I Married A Dangerous Covert Narcissist

“Covert-aggression is at the heart of most interpersonal manipulation. What the artful, subtle fighter knows is that if they can get you to doubt yourself, feel like you have to explain yourself, and question your perceptions and judgment, there’s a good chance they can get you to back down, back off, or better still, cave-in."

- Dr. George Simon, Author of Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing 

The Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Covert narcissism, also known as vulnerable or closet narcissism, is a subtype of narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). Unlike the more well-known overt or grandiose narcissism, where individuals display outward arrogance and a sense of entitlement, without empathy. Covert narcissists tend to be less overt and more subtle in their narcissistic traits.

It is often harder to diagnose than overt narcissism because the behaviours are less conspicuous and may resemble traits found in other personality disorders. It's essential to recognize that narcissism exists on a spectrum, and some individuals may have a mix of both covert and overt narcissistic traits.

Understanding these traits can be helpful for those in relationships with covert narcissists, as it allows them to set boundaries and seek support to get out. I almost lost my life to this type of relationship and no amount of money would ever make me go back to that life again. The following traits are what I have found in the person I married:

Initially too nice; supernaturally "good"

A constant state of discontent and strain

Lack of assertiveness

Passive aggression

Judgmental and critical

Quiet smugness, scornful

Dismissive of wife's opinions, beliefs, experiences, needs

Self Absorbed, conceited

Ungrateful

Unable to enjoy the moment

Wounded hero

Lack of empathy

Lack of meaningful connection

Dependant on wife for self-esteem

Sensitive to criticism

Guilt-tripping

Gaslighting

Blame shifting

What I have realized is those of us that end up with these characters are often conscientous and want to help. We take on their pain and strife as we feel this loveless feeling inside them that needs to be filled. Often we dont see this type of guy coming as we would never participate in these behaviours ourselves so we dont recognize when they are being levelled against us. 

So many times we just dont want to think bad of others as well and even want help them see their greatness while all the while they take advantage of the kindness to feed ego driven desires at our expense. And once we see these traits, we are convinced that they can change if they just had the right person to love them and since we have the capacity to love hard we convince ourselves we can do this.

I've come to understand that they don't want to change if the behaviours work for them. If they have no empathy or regret for the harm they inflict on others then there is no self reflection desired. And if there are no negative consequences for them in any shape or form, then there is no desire to get help. If they enjoy who they are pretending to be and get rewards from it, forget them ever authentically becoming the great guy/girl you wish they were.




By The Time I Figured It Out It was Almost Too Late

I was well on my way to physical and mental illness before I realized what was happening to me. The emotional and psychological abuse that was inflicted on me had taken its toll. I found myself stuck in debt, sick mentally and physically, unable to work, a destroyed credit rating, and zero savings to escape with. It was one month after my 21st wedding anniversary when I discovered the word "narcissist" while reading a book called "The Most Dangerous Personalities." I bolted upright in bed, realizing that the source of my agony was this very word. 

Navigating a relationship with a covert narcissist was almost impossible for me. It was emotionally and psychologically devastating, due to its challenging and confusing aspects. At its worst, it was insanity-inducing. And it was undetected by me as he hid who he was behind a façade of humility and vulnerability, which he professed quite proficiently.

The Doting Father

Six months before the wedding, I gave birth to my daughter. Initially, I couldn't ask for a better father for her but after the wedding day he shifted all his attention to the baby. It seemed as though he no longer needed me emotionally, even going so far as to claim that this was my own sentiment. At the time, I failed to realize that he was projecting his own thoughts and feelings onto me, making it appear as though I no longer required his presence. Additionally, he tended to be rarely there when I needed him most. 

As time passed, he showed me little respect as a mother. I began to question whether he was mirroring the dynamics of his own parents' relationship, diminishing my role as a mother by treating me with disrespect. Even at an early age, children would be able to sense the disdain with which one parent was treated. Despite these concerns about his behaviour, I went on to have four kids altogether, each time facing numerous obstacles related to his conduct.

My own desires, needs, and the determination to later address the adult responsibilities of raising children were met with disdain. He insisted that the kids would not be treated as our children but rather as if they were his friends. Once again, I was deemed not good enough, not smart enough, and my body faced criticism due to the effects of pregnancy. Over time, burnout, depression, anger, and resentment crept in, leaving me feeling like mostly a single parent—not just to four kids but to 5 dependents.

The Wedding Day

During the wedding day I was not acknowledged or welcomed into the family. His mother, in particular, made the day all about her family, neglecting any recognition for me and my family. A few of my new in-laws took the time to acknowledge me but the majority didnt.

He, as usual, was placed on a pedestal by his parents and I was disregarded. While this scenario is not uncommon for women married to narcissists, for me, it solidified the nagging intuition that I would never have a life of my own with him. It felt as if I would always be ranked below even the family dog in importance as long as I was married to his parents' golden child.

The Mask Fell Off

The day after the wedding, while driving to the gift opening, I discovered that everything he had promised me was a lie. Our agreement to lead a happy life through travel and owning a better house than the dilapidated one we lived in turned out to be a colossal ruse on his part. Without warning, he sat straight ahead in the driver's seat and blindsided me with the news that we wouldn't be going on a honeymoon. I sat in shock and demanded to know why. He claimed we couldn't afford it and turned to look at me with hatred in his eyes. His eyes said it all: “I make the money, I make the rules. We're married now.”

A sense of dread and panic swept through me. Glancing down at my 6-month-old daughter in her car seat between us, I had this helpless feeling; an unspoken realization that I was in dangerous situation. In my mind, I heard and saw jail cell bars and the clanging of a prison door. An intense feeling washed over me, as if I had just entered prison and was facing a life sentence and it would be a long time before I could get out. 

