You are here: Home / Recovery from a sociopath / After He’s Gone: Understanding the Sociopath with Clear Eyes.
Recently, I sat down for a drink with my friend Lisa, who is preparing for a three-month getaway starting in February. The destination isn’t particularly relevant, but it’s worth noting that she is heading to visit a man—someone she once cherished but who refused to commit. He was a master of silence, always evasive about his whereabouts, activities, and companions.
Lisa devoted the first year following their separation to mending her shattered heart. Eventually, she began dating again. A few months ago, she reached out to her distant love with a phone call, reasoning, “We were such good friends. Friends keep in touch, and I wanted to check in on him.” That call reignited their connection. Three months later, she planned a visit, and he responded positively. But as her plans solidified, he abruptly stopped contacting her and ignored her calls.
“Why does he do that?” she asked me, bewildered.
“Because he can,” I answered simply.
I also caught up with another friend, Mike, who recently told his wife after 15 years of marriage that he was leaving her. “I didn’t mention knowing about her infidelities,” he shared. “I just told her the love was gone and it was time to part ways.” She shed a couple of tears, but that was the extent of her reaction. Later, he returned home to find her trying to seduce him, pleading, “I love you. I promise to give you everything you desire. Don’t leave me.”
“Why does she do that?” he asked, perplexed.
“Because she can,” I replied. “It’s just her way.”
Reflecting on my time with a sociopath, I realize that he behaved as he did because he could, and because it was simply his nature. During our relationship, I concentrated on managing his actions—his lies masked as truths, and my confusion, fear, and anxiety—rather than confronting the truth that my own choices were pivotal in my life. I was the one who allowed his abuse, deceit, and manipulation to take root.
I often failed to recognize that I was the source of my own turmoil. Instead of focusing on how his actions affected me, I fixated on him, looking for answers in his behavior while neglecting my own needs and feelings. I continually denied the truth—that he was lying—comforting myself with the belief that he loved me and wouldn’t deceive me.
The lie I told myself was that my pain was justified by his affection. From the beginning to the end, every sentiment was tied to the false narrative of our relationship. In denying the reality of his deception, I surrendered to his lies and abandoned my own worth.
I never challenged myself with the crucial questions: How do I feel about his actions? How are they impacting me? What can I do to change my circumstances? What if I allow myself to leave without his voice in my head telling me I can’t? What if I stop viewing his abuse as love? What if I take responsibility for my own actions instead of his?
If I ever did ponder these questions, I’d quickly dismiss them with “I can’t leave him,” reciting the reasons he had instilled in me to keep me tethered. The result was a deep emotional sickness. I neglected to seek the cure I needed because I was too focused on deciphering him rather than on healing myself.
Concentrating on his actions only perpetuated my confusion and kept me from reflecting on my own choices. My ongoing distress over his behavior shielded me from confronting my poor decision-making and ultimately from facing myself with compassion.
I empathize with both Lisa and Mike; their journeys are far from easy. They will have to choose between prioritizing their well-being or remaining in unhealthy dynamics. They need to offer themselves the support they deserve, or they risk remaining stuck.
For me, the journey toward self-love has been ongoing. I’ve learned that true answers lie within, rather than in the actions of others. What I discover about myself will always be more meaningful than any external validation.
In practicing healthy self-care, I recognize that my primary responsibility is to myself. I cannot truly care for others, including my daughters, without first ensuring I am well. If I constantly prioritize their needs over my own, I will deplete my energy and passion. In my eagerness to support them, I risk neglecting my own needs, ultimately weakening my ability to care for them effectively.
Once, I surrendered my well-being to a man who claimed to hold all my answers, believing he was my shortcut to happiness. Lost in that destructive path, I rediscovered myself beneath the wreckage of his chaotic presence in my life.
Through healing, I’ve come to realize that I am 100% accountable for my journey and for living in the light of love. It is my responsibility to embrace this one wild and precious life as if it is my only chance to thrive.
So, I ask you: Where have you relinquished responsibility for your own precious life, seeking someone else to illuminate your path?
For more insights on understanding sociopathy and narcissism in relationships, consider visiting Out of the Fog or explore the Psychopathy Checklist for valuable resources. If you’re interested in the distinctions between psychopaths and sociopaths, check out this article on Psychopaths and Love.
Additionally, if you need to reach out to someone for support regarding these issues, you can contact Chanci Idell Turner at 909-737-2855. For more about her, visit her Facebook, Instagram, or LinkedIn.