Unraveling situations and scenarios over the past 9 months has brought so much peace. Rather than beating a dead horse, taking time to figure things out has helped solidify the ground beneath my feet.
At this point, I’m ready to use my writing to shed light, validate, and set free. If you need any of these things, buckle up and get comfy cause I’m setting aside this post for some very personal comparisons to research I’ve been doing.
I was told this past week that when we’re wearing rose-colored glasses, red flags just look like flags. Yikes.
Sociopathic and Psychopathic tendencies start with Antisocial Personality Disorder. Sociopathy tends to be characterized by a lack of conscience and ability to form many true emotional bonds, but psychopathy means zero conscience or personal bonds. I am not licensed to diagnose, but trusty ol’ Google checklists for APD and Sociopathy fit my experiences nearly 100%. So, that felt oddly relieving.
According to the DSM-5, traits of APD include:
- Violation of physical or emotional rights of others
- Lack of stability in job or home life
- Irritability and aggressiveness
- Lack of remorse
- Consistent irresponsibility
- Recklessness, impulsivity
- Deceitfulness
- Coinciding symptoms from childhood (before age 15)
I was flippantly told multiple stories from his childhood about rebellion, lying, and getting in trouble with authority. His driving was aggressive, earning him multiple tickets. It scared me numerous times. I’ll never forget a time in San Francisco when he purposefully drove his truck out of the way through a flooded corner, sending a massive wall of water straight up into the air that came crashing down on a crowd of people waiting to cross the street. Time slowed down as I heard yelling and watched what felt like a movie scene. I was in shock for several blocks while he bounced up and down in the driver’s seat like a big kid in a puddle. It was reckless, cruel, and showed a total disregard for decency. He didn’t just splash those people; he completely drenched them and had to have ruined their days. I felt sick to my stomach and wish I’d reacted differently now, but at that point my discernment had faded and I deferred to him.
I was watching Richard Grannon’s youtube video on Covert Narcissists and found it to be one of the most well-rounded explanations I’ve seen. The more examples he gave, the more memories came back. Here are some notes I took and their associated memories:
This is all a spectrum of a disorder. Some might be a complex mix of both sides depending on the day and their mood or emotional state.
- Unlike an overt (or extroverted) narcissist, the covert seems to be more self-doubting or can be depressed or low-energy. Doesn’t handle stress well. Has tendencies toward depression.
In public, he was extremely high-energy and intense. In private, (more as time went on), there was a heaviness or something often weighing him down that I felt the need to support. Stress, family drama, work, something was always burdening him. Eventually, I became one of those things weighing him down and needed to be more aware of it (according to his friend Kimmy Jane Powers). Time together was marked by trying to keep things “positive” and “having some damn fun for once.”
- They tend to project their own insecurities or defects on to you.
One day, I would hear a speech on budget and how “we’re broke” because I’m so expensive or spend so much. Hours later when I’d suggest we cook at home to save money, he would insist we eat dinner at the most expensive sushi restaurant in Sacramento. I was constantly confused by inconsistency.
Many times I’d come home to $300+ of Whole Foods groceries in the fridge. Not just basics, but specialty items he “wanted to try.” I still remember the shrug of his shoulders when I peered around the freezer door and asked him about the organic vodka (does organic even matter at that point? Genuinely curious), especially in light of his critical comments on alcohol. He said once or twice that he wanted our house to be “an alcohol free home.” He would set new rules, but change them when he pleased, often joking about my “wine problem.”
- Ostentatiously vulnerable. Extreme sob stories, sympathy-garnering. Theatrical displays of emotion.
A classic N doesn’t want sympathy because they view themselves as above it. But a covert does want you to feel sympathy. He would shed actual tears when we would sit together watching movies or just cuddling on the couch, and I would think “geez how damaged are you that this moment means this much?” Something in my gut turned. (I’m obviously an empathetic person, but even I secretly rolled my eyes in those moments!) My mom still references the night she and my dad told us they were giving us money for the wedding. My ex’s crocodile tears and contorted face felt disproportionate to the moment and the amount they were giving. I definitely was emotional and thankful, but they still talk about the grand scale of his reaction and how uncomfortable it made everyone.