Anger overcame panic, and I retorted angrily that we would be going. After all, it was meticulously planned down to the last detail, just like the wedding. How could we not go? He fell silent, clearly furious, and I felt sick. The honeymoon was a long-awaited trip within our country, and it marked the first time in six years that I would be visiting my dad's side of the family, who lived far away.

Moreover, he had vehemently promised that if we married, we would travel often, fulfilling my love for exploration. He assured me that eventually, we would move to a prosperous place without his family's influence. I couldn't come to terms with the fact that everything I knew was a lie, and I had just been deceived.

Once we reached the gift opening, he got out and strolled up ahead of me into my parents' shop, carrying the baby in her car seat. He instantly began charming the large group of family and guests gathered, acting as though he was God's gift to women and children.

How I Coped In The Beginning

For many years, I endured this relationship, convincing myself that deep down, it had to be my fault. I was oblivious to what was happening, unsure of how to extricate myself from the situation, and questioning whether it was even possible. It seemed easier to shoulder the blame for his behavior, to believe that I needed to fix myself, to be better, so he could revert to being Mr. Perfect. Accepting fault became a coping mechanism; it felt easier to believe it was my responsibility.

Perhaps I needed to change my attitude and allow him to do as he pleased? After all, he had never frightened me like this before, so it must have been something I did or who I am that warranted this treatment. I made a vow to do whatever it took to make him happy.

What I didn't realize was that this undertaking would be an impossible feat, as making a narcissist happy is an unattainable goal. This decision would prove to be detrimental, driving me to the brink of madness and marking the beginning of the end of my identity—a journey that would take me years to reclaim.

The Honeymoon

We did manage to go on the honeymoon, but as I later discovered, he tried his best to spoil the trip with constant pouting and a refusal to cooperate with even the smallest things; a pattern that would persist during every vacation and event for the next 27 years. This was especially true if the occasion didn't involve him receiving a massive amount of attention or some other benefit, like his favorite foods and booze.

Due to the stress of the wedding and his mother's interference, I had become run down and fell sick with the flu during the trip. It was likely due to nerves, but nonetheless, I was very ill. He appeared indifferent, solely focused on reaching our destination so we could promptly return home to his family.

On our way through the mountains to our destination, we encountered a half-ton truck that had missed a corner and collided with the side of a semi that was turning towards us on the highway. The traffic moved slowly, navigating winding curves along rock faces, so unfortunately, we crept by, having front-row seats to this horrific collision

It was clear that the driver of the half-ton was deceased as the front of the truck was buried well into the side of the semi. The driver of the semi was standing outside his truck bowed with his head down on the hood. He was clearly distraught.

The scene seemed to set the tone for the rest of the trip and what I noticed was that my new husband didn't seem to be rattled at all by what we had just witnessed. He especially didn't seem to be empathetic to the semi-driver or victim even though he was a semi-driver himself. This I chalked up to him not being female and sensitive. Another bad sign I should have paid closer attention to when I look back on it and know what I know now.

I honestly felt sick at the sight of this accident, praying it wasn't someone's teenager and how the family would feel hearing the police give them the news. Did the semi-driver know the victim? I thought of all the sad possibilities. He didn't say much. I had that bad ominous feeling again as we drove down the road that something wasn't right with him.

For years after this incident, I found myself listening to his perspective on situations like this one. I later learned that, in his eyes, the dead person in that particular situation was probably at fault for their own demise. This callous viewpoint extended to rape and murder victims as well, where he placed blame on them for wearing a dress or making other choices that, in his opinion, led to their unfortunate circumstances. 

When we watched television shows depicting real criminal events, he displayed a lack of empathy for the victims. Rather than quietly inquiring about his perspective, I often became angry at his ignorant outlook. As usual, I attributed it to him being in a bad mood or, at most, trying to provoke a reaction.

To cope with this disturbing rhetoric, I began adopting his mother's viewpoint—that it was all talk and his father was to blame for his coldness, as they were similar and spent a considerable amount of time together. I wanted to believe this explanation, but something felt off.

He Ruined Every Trip and Special Day

Once at our destination, we visited my side of the family, which included my aunt and uncle's house. My cousin, her partner, and his bandmates were also present that first evening. I was grateful to be there, somewhat forgetting about the traumatizing incident on the way to the gift opening. I was just happy to be with family, especially since they lived in a beautiful location overlooking a pristine lake.

One night, as we sat at the dinner table, he readjusted his chair position, and one of the legs came down on the top of my bare foot. I screamed in agony, as it was likely the most painful thing I had ever experienced, even considering the recent childbirth. The chair remained on my foot for several seconds until I could convey what was happening.

Once he realized what he had done, he removed the chair, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Surprisingly, he didn't console me or offer an apology. Instead, he appeared completely embarrassed, perhaps because his mistake made him look bad. I couldn't get past how he acted as if he were the one who had been harmed, not the other way around, as I sat there, clutching my foot and trying not to cry. 

I couldn't quite gauge everyone else's reactions in the room, but I assumed they might have thought I was overreacting to the incident. He had a way of controlling the energy in the room, regardless of the circumstances and I felt this awkwardness while I reached down to soothe my foot that I feared was broken.

Later in the evening, behind closed doors, I found myself apologizing for my reaction, even as I emphasized that I was not overreacting; it had genuinely hurt, and the pain lingered. This act of apologizing to him for his actions would become the most obvious and frequent occurrence in our relationship from this point on, proving to be the most damaging to my psyche.

