A Narcissist’s Abuse Knows No Limit
The summer repair project with Mr. Charm was actually a real pain, but on the flip side, there were times that we managed to have real fun. If it were all bad, I do not know that I would have held on as long as I did. That is usually a part of a narcissist’s plan of attack. The target of the narcissist will always be held captive within the narcississtic cycle of abuse. There will be enough love bombing to increase the good feelings that the target feels somewhat able to forget about the bad times. Towards the end, however, things became so bad between Mr. Charm and me that I had to make a choice for my own safety and sanity.
Specifically, a narcissist’s abuse knows no limit. Mr. Charm did not care how his mistreatment of me affected me. In fact, oftentimes when I recoiled in dismay at his behavior, I would turn away from him and within a millisecond would turn back in time to notice a micro-expressive smirk of satisfaction on his face. He even seemed to stand taller with pride once he sent his various afflictions my way. To my disappointment, it became hard for me to ignore that he purposefully meant to do me harm. It also became hard for be to ignore that he truly did not like me at all. He seemed to really hate me even.
He was quite verbally abusive towards me. He shouted at me when I did not do things in the way he had directed while we worked on repairs. He cursed quite a lot, but he was careful that his words could be carefully veiled under the guise of his physical frustrations with doing things. Most times, he only seem to curse as I assisted him and never when he worked on something alone. He frequently made passive aggressive remarks under his breath a lot too and gallantly spoke in parables as if to make analogies about me for the purpose of comparing me to someone who might have done a better job than me. Nothing I did ever seemed to be good enough for him.
He complained often, and during one working stint, I found myself having had enough of his complaints. I suggested calling someone who could finish what he started so that he no longer had to do the job. I reminded him that he was the one who offered his help in the first place and that he was free to stop at any time. “Why do this if you’re going to complain about it every step of the way? You knew what you were getting into before you started. Complaining is not helping the situation at all. If you don’t want to do it anymore, stop. I can always hire someone else,” I emphatically said to him. [This quote is an actual excerpt from my journal regarding the situation.]
Of course, when I let him know that he could stop, he wouldn’t hear of it. He exclaimed that he was there for me. He was trying to help me. He did not want to see me taken advantage of by someone just wanting my money. He feared that someone would do a shoddy job of the repairs I needed and wanted to make sure that nothing bad would happen. Yet, at this point in the repairs, I was willing to take a chance and trust the process with someone else. I was actually willing to find out what someone else had to offer without the narcissistic abuse.
Mr. Charm had not made this repair process an easy process. It was already difficult enough for him physically because of the effects of only being able to use one hand to complete the work even though this actually became less of an issue overall. It was his bad attitude and horrible behavior that made it all a draining process. My emotions were in a heightened state of frazzled discontent everyday we were together. The more we worked together, the less I liked him as a person, but even worse, the less I liked myself for being around him in the first place. In retrospect, however, that was his plan all along. A narcissist’s abuse knows no limit.
Despite the narcissistic abuse, there were times where Mr. Charm was equally a fun person, but because of the constant switch ups with his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde behavior, I found myself in a constant state of confusion. His behavior was nothing short of crazymaking. There seemed to be a mechanical switch about him that I could not reach. If I could, I would have flipped it off just to give myself a break from his madness. I was always glad when the working day was over with him and he went home. Then I could have peace even if I spent most of that time afterwards decompressing from Mr. Charm’s craziness.
I would have no such reprieve though. I stuck with it because I wanted to see the repair project through to the end. I second-guessed my own experiences because of the insidious amounts of narcissistic abuse tactics that Mr. Charm catapulted my way. I was truly unaware that I was dealing with narcissistic abuse at the time. In hindsight, for all the research I had done on narcissistic abuse during that time, I had only learned about how this personality disorder affected narcissists. I had not considered the effects on targets and victims of narcissistic abuse. I researched from the standpoint of helping narcissists when I actually needed help.
It was not even that he was moody. He was just really mean, and explaining his meanness away on the fact that he had a physical malady that hindered him from completing the repairs faster was no longer an excuse I could accept from him. He had the ability to be nicer to me. He would show the nicer side of himself when we were around others. Yet, when we were alone, he could be downright evil. At times, though, his meanness must have become harder for him to hide from others because there were times that he was just rude even with others present and rude to them as well.
