My Life in Reverse (16 page)

5 weeks ago (court date)…

I don’t know why I picked a stupid button up fucking shirt to wear. My hands tremble and make buttoning it up damn near impossible.

The poor dogs follow me around, feeding off my nervous energy. I keep assuring them that I’m okay, but I’m still a horrible liar.

They can both see right through me.

It’s about a twenty minute drive to the courthouse and my chest tightens with every mile. What happens if
he’s
there? What happens if
he’s
waiting for me when it’s over? What will happen in court itself? I’ve sure as fuck never done this before.

The walk from my car to the courthouse doors is perhaps the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I step inside and go through security. They direct me down the hall once I clear it. My lawyer waits for me in a small conference room.

“I’ll be honest…I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen.” She tells me. “And that’s not something I like to say, but your case is so particular and rare.”

“That’s okay.” I assure her. My focus is on the contents of the file folder on the table. It’s open.

I’ve only ever seen the pictures on my phone before—not blown up in full paper size. It takes a moment before I can pull my eyes away.

“Any other questions?” She asks.

“No, I think that’s it.”

They call us into the courtroom. My lawyer directs me to a chair next to her at a table in front of the room. There’s a microphone at the chair. Nobody else in in the room besides us, but it’s still an imposing sight.

“All rise.”

The judge enters and again the voice in my head asks wtf we’re going to do if they rule against me. My lawyer does all the talking.

I barely breathe while I wait.

“The court dictates full custody to the mother at this time. Should the father want to pursue visitation, it’ll have to be done through the courts with supervised visits,” The judge rules.

Relief.

That’s all I feel. That’s the wetness that streams from my eyes down my face. No matter what happens now, those kids are safe.

And that’s all that matters.

The judge adjourns the case and I thank my lawyer profusely. I can tell that she feels the relief, too. She’d told me a story early on about a similar case she had when she first began to practice—only backwards. The child in that case paid with their life. She told me right away that she was so glad we escaped when we did. She promises to mail me the order as soon as possible. I ask if it’s safe to drive my own car again and she laughs.

“Absolutely,” She tells me. “And once you have that order, keep it on you at all times.”

“Definitely,” I agree.

I walk past security with a lump in my throat. Apparently a judge doesn’t think I’m crazy or delusional—or any of my evidence. Knowing the kids are safe is worth having it all out there. No matter how embarrassing it all is.

So far the day couldn’t be going better—but it’s not over yet. I still have to make it out of here safely and ensure that no one follows me. It seems paranoid and maybe I am. But if life has taught me anything it’s that it’s better to be safe—and to always trust your gut.

I muster every bit of courage I have, march past the security desk, and open the door. It’s a beautiful day, only there’s no time to enjoy it as I scan the parking lot. Nothing looks awry. I walk to my car at a slightly faster than usual pace. I get in and lock the door. Nobody appears to notice me.

It’s an emotional drive home. I make a few extra stops and turns, but I think that I’m in the clear.

It’s not until I’m safely in the driveway that I feel a weight lifts off my chest.

I did it.

I made it.

They’re safe.

I’m safe.

They’re happy.

I’m happy.

It’s surreal.

It’s amazeballs.

3 weeks ago…

Life is good.

Despite my inner deviousness, I don’t broadcast my victory. I tell my inner circle—of course—but decide it’s not worth it.

See, despite everything that happened I can’t hold hate in my heart. I can recognize anger and resentment, but even that needs to be let go. Not for
him
, but for me. For once, I need to do something for myself.

The more I find out about
his
current situation, the funnier I find it. I don’t have to use any form of retaliation against
him
.
He
does enough damage to
him
self. I won’t add to that. The fact that
he
already cheated on
his
new girlfriend just confirms my suspicions that
he
was never faithful. Even more so when one of
his
friend’s confirmed it further, giving me actual names. It was bittersweet. It was also something I needed. Maybe I was never enough for
him,
but that’s
his
problem, not mine.

I owe
him
nothing. That much I know now.

I’ll wish
him
well anyway…even though I’ll likely be laughing hysterically every time karma fucks
him
. I will do this for me. To hold hate for
him
still gives him control.

