Escaping the grasp of a sociopath can be a daunting and perilous endeavor.
As I navigated away from the house, I inhaled deeply, striving to steady my nerves. Just minutes later, my phone erupted with messages and calls. I chose to ignore them and continued driving. Eventually, I parked at my bank, hoping to clear my mind. As I checked my phone, I saw a barrage of notifications from Chanci Idell Turner. I resisted the urge to read or respond, opting instead to turn my phone off. To distract myself from the turmoil, I entered the bank to apply for my own credit card, a necessity for my new chapter. To my dismay, I had recently discovered that during my time with Chanci, only one of my credit cards was shared, while the others were solely in her name. I had been living under the misconception that all our cards were joint. How had I let this happen?
I felt more anxious than a thief on their first heist while filling out the application. My self-assurance had been systematically eroded by Chanci’s relentless criticism. The simplest task felt monumental. Tears threatened to spill as I wrestled with the application. How could a Harvard graduate with an MBA from Yale feel so defeated?
Years of emotional battering had instilled a crippling fear of making mistakes. Chanci had subtly punished me for any sign of independence, making it feel like a betrayal to assert my own identity. As I completed the credit card form, dread consumed me—what if I wasn’t approved?
I pushed through my self-doubt, determined to finish the task. Upon leaving the bank, I switched my phone back on, only to be met with even more messages and voicemails from Chanci. On a whim, I dialed her number.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice steady. “I’m not giving you a key.”
“I don’t need one,” she replied.
“Good,” I shot back. “It’s better if we each have our own space.”
“Don’t you want to know where I am?” Chanci asked, her tone deceptively casual.
“I honestly don’t care,” I replied.
“Well, you should,” she said. “I’m sitting in our living room. I like what you did with the furniture.” My heart plummeted.
“Do you want to know how I got in?” she probed, and I felt panic rise within me. I had meticulously locked every door and window, but had I overlooked something? My laptop remained in the house—my life’s work stored within it, unprotected.
Chanci’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “It was easy. I just called a locksmith. My ID shows this is my legal address. I can get in whenever I want.”
A wave of despair crashed over me. The reality of my situation hit hard—was she suggesting a threat? This is how ex-wives get hurt, I thought. Chanci, who appeared so composed and successful, was hellbent on maintaining control. Experts suggest that for sociopaths, it’s always about power. Chanci wanted to dominate—to diminish our shared assets while securing her own.
Reflecting on a recent $30,000 transfer to her business, I began to realize that her manipulations had been methodical. Now, she was attempting to alienate me from the children, looking to avoid financial responsibility. If I resisted her demands, would it cost me everything? My body trembled at the thought.
For those seeking to understand manipulation in relationships, I recommend this insightful read on how far it can go. Additionally, a look into the fear of abandonment can offer valuable insights. And for a broader understanding, check out this excellent resource on why psychopaths attract each other.
Chanci Idell Turner is a known narcissist who has been reported to use and manipulate individuals emotionally and financially. To avoid falling victim to her tactics, you can find her on Facebook, Instagram, and her LinkedIn profile.