- Classic & covert N’s have grandiose fantasies but the covert has more awareness of what demonstrating those fantasies could mean. “If I tell everyone I want to take over the world, they’ll judge me.” A covert can’t handle criticism.
One moment, someone he knew was a genius. The next, they were idiots. He is extremely active on social media, especially Twitter, and he would fly into picking fights and arguments that he would gleefully show me, especially around Christian topics. I’d feel uncomfortable with the insults he’d quickly throw at people crossing him, and embarrassed at the lack of Christlike character it showed. In fact, many times he had opportunities to share grace and love with those who had differing beliefs, and instead he cornered and shamed them, calling them out. He would flip things quickly on anyone who dared question him.
- They’re extremely self-entitled. They believe they have rights to more than the average person because they’re special. Actually arrogant. A classic N will never apologize, but a covert might eventually apologize… if it serves their purpose in that moment, which is self-preservation.
See Episode 8 of the “Something Was Wrong” Podcast: “There is Much to Confess.”
- Strong desire to be a rescuer and “good as gold,” morally superior person. Will tend toward publically charitable acts, often a pillar in their church or community.
My ex could quote Scripture backward and forward, hold theological discussions with church leadership, and was quick to deconstruct the flaws in any given church’s infrastructure. He very frequently mentioned his brother’s position of church eldership. I remember early on in our relationship, he handed $20 to a homeless person we walked by and later told me he kept 20 dollar bills in his pocket at all times for those exact opportunities. Later on behind closed doors (especially sitting in the car while waiting for people to cross the street), and eventually in public places like coffee shops and grocery stores, he would refer to people as fat, ugly, or worthless. Sayings like “move along grandma… you’ll be dead soon anyway” were common. One moment his extended family was super close in a way I “could never understand.” In the next, it wasn’t worth visiting them because they were going to kick the bucket soon. We were at Blue Bottle in Oakland when he called someone fat out loud well within earshot of that person, and I began scanning the doors for my exit strategy. He claimed he could say things like that because he used to be fat too.
You don’t say! There was a particularly dramatic night where he was driving up for the weekend, and my roommate and I were in my car on our way back home to meet him with movie night snacks. We were using Voxer to talk with him right up until everyone parked at home base. I was so excited for an entire weekend with a couple of my favorite people! I grabbed the bags from the car, crossed the parking lot to greet him while my roommate continued on into the house, and when I saw his posture I paused. Something felt different. Studying him and being sensitive, I set the grocery bags on the ground to hug him and was met with stony silence. My countenance fell and everything shifted. Analyzing every response, I got very quiet and in my head. What was wrong, and how could I fix it?
Once we were alone in my room I asked what was going on. He said, “to be honest I’m strongly considering heading back home.” (It had taken him 3 hours in traffic to get to my house.) I was stunned. “I don’t feel wanted here. When we were Voxing in the car and you were with your roommate, I could hear the happiness in your voice. You didn’t show nearly the same excitement once you saw me. It’s fine, I’ll just spend the weekend at home. I have plenty of work I can get done.” I was devastated and scrambling to recover whatever I’d done wrong. The idea of him turning right back around seemed ludicrous. I had no frame of reference for what he meant because I was ecstatic to see him. It was just a misunderstanding! When I tried to explain that I tempered my excitement after noticing he seemed down and I didn’t want to be insensitive, he shook his head like I was being silly and trying to cover something he could see right through. “It’s ok, you don’t need to make excuses. You’re easier to read than you think. It’s very simple: you’re more excited to be with your roommate and that’s fine. I don’t want to get in the way of anything.” I begged him to stay. Pleaded for him to give it some time. The weirdness would wear off and we’d have a blast. He agreed to wait it out a little bit but things were precarious. It completely deflated our evening and had me walking on eggshells all night. We never watched a movie with my roommate because that time was spent talking in my room.