No One Else Allowed
Mr. Charm loved triangulating me with others for the purpose of comparison and bringing me down a few notches. He loved deflating me for my abilities, looks, and intelligence. Yet, when my friends and any associates came around me, he would stand in the shadows of jealousy and envy. He behaved like a two year old would who has a tantrum for not getting attention or his way. Sometimes I would stand in awe with second-hand embarrassment on his behalf because he behaved so immaturely as an adult.
Once when a friend called me to stop by briefly to talk to me about something, Mr. Charm became irritated with me and my friend’s visit. We were happily talking inside when she requested to see the progress of the repairs outside. Prior to going outside, I could see Mr. Charm through the window enjoying a relaxing sit down and a cool drink. He was not working. He was sitting down and reclining back. Once I came outside with my friend, he sprung up into action as if he had been working.
My friend greeted him and marveled at the repairs to which caused him to stand two inches taller and smile in glorious pride. Yet, once my friend turned away from him and continued talking with me, he became annoyed by the lack of attention. From across the opposite side of the deck, he yelled boisterously attempting to cut into the conversation between my friend and me. We both turned and looked at him. He looked at me and said, “We need to get back to work. These repairs won’t finish on their own.” I did not respond but instead turned away from him and walked my friend towards the front area of the house.
Mr. Charm actually followed us as I walked my friend towards her car. He stood a distance away but close enough that I could feel an ominous pressure within the atmosphere. My friend and I continued a brief closure to our conversation. Mr. Charm stood by watching while loudly clearing his throat. My friend looked at me, laughed and said, “He’s a real pill!” “Yeah,” I responded, “a big one – hard to swallow!” We both laughed as she got into the car. When she drove off, I turned to go through the garage back into the house instead of having to walk past Mr. Charm. He followed me.
Him: “You know … you shouldn’t invite your friends over when we are working.”
Me: “We weren’t actually working though.”
Him: “If we want to finish, we can’t have any leisure time.”
Me: “I think you’ve forgotten where you are. Check the address. I pay the bills here.”
Him: “But you aren’t doing the repairs. I am. It’s rude to invite people over when you have work to do.”
Me: “She’s gone now. Are you satisfied?”
Him: “Well, you just shouldn’t have friends over when we are working.”
Me: “Again, I don’t tell you what to do at your house. So don’t tell me what to do at mine. We were taking a break, and you were fine until she showed up. What’s your problem anyway? You’re really aggravating.”
He continued to mumble under his breath, but he was annoyed with me. I was actually taken aback.
Another time, a neighbor from across the street saw Mr. Charm and me carrying supplies from the car into the garage. She walked over and asked if she could offer a lending hand. Mr. Charm immediately made a joke that actually sounded mean in tone, “Where were you when we needed you at the store? You show up now after we’ve carried the heavy stuff. What kind of neighbor are you?” Both my neighbor and I stared at him incredulously and then stared at each other. He laughed obnoxiously as if he had said nothing wrong.
My neighbor was speechless. I wanted to apologize to her for Mr. Charm’s behavior, but his obnoxious laughter broke into my thoughts. “Thanks for stopping by,” he said still laughing. Although I was deeply embarrassed, I faced my neighbor and said, “He’s the king of all jokes.” The neighbor and I both laughed uncomfortably. I tried to telepathically send her a message with my eyes that I was sorry. I could see that she seemed caught off guard by Mr. Charm’s behavior. It was as if she wanted to say more to him because she stood in one spot as if to debate what to do next.
My neighbor looked puzzled, but her puzzled look had nothing to do with me and more to do with Mr. Charm. He dismissed her with his quiet but haughty attitude and walked inside the garage. Basically, he completely ignored her! “I will talk to you later,” she turned to me and said. I felt second-hand embarrassed on her behalf. After she walked away, I walked into the garage and asked Mr. Charm the reason for his negative attitude towards a person he did not even know. “Because I can,” he said. Then he turned away from me and said, “Enough of your drama! We need to get to work.”
