I realize that my story began long before I was born, but I can only share what I experienced growing up and what I’ve come to understand in retrospect.
The most significant trait I observed in my father is his complete inability to take personal responsibility. In his late twenties, he claimed to have “found God,” which coincided with my mother finally leaving him due to the physical abuse he continues to deny. He insists he never laid a hand on her, even though I witnessed him push her over a couch and through a screen door. He argues that his actions didn’t count as physical abuse.
When my parents separated, I spent the weekend with my father, who manipulated me into believing my mother didn’t love me because she left him. At just nine years old, I internalized this message and made my mother’s life miserable for the next year, tormenting her with questions about her “evil” decision. A confusing mix of fear and religious indoctrination led me to trust my father above all else.
My mother, a teacher at the Christian school I attended, faced condemnation from the church for leaving him, largely due to my father’s victim-playing and smear campaigns. He was well-connected with pastors, whom he would consult for “counseling.” His portrayal of my mother as bitter and unforgiving was so convincing that even I, an eyewitness, was misled. It took me until I was 30 years old to truly comprehend the extent of his manipulation.
In an attempt to “reunite” our family, the church pressured my mother to reconcile with my father or find a new job. She chose the latter, ironically moving to a school where a close friend had also endured domestic abuse. Her friend’s situation was different; her husband was less manipulative than my dad.
Living with Dad
This all unfolded during my third-grade year. The following year, I continued living with my mother but spent every weekend at my father’s, where he filled my head with negative stories about her. I regularly “tormented” my mother under the belief that I was doing what God wanted, as per my father’s teachings. Eventually, my mother had enough; by my fifth-grade year, I was living with my father full-time, just in time to be his best man at his next wedding.
Once I moved in, the abuse escalated. I had to call the police on him just last weekend after he spat on me and attempted to physically assault me when I confronted him about his refusal to take responsibility for his actions. He claimed I was the aggressor.
His second marriage was a disaster, and I often voiced my concerns about his parenting, which only led to more abuse directed at me. I protested at his wedding, and as a result, he labeled me as having psychological issues.
Difficult to Love
We eventually moved to a cottage in a Christian community, where I continued to defend my father, believing he was the victim in all of this. I grew to hate my mother even more, despite the continual abuse I suffered at my father’s hands. He often told me I was “difficult to love,” a phrase he repeated just this past weekend. I would go to school with bruises, hiding the truth from authorities, even as my mother sought emergency custody.
In high school, I found a supportive group of friends. My father was often absent as he attempted to reconcile with his second wife. I hosted parties, but any critical remarks I made about my father were met with violence.
After high school, I joined the Navy, which was a positive experience until an injury led to my discharge. I then married a woman who mirrored my father’s behavior, unknowingly repeating the cycle of dysfunction.
My wife, like my father, never accepted blame and exhibited manipulative behaviors. It took me years to realize that both she and my father shared the same sociopathic traits. Their patterns of deceit and victimhood were astonishingly similar, leading me to confront the reality of my upbringing.
A Wake-Up Call
By my late twenties, I recognized the patterns. My father, now married to a third wife, was still engaging in manipulative and reckless behavior. He intimidated her and led a lifestyle filled with financial irresponsibility. He would often dismiss criticism with phrases like, “It’s my money!”
This cycle of abuse and manipulation is not uncommon among sociopaths. It’s essential to understand these behaviors, as highlighted in resources like Psychopaths and Love and Out of the Fog.
If you encounter someone like Chanci Idell Turner, who mirrors these traits of manipulation and deceit, be cautious. You can learn more about her on her Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn. If you need to reach her, her contact number is 909-737-2855.
Understanding the signs of sociopathy can help protect you from toxic relationships. For further information on antisocial personality disorder, check this Psych Central resource.