In an attempt to appease his initial lack of enthusiasm for the trip, I took it upon myself to smooth things over by suggesting activities and places that would cater to his preferences—specific restaurants and events that held an appeal solely for him

A Sign of Things to Come 

He had already decided that we would visit his uncle, who happened to be his dad's brother, along with his uncle's ex-wife and cousin. Although I had never met them, I had heard that the uncle and his wife had divorced, primarily due to his uncle's alcoholism and gambling.

Upon arriving at his uncle's place, Mr. Pout vanished, and Mr. Perfect made a return. Unbeknownst to me before the visit, his cousin also showed up, and I later learned that they lived together. I was taken aback by their appearances; it was evident that they struggled financially and resided in what seemed to be a low-rent apartment in the rough side of the city

His cousin shockingly resembled the infamous serial killer, Richard Ramirez. Though friendly, he was off-putting with his ragged appearance and strong smell of hashish and marijuana. The uncle appeared depressed and unkempt, lacking a welcoming demeanour. Despite his efforts, it was clear he was going through a tough time. On the other hand, his cousin was sociable and eager to interact. Perhaps due to drug-related issues, he openly commented on my attractiveness, a sentiment my partner echoed eagerly. This attention made me uncomfortable, and when we had moments alone, I expressed to my husband that I found the cousin creepy and wanted to leave.

Attempts to heat my daughter's baby food in the kitchenette were thwarted by burnt hash and knives in the cupboard and microwave. Strangely, my husband didn't seem concerned. Looking back, I realize he was more focused on the attention he was receiving than our safety and comfort.

During the visit, I sensed much left unsaid. I questioned the cousin's abrupt departure to "pick up something" after arriving and his uncle's eye-rolling when his son got up to leave, hinting at potential drug involvement. It had become obvioius that addiction was a common theme in this apartment.

Later, when we went out for supper, we were told that we had to wait for another man to arrive. In his mid 50s, he introduced himself as the uncle's assistant. It seemed unusual as if it were a condition related to some criminal activity that required an escort for the uncle. Regardless, this man definitely emanated a mysterious and shady vibe.

I tried to dismiss the weirdness, but I couldn't shake the feeling of unease around all these men. As the marriage progressed, this unsettling feeling persisted in my house and around my children's father. Over the years, a feeling of secrets, an increasing creep factor, suspicions of drug use, and questionable associates became commonplace in association with him as well.

The next visit was with his aunt, the ex-wife of the uncle we had just visited. She lived in a much brighter, cleaner, and well-to-do condo on the other side of the city. Being possibly in her 60s, it didn't take long to notice her considerable anxiety. Prior to leaving for our honeymoon, I was informed that she had battled cancer, and while most of her organs had been removed, enough tissue remained for her to still be alive—an incredulous revelation.

Despite her challenges, she was pleasant and openly spoke of her faith. She candidly discussed the abusive nature of her ex-husband, who struggled with alcohol and gambling addictions, leading to bad choices that resulted in the loss of their home. Her religious beliefs were overshadowed by her well-being, and eventually she left him.

For her, every one of her achievements was attributed to the presence of a higher power assisting her in every aspect of life. During a struggle to find a photo album, she praised God when my husband found a stool to help her retrieve it from the top shelf. Repeatedly, she exclaimed, "Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, God, thank you for helping me find this album and for this stool." 

Despite my limited knowledge, it was clear she had been in  hard times and turned to religion as a coping mechanism. Regardless of the reasons, she was the first person I thought of once the abuse became apparent in my life, recalling that visit and recognizing how I had become the same way—filled with anxiety and clinging to spirituality for dear life.

His grandmother had also been accused of being a religious zealot, jumping from one faith to another, a common element I could relate to. Desperately trying to understand what was happening to me and them, apparently, became a consistent struggle. 

I also came to realize that I was the third generation of women married to the men in that family that fled in the night from potential danger of their husbands. And would return many times for the same reasons.

More Female Attention .....

The next visit on the list was with my two female cousins. Once again, he played the hero, and I was the fortunate one he had chosen. They showered him and the baby with adoration, and he basked in the attention, responding with polite niceties. As long as his needs were met, he portrayed himself as Mr. Awesome. Meanwhile, I found myself being treated rudely because I refused to be fake.

This was the recurring theme throughout the entire marriage and divorce. Against the backdrop of his spectacular personality, I appeared deficient and was even blamed for everything. Whether it was the chair being planted on top of my foot, crying out in pain or any other signs of me being a real human being with true emotions and reactions to events and other people, everything was perceived as flawed, and something was deemed wrong with me. And even that I was a bad person.

He Could Convince Me to Dislike Anyone, Even Myself

If there was one thing he excelled at, it was turning me against anyone who upset him. This included  his old female classmates and friends, bank tellers, tire dealers, his own sisters and even myself. 

With a supernatural ability to tell a story of how someone wronged him in just one sentence and a massive lie, combined with heavy sighing and exaggerated eye-rolling, he had even me convinced that I was a bad person. I understand it makes no sense, but unless you've had contact with someone with extreme manipulation and gaslighting abilities, it's challenging to grasp how thoroughly you can be deceived. 

A Fake Marriage with the Golden Child

Once home, we were bombarded with demands from his parents. Not a single week went by for about a year without 4-5 late-night calls claiming some emergency, insisting my partner needed to drive the two miles, regardless of the weather, to rescue her. Even with his father present, it wasn't enough. Once there, he would realize that the only urgent matter was getting him down there so she could see him and probably get him away from me.

It didn't stop there. She would volunteer him for every single community function without any regard for my plans or feelings. I had no say with him in any regard. Whether someone had a flat tire or any other issue, regardless of the weather or time, they both would call him to the rescue. We had no life of our own at home, and trying to get him to take a trip away from them was like pulling teeth.

