Sunday, March 22, 2015

A Happy Home (Free of the Abuser)

Life after the psychopath goes on.  Recovery happens.  I try to recovery gracefully.  Shortly after I left him, I declared a goal of Not Becoming Bitter.  I think I have achieved that.

A bomb went off in my life.  Perhaps, if you are reading this, a bomb has gone off in your life.  Or, perhaps you fear that if you leave the man who currently holds you hostage, you are afraid of the bomb that will go off.  The man who holds you hostage.  Too dramatic?  It isn't a dramatic description for my story.  I was afraid to leave him.  I was afraid of what he would do to me.  I was AFRAID.  I lived in fear.  FEAR. In my own home.  Constant, unabated fear.

The words "Walking On Eggshells" did not describe, in any way, my experience.  It was like, everything was fine.  Until it wasn't.  We'd be on a family outing and he would start a rage fit.  "Rage Fits" describe my experience.

And there.  There is the tightening in my chest.  Writing this, the anxiety just began.  I lived with that anxiety for years.  Why do we medicate women who are anxious?  Why don't we ask questions?  Why are you so anxious?  What is going on?  Tell me about it.

Wandering the hallways in my house, I would wish and pray to God that the NSP (Narcissist/Sociopath/Psychopath) I married would JUST HIT ME IN THE FACE SO THAT I WOULD KNOW FOR SURE THAT I WAS BEING ABUSED SO THAT I COULD LEAVE HIM.


Note to past self (and anyone reading this who has the same wish and prayer): If you are wishing and praying to be STRUCK IN THE FACE so that you are SURE YOU ARE BEING ABUSED....


Yes, I am yelling.

No one should have to live in fear.  LIVE IN FEAR.  Live in fear in your own home?  Live in fear, constantly, fearful of your husband?  Of the next rage fit?  Of the financial abuse?  Of the emotional abuse? Of the next rage fit?

No one should have to spend her alone time RECOVERING from time spent with her spouse.

Note to past self: Your home is your sanctuary.  If your relationship with your husband is so wearisome that you can not plan ahead to meet a friend, head out of town, do a project, or work, then, my darling darling darling sweet beautiful girl: You are being abused and you need to get out.  You deserve a peaceful, calm and lovely life.  You deserve to be treated with love and respect.  You deserve to save and spend your money in ways that honor your values.  Your life is so valuable.  Do not waste one more moment in that marriage with an abusive man.

Yes.  When I left the NSP a huge bomb went off in my life.  It was similar to other the other bombs he ignited during the marriage. After I left he had little use for the carrots of kindness he would show me when we were married. After I left, the mask of the Good Husband was nearly always off, and he always used the stick.

But after I left, he had almost zero physical access to me.  He lost control of me, permanently.  My home was, and is, mine.  All mine.  My space is mine.  He can not come here.  There are no more torturous family outings.  There are no more Sunday afternoons spent crying in my room after enduring hours of his screaming.  There are no more nights spent with a racing heart, wishing I could leave him, being grateful that at least I have a warm place to sleep, for that is all I can find to be grateful for in the hellish situation.

Now, my time alone is spent as I choose.  I feather my nest.  I decorate.  I sew pillow covers in the exact fabrics that I prefer.  Every finish in my house is exactly what I choose, I do not need to jump through a hoop to please anyone but myself.   I plan how I will spend my money to make my home exactly as I wish.

A bomb went off in my life, and I am still recovering.  I am still putting things in the right spots.  I am still figuring it out.  But I am completely in charge and in control of my environment and my finances.  He has no say and no sway.  I serve my own agenda, not his.  I am the mistress of all I survey, and the NSP has no power here.

By AKA Rose Lee Mitchell

Both lovely images 
by Kate Ware via
"In The Garden With Buddha"
creative commons license


  1. Oh yet another blog post of yours that resonates so much! Thank you thank you!

    Having my own home is so generally rewarding after years of never really being made to feel the matrimonial home was mine. Sure I got to paint and make some decorating decisions and contribute labour.....but the 'big' decisions, the man stuff, the maintenance - I was not allowed to have any sort of say in the matter. It was horribly offensive to him for me to even so much as ask where the water main shutoff is. After a traumatic flood in a winter cold snap, I finally spoke up and politely requested more information about OUR house. I didn't really get it. So any time a plumber or electrician, etc. needed to be in the home, I made sure I was there and asked questions. They were more than happy to share information, unlike ex-H who wanted to guard his little king-of-my-castle knowledge bank.

    So, it is kind of bliss to me to have total autonomy in my new home, free of his contamination. I'm free to be sole decision maker about stuff like dealing with sewer backups, coordinating plumbers and learning to DIY a basement concrete floor. I'm like, "Yeah! I can do this shit" And then I'm like "'s not really that complicated, xh. What was the big secret? Afraid I might know more than you?" My competence was a threat to him.

    Today my elderly neighbour (94) called me over. He said he sees me working non-stop on my free weekends. He was impressed. Wanted to give me some of his tools. We had a nice chat about farmer work ethic. I refrained from telling him about the best motivational speech I ever got from my ex-H (when our marriage was crumbling): When I (albeit timidly) suggested ex-H could maybe sort of be the one to leave, he sneered and said, "You could never look after this place". That was before he started freaking me out and police escorted him out one night.....

    Well....during the year it took to settle property and get an actual settlement and custody arrangement, I had that house whipped into far better shape on my own, than he ever did. Unfinished projects got finished. Overgrown hedges full of cat shit (his 'composting) got cleaned up.

    And the bliss of having him out - the extreme lows and fear before the marriage ended, really helped me value peace and my space. And being able to make and leave up blanket forts in front of his precious TV without fear of yet another 'retaliation' for daring to invade *his" space with "our* kids' stuff. Those first few days alone were both the best and worse of my life. Like the eye of the hurricane. Of course I had to deal with being the big bitch who finally learned to set boundaries (and would NOT let him back in the house until I had a new place and was gone)....but gave him everything he asked for with one exception (my nice HEPA vacuum cleaner he never used. He accused me of "baiting him" and tried to tell me the police warned him I would be baiting him - after I told him he couldn't have it (it's all in text). That's how twisted their victimhood is. I had healed enough by that point to laugh at the absurdity. I was tempted to show the cops and let them have a good laugh over that entitled bitch who dared to say no to giving up her prized vacuum cleaner. Wow, what a whopper of a provocation/baiting. I suppose he deserved to clock me over the head with a dishrack again for daring to not give him a vacuum cleaner he never used. I refrained from asking for his power tools, as surely he would have called the police on me over that one!

    So my home is my safe place where I can feel competent again. And keep it clean with my HEPA vacuum....