Latest posts by Olivia (see all)
- The Kim Kardashian Test - October 29, 2019
- I’m grateful for my parents, and they’re grateful for me - October 25, 2019
- New Relationships and Fear - October 20, 2019
Today, I filmed a video. It was an hour long. It detailed the entire timeline of what my emotionally abusive, sociopathic ex did, from the moment I first saw him and remarked on his visual similarity to Harry Potter to the last time we communicated. I got it all out there. My intent was not to post. In fact, my intent was simply to have an audience. I’ve told everyone in my life what happened, to various degrees of detail, including this blog and the thousands of friends, acquaintances, parents’ friends, teachers, peers, doctors, and strangers who read it.
Then, I started thinking. Shouldn’t his current victim of a girlfriend know exactly what she did? Shouldn’t his parents understand how much he lied, the sheer quantity of them? Shouldn’t his sister know the terrible things he said about her, about her parents too? Shouldn’t his friends know what he said about their inadequacy? Isn’t it justice to do so? Isn’t it serving them well?
I’m not going to post it.
I might chronologize the whole thing into one article, before I go off to college. I didn’t use his name. But there’s value in not posting it, and I’ll explain how.
I’m stuck, now, in a nasty loop of OCD and PTSD. All I want to do is scream from the rooftops what happened to me. Especially now, when everything in my life besides PTSD is going well, I am particularly hooked on alleviating the pain that this disorder brings me, because it’s all that’s left. I’m frustrated, I’m exhausted, I feel defeated. But I’m not going to post it.
Posting the video would only perpetuate my captivity to the issue. This is the same with all interpersonal challenges that folks want to post about, but especially to mine as it pertains to emotional abuse.
I spent six months, and many more after the fact, captive to his false reality and untruthful narrative about himself and all of the “abusers” in his life. It was my entire job to soothe him and his reality, and when I failed at it (as I inevitably would, considering it was fabricated), I broke. The primary reason I tried to kill myself in March was because I could not escape the internal torment that he, his family, and his friends had brought me. It’s been hell.
But his parents are lawyers. His father is very influential and has threatened my family before. I don’t want to give into wealthy, privileged bullying like that, but I also don’t want to make myself more liable. Yes, you read that right. His family has tried to threaten myself and my family into keeping quiet about their son’s sociopathy. They are so delusioned that they think that people won’t notice if they just hush it up, and they’re so used to getting their way on everything that they think that threats are a viable answer.
However, that’s secondary to perpetuating my own captivity. Here’s what I mean by that.
I am stuck every day in a (his name) loop, as we call it. I distract myself all day, every day, with meaningful activities and people. I’ve replaced him in my life. And yet, I can’t escape the loops. Here’s how they go.
It’s not fair. I can’t save her. He can’t get away with this. Why didn’t his parents tell me he was a liar? They knew. Am I so disgusting that I deserved what I got? Will I ever get an apology? I want an apology so bad. I’d do anything for an apology. I’ll never get an apology. He’s hurting poor A but she doesn’t know it. Is it my job to tell her? It is. It isn’t. It is. It isn’t. Hah, Daddy’s money couldn’t buy his way into Harvard. But it did buy his way into a school I couldn’t afford. Does that make me less smart? Yes. No. Yes. No. Why me? Why did this happen to me? I must have cosmically done something to deserve it. I can’t think of anything tangible so it must be, simply, who I am deep down that deserved what happened. I’m a bad person, he’s a worse person, but he has wealth and privilege on his side and I don’t so he’ll succeed where it’s harder for me. I have to push harder. I will push harder. See you at Harvard Law, you jerk.
I get so wrapped up in this set of thoughts that aggressively placing myself into my immediate surroundings, or mindfulness, is what’s necessary to obtain momentary relief.
What also provides short term relief is posting about it. The thing is, it doesn’t last. It roars back with a vengeance. Nothing is ever enough, there’s always more to be said, another point to be made.
Does he deserve endless exposes? Of course, a thousand times over. He deserves everything I’ve written and more, so does his family. But it isn’t good for me anymore. It keeps me trapped in the loop. After I write about him, I experience momentary relief, but later in the night, I’ll have a horrible nightmare about flying invisible through his house, being swatted at by his parents while I’m trying to follow his screaming voice to his room, a room that looks nothing like his real life room.
I’m not going to post the video. It’s the best thing for me.