My Life in Reverse Read online

  It sucks that I have to act like a damn criminal, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. I won’t fuck around when it comes to those kids. MFA insists I take his car if I need to go anywhere. He also suggests I shouldn’t go to the apartment without him. I agree and also decide to pick and drop the kids off from school each day, rather than having the bus drop them off there.

  When MFA gets home, I apologize to him for all the bullshit.

  “Stop that.” He tells me. “You don’t ever need to apologize to me for stuff like this.”

  “It’s stuff you wouldn’t have to deal with if it wasn’t for me.” I point out.

  “I don’t mind.” He assures me.

  I crawl into his lap, still feeling guilty while I worry about what tomorrow may bring.

  2 months ago…

  Every time I see a cop my heart falls into my ass and it’s something that gets old quickly. It also aggravates the fuck out of me. Why should I have to be the one to hide like this?

  Suddenly my phone explodes. Apparently now he has some post about winning custody of the kids. I’m not sure how that’s possible when I still haven’t been served with any papers. What court in their right mind would give a two-time felon recovering heroin addict custody of anything? He doesn’t even have a place of his own!

  Or does he? Marissa texts me that he has a new girlfriend—the poor thing. I wonder if she knows what she’s in for. Likely not. I almost feel bad for her…almost.

  So he does have a place, but still the circumstances seem odd. The kids are with me, safe and enrolled in school. Why would a court do that?

  I just don’t understand.

  But I do decide to take action. I contact a local lawyer I’ve spoken with about my impending divorce and retain her.

  Fucker wants to play?

  We’ll play.

  Suddenly every picture and screenshot I took to remind myself of my sanity has a new meaning. It sucks to have to put it all out there—embarrassing, really. Embarrassing, but necessary.

  I’ll do anything to protect these kids, including bruise my ego.

  That’s just what parents do.

  2 months ago (mid-week)…

  He’s coming. The screenshots of his post come pouring into my phone. A panic attack fully ensues. What in the actual fucking fuck?

  A million thoughts race through my mind. Sure, he can’t find my exact location—not since we’ve moved again—but that’s still too close for comfort.

  My lawyer is doing her thing as fast as she can. I just need to figure out how to buy more time.

  I do what I always do when I’m upset. I clean. I clean everything my hands can reach. Then I climb on things and clean more. It’s then I have an idea.

  It’s one hell of a longshot, that’s for sure. For it to work, he’d still have to be stalking me online. I’m not sure how, since I have him blocked every which way ‘til Tuesday. It’s worth a shot, though.

  I begin to message the friends I’ve made, the people I’ve helped all across the country. I give a brief explanation of what I need and why. The positive response I get overwhelms me.

  It’s simple, really. It turns out his little order is null and void until he serves me. In order for it to work, he has to find me. Basically I see it as my right to make that as hard as fucking possible.

  With a deep breath and a prayer to above, I post about visiting a friend. I go on about a “road trip” and where I plan to go next. I make it public and cross my fingers.

  My back-up plan is way worse, for the record. It consists of mouthing off to him until he puts his hands on me—preferably in front of some type of law enforcement. I know I could get him to do it. I just hope it doesn’t come down to that.

  7 weeks ago…

  Well, dip me in shit and roll me in oats—damned if my little “road trip” plan doesn’t do the trick. Like I’d really drag the kids across the country like that. Marissa is dying as she tells me about his latest post, that he can’t find us. He even goes so far as to post the court order publically and threaten to call an amber alert.

  Dumbass.

  Amber alerts are for abductions when the child’s life is in danger—which is not the case here.

  As for posting the order? Thanks for the favor, asshole! I’ve been trying to get a case number all damn week. I get the picture to my lawyer immediately and reach out to a judge from my home state.

  I’m so glad that I do. With the case number he can confirm that I have nothing to worry about if my lawyer is successful here. In just three weeks I’ll have a court date of my own.

  I just hope I can keep up my online farce until then…

  6 weeks ago…

  MFA and I take the kids camping with his family up north. It’s relaxing and wonderful—and a first for my kids. We swim, fish, grill and hike. It’s kind of perfect.

  We run to the store and when we walk out I say how bright it is. MFA stops to grab cigarettes next and comes out of the gas station with a pair of sunglasses for me. It may seem stupid or like just a little thing—but it’s so much more.

  See, little things add up into big things. Little things (like buying sunglasses, or bringing someone coffee in the morning) add up to much bigger ones. It means that they’re thinking of you. It means that your well-being is important to them.

  It means the world.

  I’m still not used to being taken care of, but I like it. Much like me telling him he’s crazy every time he says I’m awesome. And I swear the man is on a mission to feed me. He doesn’t stop cooking delicious food.

  On a related-note, I’ve gained a few pounds. My ribs no longer protrude from my sides. So I guess his mission is working.

  It’s been a struggle to fight the demons at times, but I’m learning. I’ve also accepted that fact that others are allowed to think I’m great if they want to…even if I’m still on the fence about it sometimes.

