The pile of clean folded clothes was a prop. The pile sat on the counter waiting for its cue. The cue was the sound of the garage door opening.
__________
She wrote detailed plans for her new future. She’d live in a house where she could take deep breaths – a house where she didn’t walk on eggshells.
She wouldn’t have to ask permission to faux-paint the bathroom walls. She’d cook what she liked at whatever time of the day she pleased.
She’d sweep the floor when she felt it needed it.
The blue spiral notebook was filled with thoughts on this new future.
Whenever she found a spare moment, she would pull down the notebook, and jot down a view more specifics – white linens in the bedroom; pink brocade throw pillows on the chartreuse sofa; mix and match jelly jars for juice glasses.
When she came home with a piece of peely-paint furniture, she wouldn’t be forced to refinish it. She’d pour herself a little jelly jar of wine, and sit down and marvel at the distress of the cupboard and imagine the life it had lived.
She would fill the worn cupboard with all the stuff he hated – her craft projects, decorator magazines and notes from dear friends.
The closet of her new home contained boots and skirts and billowing blouses – all the clothes he hated She’d donate the running shoes he bought her every year. There would be no need for name brand outdoor gear in her new life.
After getting dressed, she’d put on too much jewelry and a bit of patchouli, just because she felt like it.
Or maybe she’d walk around in jeans with holes in the knees, no makeup, and wait until the next day to take a shower.
It didn’t matter.
This was her home – her life – her agenda.
Her rules.
She wrote about how the postage stamp-sized yard was bordered by Hollyhocks and Sumacs and Gypsophilia – all things she loved but wasn’t allowed to plant in his yard. She was about to write that she could mow the lawn at her home in whatever pattern she liked when she heard the grinding wheels of the garage door.
She hid her favorite pen.
He walked in as she was tucking the notebook beside the other ordinary notebooks on the shelf.
She grabbed the waiting pile of folded clothes and greeted him.
The clothes hid the fact that she’d been plotting her happy ending.
She looked the part of his dutiful wife when she walked by him wearing clean jeans and running shoes while carrying his folded shirts.
Because he doesn’t miss a thing, he saw the notebook she’d quickly tucked up on the shelf. “What are you writing?”
“Oh, that? It’s nothing really. Don’t laugh, but I keep track of little notes on how I can do a better job around the house. You know, laundry and cleaning tips, recipes. Just a few things that will make your our life better. It’s silly. I won’t bore you with it.”
He nodded his head and said, “You know, I’ve been wanting to make a few suggestions about how to do things better around here. First of all, you might consider a different notebook for those kinds of notes. I’ll recommend a good pen for that, too. Somewhere in your notes, you might include a tip on getting the laundry done earlier in the day, so as to be able to get dinner on the table the minute I walk in the door.”
She hurried upstairs to put his laundry away, so she could get back down to finish dinner.
She refused to let her shoulders slump. With each step, the vision of her happy ending became more clear. She could anticipate the deep breaths she’d take one day. She could smell the burning candles she would buy because she could. She could almost hear the music she would play, at a volume she chose.
The words in the blue notebook were her lifeline.
One day she’d be able to breathe again.
Tags: divorce, in search of self, marriage, narcissism, narcissist behavior, narcissistic behavior, NPD, proactive, survive
Wow! I’m so glad you kept that notebook. I think it must have helped you make the break. You are an amazing person.
Pat,
I know it helped me make the break.
Living a fake life.
It had to look to everyone like the perfect relationship. We could be in the same room and both think that the other had the perfect life. Yet we each had dreams of better lives.
I am always amazed when you write something like this – your words jump out of the screen.
I hid stuff in the couch – he never sat there. The perfect house, follow a schedule, no toys in the living room (I missed this the most). Christmas they could have toys in the living room until 12:00 then they had to be put away. It took me a long time to leave a dirty dish in the sink. Now I can walk past a sinkful with a smile and say I will do them later, when I feel like it.
I did the same thing! It surely was a survival guide for me. This post moved me deeply. Did he read the notebook? I am still in suspense even though I know he wouldn’t use HIS time to look at your thoughts.
Jesse,
This is poignant and powerful. Decluttering in preparation of the coming changes and reading and getting information was my lifeline–along with most of all–the beautiful friends and family in my life.
We are going foward . . .
Please keep us in your prayers this weekend–it is an especially tough one.
All the best . . .
Lynn
Kath,
For me, one of the scariest parts was getting in so deeply – so preoccupied with doing what he wanted, following his agenda, making things the way he wanted them – that it took a long while before I realized that I lost me. I lost what I wanted or liked or felt that a home should be.
Zaira,
Bwahahaha!!! Are you kidding? Why would he give two seconds to anything that had to do with me?
