a word. I stared at him. I stared at him with controlled blinking. I stared at him waiting for my own response to startle me. He waited. I stared. I stared until I finally heard a still small voice within me speak loudly and clearly that “No, you cannot marry him. You do not even love him.” I was speechless. It was then that I finally understood. I finally knew why.

Without Him

It was then that I knew the truth. I did not love him. I did not even know him. He could never be fully known. He is a narcissist. I loved an illusion. How could I possibly marry someone I did not love? How could I spend the rest of my life with a man I did not love? How could he spend the rest of his life with a woman he claimed to love but to whom he did not truly show his love?

In that moment, I remained silent while his face completely turned into a wounded child. Without me ever saying a word, I could see that had injured him deeply. He had sustained a narcissistic injury that immediately sent him into a rage that he withheld and contained inside of inner walls of his chest and bodily frame. He had waited for my response, but I did not speak. I simply stared at him.

He then began back-peddling as if his life depended on undoing an unanswered proposal. He talked about the fact that I was moving and how maybe we needed to wait. I do not remember all of the things that he said, but it certainly appeared as if the pause and rewind button had been pressed on our channel, and he was going back to a time before he had arrived to my home to propose to me.

He left my apartment, and I could see the rage seething inside of him. Even still, I was on mute. I felt traumatically stuck. I was literally frozen. It was as if I had suffered posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I sat motionless in my room for several minutes after he left. I knew it was over. I knew we were over. I was going to be spending the rest of my life without him, but I was relieved.

A New Journey

A few days later he came to my apartment to move some equipment for me. In the process, he mentioned his proposal to me. He was upset. He was angry. There was a fury to his anger. It was rage. It was the type of rage that should have given me reason to fear for my safety. Looking back, I did not comprehend at the time just how angry he was with me. I had rejected him. I had turned down his marriage proposal.

In the past, this was the man of my dreams. I wanted him to ask to marry him. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I wanted to be his wife. However, some time had passed during our breakup, and I had grown to love myself and understand that the relationship I had with him was toxic and very unhealthy. I had weak boundaries and low self-esteem. I accepted his behavior because I believed that I deserved it. I had been conditioned to accept it.

I had learned a lot about how my past and came to understand that my relationship with my parents had affected my adult relationships. I was essentially living in a recreated version of my childhood. I did not have control of my life as a child then, but I had control of my life as an adult. I did not want to constantly feel like I was imprisoned by someone else. I did not want to constantly feel as if someone else reigned the power over me to control and manipulate my thoughts, ideas, and dreams.

I was done with being afraid. After the two-and-a-half-year hiatus from the narcissist, I could see my future. My future was bright. My future did not include him. My future was about to be free of him, and although I mourned the breakup, I mourned more because the narcissist was an illusion. He was not real.

I mourned the loss of something that could never be with him. So that when he appeared later to propose to me as if all of the bad was swept under a carpet that would remain stuck to the floor, I had changed, healed, and grown. Our breakup had been good for me in a way that he nor I would know, and I had no idea how this break was going to enrich my life for days and years to come. I would have a story to tell. Fast forward to over 20 years later, and I can say …

I almost married a narcissist.