The Burden of Having Children with a Psychopath

The Temptation to Engage with The Psychopath

I am often tempted to engage with the NSP (Narcissist/Sociopath/Psychopath) by checking email.  I have no reason to check email from him.  I resist the temptation.  I get a rush from the insults and the nonsense.  It is familiar and consuming.  It charges me up. 

It’s wrong to engage myself in the fight. I follow extremely-low-contact policies and procedures as a buffer, because there is ONLY a fight with an NSP.  It’s a fight in which everyone loses, including the NSP.  The NSP is so disordered that he would rather everyone lose, than everyone win.  Yeah, like that.      

Shared custody complicates life tremendously for any of us who have left an NSP.  We can’t get away.   Sometimes we must cooperate and compromise.  This is why I have developed protocols to keep myself safe.  It’s emotional hygiene. 

Sometimes I need to break my own rules. Like, I will talk to him on the phone.  Oh so rarely.  Here’s why: he knows the rules of my game, so he tries to use my rules against me, to complicate matters.  Sometimes I step outside my rules to get sh*t done.  It’s just what is required, as a parent.  And since I have my boundaries so strong, the walls so tall and fortified, I can step outside my safe zone and tangle with him.  Briefly.  For a purpose. 

It’s kinda like ripping off a band-aid quickly, just to get it over with.  Just have the conversation fast on the phone.  Get it done. Confirm details via email or text. 

It’s fine. 

He’s so knocked off balance by my blazing self-confidence that he’s got literally no idea what to do.  He’s shocked.  Sh*t gets done, and then I’m back on the hygiene horse of extreme low contact. 

Sigh. 

The Burden of Shared Custody with a Psychopath

Someday this will all be over.  I don’t want to wish away my children’s childhood, especially since my time with them is already limited due to shared custody, but I must say what is super obvious, that:

It is an enormous and overwhelming burden to have children with a psychopath,

and

I love my children, wholly and completely, 

and

I live with that paradox every minute of my life. 

I have paid a heavy price by this forever-forced connection to my abuser through my children.  Had I not had children with him, I would have left him right away.  He did not show his psycho face in full until I was invested in full: married to him, vulnerable with tiny little babies and children underfoot. Trapped.

It isn’t just my suffering to consider.  My children suffer.  Needless suffering.  They have less than no father.  Their father is not fit to care for anyone, despite his shiny exterior, his advanced degrees, and his great big income.   

He looks good on paper. 

He can fool a target, for a while.   

Fakery.

---AKA Rose Lee Mitchell---

Art by Phoebe Baker
Title "Painted in Waterlogue"
via flickr.com
used under creative commons license

Nothing to Say

I was married to the guy for LONG ENOUGH...

I have been divorced from the guy and dealing with shared custody for LONG ENOUGH...

to know that there is Nothing to Say.

Nothing To Say. Why?  Because he is a Narcissist/Sociopath/Psychopath.
Engaging with a N/S/P is a recipe for disaster.

I swear, I am traumatized.   Just thinking about an interaction with him, gets my cortisol flowing.  Even though I have a handle on it, finally.  I have my boundaries defined, and protocols for interactions.   I still churn in my mind various scenarios.  I think of what he'll say, and how I should respond.  I turn it over again and again in my mind.

It was a real problem during the marriage, of course.  I mean, that goes without saying.  It was miserable to 'communicate' with him.  He never really wanted any resolution or clear communication.  And it wasn't with just me, either.  I would watch him do the Word Dance with friends, and especially disgustingly, our own children.  The common term in the world of Narcissistic Abuse Recovery is "Word Salad".

After I left him, the interactions got worse.  Two-thousand word emails from him were commonplace.  UGH.  The time wasting.  Everyone got sucked into these stupid, pointless and time-wasting Word Dance emails.  So boring.  And no one could make them stop.

No Response Ever Made Them Stop.   No answer.  No explanation.  No description.  No defense.  No offense.  No threat.  Nothing made the stupid game of psycho-tennis end.

Except for the Magic Pill called "Nothing to Say".

Silence Works Wonders.

If you watched me in my daily activities, you would see no evidence of the churning that still goes on in my head.

It must be the trauma.  Hopefully, I am at the end of it now.  Because now, I no longer write pre-emptive rough draft responses to have at the ready.  I no longer spend hours and days crafting the Perfectly Worded Response that might make a difference and Shut Him Up.  Nope.  But, as I go about my daily routine, my thoughts are often interrupted with "What if he says xyz?  What will I do?  How will I respond?"  And, blessedly, my first (or second, or third) thought is, "I Will Say Nothing".  And that momentary anxiety ebbs away.  I can take a deep breath.  I can resume thoughts that will actually make a difference in my life, rather than spinning on a hamster wheel in my mind about "How To Control The Psychopath In My Life".

When he inevitably writes a bitchy email to me about xyz, that I have done wrong, that I am wrong, that I disappoint, blah blah blah.... There is Nothing To Say.  Nothing.

When he criticizes me for xyz, demands an answer, threatens, bitches, and moans.....  There is Nothing To Say.  Nothing.

