Surviving Narcissism Exploring life after marriage to a narcissist. Learning and thriving by sharing our story. – Jesse Blayne

Last night I was reading in bed.  Reading in bed was frowned upon when I was married.  Bedtime was meant for one thing and one thing only – service.  We didn’t have a T.V. in our bedroom  for the same reason.

Now, in my happy little  sanctuary, I often read and watch T.V. in bed at the same time – a sweet, simple pleasure.  I was reading a wonderful novel by Elizabeth Berg.

Recently, my 90 year old grandmother was visiting.  We were sitting around the table talking about books.  She asked what I’d been reading.  When I told her mostly self-help books, she rolled her eyes and said, “You ought to read something by Elizabeth Berg.”  Guess there’s not much point in self-help books when you’re 90.

Elizabeth Berg is the kind of author that makes you feel like you are sitting down for coffee and stories with an old friend.

Back to last night – I was engrossed in the reading and I saw something scurry across my bedroom carpet and head under my bed.  It was a ridiculously large spider – so big, in fact, that it had to duck it’s head to get under the bed.  I threw my book at it.  That didn’t work.  I grabbed the broom to try and get at it.  Nothing.

All of this reminded me of how unsafe and insecure I felt in my marriage.  I’m not a woman that can’t kill a spider, but there were times when I thought that one of the benefits of marriage was that if I heard a sound in the house in the middle of the night, my big strong husband might be the first to head downstairs with the baseball bat.

A girl can only wait so long for some kind of response before she has to take matters into her own hands – especially when small children are involved.

There was the time, before kids, when we  were sitting on the couch trying to watch a movie that we couldn’t hear over the loud barking of the neighbors’ new puppy.  Mark complained incessantly.  With each complaint, I expected him to jump up, head out the door, and march to the neighbors’ house.  Surely he would walk over there and calmly, but firmly explain that enough was enough.  I finally figured out that with each complaint, he was expecting me to head out the door to do his bidding.  The puppy wasn’t bugging me, it was bugging him.   I actually asked him if he seriously expected that I would confront the neighbor.  He asked what was I waiting for.  He was not at all concerned that I might be risking my safety by complaining to the neighbor.

I’ve not read anything in the literature about narcissists and their inability or lack of interest in protecting their families.  I speculate that it has more to do with avoiding situations where there isn’t a known outcome.

He would excel in situations where he knew what to expect.  He avoided all situations where there was a risk that he might fail.  It was imperative that he maintain his reputation and not attempt anything that might jeopardize his standing.  He would not head down the stairs with a bat and chance an encounter with someone who could take him.  He would not confront a neighbor about his little barking puppy, if there was a chance that the neighbor might be bigger or tougher or unreasonable.  Yet he had no problem sending me.

Because every good narcissist needs a good accommodator, I marched across the street to confront the neighbor – by myself.

I remember a couple married girlfriends asking me if I felt safe once the kids and I had moved out.  It had been an awfully long time since I had been the only adult in the house.  They couldn’t relate when I explained that being in this little house without him was the safest I’d felt in a long time.  I wasn’t hoping and waiting for someone to step up to the plate and defend me.  That responsibility was all mine now.  I knew I was capable and competent.  No more resenting the lack of response from the one person that society told me would be in charge of my safety.

Now when I grab the baseball bat, I don’t have to wait to see if somebody else might do it first.  I can quickly address all the little events that the grown-ups take care of – shooing the big scary dogs out of the yard, making sure the doors are locked every night, avoiding the houses in the neighborhood that make us a little nervous, and being the first to kill the big spiders.

Except for last night.

Last night I slept on the couch.