Oh Lynn,
I certainly keep you and yours in my prayers. Sending strength and extra warm hugs, too.
And you are so right about friends and family being the most important aspect of the lifeline.
So predictable. But it was great story-telling. You and I should write a movie script for Lifetime. :)
Zaira,
Oh God! It’d have to be a series – way too much material for one movie.
I see an excellent tragicomedy with lots of satire and not as much of the “whoa is me”.
Ns are so predictable, that we’d have to keep the series from heading into predictability. But the funny part – the thing that never stops amazing me – is the lengths they will go to in an effort to ensure that EVERYTHING is all about them.
p.s. Can you tell that I’ve given a little thought to a potential screenplay. It could morph into incidences of N in politicians, actors, sports stars, reality TV wannabes. OMG, there’s a neverending supply of Ns to write about!
Neil Patrick-Harris is the perfect N, but he already plays that in How I met your Mother. But I see it as a series like that. Hmmm…with all the publicity N gets nowadays, it may be a gold mine for you!
Jesse,
Thanks so much for your prayers and warm wishes and hugs! Jen and Will and you are in my prayers too.
I love the idea of a screenplay. Maybe a game show similar to “Name that Tune.” How about “Spot that N.” “I can spot that N in five comments.” Silly–but we have to laugh–it saves our sanity and spirit.
Thanks for the support . . .
Zaira and Lynn,
You two are prime examples of how really intelligent, funny, courageous women can be duped by an N.
I’ve never checked out the “How I Met Your Mother” show. I’ll have to do that.
Love! the idea of “I can name that N in 5 comments!” Oh, I can’t wait to see how’d they dress. ‘Course the production budget would be blown on the hair and makeup crew that the Ns would demand.
Oh, it’s fun to think…
Keep laughing!
I am trying to keep laughing even in the middle of it all. Your humor makes me laugh! Thank you!
Lynn,
I thought of you several times this weekend.
Hope all is well on your end.
Wouldn’t it be great to see them compete for a best dressed contest? There may be a lot of ascots for the formal and Patagonia seen in the “outdoorsy” look. Oh, how I have a ton of situations to put them in. Croquet match, football game tailgater, opera, new years eve, skydiving, etc etc. They could play dress up and have to choose their outfits from what is provided in the clothes bins. This could be similar to Survivor or America’s Top Model. LOL!
(did that make you laugh, Lynn?)
Zaira,
Not only are we from the same mold, we’re on the same wavelength.
I was just scrubbing my kitchen floor, thinking of the many times I inadequately cleaned my Ex’s floors. While on my hands and knees (it’s more therapeutic that way) I was thinking about love letters. (Long story.)
Anyway, I was thinking about how my Ex actually wrote quite intense, romantic love letters. It occurred to me today, while getting the crud out of the corners of the kitchen floor, that those letters weren’t really about/for me, they were another opportunity for him to hear himself.
So, in light of that…
I think our reality show should have a talent division. Each N will be judged on who can pen the most eloquent, romantic, imaginative love letter. Lord knows they all have themselves for motivation!
Oh dear God! I got the love letters too! I did hide them away to show my youngest that his dad did love me at some point (even if I know it’s fake). I don’t ever think of them, but your description of him hearing himself is so true! Of course, you know, he is a great poet and writer! :p
He started writing once about his adventures while he was traveling. The one excerpt sticks in my mind…”there she was, walking through the door like an angel, with her red hair and fair skin…” SNORE!
It could be like The Gong Show. I get the mallet!
Jesse,
Thanks for the thoughts and prayers. I know they are helping! Yes–penning a love letter would be a great contest for Ns–plenty of mirrors would be needed and reams of paper.
Zaira–you definitely made me laugh! Thank you! ; )
All the best to all of the “thrivers” . . .
Zaira,
Ewww… I’d have expected him to finish that line with… “she was there, in all her radiance, waiting to adore me.” Gag.
Could with hit them instead of a gong?
I am SO PROUD of you for keeping that notebook! And for walking away from a person who told you what kind of pen to use **shudder** I love this. And I think a mismatched, jelly jar, peeling paint, existence sounds fabulous compared to some Ns version of “perfect.” You go girl!!! <3
NM,
Thanks for the kind words!
You know, this peeling paint, somewhat messy life we have is our version of perfect is it is FULL of love and acceptance!
There’s nothing better!
I think hitting them is completely appropriate. Maybe a brain injury would cure them???? lol. But a blow up mallet would probably hurt their ego more…
I make myself laugh (have to) so I am glad that it is useful to others too. Thanks for letting me know, Lynn.
A la Pinterest….
“When karma comes back to punch you in the face, I’d like to be there, just in case it needs help.”
Have a great day, ladies ;)
hugs, NM
NM,
Perfect! Karma with an edge! ;)