Shopping Supply Blues
Because of the extensiveness of the repair project, Mr. Charm and I often made several runs together to different hardware stores to purchase supplies and materials to help us along the way. These shopping trips often revealed to me the extent of my own issues as well as those of Mr. Charm. Although I already knew that I had a people-pleasing problem, these frequent shopping runs also revealed to me my need to always keep the peace. On the flip side, these shopping trips also showed me the person of Mr. Charm. If I compared Mr. Charm to medicine, he was surely a hard pill to swallow. I often felt like I was frequently shopping with a child housed in an adult body.
Mr. Charm often displayed his negative side to others without any remorse. He behaved in such callous ways. He frequently interrupted people, made sarcastic comments to their faces but laughed it off as jokes, and showed his bravado as if to challenge someone to a match. Most often, people would just stare at him puzzled seeming to not appear sure of how to respond to him. He acted as if he were insane. I would have blamed the effects of the stroke, but I knew that these traits were innately him. At times I wondered if he suffered from bipolar disorder, but other times I realized his behavior was a part of his tactics. He knew when to turn negative traits on and off depending on who was present.
He seemed to know who to display these negative traits to because those who were victims of his actions did not respond. Like me, they were most often speechless and just stared in amazement that someone could be so brazen. His obvious physical condition [the tightly constricted arm] was a sign to others that something was wrong with him. I would often receive the looks of pity from others as if there was sorrow for me having to put up with him. I felt sorrow for myself on some occasions, but as time grew, I became more disgusted by his behavior and angry with myself for putting up with it.
Once while we were leaving the parking lot, he sped up in front of a man who was walking across the lot. The man stopped cold in his tracks with a look of fear in his eyes because it was obvious he thought Mr. Charm was about to hit him with the car. I actually grabbed Mr. Charm’s arm as a reflex and turned to exclaim, “What are you doing? You could have hit him!” Mr. Charm looked at me and then rolled the window down, laughed loudly, and shouted at the man “Sorry! She made me do it!” I was mortified but also angered that I would be made guilty by association.
Other times, he would play practical pranks on others while we were in separate parts of the store away from each other. I would know nothing of his pranks until after the fact, but when he was caught up to no good, he would frequently point me out as the culprit. I was so irritated by his immature behavior that I found ways to get out of shopping time with him. I would get him to discuss needed materials ahead of time so that I could shop for the materials on my own. If it meant that I had to maneuver heavy items without his help, I was fine to ask someone in the store for assistance.
I preferred shopping alone just to avoid outings with him. His oddly veiled covert mannerisms of passive aggressiveness were not just overtly in my face but also overtly in the face of others. It seemed that he enjoyed carrying around a weight of anger to throw around and attack others without caring how others would be affected by him. His agitation seemed to grow and my anxiety seemed to increase. I found myself not actually liking him as a person anymore. I felt my internal battery dying and my patience with him wearing thin. I frequently walked on eggshells, and it was a problem because he was in my house.
When I attempted to bring up his behavior to him, he dismissed me. He especially became livid when I mentioned a few times how his misbehavior was a terrible representation of the Christianity that his church teaches. Instead of correcting his behavior, he would instead accuse me of bashing him and his church family as what he deemed was my hatred for his church. There was a constant battle with this because in his eyes I was a backsliding heathen. He did not think I had a right to voice my thoughts on spiritual matters. I treaded lightly when it came to his church. After his explosive episode that sent me into the no-contact zone with him, I refrained from bringing up matters about his church.
A False Sense Of Security
Mr. Charm and I always came together when it came to food. Food seemed to join us in a way that no other activity could for some reason. Those were the times that we could have seemingly in-depth conversations. If I could compare how deep these conversations were with us, however, I could only say we got enough to where I was standing in a puddle of water as opposed to wading in a pool three feet deep. Our conversations always manifested on a surface level, and I could never seem to get him beyond this no matter how hard I tried. Yet, he seemed to wind down and become a calmer version of himself when our time was centered around food, and I could often get to the root of what was ailing him once he started talking to me.
