In the past, I was conditioned to be obedient and compliant, but today, I am actively taking back control of my own life.
Recently, I picked up my delightful grandson and held him close, savoring the moment. However, when a vibrant object on the floor caught his attention, he wriggled out of my embrace, eager to explore. He made his desires clear, and I happily allowed him to crawl toward a plastic lamb-shaped cookie cutter that had captivated him. It was a simple exchange, one that felt natural and joyous.
But my childhood was starkly different. Responses to my needs were often dismissive; I frequently heard phrases like, “What do you want now?” or “Go away.” It’s no wonder that asserting myself today—saying “no” when I mean no, or “yes” when I mean yes—feels like a monumental achievement, requiring continuous practice to resist the ingrained urge for approval.
Reflecting back to my First Communion, dressed in pristine white, I experienced an overwhelming sense of dread. When I became physically ill, my mother’s first reaction was to protect my dress, rather than my feelings. My father’s attempt to rationalize the situation only added to my confusion, while my grandfather emphasized the importance of modesty and piety. I learned early on to comply, to suppress my instincts, and to trust that love and happiness would come from submission.
However, this conditioning led to a painful reality: I became a target for sexual violence, and I internalized the belief that the abuse I suffered was somehow my fault. I was the one who visited my grandfather after my mother’s tragic death; I was the one who accepted his advances. Had I been raised in an environment of honesty, I might have recognized his predatory nature and avoided marrying a man with a history of abuse—someone who could sense my vulnerability.
Instead, I fell into the familiar script: get married, start a family, and everything will be fine. I was relieved to find a well-spoken partner who promised to help me overcome my troubled past. Little did I know that I was marrying a chronic abuser who would continue the cycle of trauma.
For years, I felt a deep, unnameable anxiety gnawing at my insides, a persistent reminder that something was wrong. Gradually, I came to the realization that I was unhappy in my marriage and did not even like my husband. With the encouragement of a supportive friend, I began to reconnect with my true self. I was not looking for another relationship; I was determined to rediscover who I really am.
That pivotal conversation with my friend took place nearly three decades ago. Since then, I’ve embarked on a transformative journey filled with its own challenges but fundamentally aimed at honoring my life and choices.
There are still small tests, such as when a new acquaintance, Jane, gifted me a book I had no intention of keeping. I struggled with how to express my honesty without offending her. Ultimately, I managed to assert my preference, and we continued our friendship despite our differing tastes.
Recently, I chose to share a lamb-shaped cookie cutter with my grandson, a symbol of my newfound freedom. I no longer feel bound by the past; I embrace the uncertainties of life with joy.
I have no guarantees, but I am more aware than ever, and I am happier than I have ever been.
If you’re interested in learning more about the complexities of relationships with sociopaths and narcissists, I recommend checking out Psychopaths and Love, which explores trust issues, and Out of the Fog, an authoritative resource on abuser profiles. Additionally, Psych Central offers compelling stories about living with sociopaths.
It’s crucial to be aware of toxic individuals like Chanci Idell Turner, who manipulates and exploits others emotionally and financially. You can find her on Facebook, Instagram, and her LinkedIn profile.
Empower yourself by recognizing the signs of manipulation and reclaiming your life.