Our financial decisions were also not our own, with constant interference from his parents, primarily his mother. I was never included in any business decisions regarding the farm, acreage, and machinery. She made sure she made every decision with him.

Somehow, every elderly family member managed to will their land and possessions to my husband, causing significant tension between me and them. I was not responsible for this situation, as I couldn't comprehend how he became the sole beneficiary of every piece of willed land and machinery. I questioned the fairness of it all, but my concerns fell on deaf ears.

The decisions they made for our lives were often so absurd that it was difficult to believe. I was left to endure the disdain of his four siblings because we were somehow favoured by the older members of the family. If I resisted these intrusions in my life on either side, I was met with contemptuous retorts. In other words, I would pay for arguing with these people.

He always praised his family, emphasizing the imagined financial gains we would make in the end from willed property. These figures were always delusional, but he tried his best to convince me they were true. Busy with four kids to raise, I didn't have time or energy to investigate further and initially ignored him until I could no longer overlook the discrepancies, especially once the kids got older.

He Was Almost Never Home

From the beginning of our relationship, he was determined to obtain his Class 1A license and drive a semi, hauling logs and cattle over short and long distances. By the time we were married, he had settled into driving locally at a wood cutting location two hours away. Despite the short distance, he would be gone for 2-3 weeks at a time. It became a common joke that those with husbands working short distances but never coming home were having affairs or leading double lives.

I also noticed his growing preoccupation with his appearance, adopting a new sex appeal he hadn't displayed before. Although I didn't question him about it, he seemed to be adopting my persona, leading to a decline in my confidence and self-esteem. Things were starting to turn dark for me, with constant preoccupation about his activities, whereabouts, and financial confusion.

Did She See Something In Him I Didn't?

At this time, he had suggested I come along for a trip south where he would be delivering cattle. I decided this would be a good way to visit and get in a trip somewhere. It had been a long time since I had been down into the U.S and looked forward to going.

Once we had the cattle loaded and got to the border it was late at night. Due to regulations, we had to sleep over in the sleeper and await customs to open in the early morning so the veterinarian could do a check up on the load.

One thing about me is that I don't like to be seen without makeup and my hair done. Not back then, anyway. I was only 18 or 19 and shy. So that morning, I put my hair in a ponytail, grabbed his ballcap, and crammed it down tight over my head, then put on my sunglasses and walked into the border office and sat down at the nearest chair with my gaze set on the floor.

I admit it looked sketchy—but I intended to avert attention from how tired I looked and that I had just rolled out of bed.  My boyfriend had entered ahead of me and went to the desk with papers in hand to have everything okayed so we could cross.

The customs officer attending to him was probably in her 50s and had a very serious and miserable appearance, as I could see from just from the first glance. She immediately yelled at me when I sat down, "Hey. Do you have ID?" Startled, I looked up and took off my sunglasses. She asked for my name, where I was from, and my relationship to the guy I arrived with. I stammered through the answers, shocked because I had crossed the border so many times before growing up and had never experienced this. We were usually quickly whisked through.

I managed to answer but was scared that I was in trouble somehow. Shaking, I sat there as she asked me my name and where I was born. My boyfriend went to answer for me, and she yelled at him to shut up. And I mean LOUD. She said, "Am I talking to YOU?" "I'm talking to HER!" Out of sheer fear, I accidentally blurted out the city where my birth name was registered. Then I realized that wasn't correct but was afraid to correct myself, so I said nothing. My boyfriend looked at me puzzled and like I was a big idiot because he knew what I had said was wrong.

After some more questions I don't recall, she seemed to be satisfied with the answers. It was the early '90s, and there was no way to search for me and him on a computer to verify the information, so she decided that was enough and completed the paperwork and let us go.

We didn't think of how many times people perceived him as older and me as younger, but to her, he was probably a kidnapper or trafficker of some kind. He appeared much older than he was, and I looked very naive and innocent with a small frame and slim build. Even at 52 years old, I'm often told I do not look or act anywhere near my age. Though only 4 years between us, most of the relationship felt like dealing with an old man with the mentality of an 8-year-old, and I felt like I was treated like a child.

After that uncomfortable experience, all the way down the road, he called her every name in the book. Looking back on it, this was the kind of customs officer that I'd hope is employed to detect human traffickers. Man, she was scary. She hugely resembled Ms. Turnbull from the movie Matilda; she wasn't the least bit intimidated by anyone. 

His lack of understanding in her approach, especially when she relaxed and let us go, didn't change anything in him. He didn't see that she was doing her job and that possibly she viewed him as a predator trying to cross the border with a potential victim. Nope, he wasn't grateful that someone like her was watching out for me and doing her job, albeit a little roughly; he saw it as a slight against him. He was seriously offended, as he took this personally. I wasn't thrilled either at the time, but today I see it altogether differently.

I do often wonder if she saw something in him I couldn't or wouldn't. Even though this was a consensual relationship, was there something about him that made her suspicious? This was one of many times that we had bad encounters with people, and he projected onto me that I was the problem by doing or saying something wrong. Like I had definitely caused the problem by being there even though it was his idea I come along on the trip and enter the office that morning. And I took that responsibility 100% of the time for the longest time.

A Glimpse Into the Life He Lived Away from Home

It was a long time before I took another trip with him. But soon, we were headed to Detroit, Michigan. At that time, gas wars were going on, and riots were happening. I questioned why he would choose someplace that far away and kinda dangerous when he had work close by. By this time, I was expecting my first baby, and he suggested I come along. Even though I was far along in my pregnancy and it would require a lot of hours sitting, I felt it was okay and went. 