He writes for his own amusement.  His stress relief.  Because he's cranky or angry or bored or DRUNK.  I doubt he puts much thought into it at all.

He moves on to his next order of business, whatever that is.  And, Lord Have Mercy, I should be doing the same.  Focusing on the Disordered Person gets us no where.  (Refer back to the Hamster in the Wheel).

And, you know what?  With the Sound of Silence coming from my end of the wire, he writes less and less and less and less... which is sweet music to my ears.

I have pretty much stopped defending myself.  Over time, this has reduced his attacks.

Take Care,

AKA Rose Lee Mitchell



Here's a tip: We can't control people, and trying to do so will make us sick.
Check out the Al-Anon speakers on youtube.  They are amazing.




Image of the Hamster Wheel from Flickr.com
by William "not a metaphor for your life"
Creative Commons License

On the Other Side

A Ruined Life

It wasn't that long ago, that I feared I had ruined my life.

After I left my husband, I would wake up with such a profound sense of dread, that I felt like I was sinking into the ground to be swallowed whole.  Ruin.  Mistake.  No turning back.

His psychopathic, veiled and overt threats, emotional manipulations and lies, did not stop after I left.  They increased.

The carrots were fewer.  The stick was bigger.

One major improvement was that he was no longer in my personal space.  My home became my sanctuary.  He was not allowed.

He tried, of course, to get in.  He complained that I wouldn't let him come over, that my insistence to meet in a public place for custody exchanges was bad for our child(ren) and was evidence that I was mentally unstable.  He implied that I was a liar for being afraid of him.  He outright said that I was a liar, and that he was the victim.  He said anything that pleased him.

He mostly said it in emails, since I quickly learned to never ever speak to him in person or on the phone.  The fact that I had an email-only boundary became more evidence that I was mentally unwell.  He insisted that we should have meals together with our child(ren), as a family, even though we were separated.  For the sake of the child(ren).

He said worse things in court documents.  Accused me of things so far from the truth that I was terrified of what he was capable of doing or saying.  Clearly, he would do and say anything to destroy me.  And he tried.

The financial abuse was bad during the marriage.  The financial abuse continued after I left.

You know what unrelenting stress does to a living being?  The stress was unrelenting.  Years and years of stress.  Purposeful stress from a Psychopath to his target.

The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

I felt that there was no light at the end of the tunnel.  No light at all.
I feared that I would remain in darkness forever.

It occurred to me that perhaps there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
Perhaps this tunnel was so long, that I would have to act on faith,
act as if there was a light out there.

So, I pretended.

That country song:  If you're going through hell, keep on movin'.

After a long while, I could see that there was a dim light at the other end of the tunnel.

After another long while, I could see I was almost there.

Another long while, and I was outside the tunnel, in the light.   But the tunnel was right there next to me, a big open gaping mouth of darkness.

Now, finally, years and years later, I'm on the other side.  And I know that there is a tunnel.  But I'm not sure where it is.  It's over there.  Or back that way.

Let me be clear.  The Tunnel is not Depression.
The Tunnel is the Hellish Escape from the Psychopath.

The Problem With Marriage

If he had just been a boyfriend, and not a husband,
I could have walked away, and would have, many many times.
If I had just been married, with no child(ren),
I could have walked away, and I would have.
If he had not made my life so incredibly difficult,
undermining me in so many ways, I could have walked away.
If my child(ren) had been older.

Mercifully, Children grow older.  Less fragile.  Less dependent.
They have voices.  They can speak up.
They can wash their own hair.
They can wipe their own bottom.
They can report if someone touches them in a private place...

Mercifully, the bonds of marriage finally do break after so much wear and tear.
Hope dies away after so much disappointment.
No matter how hopeful we once were, we finally do read the writing on the wall:
Something is very much the matter with the marriage, and
No, it will not improve
and
Yes, I must leave.

Mercifully, life made impossible to live with a psychopath
becomes so unbearable
that it is suddenly "easy" to leave.
Fears of being penniless are so much better than the alternative of having to live with a monster.
Fears of being murdered by him outweigh the fear of leaving him.
So, fine, yes please, I will gladly be penniless and live in a tiny apartment if it means I am free.
The confines of the gilded cage are so miserable, why not go out into the wild?

Mercifully, the psychopath grows so power hungry and out of control
that we see his madness for what it is.
Madness. Cruelty.
His threats and abuse are so obviously inexcusable.
So obviously abuse.
Once upon a time we excused his misbehavior for reasons x, y, or z.
Now we have lived through so much of it, for so long, we know enough to say "No".

Mercifully, our newfound spirit of "No" drives him over the edge,
and his mask falls off so often and so profoundly
that we realize the Monster is the Man.

Connected By Our Child(ren)

If I didn't have child(ren) with him, I would have healed up long ago.
I would have left him in the dust.  He would be forgotten, mostly.
A bad episode, a bad era, a bad memory.

