Recovering from the Covert Narcissist. A glimmer of hope and vindication appears.

Let me get out of the way that I feel like a dumbass. Why didn’t I see this earlier? Why didn’t I speak up and/or demand to have my voice? (I did a few times, and it ended with screaming on all sides.) These questions circle my mind like a vulture at 500 feet.

Yesterday, I was cleaning out the bus. I’ve been taking this slow, because it brings up a well of emotions that is difficult to drink from.

Yesterday, I was reminded of this:

One day when my kids were out for a walk, I wrote this under one of their mattresses.

The thing is, my ex had gaslit both the kids and I, from interacting with each other. This is what kept her “safe” and out of any drama that would have been necessary for us to work through their psychological splitting, which involved classifying me as “bad” because I don’t subscribe to the trans/woke cult.

Add to that the fact that, with CPTSD, communicating with them when they were so adamantly against any communication at all, well, this took a back seat to the fact that I still had to provide food, shelter, and safety for them. So, I kept my nose to the grindstone, believing my ex when she said “One day they will see you like I see you.”

Since I have become aware of how covert narcissim works, I hope they NEVER see me like she did, which was as “supply” only, and never truly a piece of love.

When I was cleaning out the bus, I came across this note, pasted to my middle daughter’s bed post:

I don’t know if my ex scratched this out, or my middle daughter, who wrote this, scratched it out, but here’s what it says:

“Marcy won’t remind [my youngest son’s name] to brush his teeth, So he will go through the pain that I did and do still today.”

There is no way to even estimate how many times I asked my ex if she was reminding my youngest to brush his teeth. Every time, she assured me that she was. I would follow up with “But is he brushing them?” She always assured me that he was.

My kids resisted going ANYWHERE that I had to go with them. This included the Dentist, although that offer was constantly on the table.

This breaks my heart, because my daughter, knowing that this was fucked up, expressed her objection the only way she knew how. She wrote it on a note. It’s ironic that I had to communicate my objection at being alienated the same way…

Knowing that my daughter saw my ex-wife’s avoidance at guiding them at anything other than keeping at arm’s length from me gives me a sliver of hope that they can perhaps one day come to terms with the fact that I love them desperately, and want connection with them.

P.D., JAY V SHORE