What Made You Finally Leave The Narcissist?
Like most victims of domestic violence and narcissistic abuse, it took several escape attempts before I finally left my Malignant Narcissist husband for good.
We had been together for 18 years.
And I took my share of abuse throughout those years.
I won’t go into the dynamics of why it took so long for me to leave permanently.
But it definitely wasn’t because I enjoyed being abused.
That is such a horrible thing for a victim to be accused of.
Especially when it’s coming from people she cares about.
As much as I hated the abuse, I had been willing to accept it.
Because I erroneously believed it was the right thing to do for my child.
In hindsight, it was the worst thing.
I thought he needed both parents.
Under normal circumstances, that is the way it should be. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
My now-14-year-old son, who is autistic, had seen his father choke me to the point of passing out.
He had seen his father put a gun to my head and tell me he was going to blow my fucking head off.
He had seen entirely too much violence already.
The straw that broke the camel’s back, though, was when my child witnessed his father crack my skull.
At the time he had just turned 12.
When he saw blood begin to spurt from my head, he stood up to his abusive father in an attempt to protect me.
His father rewarded him by throwing a large speaker at him.
The speaker landed on my son’s foot and basically crushed his big toe.
I had no idea at the time just how bad that injury would turn out to be.
To this day, he still has issues with his toe as a result of his father’s abuse.
Because narcissists are cowards, my husband didn’t stick around and take responsibility for his actions.
Although I pressed charges, and warrants were issued for his arrest, he had fled the area.
It wasn’t until several months later that he was finally taken into custody.
The injury to my head turned out to be pretty bad. Really bad.
The following morning, my head was grotesquely swollen. And most of my face was black and blue.
It took a while, but I eventually recovered. At least physically.
I’m still haunted by the expression on my baby’s face that day.
He tried so hard not to show any fear, and to protect his mom.
He paid dearly for his efforts, though.
That incident is what made me realize that there was no line the narc wouldn’t cross.
And that he could kill our son just as easily as he could kill me.
I had to make sure that never happened.
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Originally Answered On Quora.
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