I started dating a guy when I was 16, and he was 20. We met through a mutual friend, and our relationship quickly became chaotic and damaging. As a high school senior, I would often skip my work program to spend time with him. Unfortunately, he forced sex upon me, stole from me, and subjected me to physical abuse. Despite his apologies, I kept returning to him.
One day, after he suggested we visit a friend, he led me to a vacant apartment instead, where he assaulted me more violently than ever before. He even stole a necklace my mother had given me. After confiding in my sister, I eventually told my mother, who took me to the police. However, when I revealed that I kept going back to him, she stopped in her tracks. She changed my phone number and told me not to share it with him, which I followed. I went to college and thought that was the end of it.
Years later, I found myself in unfulfilling relationships, including a marriage that didn’t bring me joy. Fast forward to my mid-30s, and my sister mentioned she saw him on Facebook. After some contemplation, I reached out, believing I needed closure and an apology for his past actions.
To my surprise, he seemed different and charming. I should have walked away, but his sweet talk drew me back in. Before I knew it, he moved in with me and my kids, acting affectionate and discussing our future together. However, he was still the same manipulative person, continuing his abusive patterns and even scamming me while planning a future with another woman.
Five years of my life vanished, and despite recognizing he was wrong for me, I wanted to believe he had changed. Just last week, I forced him to leave my home after discovering he had charged music on my debit card. I find it hard to accept that I let this happen, and I blame myself for being drawn back into his web.
Donna Andersen’s insights might resonate with me. The core of my struggle seems to stem from a betrayal bond formed long ago. As Patrick J. Carnes, Ph.D., notes, such bonds can develop when victims bond with those who harm them. Though I moved on, I never fully addressed the emotional scars he left behind.
For anyone in a similar situation, I recommend reading Carnes’ book, The Betrayal Bond, which delves into how these bonds form and offers practical guidance on breaking free.
If you’re looking to understand more about sociopathy and narcissism in relationships, excellent resources are available. For instance, you can explore insights on psychopathy at Good Therapy, and learn more about familial relationships at Out of the Fog.
It’s essential to recognize the patterns in these relationships and seek healing. I hope sharing my story can help others navigate similar struggles.