No, I won’t hate
him
. I’ll never bash
him
to the kids—because that’s not what’s best for them.

He
has no hold on me anymore.

And
he
never will again.

Now…

There are still good and bad days. Fourteen years of abuse doesn’t come at no cost, after all. There are demons that still scream loudly in my mind. They feed off of my deepest fears, telling me I’m worthless. I keep busy and drown them out with music.

There are still days when I don't know exactly who I am...but what I DO know is what I am NOT. I’m not evil. I’m not a horrible mother or person in general. I’m not a liar or a cheater. I’m not someone who derives pleasure from the pain of others. MFA promises me that all I do when I sleep is snore a bit. I work hard, I love hard, I care hard about those close to me—and I’ll never change that. I’d never want to.

I still have panic attacks, but they’re few and far between (not to mention more manageable) now. Anxiety is still a motherfucker, but it’s my hope eventually that’ll fade as well.

Despite how far I’ve come, certain things remain. Nightmares still plague me with flashbacks. Sometimes I still feel like I say something dumb. I worry that maybe I
am
selfish or horrible—despite knowing I’m not. If something’s wrong, I automatically assume the worst and that it’s my fault.

I’m not sure that I’ll ever feel I deserve the love of this wonderful man. In my eyes, he deserves the best…something I’m most definitely not. I’ll always be fucked up. I’ll always have days where I cry for reasons no one can help. I’ll always have that darkness inside of me, questioning every move I make. I’ll always overthink everything. And most likely I’ll never really feel like I can be enough…but somehow the universe decided we needed one another—and I’m glad it did.

I’ll fight every day for inner peace. Some days I may be more triumphant than others, but I’ll never give up. I’ll never conform to anyone’s idea of what I should or shouldn’t be. I’ll never compromise myself or my values for someone—because if they respect me they’ll respect my feelings. If they don’t respect me they can fuck off.

Now instead of being stuck in hell, my days are filled with happiness from two goofy dogs, two (to three) crazy kids, and one man that makes everything better when he walks through the door. I don’t know what the future will bring. I don’t know—but I have faith. Because despite all my issues, I trust the man I love. I feel safe and cared for. I recognize that these demons are mine to face…but it’s nice that he’s here to hold me while I do. I know he’ll never lie to me, hurt me, break me down, or play with my emotions. There may be a chance one day he’ll break my heart, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take because he’s completely worth it.

And after everything, isn’t that all that really matters? To be able to pick yourself up from your lowest low and start life anew?

I think so.

THE END

All relationships are different. Only some are toxic.

If you suspect you’re in a relationship with a narcissist—or have one in your life—beware.

Warning signs of a narcissist:

1)
    
They seem to have different personalities. Real people have moods, sure—but actual different personalities for different situations? No.

2)
    
Nothing is ever their fault. They never take the blame for their actions (in their eyes they do no wrong) and they never apologize.

3)
    
They put you down or place blame on you.

4)
    
They make you unsure of your thoughts or memories.

You’re not crazy. I promise you. There’s help available. Save yourself <3

I’ve written many books and all of them are dear to me in some form or another. This book however, is personal.

While this is a work of fiction, certain parts are based on real life events.

Events I lived through.

Circumstances I survived.

The purpose of this work is to spread awareness. Narcissistic Victims Syndrome is real, it’s abusive, and it’s incredibly harmful.

You can find the article that helped saved my life here:

http://www.elephantjournal.com/2015/10/understanding-the-language-of-narcissistic-abuse/

Certain books today romanticize a controlling relationship. There’s nothing wrong with this, as long as the reader recognizes that it’s fiction. In reality, there’s nothing romantic about someone who wants to control every facet of your life. If someone loves you, they should love all of you, not what they try to make you into. Don’t let fiction cloud your reality—I beg you. Don’t confuse passion for caring.

Never let another individual break you down. Don’t allow their negativity to get to you. Be cautious of your relationships and who you give your trust to. Don’t allow someone’s glamourous nature to shroud their true colors.

And always—ALWAYS—trust your gut. <3