Unfortunately, since my first and worst narcissistic abusive relationship at 17, it became a pattern, and there are more than one story now. The story that goes with my photo is the actual man who happens to be black-skinned, who used to always smile at me at a bar near where I lived. He verbally assaulted me, catching me off guard with disgusting remarks in my ear, making me feel like he could keep me hostage there. Experience tells me that if I went to the police and said a black man whispered vile things in my ear, they would do nothing, and I would be called a liar. This way, I have a photo, so the memory is vivid, and I know I will not be gaslighted.
Here is my main story. I had just broken up with my high school boyfriend. I was vulnerable, more so than usual. It was June, just after my 18th birthday and high school graduation, technically legal but definitely too young. None of us, at any age, deserved what I got. The guys in my high school were either jocks, or neither one of us was right for each other. Then, I met this guy who looked like he came out of a rock magazine, and I was immediately interested.
He approached me, and we circled each other. It seemed to go in slow motion. He told me, “You’re amazing.” The year was 1990. I had only experienced what I was about to see in movies or after-school specials. Never in my wildest dreams could I have prepared myself for what was to happen.
Today, there are multiple websites for domestic violence, like RAINN and MeToo, but when I was turning 18, there wasn’t even an internet yet, and I felt completely alone. I was about to be groomed, as they call it, by a honeymoon phase people only dream of. I was swept off my feet, and told I was beautiful and loved every day. He asked my father for permission to marry me, and reluctantly, he gave it. But everyone thought it was strange and sudden. He claimed he was not of this earth, and he had weird markings on his body.
Systematically, he had me shut out of everyone I knew’s life. It wasn’t long until he was controlling every aspect of my life, even what I ate (sushi) – a vegetarian wife-beater! He dictated what movies I watched, and I wasn’t allowed to worship Jim Morrison, only him. This seems transparent now, but at the time, I was hypnotized and brainwashed. I had never heard of any of this yet.
He told me he was taking care of a woman living in his closet, claiming her family had beaten her, and he was protecting her. Finally, he introduced me to her. She was scary, skeletal thin, with bulimia and anorexia, missing teeth and hair, covering it with a bandanna dyed black. Her face was swollen, appearing like someone who had been repeatedly punched. She had a cauliflower ear. I wondered who could do this to someone, little did I know, that I would be next in line.
This was his ex-wife. She was pregnant twice by him, and he had kicked her across the room, causing her to lose more than one child this way. She got stronger as we became friends, and I believe she was planning an escape. One day, she seized an opportunity and escaped. The abuser was panicked, worrying about his fate. Would she report him? Would she retaliate? Somehow, she met her future husband in 1991, and they moved upstate. She had two autistic children. I believe their birth defects were due to the abuse she endured. She loves and cares for them, and I think she has an incredible civil suit against him.
My abuse didn’t end when I went away to college. It continued over the phone, and the mind control persisted. I transferred schools to be closer to him, inviting him to my dorm. During a rally, he physically attacked me, smashing my head against the wall. Another time, he tried to choke me to death. Despite the fear, I survived.
A few years ago, I finally spoke to the police. Their response was dismissive and insensitive. The chief of police even made inappropriate remarks. Despite the challenges and indifference, I refuse to stay silent. It’s time for change, for accountability. Thank you for listening.