  Our vacation isn’t going to last forever, so I enjoy every second while I can.

  5 weeks ago…

  We return home to two very happy dogs. As much fun as it was to go away, it’s just as nice to be home again. MFA has a couple more days off of work. We spend them lazily—a small staycation if you will.

  Reality sets in sooner than I like, as it always seems to do. Soon MFA’s back to work and my court date looms near.

  The court date is bittersweet, too. I have no idea what the outcome will be. This is by no means a typical case. Even though I hope for the best, I fear the worst. And the worst is even suckier than you can imagine.

  Sure, they can rule against me. That’s a definite present fear.

  What’s scarier?

  He knows exactly when and where I’ll be. He’s been served with the papers, unlike his order.

  I don’t know what I fear more, him showing up at court, or him waiting outside to follow me and take matters into his own hands.

  See, this guy has never played by anyone’s rules but his own. I watched him work the system for five years on probation. He had the means to show up here once. What’s going to keep him away now?

  Sometimes life can be scary. Really scary. This is one of those times. Only I know how strong I am now. My self-doubt may be righteous in many aspects, but I know how much strength I hold. What I’m capable of.

  I’ll do anything for my kids. Including risk my life to secure they’re safe.

  And if he does want to show up—in any way, shape, or form—I’ll be ready.

  5 weeks ago (court date)…

  I don’t know why I picked a stupid button up fucking shirt to wear. My hands tremble and make buttoning it up damn near impossible.

  The poor dogs follow me around, feeding off my nervous energy. I keep assuring them that I’m okay, but I’m still a horrible liar.

  They can both see right through me.

  It’s about a twenty minute drive to the courthouse and my chest tightens with every mile. What happens if he’s there? What happens if he’s waiting for me whe
n it’s over? What will happen in court itself? I’ve sure as fuck never done this before.

  The walk from my car to the courthouse doors is perhaps the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I step inside and go through security. They direct me down the hall once I clear it. My lawyer waits for me in a small conference room.

  “I’ll be honest…I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen.” She tells me. “And that’s not something I like to say, but your case is so particular and rare.”

  “That’s okay.” I assure her. My focus is on the contents of the file folder on the table. It’s open.

  I’ve only ever seen the pictures on my phone before—not blown up in full paper size. It takes a moment before I can pull my eyes away.

  “Any other questions?” She asks.

  “No, I think that’s it.”

  They call us into the courtroom. My lawyer directs me to a chair next to her at a table in front of the room. There’s a microphone at the chair. Nobody else in in the room besides us, but it’s still an imposing sight.

  “All rise.”

  The judge enters and again the voice in my head asks wtf we’re going to do if they rule against me. My lawyer does all the talking.

  I barely breathe while I wait.

  “The court dictates full custody to the mother at this time. Should the father want to pursue visitation, it’ll have to be done through the courts with supervised visits,” The judge rules.

  Relief.

  That’s all I feel. That’s the wetness that streams from my eyes down my face. No matter what happens now, those kids are safe.

  And that’s all that matters.

  The judge adjourns the case and I thank my lawyer profusely. I can tell that she feels the relief, too. She’d told me a story early on about a similar case she had when she first began to practice—only backwards. The child in that case paid with their life. She told me right away that she was so glad we escaped when we did. She promises to mail me the order as soon as possible. I ask if it’s safe to drive my own car again and she laughs.

  “Absolutely,” She tells me. “And once you have that order, keep it on you at all times.”

  “Definitely,” I agree.

  I walk past security with a lump in my throat. Apparently a judge doesn’t think I’m crazy or delusional—or any of my evidence. Knowing the kids are safe is worth having it all out there. No matter how embarrassing it all is.

  So far the day couldn’t be going better—but it’s not over yet. I still have to make it out of here safely and ensure that no one follows me. It seems paranoid and maybe I am. But if life has taught me anything it’s that it’s better to be safe—and to always trust your gut.

  I muster every bit of courage I have, march past the security desk, and open the door. It’s a beautiful day, only there’s no time to enjoy it as I scan the parking lot. Nothing looks awry. I walk to my car at a slightly faster than usual pace. I get in and lock the door. Nobody appears to notice me.

  It’s an emotional drive home. I make a few extra stops and turns, but I think that I’m in the clear.

  It’s not until I’m safely in the driveway that I feel a weight lifts off my chest.

  I did it.

  I made it.

  They’re safe.

  I’m safe.

  They’re happy.

  I’m happy.

  It’s surreal.

  It’s amazeballs.

  3 weeks ago…

  Life is good.

  Despite my inner deviousness, I don’t broadcast my victory. I tell my inner circle—of course—but decide it’s not worth it.

  See, despite everything that happened I can’t hold hate in my heart. I can recognize anger and resentment, but even that needs to be let go. Not for him, but for me. For once, I need to do something for myself.

  The more I find out about his current situation, the funnier I find it. I don’t have to use any form of retaliation against him. He does enough damage to himself. I won’t add to that. The fact that he already cheated on his new girlfriend just confirms my suspicions that he was never faithful. Even more so when one of his friend’s confirmed it further, giving me actual names. It was bittersweet. It was also something I needed. Maybe I was never enough for him, but that’s his problem, not mine.

