Living With the Narcissist

Mom always told me I was pretty. Prettier than average. She told me to use this to my advantage.

I had my first son at the age of 17. Ten days before I turned 18. I would always look at it as though I was somehow more responsible than the next teen mom because “I waited until I was almost an adult.” Eye roll, right?

Well, once I had my son I swore he would never grow up the way I did. Even though I was a single, teen mom, I was going to be the best.

I knew a guy that was a DJ at a strip club. “You’re gorgeous,” he said. “You should come apply to be a waitress.” So I went. I walk into this dark building and am greeted by this tall, handsome manager. I tell him I’m interested in becoming a waitress and he looks at me thoughtfully and replied, “Sweetheart, you’ll make tons of money if you dance.” And I did. I did this for five years until one day meeting a man named Anthony.

I was 23, Anthony was 44. He got two lap dances, asked me about my life and wrote me a check for $400 because my sons birthday was coming up. I thought, “this is what Mom meant by using my beauty to obtain a good life.” Anthony was thoughtful, kind to my son and genuinely treated me like a lady. He proposed within 4 months and I became pregnant with my first daughter. It was exactly how I dreamed it as a little girl.

I had Adrienne on March 15, 2008. Love my son to pieces but this was my little princess. I adored her. I started losing weight and started school for medical assisting. At this time, Anthony became easily enraged and seemed always jealous of nothing in particular. The drive to school was approximately 35 minutes. If I wasn’t home within 15 minutes, he was livid. There was no rationalizing with him. The drive could not possibly be made in that time, and he knew it, but he would still be angry. Every. Single. Day. He was angry that I was losing weight. He said I was trying to impress people, when in reality, I couldn’t help it. It was just falling off.

Anthony worked nights. He had this wild obsession with the thought that I must be sneaking out to meet a lover. So, he would come home and burst into the room to make sure I was in bed. One day, I thought I heard something outside, so I opened the front door to look. I noticed that he had put scotch tape on the door so that if I opened it, it would fold in and he would know I’d gone out the door.

I confronted him about this telling him I didn’t deserve the way he was treating me and that I wouldn’t stay if it continued. He snatched our daughter from me, laid her in her playpen and threw me up against the fireplace. He told me never to speak to him that way again.

The verbal abuse got worse and worse. Every time I would leave to go to school or the store, he would tell my son I was going to see another man. I got so tired of it that I called a women’s shelter one night. I packed all of our things. The lady told me to get the kids and come. I told her I’d leave right away. I went into the kitchen to get the car keys. They were gone. He’d been taking the keys every night. My heart sank and I felt so defeated. I called the lady back and told her he’d taken the keys. She told me if I ever had a way out I was welcome. I never had a way out.

I chose to keep my mouth shut and stay. He was a terrible husband but I thought he was a good father. The abuse continued and I got used to it. Sometime during all of this, I stopped having emotions. I didn’t cry. Didn’t really laugh. I just existed. I had two more kids. Two girls. I remember him telling me that as long as I’m fat and pregnant no one will ever want me. He would say, “who’s going to want you? A female with four kids? No man wants that.” I believed it. I kept believing it.

I started nursing school. Nursing school is the single most stressful thing I’ve ever done. I was determined to graduate with honors and I’d be damned if he messed this up. And he tried! God, he tried so hard to prevent me from studying or making it to clinicals on time. That was the last straw. Nursing was my ticket away from him and he was trying to snatch it. That was when submissive, soft spoken Christie became a rabid bitch and anyone in my way was subject to being mowed down.

I googled how to file divorce papers, filed them and packed my kids and moved to my moms house. He was livid when he got served. He called me every name in the book. Accusing me of sleeping with a lawyer to file papers even though I had done it myself. My mom lived 2 hours from the clinical site and the school. I woke up everyday Monday- Friday at 3am to make it to class by 6 then drove home at 4 to study and go to bed and do it again the next day. I was tired. I was a mess.

I graduated and I sat for licensure in 2015. My divorce was finalized one month before I sat for licensure. I became a nurse. Anthony hated everything about it. Narcissist. Just like my dad. Alcoholic, abuser, narcissist. The type of man you choose is learned from the type of man you grow up around. You’ll either end up with one just like him or you will avoid them at all costs. I ended up with someone just like my dad. Disgusting. Lessons learned.

I was a nurse and I was free. Turn the page, a new me had been born.