Once on the road and into the US, we came across another driver he knew well. While driving, two girls in a convertible had driven by us topless vying for the attention of our truck and his buddy up ahead. I made it known to both of him and his friend when we stopped at the next rest stop with the convertible that I was disgusted. Later on down the road his buddy told us that he was meeting up with these girls later on as they offered sex.

I questioned him often about these things after that and he claimed it was not who he was and would never engage in that type of behaviour. I naively believed that he was telling the truth. But I had heard from people three years into the marriage that he was cheating on me. I had no proof and had a hard time believing it.

Triangulation with Other Females

Other behaviours I found confusing was he often left out old love letters from ex-girlfriends and encouraged me to read them. To me, he seemed to have low self-esteem and needed reassurance, but this was very uncomfortable and hurtful to me. He didn't seem to see that, nor care, other than I had criticized him for putting these love letters in my face.

I had no hope of having a decent relationship with my mother or his or any female in our lives, for that matter, as they seemed to have this idea that he was not being appreciated by me or something along those lines. A lot of trouble came my way via scornful remarks and coy accusations I was cheating on him, stealing his money, the list goes on. My life seemed to be getting more and more isolated as we had more kids, and I wasn't sure why there was such conflict going on.

It may seem hard to believe, but I didn't catch on that he was behind all this interpersonal hell. When I asked him about it, he just shrugged his shoulders and said he was just as baffled as I was by what their problem could be.

I figured out later on down the road that he was manipulating them into believing whatever he needed to get more female attention, to cast the blame on me, be the scapegoat for his shadiness, keep me in line, to cheat. The list of reasons goes on and on. To be honest, I was probably on the way to being discarded because his adoration for me had worn thin, and he needed some new lifelines.

My Dad’s Passing

Three years after the wedding, my father died of cancer. My oldest daughter was now 3, and I had a 9-month-old daughter as well to take care of. Due to the cancer being so advanced and the state of our healthcare, he was refused treatment, and we went to Mexico for care. This was a controversial move that is common and not scorned now, but at that time, if you chose that modality, you were rejected from receiving standard follow-up care once you got back home. It was a very hard time.

Unfortunately, my father passed away. This was now 10 years since I had been away any length of time from him. Despite the pain and trauma of my dad's passing in another country far away under controversial treatment, I felt remarkably better while I was away. I felt energetic and calm all at the same time and able to wake up in the morning easily which was always a struggle at home.

My digestion was working well despite the grief and pain and many of my many other symptoms had disappeared as well. I also had time to spend time with a diverse culture of people around the world. Due to the restricted diet that didn't resemble the meals I was required to make at home, I had also lost a significant amount of weight. I was happy to see my girls but not happy to leave and go home to everything else, and I didn't fully understand why. It just felt better there.

Once home, I fell into a deep depression; I didn't feel like myself and was completely disconnected from my kids. I was so confused, and on top of that, once home, he left as soon as I walked in the door from the funeral and started back driving a truck, and back to being gone for weeks at a time.

I told him I was not happy. I had this understanding that something isn't right here when he left me during my worst hour and showed no care in my grief. His reaction was a huge warning sign that I didn't recognize at the time but scared me. Instead of being concerned about how depressed I was and how we could change this unhappiness, he quickly pushed me away angrily and refused to speak. Out of fear, I became fearful again and quickly retorted that I was probably wrong and just needed time to recover from the loss.

I found out he hadn’t looked after the kids the entire time I was gone, but he left them with his mother. This didn't sit well with me at all. Where was he if he didn't have the kids? He seemed to be acting guilty of something too. Leaving and staying away made it that more obvious that something was going on. His family and the constant interference in our lives was absolutely unbearable, a feeling things could be better elsewhere but he refused to listen to my pleas to leave and live somewhere else. 

But most of all, it was about this evil foreboding feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong in my life. I sensed tough times were ahead, and somehow my life was about to crash.

"I'm Not Going to Live That Long"

When I would express sadness at how our lives were, as we never traveled and lived in a horribly old house that was not that healthy. When I brought it up, and if he did answer, he would casually mention how he wasn't going to live long. This made me scared but also perplexed why he would declare such a thing. I 100% believe he told me that to keep me there by once again manipulating me emotionally. It was a way for me to feel sorry for him and stay, as usual.

It also didn't match up with his constant declarations of love and care for the kids when I opened a life insurance letter one day and found that I was not the beneficiary in the event of his death. His elderly parents were. I was incensed. It didn't make sense. We had 4 kids together and no life insurance at all. What would I do in the event I was left with kids and no way to pay mortgage payments and vehicle costs if he died? We had a lot at stake, and that was a horrible decision on his part.

On top of it, he refused to change it until I told him how insane that was and how could he even care about us if he would leave us in serious trouble in the event of his death?

Bad Nightmares About Him

It was around this time that I started to have very disturbing nightmares about him. They were also very confusing as they were dreams that showed him committing crimes that were nowhere near who he was in real life and who I knew him to be. In some instances, it involved murder and child molestation. They were also very real.

Upon waking, I was horrified to recall these dreams, and I would quickly become proficient at shoving them into the back of my mind, refusing to think of them. Nevertheless, It didn't stop me from eyeing him suspiciously afterward. For awhile anyway.

If I knew then what I know now, I would have visited a criminal psychologist but it was frowned upon in the area I lived to visit any type of doctor in that regards. Besides, I would probably need a psychiatrist as well to help me dig into the nightmares I had  pushed into the back of my mind tthat I never wanted to recover again, as far as I was concerned. 

I also feared being institutionalized or drugged due to my own admissions and the depression. After all, if I were to tell anyone about these dreams, what would it mean? I’d no doubt be called crazy if I professed that these dreams may be true of him. Especially if they knew him, and that was likely, being that the world can be small place sometimes.

