Psychological Violation

February 24, 2013

M,

     Now that I know of your condition, I have pretty much become a completely inconsolable wreck.  Part of me pities you for your inability to ever know love as I have, part of me fears you and part of me hates you with a seething rage I have never known before this.  The idea that you have most likely tricked girl after girl into thinking you are their soul mate makes my stomach churn and my heart feel as if it is about to burst into flames.  The idea that everything I felt for you was based on lies burns me to the center of my existence.  You made me into a willing participant in a mindfuck that violated my very soul.  All this time you were coaxing me to let go of fear, to open myself to you.  And I did.  I gave of myself and my body more openly to you than to any other lover of my life.  You took that and ran, all the while jealously guarding your own precious psyche.  How fucking unfair. 

***

     The first few months after discovering M’s disorder were a conflicted time.  I was still so programmed to empathize with him, to try and understand him from the inside out that I couldn’t help but pity this broken man and wish there was some way I could heal him.  I had the mistaken belief that with my unconditional love, I could cure what had been broken for most likely his whole life.  If I just continued to sacrifice my morals, my self-worth, and my emotional needs in order to gain validation and security, perhaps I could make this man believe in his own self-worth so he could stop using others to create the illusion of self-esteem.  This was the catch-22 of the whole situation:  I wanted to continue allowing him to use and abuse me in order to get him to stop using and abusing me and others. 

     Rage was the main thing that kept me from pursuing this course of action.  Reality was finally starting to sink in as I realized that the damage most likely went far beyond A and I.  I had contacted one of M’s other female friends and although she denied being a victim of his poor behavior, she did allude to his “jedi mind tricks” and the numerous episodes of heartbreak his actions had caused to other women over the years.  It began to sound as if the game he was playing with A and I was just the latest incident in an oft-repeating pattern.  As much as I wanted to believe that what M and I had was special, it was becoming apparent that my love for him was based on a ruse he had created, more than any reciprocated feelings.

     Eventually, I was able to admit to myself that this man had never acted with love towards me. I started hearing the “concerned and loving” tone in his voice as the patronizing and superior tone that it truly was. I started to realize that my insecurities were stemming from his poor behavior, and not from any lack of fortitude on my part. Once I could no longer listen to his words without seeing through his façade, it became absurd for me to continue trying to maintain a friendship with him. Everything he said sounded insincere and hollow.

     I began experiencing symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as I came to terms with the idea that I had been in love with a disordered abuser. Though I admit that I was never raped in the sense of having someone force themselves upon me physically, I could think of no better way to describe what had happened to me than as a “psychological rape.” M had presented himself to me as a certain kind of person, lying to me every step of the way as I fell deeper and deeper in love with him. He knew exactly how I felt about him, yet he had continued the charade with both me and A for MONTHS as he whittled down my self esteem and willingness to stand up for myself. As A and I compared notes, it began to sound as if we had both known a different person. It became apparent that this “soul mate” of mine, was someone that I did not truly know at all. I began to question who it was that I had said all of those loving words to, who I had let touch my body in such intimate ways. I felt chilled as I realized I had no idea who I had been allowing into my bed for the last nine months, and no idea how many other beds he had been in during that time. I felt violated, yet my body still ached for this monster. The cognitive dissonance became physically painful as I tried to sort illusion from reality. My brain flipped back and forth incessantly between loving this man and being absolutely terrified of him. The constant battle raging inside my brain was taking its toll as it distracted me from everything and caused a state of perpetual exhaustion. It was becoming glaringly obvious that I could not handle this alone, so I sought the guidance of a counselor.

     I discovered that counseling services were available to me for free as a student, so I made my first appointment and tried to hold onto reality until then.