The end of the Mrs.

Through two and a half years of divorcing a narcissist, I’ve learned to give a voice to thoughts that pop up from time to time.  They usually come from nowhere but have a special kind of feel to them — like it’s my heart speaking, breaking another link in the chain that was my abusive, destructive, and toxic relationship.

Recently one such phrase rose up and has stuck in my head for a bit. 

This is the end of the Mrs.

When I first got married, I struggled with changing my name.  I was past my 30th Birthday and had all my degrees behind me.  Every diploma and every award I’d ever gotten bore my birth name.  There was a surrender – I guess – when I actually decided to change my name and drop my birth name.  There was also a pride in the Mrs.  I liked the way it sounded. We were a family, now, after all and in my mind families shared last names.  Hyphenation was a way-out — it left room for an eventual separation (at least that’s how I saw it).

I wanted a fresh start with the family we were creating out of just us two.

Fast forward 12 years.  Here comes the divorce.  It would have NEVER happened except that it was essential to save my life. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth. I would be dead if I stayed with this person. 

Anyway, again here comes the phrase that popped in my head

This is the end of the Mrs.

But I wasn’t crying and I certainly wasn’t sad at all. There was an acceptance that went with it and I decided to let the phrase dance free-form for a bit and see if anything else came with it.  It didn’t feel finished.

You see, I’m actually okay with it.  I remember telling my dad that I didn’t want his name anymore.  I was free from the sheer hell and soul-gutting destruction that my life had became.  I’m okay with my children know who I am and who I have been since my birth name was given to me by my parents.  I took my spouse’s name, but it was never given to me.

So, as I am natually drawn to do, I told myself it was okay that THIS IS THE END OF THE MRS.  

Then I kept thinking about why it was okay with me.  And BINGO!  

Why is there a Mrs. anyway?  

Because there’s a Mr.  

But you see, here’s where the light bulb went off…….he was no where near a “mister”, a man, a human being of the male persuasion.  Narcissists can’t be.  It’s not possible.  I’m not saying this from a position of emasculating him – I don’t really care to go that route.  I have researched, and learned all I could about his disorder and I’m confident that it’s just not possible for him to be a true human.  (Side note: I’m not going to explain it in this post but if you’ve stumbled upon this blog click on the category of INFORMATION to learn more.) 

So yeah, it IS the end of the MRS….. but it’s completely okay with me.

It’s okay because he wasn’t nearly a Mr.

It’s not a dig at him.  It’s the honest truth because of his disorder.  So I’m not nearly as sad at losing the Mrs. as I would have been 12 years ago when I was SURE divorce would never happen to me.

So I’m going back to my birth name, but not as a dig at my ex. 

And it’s perfectly okay.  I’m ready to reclaim the name that was given to me by my father and start anew with the old birth name and give that another 30 years and see what happens.

 

Your own bed

When I was training for a marathon, I chose one in the city where I grew up. It was 350 miles from where we lived, but it was important to my journey to health and I knew if I completed it, my goal would be accomplished in a VERY big way.

Looking back, I see how this decision raised enormous amounts of fear in my narc. He was anything but supportive. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember him trying to convince me that a marathon closer to where we lived would be a better choice because when it was over didn’t I want to ‘sleep in our own bed’?

I don’t know about you — or other runners for that matter – but once my marathon was completed the LAST THING on my mind would be where I was sleeping that night.

In fact, the day of my first 5K, my narc was away for the weekend. I had a party and he didn’t bother to show up. Why would I think a marathon would be any different?

Oh, those narcissists, and their manipulations!!

Sometimes I wish it didn’t happen

It’s easy to waste time wishing I had never encountered a narcissist.  However, I am choosing to spend the time left in my life to move in a different direction.  You can too.  Here’s one of my favorite clips on that topic:

http://movieclips.com/NB3q-the-lord-of-the-rings-the-fellowship-of-the-ring-movie-an-encouraging-thought/

 

Moving back

I moved back into the condo on the recommendation of my lawyer. She was convinced my N and his lawyer were trying to say I abandoned my children. So I lived like a guest in my own home, set up a make-shift living area in the loft, and we had an agreement that I provided his “work-related” child care so I could be with my children. I did my best.

Flashbacks come every so often of what those five months were like. For instance: when I packed my daughter’s lunch for school the night before and he came home at 11pm from work, unpacked it, and repacked it with something HE made. It was futile to address it as he would have flown into a rage at me.

Former brainwasher

It’s funny when you try to have an adult conversation with someone who is used to brainwashing you. Somehow the N can’t seem to figure it out.

No lamenting allowed

I’m thankful for the clarity to see who my N is. Yes, I could spend my time lamenting that it happened at all. But I’d rather move forward.

For shame!

Too bad narcs don’t feel shame.  However, it was cleansing for me to write the following:

You didn’t make leaving easy. Instead, you hired a lawyer who tried to take the children away from me, tried to paint picture of my abandoning the children. Shame on you. Really. For shame.

Let it rip!

What the hell did I ever do to you except decide I didn’t want to live that way anymore? I wanted to move us ALL someplace safer, but you refused and dug in your heels.

I then decided safety for our children was more important than maintaining this sham of a marriage. What the fuck is so wrong with that?

I gave you COUNTLESS opportunities to prove you were human. Finally I just fucking left.

Fuck you, N. Seriously. Fuck you!

Is there a narc on board?

How to tell if a narc is in your boat……they wouldn’t row in a different direction, they’d poke holes in the bottom when you weren’t looking.

Unrequited love

I’m over unrequited love – the longing for something you can’t have – the lovely romantic notion of star crossed lovers. 

Take me to dinner or lose me forever.