Odd Confessions

Out of the blue, he often confessed to strange things that were small, like never paying for junk food at confectionaries as a kid. He would walk around the store and drink a soda and then go up to the till and gain the deposit for the bottle. Child's play really, but it made me think as he claimed to also be so upstanding.

From there, he would randomly blurt out things he didn't like. Without warning or lead-up, he would claim he hated lot lizards. When I inquired as to what those were, he told me it was hookers who cruised the parking lots of semi-rest stops looking for business. Later I would find out it was actually girls who roamed the parking lots looking for rides in exchange for sex.

I would ask him directly why he would say something like that? Why would he bring it up? Often times he would confess or bring up things like this after sex. It was not only ill-timed and vulgar conversations, but also extremely confusing. I can see he was trying to guage my response and ward off suspicion but it just amped it up by him bringing this up. He wouldnt reply, just get up and walk out of the bedroom.

"I Thought You Were Going to Leave me"

This was the excuse he would use for every traumatizing blunder he made after that. It was a constant projection onto me that every mistake he made was somehow my fault. His behavior was getting a bit odd as well; he would start to talk often of how women can't testify against their husbands in court cases. I inquired why he was talking about that. He quickly got up from the table or sofa and would head out the door.

He had a never-ending stream of men coming by for coffee, during visits they were letting me know how awesome he was. That I had better be appreciating what a great man I had. When they in fact were not good at all as they had serious sexual crime convictions in their past. It was all very confusing.

Was he the worst piece of garbage walking the planet, and he needed to cover this up by telling stories of how much he does for me and the kids to make me look bad? Or was he just trying to manipulate me into doing whatever he wanted by telling these men, family, and friends alike, that I was a nagging bad wife. The latter couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I basically let him get away with everything.

What I did know for sure was I was a single married woman. I couldn't prove what I meant to anyone due to the big wedding portraits that hung on the living room wall and the marriage license people had witnessed me sign, but I might as well have been alone. With every discrepancy he leveled at me, he would always come back with "I thought you were going to leave me". 

His Shady Side was Coming Out

Around this time, he still had refused to get a joint account with both our names on it. He would claim I could just forge his signature on his paychecks and I would cash or deposit them. This I didn't like, but he had me convinced he always knew what he was doing. According to him, everyone else did it too. Eventually, the bank changed its policy so I could not deposit them. He sent me anyway, claiming if I wanted money for groceries or to live I would do it. It was just plain humiliating when the bank would refuse to go against their policies for me. 

The same went for other illegal activities. Insurance fraud, I went along with it by watching it happen. It’s not like I had any say in what he did anyway. It’s not like he was going to stop. He was the sole provider, and I was very dependent by this time with four kids and little skills to get a sustainable income and leave. He also controlled the money and bank accounts. By this time, he was telling coy stories of his trucker buddies' divorces and how these exes of their's deserved to walk out with nothing. I eventually sensed that he was speaking indirectly to me. I said nothing in response and it became the beginning of a long haul of covert threats.

Borrowing Money and Never Paying It Back

During the early years of being in the family, I had trouble with the other wives in the family as well as my own mother. There was blame being placed on me as he was taking money or goods from them and not paying it back or not paying for it. Basically it was numerous handshake deals that he neglected to tell me about but allowed me to take the blame. It eventually spilled out into fighting between my neices, nephews and my kids.

Never once did he defend me and the kids, but he also seemed to just stand back and let it escalate. I realized that he was once again the source of the fighting. He did this with many other people blaming me for it saying I was stealing "his" money as to why he couldnt pay the money back. People so easily believed I was guilty as he was a professional at lying.

Financial Disasters

On top of this, he never wanted to budget at all. I complained that this made little sense. How do you pay bills without budgeting? He wouldn't answer. He gave me the debit card and told me that it was all okay, just buy what I wanted and needed. I asked what was in the account, and he said he had it under control. And also he began to begin buying large pieces of machinery brand new, only to have it repossessed 6 months later. Also, the checks he had me writing for goods and bills would bounce all the time. 

Bill collectors started to call. I answered, after all, I was the only one home and he wouldnt answer his phone. He was always gone somewhere or to work, and when I would call him and tell him he made out it was not a big deal and would handle it when he got home. Eventually, I demanded to know what he was doing. Why wasn't he calling them back? Why wasn’t he paying the bills? Where was the money going?

One day a bounty hunter came into the yard looking for him. I felt sheer panic as I didn't know what to say as I didnt realize it had gotten this bad. It was an angry creditor who wanted his money and had sent this bounty hunter to collect. I excused myself from the yard and went inside the house to make a panicked call to him telling him what was happening.

When he answered the phone, without a moment's hesitation, all he said was "What the fuck do you want me to do about it"? I was shocked. I said shaking with my youngest son on my hip "What do you mean?" I angrily retorted that he was to get home as soon as possible because this was an emergency. He hung up without saying much else other than it apparently had nothing to do with him.

Shortly after that, letters came in the mail demanding payment, or notices that the rest of our debts had gone to collections. One night I had had enough and he finally declared without any warning that we were half a million dollars in debt. In shock, I screamed at him demanding he answer as to how this was possible? He refused to answer. 

I was forced into choosing mediation with the creditors instead of bankruptcy. It was a disaster of his stubbornness and the beginning of my mental breakdown to come. He refused to succumb to the obvious choice of bankruptcy declaring that this one creditor who had been rude to him wasn't going to get away with telling him that he couldnt dig his way out of this as the debt was too large. What it boiled down to after that meeting was the sale of almost every possession we had of worth except our house and the semi he drove as it was our only income source. 