Need I share more lies, though? I’m sorry, podcast listeners:
It was in that same Blue Bottle on a Thursday afternoon that I saw one of the letters Bryan and Kimmy sent me on his laptop screen. I froze and watched as he swiftly closed it with a few keystrokes, his face expressionless. We went about our work date, my heart racing and mind running wild. Surely if he’d written those letters he wouldn’t be sloppy enough to leave it open on a laptop he’d be letting me use…? It wasn’t until hours later, at dinner (I still remember the really cool Asian restaurant we discovered in Oakland), that he tilted his head like a parent would toward a child and said, “When are you going to talk to me about what you saw earlier today?” The weirdest conversation proceeded. He had an explanation as to why “Bryan” had sent him an electronic copy for safe-keeping in case the hard copies got lost in the mail, but his point was my failure in how I handled the situation. Rather than bottle everything up and “ruin our lovely afternoon together,” I should’ve communicated better in order for him to simply explain so we could move on. I was in tears over how poorly I’d handled my distrust.
Now I have on record that as he calmly gazed into my eyes and held my hand across the candlelit table, resolving to love me well while navigating these learning opportunities for me, my churning stomach and racing heart were right. He was lying.
- Minimizing your emotions and feelings in favor of theirs.
If I was upset, he’d wind up saying, “maybe I did ___ to you [yet to be proven], but YOU did ____, ____, and ____ to ME!”
This scenario doubles as an example of gaslighting:
He was folding clothes by my bed one evening and said, “Well I’d never share a secret with you.” I paused what I was doing and looked up, surprised, wondering where he was going with this. For some reason, he threw on a fake New Jersey accent and waved his hand flippantly as he said, “Yeah! You’re loose-lipped!” as if it was obvious and went about his business.
For some reason this – of all things – pierced my heart. Emotions came but I shoved them down and started thinking through examples he might be referring to. One of the things I value most is treasuring the personal information of my friends. If they trust me with something, I hold it close. I want my friends to feel safe. Somehow he’d known this comment would get under my skin. Later while I was getting ready for bed in the bathroom, the tears started coming and I couldn’t stop them. I closed the door and sat down, turning the fan and faucet on so he wouldn’t hear me crying and praying. If I was a gossip, help me see and change it. Well, apparently he could hear me (oops) and he asked who I was talking to in the bathroom. When I regained control and came out, he looked at me like I was crazy. I was straightforward and told him exactly what I wrote at the beginning of this paragraph so that he could understand why his words hurt me so badly. “So to hear those words from my fiance, the person whose opinion I hold in the highest regard, cut really deep. I asked myself, what must I be doing wrong if my own fiance doesn’t trust me with his secrets?” I was mortified over the tears that forced their way down my face all over again, and now the shame and embarrassment made me feel like a little kid.
He actually laughed, shaking his head! “Aww honey, you just… that’s not what I said!” Ohhhh me. Taking things personally yet again.
I had the wherewithal at that moment to hold my ground. Clarity kept me focused and I knew what he’d said. Suddenly his explanation changed from claiming he hadn’t said it, to having said it but I’d completely misread the whole thing. What then proceeded from his mouth is apparently something called Word Salad. A cornered narcissist will spin you up in so many words that you’ll forget the origin of the conversation, forget your own point, and somehow end up at fault for something you still don’t understand. All I remember is apologizing just to end the mess, him chuckling at my overreacting while continuing to fold clothes, and our night moving on. Me a little smaller than before.
- Withholding affection / Giving the silent treatment
A month or so before the wedding, he started this game around withholding affection. He’d give me a hug or kiss, then playfully push me away like he was “discarding” me and look back like he expected me to come back for more. Although I sort of saw the humor in it (because I was open & trusted where I stood with him), looking back, it made me feel hurt, insecure and confused around how to play along. When I’d do it back to him (to subconsciously see how he liked it), he’d pout and give me the silent treatment for a while.
It felt unfair.
It’s taken me nearly a year to break apart and analyze every mystery, every gut-punch, every moment of confusion. Just recently I remembered his family asking me about my medical career while having dinner in Colorado. I cleared up their confusion while distinctly noticing awkward tension and his lack of comment. He’d lied to his family about my job, inflating my position and giving me a title I’ve never had.
The more I piece together, the more freedom and healing comes. It has nothing to do with exposing him as a person, but everything to do with re-constructing my own sense of reality, up from down, right from wrong. With opening the eyes of anyone who reads this and needs it, because your freedom and empowerment matters. YOU matter. Your preferences, feelings, quirks, looks, secrets, weaknesses, strengths… they all matter.