During one particular conversation, he brought up his surrogate family. He specifically focused his discussion on his surrogate brother who he considered to be his best friend. It turns out that part of the reason for his taking on this repair project on my behalf was more about him impressing his best friend. In the same way that he idolized his best friend, he seemed to equally and strongly dislike him too. In fact, he envied his best friend for so many reasons that I did not necessarily understand, but it seemed that his best friend was living the life that he once lived pre-stroke, and that did not make Mr. Charm happy at all.
It was obvious to me that Mr. Charm sought the approval of his best friend. So the repair project was a big deal for him. He aimed to impress his best friend even though the repair project was for me. He wanted things to be done perfectly – not so much for my satisfaction but for the accolades he hoped to receive from his best friend for doing such outstanding work with limited post-stroke mobility.
Admittedly, Mr. Charm had done a fantastic job all by himself. Although I assisted with a lot of tasks, he did the ultimate job when it came to the actual reconstruction. I was super impressed and commended him for a job well done. As a way to show him how great his work was, I took pictures and suggested he show his best friend the progress.
Surprisingly, my suggestion brought a smile to Mr. Charm’s face, and he gladly and proudly shared the pictures of the repair process with his best friend. He wanted his best friend to know that despite his post-stroke condition, he still had viability and worth. His best friend’s opinion truly mattered to him, and I could see the gleam in his eyes as he stared at his own progress. For that moment during our meal time, we shared what I thought was a great moment of connection, but it was only a false sense of security.
During a another meal, Mr. Charm’s attitude was different and so was his approach to the topic of discussion. We both love cooking and eating, and he was an amazing cook. Although he frequently criticized my methods of cooking, he always devoured everything I prepared – often asking for seconds and thirds. This time around, he was overly critical of everything despite eating every last morsel. I noted that his topic of conversation was about his church. This topic always left a sour taste in my mouth. I never understood why he always insisted on bringing the topic of his church up to me when he considered me to be an apostate.
Because of the last outburst and discard I experienced with him on the topic of his church issues, I never mentioned anything about his church to him again. I only listened and mirrored back to him what he said to me. I never gave him anymore suggestions, and if he solicited for my advice, I would simply tell him he should pray about his problems. I found it best for me not to engage with him about the topic anymore, and since we were in my house, I did not want to deal with any negative energy as a result. I had already concluded that it did not matter what I said on the topic anyway, he was going to do what he wanted to do.
In this particular discussion, he mentioned the leader’s daughter and how she was flagrantly abusing her power against church members. He was upset with something that she had said regarding what members needed to do. The more he talked about the situation, the more vocally elevated that he became. I did not respond. I simply listened. Although he paused several times to enable me to insert my thoughts, I remained silent. I refused to fill in any of the silent gaps he had created for me. I sensed that he was creating some type of set up to pull me into his drama, but I did not take the bait. Instead, I arose from the table and began to clear the table of my plate, glass, and silverware.
Him: How are you clearing the table while we’re talking right now?
Me: I’m listening, but I’m done eating.
Him: I’m not done.
Me: Okay.
Him: Do you not want to talk about this?
Me: Not really.
Him: Why not?
Me: I’d just rather not. I’d rather not talk about something that is a sore spot for both me and you. After all, why would I want to talk about people … ?
I trailed off quickly biting my tongue because I saw where this was going, and I was not going to do it. I was not going to bring negativity into my home. I immediately felt a change within myself – that same push and pull feeling I have when someone is trying to control me in some way. I hate that feeling because there is always a sudden need for me to attempt to find a way to defend myself when I have not done anything wrong. I wanted to let it go. So I tried desperately within myself to turn myself off – my emotions, my thoughts, my voice.
Him: What do you mean? Finish.
Me: It always works to seek God in difficult situations. That’s sounds like both a God problem and a you problem.
Him: [mumbling inaudibly with a bad attitude]]
I turned my back to him and proceeded to clean all while making enough noise to drown him out, but in my mind I was thinking, “Not today, Satan! Nope! Not today.” I could feel a tide rising, but I was not about to ride it. I had chosen not to surf the waves of Mr. Charm. I already knew that to do so was dangerous and not to my advantage. I was glad that he changed the topic, but I could feel that the previous topic was not a closed topic. It was just shelved for now. I new the end was near, however. The end was very near.
Stay tuned for the next post. There is a finale and end to this story.
My Voice Unchained 