Jan. 19, 2010

This past Monday was Survivor of Covert Narssissit Abuse Day, I never knew such a day existed…but according to my social media it feeds…it does.

The point of this day is to share that you are a “survivor” in so that you may reach someone who maybe currently trying to navigate a narssistic relationship….and most likely not even realize it. ( I didn’t for many years)

Marked day or not, I’ve always shared my journey openly, here on this blog, on social media and whenever  someone reaches out to me privately.  That being said, Monday’s smattering of posts about covert narcissistic abuse on my feeds had me reflecting. One thing I have not shared here anywhere publically is how my marriage to a narcissist came to an end. I’ve shared with a therapist, my current partner and a few friends but I’ve never closed the loop or written about what made me finally leave.

I was reading Joanna Gaines book this week “The Stories We Tell” and she spoke about how writing helped her heal and freeing the stories that she has buried assisted her in realizing that pain. I definitely felt that having released many stories into the world has become like releasing pockets of hurt. So why have I continue to hold on to this story, especially when it continues to percolate from time to time and each time it gets reburied. I think it is time…as Gaines’ wrote “every piece of your story matters”

It was 2010, our daughter was yet to turn three. Just a few months prior we had moved into a 5 bedroom tudor home in a well to do neighborhood. I felt like a fish out of water but Alex loved the house, loved that we could afford this neighbourhood…and to be honest I was hoping it would finally make him happy. Perhaps this would be the answer to our flailing and let’s be honest toxic marriage.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  We lived in that home for less than 5 months before I would pack up my daughter and I, and move to a hotel for three months.

…to be continued. 💕