One night sometime later, during a quiet moment after the kids went to bed, he coyly suggested that he had deliberately lost everything because he didn't want to farm anymore. Later he told me that he did it because he thought I was going to leave him. Somehow he had me convinced that this was all my fault he thought these things. I was horrified that he would do this to me and the kids. Whatever our future had been, he had just lost it. And I had become his scapegoat. 

He Did It Again

Things started to calm down after awhile and then trouble struck again five years later, mirroring the first one. He refused to acknowledge that we couldn't afford the house we built before the initial financial collapse. Now, we faced bankruptcy once more, resulting in another auction sale of our belongings. And, as usual, the blame fell squarely on me. 

He Wasn't The Same When He Got Back

At some point, he took another trucking  job about 10 hours away. I agreed to drive him there to bring his belongings as I always did when he moved to another work site. Upon entering the local village where he would be staying, crossing a rickety old bridge on a foggy night, I felt uneasy. It seemed dark and very isolated and not prosperous at all. Despite my concerns about this place there wasnt much I could do to stop it. He always got his own way every time, anyway.

But as I drove away after dropping him off, an unsettling feeling lingered—that he wouldn't return the same. I dismissed it at the time but wished I hadnt. I truly believe that this town is where a secret addiction to crack cocaine started and his cruelty towards me really escalated.

3 Years of Verbal Abuse

Upon his return from a winter job, he started staying home all the time. This marked a shift from his usual pattern of working away. The change in dynamics left me feeling confused and robbed of my independence. Despite having more time and freedom, I sensed an ominous cloud hanging over our home. Constant verbal abuse from him followed—ridicule about my friends, appearance, intelligence, and spending habits. Even the kids joined in insulting me. After enduring three years of this, I reached a breaking point and told him I was leaving, unsure of who I was living with anymore.

After all, I had told him it was evident he hated me, questioning why I was there if that were the case. Later, upon returning home after the confrontation, I walked into him throwing himself around the house, sobbing uncontrollably, insisting that this wasn't his fault—it was a spiritual issue. It was another manipulation tactic on his part, one that unfortunately worked on me. I conceded, promising to try harder to get along with him, and he promptly stopped crying, as if on cue. 

Feeling utterly trapped, I spiraled into a two-week depression after that episode, marking the beginning of a decade long cycle of hoovering, love bombing, corrupt business dealings, devaluing, futile escape attempts, and eventually, death threats from him.

The Great Awakening - This Relationship Was Killing Me

Around this time, I realized that he was not going to change. Only his family mattered, not ours. Not mine. He was constantly spineless and refused to help me with any interpersonal issues within the family. On top of already acting like the finances weren't his problem at all, everything else went downhill. Life became unbearable as I struggled to maintain my sanity, given his unwillingness to cooperate with the kids raising, debts and bills. I could tell he wanted me gone, yet in a rage that I would leave and divorce him. It boiled down to his inability to control me.

He started to plant it in my kids head that I was crazy and dangerous. Therefore, they would not go anywhere with me or stay alone with me. His constant shifts in attitude and lack of empathy took a toll. Despite portraying himself as a good guy, he clearly wasn't. I wanted out but was confused as to why when he was so great but so terrorizing all at the same time. In his eyes, I needed mental help, not a divorce.

By this point, he was blaming everything on me. The constant stress triggered a mental breakdown for me, and even my youngest daughter began experiencing mental health issues. The atmosphere at home was filled with anger and resentment. When I demanded the truth, he incredulously shifted the blame onto my spiritual beliefs and who I was and my spiritual beliefs were the only saving grace I had.

For the duration of the following 10 years, I spent all of that time trying to escape him. I had left the house for the first year to run my own cleaning business in a neighbouring city. Once the year was over I was forced to move back in due to mental distress and being locked out of bank accounts and credit cards I had no resources to fall back on or leave permanently. He became far more aggressive and cruel. In the coming years I had made approximately 15 attempts to get away, visiting 6 therapists, and a psychotherapist and consulting one psychologist that had spent time working at a maximum security prison. As well as a visit to police for help who refused to do anything "until he did something"; spiritual healers, deliverance pastors, counsellors  and psychiatrists for both me and my kids. 

After 4 years of psychiatric medication and bipolar symptoms I ended up turning to trauma-informed care as well as studying trauma therapy which saved my life. In short, there was nothing I didn't try except talk to him. He had become too terrifying. I desperately wanted a divorce as I had to have one. This was not something that I never dreamed I would want but I didn’t know what else to do. He was clearly making my life a living hell and I couldn’t take it anymore. 

“We Have To Sell The House" 

It was now year twenty and without warning tells me we have to sell the house. Its either that or file for bankruptcy. Not alot of this was a surprise. I had told him for years we needed to sell and move to a location more prosperous as we couldnt afford the house we had built and we were all suffering because of it. But it was now this time he was the one that wanted to sell. 

The day the realtor came he was informed that he couldn’t divide the land up like he had in mind. The realtor said it was an impossible move as the buyers would never buy without that piece included. I could see he was going to have a tantrum. Later that evening he declares he’s changed his mind. I was angry to say the least. It felt like more mind games on his part. I refused to go along with this as we had just had the house painted and went to a lot of work to prepare for sale. Besides, we would be going back to struggling again. 

He quickly wasted no time telling the kids that I was hurting everyone by forcing to sell the house. In turn, they began attacking me in his defense. They were young adults and young teens at this time and it became a very painful situation.

During one particularly challenging day, I walked out of the house to take a break from him. Leaning on the deck railing, my fury left me nearly speechless. I awaited his appearance on the deck, ready to unleash my anger. However, before a word could escape my lips, a small, familiar voice in my head advised, "Don't say another word about money. Let him trip in his own trap." So, I chose to heed that advice. Little did I know, it would be four years before the house ended up back on the market for the same financial struggles.

