Every day is a different experience for me. Waking up, I never know where my emotions are going to go. Some days, I am happy, and other days I daydream about ways to commit suicide. No two days are ever the same.

Narcissitic Abuse Syndrome, is a condition that the victim of narcissitic abuse gets to live with, for the rest of their life. For me, every action that I take, and every decision that I have to make, I question myself as to whether or not I am taking a valid action. It is fairly crippling, and leads me to typically not be able to get much done. I genuinely believe that everybody is allowed to make mistakes, except for me. I cannot make a mistake… ever. Anytime that I make a mistake, or get criticized in any way causes me to question my value as a person, and I automatically think that the world would be better off if I was not in it. For the people around me, this creates an immense challenge, as how do you try to correct the incorrect actions of person, when that person contemplates suicide over the smallest mistake. And I am serious, when I say the smallest of mistakes. If I forget to salt the water for the pasta, and it gets pointed out, I will hate myself for hours, and question my value to society.

The list of people that I believe that I can trust is almost non-existent. I trust my immediate family, but I cannot trust my own children. What is worse, is because my children are caught in the middle of the non-stop fight between myself and their mother, they are suffering immense psychological damage. Outside of my immediate family, I have someone with whom I have been friends for over 37 years, that most of the time I trust, and I have a partner that I can trust, but beyond that, there are no friends that I have, whom I truly believe that I can trust. I have too much evidence of friends betraying me, to be able to trust the friends that I have left. For those who know whom I am talking about, “Tub Time with Tammy”, was a friend for over 30 years, and I trusted her implicitly, and she was one of the worst for betraying me.

My narcissist ex-wife emotionally tortured me for 15 years. The abuse is so slow, that you do not even realize that it is happening. Physical abuse is easy to see. If someone hits you, you are being abused, but with emotional and psychological abuse, what happens is that you start to question yourself. I did not see myself as being abused, instead I increasingly started questioning myself and my own actions. It progressed far beyond what I could even recognize. I have been away from my ex-wife for 4 years now, and I am still not able to make a decision for myself if I think that there is a chance that it might have any effect on someone else. It is rare for a day to go by that I do not idly think about either killing myself or simply going to the airport and getting on a plane to a foreign country so I can try to disappear. Every time that I have a fight with my partner, it is even worse. While I know that she loves me, I cannot comprehend why she stays with me. Because down to my core, I believe myself to be a completely useless and horrible person. She can point out to me all of the people who love me and care about me, but it is almost impossible for that knowledge to truly last in my mind, because my emotional damage runs so deep. What’s worse, is that my partner is suffering from her own emotional issues right now, and as much as I am trying to be there for her, my capacity is limited, and every time I reach my own limit, I hate myself even more. I don’t know how many people actually notice me scratching at my arm, or digging my fingernails into my palm, in a subtle bit of self harm. Causing myself physical pain, helps me to suppress the emotional pain.

I just spent a month trying to get my ex-wife to sign the permission letter for me to transport my children over the Canada/USA border, so that we could do a day trip shopping. All she had to do, was print and sign the letter, and it took weeks, and an outrageous amount of lawyer time, before she complied. She had no valid reason for refusing, but she refused anyways. Her lawyer is paid through tax-payer money via Legal Aid, whereas I have to pay my lawyer out of my own pocket. So far this year, I have spent enough money in lawyer fees, that I could have taken myself, my partner and our four children to Disneyland for a week, including airfare and hotels. Instead, I have given that money to my lawyer, to fight the ridiculous demands of my ex-wife. We have accomplished nothing, just racked up the lawyer bills. The provincial judge presiding over one of the cases looked particularly irritated with my ex-wife, but was not legally allowed to overrule her.

