Recovering from a Narcissist Fake Little
I have tried searching this subject and the lack of information available is telling. Nobody is willing to talk about this. Surely, I’m not the only one who has gone through what I have. The mathematical statistics alone support that there should be something somewhere on this topic, but there’s not, or at least, nothing easily discoverable. My Google-foo is well above average, if we’re going to be honest. Which we should be. It’s one of the Four Pillars. So where is this help? What the fuck? I debated even writing this, but it’s something I’ve wanted to get off my chest for a while.
My initial thoughts as I exited the relationship were a jumble. In addition to the normal how’s and why’s, blaming myself and blaming her, I couldn’t believe that I had allowed myself to wander these paths, let alone a similar path as before. Again. Fucking again. You’re the sadist, asshole. Why do you keep making the same mistakes? Right? Like c’mon, bro. You’re better than this, you dumb fuck. Once again, as a romantic Daddy Dom, when she said she wanted to pause the dynamic, I stayed. Right? That’s what we’re supposed to do. You’re in this for the whole thing, not just the dynamic. After all, my job as the Daddy Dom is to create the structure she needs. So, logically, if she needs a pause in the structure, we put it on pause. After all, a pause indicates it should resume. Right?
In hindsight, we should have put a date on the moratorium. That was, I feel, my biggest mistake. By not putting a date on when we would come back to the table and talk about our collective needs and attempt to renegotiate, I passively waited for her to be ready. I failed to create a safe exit, not only for her, but myself. I couldn’t let go of her or the step-son she had given me. I couldn’t let go of my Dominant self. It’s ingrained into every part of who I am, so I put Him on the mental sideline, but every once and a while, He would come out in conversation or in action and the fights that would ensue were, in a word, apocalyptic. After the first of these such fights, I should have left. I couldn’t, can’t be passive. It’s just not in me. I would try to lead and she didn’t want to be led. And I stayed. I stayed for a multitude of reasons: we were a family, I loved her, there was our step-son… This could be fixed. I can fix anything. And so, I stayed. And in the staying, I created more excuses.
The amount of mental abuse I endured from this little gone rogue and my own lack of action was immense. My needs were not being met and the pain it caused was so intense as the first year rolled by. It would be okay though, I told myself. We would return to what was and everything would again be right in the world. I tried to bury everything that I was to be the stoic supporter, be the caregiver, be the husband and the Dom. I would like to think, in the beginning, I did a decent job. I did what I was supposed to do. I was supportive. I still gave care.
When she first began the mental assault, I should have left, but I allowed us to enter a holding pattern of mental anguish both caused by my supposedly submissive partner and my own desire to stay and attempt to salvage the relationship. After all, I could fix this. She would enter these states where I thought things would be returning to normal. She would return to her submissive self. Or at least act like she was returning to submission. She would age regress. She would do all the things that I fell in love with her over. We would mime the activities we used to do without the structure in place. We would briefly talk about returning to our dynamic. She would even work with me to revise and work on our rules and contact. I devoured it. I needed it and this was the promise of returning to normalcy. We even looked into lifestyle friendly marriage counselors. Then suddenly, it would come to a screeching halt. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to submit. I remember thinking to myself, it would be okay. We would be able to fix the broken pieces and put it all back together. After all, I could fix this.
I lost count of the times we would do this dance. I used to have drafts upon drafts saved in my Google Drive. She would dance around my needs, giving me just enough to satisfy frustrations and then it would be gone. I remember thinking, sometime around the fourth or fifth time, I should leave. No, I told myself. Surely not. She has a desire to fix this too and we’re married. This is sacred. It’s supposed to be sacred.
I endured for four more long and terrible years. The talks of reentering our dynamic eventually stopped. Sex became dull, boring and then that too eventually stopped. Like a plant dying of dehydration, physical touch and affection slowly died off. By this point, I had thought about leaving many times, but stayed because I believed we would be able to return to what was our golden era and of course, and my concern for the child I had now spent five years raising. I no longer believed her when she said we would return to the dynamic and I felt trapped. I began to resent her and even started to hate her. We could still fix this. It was a mantra by this point. Even if it was a hollow one.
Things were starting to look better by the end of the fifth year. We were talking more, being more open with one another and once again, the talks of returning to the dynamic were reopened, this time with more zeal from her. I felt like a new man. I had vigor again. I felt like things were finally turning around. She had even begun to be affectionate again. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and things were finally going to be better. I had even scheduled sessions with the lifestyle friendly therapist. And that’s when I learned of the emotional affair.
While she danced around and manipulated me into thinking things were getting better, she had an emotional affair with another Dominant. One that was supposed to be our friend. I had inklings that this was a bad idea when they started talking more, but when I asked her about it, she offered, “Baby, don’t you trust me? You know I’d never do that.” Something was vehemently wrong. I could feel it in my gut. There was something truly foul afoot, but I couldn’t place my finger on it. Then one morning, she was gone. Only a text message was offered as the briefest of explanations. One that I couldn’t even reply to because she had blocked me on literally every form of communication that was possible. She had denied me even the dignity of closure.
I still ponder what I could have done differently. Not out of a desire to win her back, because fuck a lot of that noise, but to learn. After a lot of work with a therapist, I’ve learned she was a narcissist, which blew my mind. I had always thought narcissism to be a more male affliction. I learned that she mirrored my heart. Mirrored my wants and desires and lured me into a trap that I should have seen coming. I’ve learned a lot of new red flags to watch for, that’s for sure. I’ve also done a lot of inner child work, in addition to therapy. I had to make sure that I wasn’t the root of the problem. After two back to back failed marriages, I needed to ensure I wasn’t the common denominator in these equations. I feel like this effort invested into myself has reforged me into something stronger, truly a better me.
I almost left the lifestyle because of this singular incident. For months afterwards, I questioned myself. Every aspect of myself was laid out to bare and inspected thoroughly and thoughtfully and at times, even accusatorily. I had allowed this to happen, I told myself repeatedly. Surely, I was the one at fault. There was something insidiously broken somewhere and it had to be found, repaired or discarded. I didn’t find anything. Only broken pieces of what was, of who I used to be. I looked at those pieces in disgust. That wasn’t who I was. I refused to accept that. So we rebuilt and reforged. There’s still work to be done, but I am without a doubt, stronger because of this experience. I have learned much from it.
Divorce papers are finalized and I’m waiting for the decree. I cannot wait for this chapter to end. I have been and am on a path of recovery. Reconnecting with parts of me that I repressed and neglected. I am finally happy again. I can finally look in the mirror and be happy. A lot of help came from some curious companions I’ve met along the way. A lot of lessons were learned with this one. It is okay to pause a dynamic, but you have to put an end date on the moratorium. In the future, if there’s not, it’s the end of the relationship. I won’t go through this again. My needs are just as important as my partner’s needs and if I ever reach such catastrophic levels of unhappiness again, it’s okay to leave.