This story was originally a letter that I wrote to my then-boyfriend. It was after yet another failed attempt to come see me and seal the deal on our long-term, long distance relationship. The excuses were simply becoming too outlandish. What I didn’t know then was that he is a Narcissist Predator. There was no intention of coming here, it was just another in a litany of lies. He liked me spread eagled on his computer screen like some bizarre foreign butterfly in his collection. I rewrote this, softening it a little for inclusion in “A Grain Of Truth”, published last year. I think I wanted to spare my feelings, I felt raw, stupid and over exposed with the real version. I didn’t want anyone to think I was some sort of loser. This is the reality and legacy of being targeted by a Narcissist.
Anne Lamott wrote: “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”
This is real. It happened to me. Someone tore me and my world apart for their enjoyment and I am still trying to pick up the pieces. This could happen to anyone and it is but one incident in a two-year relationship. I was left emotionally and physically destroyed. My lack of enthusiasm for the “reason” that this callous twat gave for his not showing up, was further cause to be subjected to his rage and abuse.
This story is ugly and the repercussions of the relationship continue with innuendo and slander whispered still. Truth however, defends itself, thankfully; so does evidence.
This was a day in my life last year, with the painful and embarrassing bits added back in. They are the True True…
When I woke, I was baffled in the muzzy, “not on all thrusters’” way that one sometimes is upon waking. I just couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to lift my head. Then I realized it was because I wasn’t in bed with my face on my pillow. I was lying on my living room floor and my cheek was stuck and sticky on the hardwood.
I spent all day at work, trying like a maniac to clear my desk to have no worries for the weekend and daydreaming about the evening. I scurried home to clean and do dishes and to shower, then went to a little style shop close by to get my hair done because I wanted to look my best for our first Real Life face to face. I carefully applied my makeup, praying that I could disguise the strain that is showing around my eyes and mouth from the stress of the last week. There’d already been two failed attempts to get here and then finding out about the “No Fly” ban that you were informed about by the US Border guards. All the hassle, calls to your lawyer… we’d both had several sleepless nights over that.
I put on new lingerie – matching, a luxury I rarely indulge in and a new dress, that I can ill afford. Stupidly, I bought you flowers. I had it in my head that no woman had done that for you and I wanted to be the first. So when you finally decided to allow me to know what was going on – after my several texts and many calls to you through the day – it was 4:30 or so.
The time that you said you’d be landing at Toronto.
When I jumped out of my chair to grab my phone, jumped because I’d been running on adrenaline and excitement all day, what I was expecting was you saying “Here safe and sound baby.” I had been in the middle of searching the taxi schedule to surprise you with my bravery and with my stupid flowers.
Instead, what I got was a text to say you weren’t coming. You never even got on the plane.
Have you had a panic attack? Of course you have. You mentioned it a few times in the last couple days. That feeling of terror and disorientation? The roar of an ocean pushing against your eardrums? Of howling loss the week before when you were held back at the gate? The fear and the wish to die that you told me you felt? Just like that P____, only it wasn’t circumstance or a crazy stranger that caused it for me. No. It was you. You made me feel like this on purpose.
No warning, no discussion. Just “I’m not coming.”
And that’s what happened. Panic. The ground opened up and it was like I was on a runaway elevator, the faster it fell the hotter I got. Staring and staring at those words, while my eyes were trying to push out of their sockets as the symptoms started, as the heat built up from my feet to my head, and the intense pressure. I was dizzy and disoriented, I dropped my phone and fell, trying to hold back what would have been vomit if I’d eaten anything all day. Thank god I didn’t, I had been too excited and busy. When I fell, the tears were starting and my heart had started to race and skip, wanting to jump track like a runaway train, I could feel the pressure in my head get worse. My nose started to bleed, all over my new dress. I panicked as the drops fell faster, and then started to stream. I ran the back of my hand over my nose, in a vain attempt to stem the flow, got blood all over the bouquet. At the same time, I could feel a warm trickle down my thigh and blind fear joined the disorientation and disbelief. In the last two months, as you know, every time we’d have fight – or more correctly, when you’d rage at me for no reason; I would start to bleed as if I was having my period. My OBS/GYN was worried and a round of blood test and biopsies had been started to determine the cause. I wasn’t actually very aware of all of that because I was tying to wrap my head around grief that was like broken glass in my guts that you were pounding with a baseball bat, gasping for air because I couldn’t even cry, my body was so pulled into itself that the tears couldn’t get out… and then I fainted.
I came to on the floor, in a mess of blood, snot, tears and crushed flowers.
Roses. I’d chosen a bouquet of three each of red, white, pink and yellow; passion, purity, perfect happiness and friendship. A kaleidoscope of meaning and intent… They looked how I imagine a bird of paradise in flight might look, when I threw them off the balcony…
The original ending: And that was my Friday night P____. The night that I was supposed to be meeting you for the first time, the beginning of my new life. So pardon me if I’m not exactly jumping for joy at your great success but don’t ever dare try to say that I haven’t supported your career or that I held you back.
Excerpt from “A Grain Of Truth” ~ Book Two by Karin Bole Tupper
For information and help should you suspect that yourself or someone you care about is being targeted / victimized by a Narcissist, please visit and read Kim Saeed’s blog “Let Me Reach” and also the books and Facebook page of Sam Vaknin.