Some of the warning signs of Narcissitic Abuse Disorder include:

• They say that they feel insane and often question themselves – This is me, absolutely
• They lose trust in those close to them, such as family or friends – I think I already mentioned having severe issues trusting people
• They feel that the narcissistic person is the only person who deems them worthy – While I was still with her, it was her opinion of me that mattered the most
• They’re often feeling insecure or ashamed of their work or creativity – I gave up writing while I was with her, as I no longer believed that my writing mattered.
• They have developed self-doubt – Again, I think that I have mentioned how little I trust or value myself
• They have begun to lose their self-control, always doing what the narcissist wants them to – What I want does not matter. The only thing that matters to me is keeping my partner and my children happy. When that partner was my ex-wife, she mattered far more than the children. Even now, I have difficultly trying to find the balance between what my partner wants, and what I think is right for the children, and when my ex-wife is demanding something, my instinct is to just give it to her, as that is what is easiest. I have to run every decision through my partner, to ensure that I am not giving in to my ex-wife, but I have to run everything through my partner because I do not trust myself to be able to make the right decision
• They hold the narcissist in high esteem – When we were together, my ex-wife mattered more to me than anyone else. Trying to kill myself was easier than actually leaving her.

I know that this post is a bit rambly, and does not flow in necessarily a coherent order, but I wrote this as the thoughts presented themselves to me. The flow of this post, is a demonstration of how my mind works. I am thinking in multiple directions all at the same time, and it is very hard for me to focus on any one thing, because the overwhelming thought, at all times, is that I am wrong.

My therapist keeps encouraging me to write more, especially about my experiences.  I used to be an avid writer, but during my marriage, I stopped writing, and I stopped reading. I stopped doing many things. Mostly I kept pulling myself inwards trying to convince myself to keep going. The constant, daily mental and emotional abuse from my narcissistic wife, made doing anything harder and harder. I look at the last time I posted, and I think about what has changed, and what has not changed since that time.

September 16, 2018 is a day I remember well, because it turned out to be a day of great significance to my life. It was the day that I officially decided to end my marriage.

In the preceding three weeks, I had already attempted suicide twice, and I had already figured out how to make attempt three successful. My wife did not care. She had informed me that I was an insensitive asshole for having tried to kill myself, as that would leave her alone with the kids. She might be correct that my killing myself was incredibly insensitive of me, because I was not taking her needs into account, but what kind of person tells someone who is suicidal that they are an asshole? Emotionally I was in deep pain, and I believed that I was completely worthless. I genuinely believed that my children would be far better off without me. I had believed for a very long time, that the only reason my wife wanted me around was she did not want to have to work, and my income allowed the family to survive. By this time, I had been unemployed for over two years, my desperate attempts to make money had spectacularly failed, and I was starting to genuinely consider helping with the illegal drug run, that an acquaintance had been involved with. I believed myself to be completely worthless. My therapist told me that I was an asshole, and the following day, my school counsellor told me that I was an asshole. My depression was so severe that my doctor had already sent me to a psychiatrist, so that I could be prescribed a higher dose of anti-depressants than my GP was legally allowed to prescribe.

On September 16, 2018, my friends and family schemed to get my wife out of the house, and then they descended and moved me out of the master bedroom, and into the small bedroom that was being used by the 2-year-old. The 2-year-old they moved into the master bedroom. She had a small toddler bed, so it was relatively easy to move her. What was discovered was that the mattress to the toddler bed was so saturated with urine that it was rotting when we tried to pick it up. The team immediately dispatched someone to go and purchase a new mattress. When we knew that my wife was going to be returning to the house shortly, most of the team took my kids and left the house, and only my mother and best friend remained with me to inform my wife what was happening.

She returned, and was naturally surprised by the changes that she found. She listened as my mother and best friend informed her that I was now living in a separate room, and that there was a lock on that door to allow me to have space and privacy. There was still great fear that I would be making suicide attempt number three. My wife was great. She was very understanding and very supportive, and assured my mother and friend that she would assist me as much as possible to try and ensure that my emotional recovery would be successful. The expressions on my mother and friend’s faces told me that they were very surprised at how well it had gone. They had been very concerned about her reaction, based upon the stories that I had told them, and they could see that my wife was very concerned about my well being.

