Divorcing a Narcissist: My Personal Terrorist
I am currently working on a revised version of Divorcing a Narcissist: One Mom’s Battle which will allow me to tell my story in it's entirety. Going back into the muck has challenged me to my core - revisiting things that I wrote about so many years ago. It takes you right back to the moment of trauma - sharing an excerpt from one such trauma. Seth and I had been separated for eight months and had worked out a “nesting agreement” where he spent weekends with the girls in the family home and I couch surfed with friends. One weekend in August of 2009, I went to Orange County to visit my sister and received a frantic phone call from our nanny: Seth had stripped our house bare, even removing the pictures off the wall. This was the weekend that I realized how sick he truly was. This was the weekend that my life changed.
Excerpt:
“I had a full day to process the information before I returned home. I had mentally prepared myself before walking through the front door. I entered the house and hugged my daughters and, in that moment, nothing else mattered. While I felt like I had prepared myself, I wasn’t equipped to deal with the reality of what Seth had done.
I walked into my bedroom and discovered that Seth had replaced my elegant Ethan Allen bedroom furniture with a toddler bed from IKEA and matching dressers. Not only did he purchase children’s furniture for me, but he had personally decorated my bedroom. It looked like a child’s room. I was in shock and disbelief. I felt a wave of nausea take over my body and I felt like vomiting as I scanned the room, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I could barely breathe.
In that moment, I realized the gravity of his sickness. There were little pink dress-up boas hanging from my mirror. Seth bought stuffed animals and a comforter designed for a little girl. There were little pink, apple-shaped knickknacks lining my dresser. He had framed photos of me as a child and displayed them throughout the room. Under the glass that sat on top of a dresser, Seth had created a photo collage using photos of me as a child, photos of my siblings, and random photos of me dating back to the beginning of our relationship. Strategically placed on the pillow of my new toddler bed was a book titled, The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands.
I yanked open the dresser drawers one by one and discovered all my skirts, shorts, and undergarments were missing. Seth stole my underwear. What kind of a sick, demented person steals someone’s underwear? The gears had shifted to the next level and I was now scared for my personal safety. I prayed that this was a nightmare I could wake up from, but I knew it wasn’t a dream. Somehow, this had become my life and I felt faint and disoriented.
It took me several days to process what had happened. I felt as though I was in a thick fog and my cognitive functioning was severely compromised. I then discovered a video Seth had taken of the girls’ reaction the next morning as they toddled out of their bedroom. Seth appeared to be more manic than I had ever seen him while speaking in a bizarre, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood-type of voice, “GIRLS! This is ALL for YOU! Do you like it? This is YOUR furniture and no one else’s! Isn’t that neat?! You have your OWN FURNITURE!!!” Piper walked through the house appearing confused and made her way to the kitchen. Noticing that our beautiful, grand dining table had been replaced by an old, outdoor table and cheap folding chairs, she asked in a confused tone of voice, “Where is our table, though?” Seth quickly turned the camera off and the tape ended.
As the tape ended, a panic attack ensued. I wanted to run screaming from the house. I wanted to bundle my daughters up and protect them from this madman. I was frozen and traumatized and, for all I knew, Seth had hidden cameras to capture my reaction. A million thoughts rushed through my head, leaving me feeling paralyzed. I knew I had to file for divorce and that I needed to beg the courts to protect me.”