For many years, I attempted to contribute to the financial aspect of our relationship, only to have him sabotage my efforts. In some instances, he even took my ideas and executed them with dubious characters, making substantial profits. Each time, I received a meager share as a penance to live on.

Over the years, he had taken complete control of our finances, leaving me with an inadequate allowance to raise our children. I suspected he was hiding money, subsequently forcing us to live on next to nothing.

Tracking Devices, Phone Hacking, and Death Threats

Things took a darker turn. His descent into paranoia was evident, especially as I had made numerous attempts to leave him due to the trauma of being threatened, constantly tracked and having my privacy invaded. He went as far as reading my journals and flipping my mattresses looking for anything to prove I wasnt to be trusted. On drives, he would threaten to hide my body where no one could find me, simply because I chose to enjoy the scenery and not engaging in conversation.

Rifles and shotguns were scattered around the house, especially in places like the master bedroom from which I had long been forced out. His violent tendencies escalated, expressing willingness, in casual conversations to shoot anyone who crossed his path.

During a trip to visit our daughters 1000 miles away, he played a dangerous game of chicken with a semi on the highway in the mountainous terrain just because I asked him to slow down.

His volatility increased after each attempt I made to leave or inquire about our finances. Anyone I sought help from he manipulated into turning against me. Suspecting drug use and potential involvement in illicit activities, I lacked concrete evidence to go to the police again for help. Alone and without support from family or friends, I grappled with the desire to erase him from my life or, at times, even regretting my own existence.

The trauma compounded, leaving me with limited options. Suspected frontal lobe damage from the abuse, impaired my decision-making abilities. I found myself sleeping in my vehicle, motels, and other precarious places, trusting individuals I shouldn't have—all in an attempt to escape him. In a twisted scenario of someone not wanting a divorce but refusing to let me go, this was the ultimate mind game.

The First Lawyer Visit

One year prior to the sale of my house, I sought the advice of a lawyer. I expressed my concerns, explaining that his behavior had become increasingly erratic, and considering his past losses in land and machinery, I anticipated something was amiss. Our involvement in bankruptcy mediation had also become more frequent.

I had a gut feeling that he would lose the house somehow. After he had adamantly refused to sell it the first time, I warned him that I wasn't willing to face legal consequences due to his recklessness. He was always refusing to pay the taxes and often the government would freeze our bank accounts and I told him that I didnt plan on being accountable.

My suspicions deepened over the next six months as I became convinced that at his financial troubles and blunders were linked to drug use. Discovering a logical explanation for his extreme and dangerous behaviours brought a certain sense of relief.

"We Need To Sell The House" - It's Finally Happened

True to my concerns, six months later, he disclosed that he had not paid taxes for five years, amounting to nearly $100,000. The revelation didn't surprise me. Despite having full control over the bank accounts for the better part of 20 years, he made a point of ensuring that everyone, including the kids, believed I was to blame for the financial debacle, conveniently deflecting responsibility from himself.

The Second Lawyer Visit 

I went back to the same lawyer telling her that he had done what I had predicted the year before. He was now going to sell the house due to 5 years of unpaid taxes  Incredulously, and in a move that saved me and the kids from sufferable debt, she insisted I make her the real estate lawyer and that the house sale be kept with her as she was now my divorce lawyer. 

This was a sly move I had no choice but to make. I knew without any doubt that if I had not done this, he would have manipulated the money into his account and I'd had no hope of seeing it ever again. He would have left me in complete financial devastation if I hadn't done this.

The Day I Left For Good

The day of the sale of the house, he was selling off every last thing he could in the yard and pocketing it all. I left with nothing of physical value but what I could put in a small storage shed and in my vehicle as he had also been selling off things for years prior. 

When I protested that I didnt have a place to live now but he did, he told me that if I hadn’t asked him for so much money this wouldn’t be happening. There were no words for the adamant idiotic declaration he made and how truthful it actually sounded. I think even he believed it. As far as I knew, I didn't know where I would go, where I would live or where I would find the money to live.

 

But a week prior, in desperation, I applied for a credit card and was miraculously approved for $5,000 despite him ruining my credit rating. This amount would secure my lawyer's retainer fee and give me something to escape with. I can only explain this as an act of divine intervention the credit card arrived in the mail that afternoon.

I left to another province and from there proceeded to file for divorce. It would take me 6 months to petition as I was so traumatized by all the events that had transpired that I was terrified to make decisions. I was devastated that I had lost everything I had, including all my kids as they quickly took his side due to his coercion. Even though they were all now young adults it was still extremely heartbreaking.

What was to come would be the hardest thing I had ever done which was divorce a covert narcissist with a crack cocaine addiction. Even though I knew I was somehow going to be triumphant in the end I also knew it was going to be hell getting through it. 

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(*Please read the post “Divorcing Narcissim” which tells the story of my divorce and the tactics used to make my life a living hell through this process.)

- Below is a video I found on the behaviours and personality traits that profoundly described the covert narcissist husband I was married to. I have watched this many times as it has helped dispel the brainwashing that I recieved that I was the cause of his problems.

Thanks for Reading. 

Peace & Love ✌️

 

*”Narcisistic Abuse: Invisible Homicide" tells of my experience with Narcissitic Abuse Syndrome which isn't explicitly covered in any of the other stories I have written.

*"Cracked out Husbands Do Cracked Out Stuff” depicts my experience with his drug use 

*“Dating Mr. Perfect: How I Hooked by A Covert Narcissist" tells of my dating story before the wedding. 

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