My wife then asked to speak to me alone for a few minutes, and she and I walked to the far end of the hallway, where she proceeded to tear into me for embarrassing her by allowing people to come into our house. She ripped me apart for being so insensitive that I would allow people over without her permission, and made certain that I understood that this would not be the last I heard about what an embarrassment I was to her. When I returned to the sitting room where my mother and best friend waited, I could tell from the expressions on their faces that they had heard everything that she had said. It was then that they truly accepted the reality of what I had been telling them for years, about how there were two different personas presented by my wife. In the years since the separation, I have come to learn that the term used to describe my wife is narcissist.

Over the next month, I told my wife that the marriage was over. She had believed that my moving into a different bedroom was going to be temporary. As soon as she realized that this was going to be permanent, she demanded that the 2-year-old move back into the bedroom with me. She would have the master bedroom, with the king-sized bed, all to herself, and I would be sharing the small bedroom. There was barely room for the single bed, in which I slept, and the toddler bed, in which my daughter slept. I did not care; I was starting my journey to be free of the constant emotional abuse inflicted upon me by my wife.

While she did, slowly, start trying to go through things, and pack up what she wanted to keep, her highest priority seemed to be to reach out to everyone we knew, to tell them what a terrible person I am. When I was trying to help her with a technical problem on her iPad, I discovered the text group conversation that she was having with several of our friends. These were people with whom I had been friends for a long time prior to ever meeting her. I had met them in grade 8. She had met one of them in college, and the others she had met through me. People with whom I had been friends for over 30 years, and she is telling them what a horrible person I am. She is telling them lies, and they are believing her without question. I tried reaching out to one of them, privately, to talk about what was going on, and I had thought the conversation was going well, until I saw that same person repeating to the group conversation, what I had been saying privately. Worse, she was saying it to the group with the attitude of, ‘would you believe the lies he is telling me’. I knew then that I could not trust anyone in that group. Friends on my Facebook started to unfriend me. Two of my neighbours came to me, to tell me that they had been approached by her to tell them about the terrible things that I had done to her. Of those two neighbours, one told me that this would be the last time they spoke to me, and the other asked to hear my side of the story. After hearing my side, that one neighbour immediately dismissed my wife as being the terrible person. The rest of my neighbours simply did not speak to me anymore. Slowly I realized that I could not trust people.

Today, I am doing better in many ways, and in many ways my struggle continues. My new partner and I have been together for almost three years, and I truly feel like she is my partner. I still struggle with my emotions, with frequent panic and anxiety attacks, but my partner tries to be very patient and understanding. I have almost no friends, as I do not know who I can trust. Anyone with whom I was friends whilst I was with her is automatically suspicious, as I continue to discover people that I trusted who are secretly on her side, and feeding information back to her. My therapist refers to my condition as Narcissistic Abuse Syndrome (NAS). I have seen it also referred to as Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD), but I have also heard that condition is specifically for children raised by narcissistic parents, so at least I will know from what condition my children will suffer.

So I thought that I should start posting again, but this time, I am going to try and sort out some of my thoughts, and maybe tell some stories.

Many people wonder what caused the end of my marriage. I was married for 15 years, and although, for the majority of it, I was not happy in the marriage, people have asked me what caused me to finally terminate the marriage.

At the beginning of 2018, my wife and I made the decision for me to return to school. We had the time and money available to us for me to have the time off and finally pursue my dream of studying my dream of game development and programming. In February, I temporarily moved out of the family home, and got a condo downtown so that I could start attending school. I was still home on weekends, and would call and FaceTime every day with the family. I did a ten week bootcamp on web development, before starting a one year program in May on game development and programming. The boot camp was very challenging, but I enjoyed it. The courses I was taking at VFS were also challenging, but I found that the support and culture at the school was not something that I was enjoying. VFS seemed to function much more as a business rather than a school. The instructors seemed far less interested in actually helping the students learn, versus trying to prepare the student for life in industry. Keep in mind, I was paying a lot of money to this school to be taught the coding skills I would need, but instead I found myself getting increasingly frustrated at the instructors’ unwillingness to actually teach. One key instructor was very vocal about the fact that he would only teach us 80% of what we needed to do an assignment, and would leave us to figure out the remaining 20%. Another instructor, was so incredibly incompetent, that of the seven class we had in the term, a full three classes were spent with no instruction whatsoever. My complaints to administration got me labeled as a troublemaker and disrupter, and the person to whom we were supposed to be able to talk to, told me that I was just being an “asshole”. I will dive into all of this in a future post.