Because of our child(ren), he has exercised
his opportunities to continue to punish, threaten, manipulate, bully.
Because of our child(ren), I must stay nearby for shared custody.
I can not flee to another town or state or country.  I'm planted.
This gives him endless opportunities to reinsert himself into my life.
It's been a wound that wants to fester, instead of heal.
Re-exposed again and again to the trauma.

His ongoing neglect and abuse of our child(ren),
his continued threats and unwelcome (and illegal) appearances at my house,
his continued financial abuses, his manipulations :
Repeated exposure to his psychopathic behavior slowed my recovery from the abusive relationship.
Repeated exposure to his psychopathic behavior slowed my recovery from the abusive relationship.

Repeated exposure to his psychopathic behavior slowed my recovery from the abusive relationship.  

My child(ren)'s upset about Daddy's Lies, not wanting to be with him, missing Mommy :
Tore me apart.

But we all grow up.  I grow up.  My child(ren) grow up.
Daddy's Problems stay the same, and we all get wise to it.
Daddy's Problem gets worse as time passes.
We stop circling around and around Daddy's Disorder,
and we move on with our lives.

On the Other Side

On the other side, there is peace.  There is happiness.

On the other side, my home is a safe place.  Every day, I become more settled.  I have peace.

I have more financial security than I ever did in the marriage.

On the other side, my time is my own.

It took a long time, but I made it through the tunnel.  Life is good on the other side.


written by AKA Rose Lee Mitchell

Photograph by "Swift Photography Company " on flicker. 

Title "Light at the End of the Tunnel 2"
Used under the Creative Commons License

Peace

The N/P* tries to lure me into a fight.
He wants my time, and my attention.
He wants contact.

No.

The Art of Ignoring

It is only recently that I have realized how much intentionality it takes to IGNORE someone.

Effort.
No Contact or Limited Contact takes practice and skill.
Restraint.

I have Policies and Procedures to manage communication.

All the self-help literature says that buy Ignoring the N/P, we Punish the N/P.
I have moved past a desire to Punish.
I simply do not care.

My life is worth more than that.

Less is More

Less Contact = More Peace, Sanity, Time, Happiness...

Contact = Drama. Arguing. Fighting. Confusion. Debates. Explaining. Repeating. Upset...

No Contact = Rainbows. Sunshine. Peace. Quiet. Loveliness. Kittens. Hearts. Smiles...

I can think about what matters to me.
My finances, my retirement funds, the stock market.
My future.  Dating.
Maybe I could buy a farm out in the country.
I get to stare off into space and breathe deeply and think about nothing.


Peace


The N/P wants a fight.  He wants Drama.

I want a peaceful, happy life.  Filled with Joy.

I have no interest in fighting.  I never did.

I wanted a peaceful life, with a good and decent husband, love, security, a happy home.
I wanted to care for my children.
I wanted to flourish in my career.
I wanted a sanctuary.
I wanted to make a lot of love.
I wanted health.
I wanted good sleep.
I wanted money in the bank.

What I wanted, I could not have in a marriage with the N/P.

Getting out of the marriage took a long, long time.

Years.

And now, I am out.
I focus on what is important.
I focus on my life.

I do not focus on his disorder.


Not My Problem


He will be disordered forever.
I sincerely do not care.
It is not my problem.

One can argue that the N/P is still my problem, because I have children with him.
Well, sure, okay.
If I want it to be a problem, it is.
But, I don't want it to be a problem.
And it certainly isn't a problem today.
Right now, the N/P is meaningless.
Today, the sun shines.
The N/P is not here.
The house is warm and lovely.
The children play happily.
Food cooks on the stove.
I have no worries today.

I stopped fighting with the N/P.
He is always right.  He is never wrong. 
Okay.
What is there to discuss?
Nothing. 
He wants to renegotiate such and such.
No thanks. Ignore. 
He wants to exchange information about this and that.
No thanks. Ignore.

I languished in the marriage, wishing for things to be better and different.
Because, if only xyz, we could have had such a nice life, etc. etc. etc.   

I languished after the divorce, trying to make things better and different.
Because, things could have been so much better, if only xyz.  

NO. 

The N/P wants things (and people) to be broken, damaged, exhausted, difficult, confusing, etc.

My children have a relationship with their disordered parent.  I don't.
They will grow up and choose if they want to continue the relationship with the N/P.  Their choice.
The choice, is their choice.
I can move halfway around the world, if I choose.
Or, I can get that place in the country, down the road about 30 miles.

Ya know?
The N/P has no say.

Moving On

Moving on from the wreckage of the life once lived with the N/P seems to be the ultimate goal.
To heal our past.  To reclaim ourselves.
To put a new sheen on what happened.
To find redemption.
To see the silver lining.
To create something of value from waste.
To become the person we were meant to become, before a disordered con-artist came and sucked us into the swirling vortex of nonsense, pain, debt and destruction.

It's no longer about the Fight with the N/P.
The N/P no longer matters.

We matter.


by A.K.A. Rose Lee Mitchell


(N/P = Narcissist/Psychopath)

http://roseleemitchellsblog.blogspot.com/2015/02/peace.html

Photograph by "A" on flicker. 

Title "JOY"
Used under the Creative Commons License