  I owe him nothing. That much I know now.

  I’ll wish him well anyway…even though I’ll likely be laughing hysterically every time karma fucks him. I will do this for me. To hold hate for him still gives him control.

  No, I won’t hate him. I’ll never bash him to the kids—because that’s not what’s best for them.

  He has no hold on me anymore.

  And he never will again.

  Now…

  There are still good and bad days. Fourteen years of abuse doesn’t come at no cost, after all. There are demons that still scream loudly in my mind. They feed off of my deepest fears, telling me I’m worthless. I keep busy and drown them out with music.

  There are still days when I don't know exactly who I am...but what I DO know is what I am NOT. I’m not evil. I’m not a horrible mother or person in general. I’m not a liar or a cheater. I’m not someone who derives pleasure from the pain of others. MFA promises me that all I do when I sleep is snore a bit. I work hard, I love hard, I care hard about those close to me—and I’ll never change that. I’d never want to.

  I still have panic attacks, but they’re few and far between (not to mention more manageable) now. Anxiety is still a motherfucker, but it’s my hope eventually that’ll fade as well.

  Despite how far I’ve come, certain things remain. Nightmares still plague me with flashbacks. Sometimes I still feel like I say something dumb. I worry that maybe I am selfish or horrible—despite knowing I’m not. If something’s wrong, I automatically assume the worst and that it’s my fault.

  I’m not sure that I’ll ever feel I deserve the love of this wonderful man. In my eyes, he deserves the best…something I’m most definitely not. I’ll always be fucked up. I’ll always have days where I cry for reasons no one can help. I’ll always have that darkness inside of me, questioning every move I make. I’ll always overthink everything. And most likely I’ll never really feel like I can be enough…but somehow the universe decided we needed one another—and I’m glad it did.

  I’ll fight every day for inner peace. Some days I may be more triumphant than others, but I’ll never give up. I’ll never conform to anyone’s idea of what I should or shouldn’t be. I’ll never compromise myself or my values for someone—because if they respect me they’ll respect my feelings. If they don’t respect me they can fuck off.

  Now instead of being stuck in hell, my days are filled with happiness from two goofy dogs, two (to three) crazy kids, and one man that makes everything better when he walks through the door. I don’t know what the future will bring. I don’t know—but I have faith. Because despite all my issues, I trust the man I love. I feel safe and cared for. I recognize that these demons are mine to face…but it’s nice that he’s here to hold me while I do. I know he’ll never lie to me, hurt me, break me down, or play with my emotions. There may be a chance one day he’ll break my heart, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take because he’s completely worth it.

  And after everything, isn’t that all that really matters? To be able to pick yourself up from your lowest low and start life anew?

  I think so.

  THE END

  All relationships are different. Only some are toxic.

  If you suspect you’re in a relationship with a narcissist—or have one in your life—beware.

  Warning signs of a narcissist:

  1) They seem to have different personalities. Real people have moods, sure—but actual different personalities for different situations? No.

  2) Nothing is ever their fault. They never take the blame for their actions (in their eyes they do no wrong) and they never apologize.

  3) They put you down or place blame on you.

>   4) They make you unsure of your thoughts or memories.

  You’re not crazy. I promise you. There’s help available. Save yourself <3

  I’ve written many books and all of them are dear to me in some form or another. This book however, is personal.

  While this is a work of fiction, certain parts are based on real life events.

  Events I lived through.

  Circumstances I survived.

  The purpose of this work is to spread awareness. Narcissistic Victims Syndrome is real, it’s abusive, and it’s incredibly harmful.

  You can find the article that helped saved my life here:

  http://www.elephantjournal.com/2015/10/understanding-the-language-of-narcissistic-abuse/

  Certain books today romanticize a controlling relationship. There’s nothing wrong with this, as long as the reader recognizes that it’s fiction. In reality, there’s nothing romantic about someone who wants to control every facet of your life. If someone loves you, they should love all of you, not what they try to make you into. Don’t let fiction cloud your reality—I beg you. Don’t confuse passion for caring.

  Never let another individual break you down. Don’t allow their negativity to get to you. Be cautious of your relationships and who you give your trust to. Don’t allow someone’s glamourous nature to shroud their true colors.

  And always—ALWAYS—trust your gut. <3

  1) The Strokes, Kiss This

  2) Nine Inch Nails, Every Day is Exactly the Same

  3) Middle Class Rut, New Low

  4) Cold War Kids, First

  5) The Neighbourhood, Float

  6) System of a Down, Lonely Day

  7) The Strumbellas, Spirits

  8) Staind, Mudshovel

  9) Chevelle, Send the Pain Below

  10) Lee Dewyze, Blackbird Song

  11) Xambassadors, Unsteady

  12) A Perfect Circle, Magdalena

  13) Tool, Jambi

  14) Metallica, Nothing Else Matters