After 2 semesters at VFS, I suffered a nervous breakdown. My stress level completely overwhelmed me to the point where I could no longer function. I lay in bed for three days, getting up only to use the bathroom, and get minimal food. Eventually I got out of bed, and proceeded to inform my wife and the school that I was going to have to withdraw from the school. I was told by my wife that I had failed the family, and my failure had financially devastated the family. She went on to say that the family was doomed and it was entirely my fault. That night, I attempted suicide. I am a diabetic, and I injected myself with a month’s worth of insulin, and went to bed. My hope was that I would fall into a diabetic coma and die. When I awoke the next day, I was surprised and disappointed. I told nobody what I had done, but tried to continue to function. I am not exactly certain when my second suicide attempt occurred, but it within a week of my first attempt. Same method, I injected myself with another month’s worth of insulin and went to bed. Again, I woke up in the morning, knowing my blood sugar was extremely low, but that sadly, I was still alive.

Over the course of the next week, I packed up my condo, and arranged with my wife to move back into the family home. Every day, my wife would remind me of what a miserable failure I was. I had told her about my suicide attempts, and she was shocked that I had done it, but offered no support or suggestions. Instead she continued to, multiple times daily, remind me that my failure had devastated the family, and that the family was completely doomed, and it was all my fault. She would regularly tell me to stop being depressed, but continued to remind me that I was a miserable failure, with no hope of redemption. I asked her if she could back off with the continuous stream of blame, and she agreed to stop for a week. She did not even last a day before the next reminder of my failure came. I started talking to my sister, who lives too far away to directly help, and she offered what advice she could, and offered her place for me to run to, if my situation became too severe. As a fellow diabetic, she told me to stop trying to kill myself with insulin, as her doctor had advised her years prior that it is so unlikely to work, as to be considered not possible. Instead, I would more likely just cause my body some permanent damage, which I would then have to live with. I took her advice to heart, and in my mind realized that the next attempt would have to be to take an entire bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol and an entire bottle of Extra Strength Advil. I have chronic migraines, so I always have extra bottles of pain killers around. And since I always buy the biggest bottles available, I knew that 100+ of each pill would do the job. I mentioned this to my sister, who agreed that should do the job, but begged me repeatedly to never do it. I could feel how much she cared through the phone. In the meantime, my wife continued to remind me daily that I was a failure as a man, as a husband, as a father, and as a provider. Every day, I got lower and lower. Every day I fought myself to not try again. My sister suggested that I move myself out of the shared master bedroom, and into my 2 year old daughter’s room, and move the 2 year old into the master bedroom. I told her it was an interesting idea, but there was no way that I would be able to find the energy or motivation to do that. Another week went by, during which I spoke with my sister every day, and every day my wife reminded me that every problem the family was facing was entirely my fault, because I was a complete failure of a man. On Saturday evening, my sister informed me that she had made all the arrangements, and that a group of friends were arriving on the Sunday, and they would be moving me out of the master bedroom and into my daughter’s room, and moving my daughter out of her room and into the master bedroom with my wife. They had even arranged, by completely tricking her, to get my wife out of the house for the day, so that she would not be around to interfere with the process. All she wanted was my agreement, and everything would happen. I looked at my options, and reluctantly agreed. In my mind, I knew that I was agreeing to end my marriage, but I also knew that if I did not agree, I likely did not have the strength to endure another week of the treatment my wife was giving me. It was end my marriage, or end my life. Either way, there was no future in my marriage.