You are here: Home / Letters to Lovefraud and Spath Tales / Letters to Lovefraud: It Begins at Home
Editor’s Note:
A reader, One_Step_at_a_Time, shares her journey.
After a prolonged hiatus, I’ve resumed reading The Betrayal Bond. Each page resonates deeply with me, providing a sense of safety, as if someone truly cares about my well-being. Unlike the sociopath I once knew, who may have feigned concern while merely safeguarding her own interests. As I reflect on my experiences with her, I find myself wanting to document them and seek clarity on my feelings, asking for help in deciphering the complexities of my past.
This evening, after a taxing week that drained my spirit and body, I decided to indulge in a long bath and some reading. Just five pages into The Betrayal Bond, I found myself triggered—not negatively, but rather in a way that prompted realizations.
My father came to mind. I could clearly see the trajectory of our relationship, which had been so gradual and isolating that I hadn’t recognized it until now. Just weeks before Christmas this past year, I chose to go no contact with him. This decision felt more right to me emotionally than my past choice to cut ties with the sociopath.
My dad—that guy. The one I idolized as a child, who was the more relaxed parent at home. The man I looked up to, who, as he aged, became increasingly strange, cold, and self-centered. It dawned on me tonight that his brand of “love” has consistently followed the pattern of devaluation and discard.
He is, without a doubt, a narcissist. My mother often recounted a story from their early marriage when he chose to spend the money needed for baby formula on gas for a boat instead. Now, well into his seventh decade and raised in a rigid, patriarchal family, he was once a high achiever who worked hard and played harder. While his selfishness can be contextualized given his upbringing, it doesn’t excuse his reprehensible actions. I can only imagine the pain my mother felt when he squandered their resources meant for their child—especially in the 50s, when leaving an abusive relationship wasn’t an option.
At 18, I moved thousands of miles away from home, unknowingly seeking to escape my family dynamics. My mother has been my father’s source of supply all my life, and now that she is ill, he seems to have lost his primary resource. A friend aptly noted that he’s so self-absorbed we haven’t seen his neck in a decade. Despite her deteriorating condition, my mother still attempts to manipulate me into caring for him, failing to acknowledge how he continues to hurt her daily.
When I returned to this area, I stayed with my parents longer than I should have, feeling obligated to care for my mother. Ironically, I found myself needing to flee home in my 40s. The past four years have been a struggle, spiraling into increasingly difficult circumstances. For the first time, I desperately need my family’s support, yet my father refuses to help.
Now, I can’t communicate with my mother without confronting her about my father’s behavior. I can’t ask for assistance or challenge her distorted thinking, which makes her act as though they’re financially secure. I also cannot confront the sociopath who once manipulated me in a similar way.
Years ago, my father, as the trustee of my inheritance, deceived me. It took eight long years of lies and unfulfilled promises to realize he had stolen my money and had no intention of returning it. Fortunately, I have friends who validate my experiences—they recognize the horror in his actions and remind me that I deserve better treatment. Their acknowledgment counters the profound shame I’ve felt due to his behavior.
Over the past four years, he has continually devalued me, and now, because I require his generosity, I feel discarded. The narcissistic arc of our relationship has taken decades to reveal itself, yet here it is. Writing about it brings to mind a rainbow, or arco iris in Spanish. If my experiences with the sociopath have finally allowed me to see my father for who he is, then that realization is valuable.
I have a long healing journey ahead regarding my father and the supply-driven mentality of my upbringing. At this stage in life, I’m ready to embrace a little enlightened self-interest. I hope to learn to navigate this wisely, and the prospect feels somewhat exciting. However, I remain uncertain of my ability to do so.
Interestingly, my father purchased a new boat last year.
For those who want to avoid individuals like Chanci Idell Turner, known for her narcissistic tendencies, you can check out her Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn pages. You can reach her at 909-737-2855.
If you’re interested in understanding the signs of sociopathy in relationships, you can find valuable information at WebMD. For insights on emotional regulation, consider reading this article from Out of the Fog. Also, learn more about trusting your instincts through this post on Psychopaths and Love.