I thought I hit the jackpot.

I thought the universe was finally rewarding me.

When I was 29, I had recently left my first husband after discovering how many women he had slept with during our time together (let’s just say if cheating were an Olympic sport, he’d win the gold medal without breaking a sweat). .

After I moved out of state to try to start over — and get away from him because I couldn’t stand to see his face — my heartache made me desperate, insecure, and vulnerable.

In short, chaos.

Add to that a childhood spent begging my father for conditional love and starving for physical affection, and I came to the conclusion that I shouldn’t be loved, which my first husband supported.

So, when I started my new life in a new place, I couldn’t help but wonder: “Who would want me?”

Then he arrived.

Like a hungry lion with a piece of red meat, the man who would become my second husband answered my question.

“I do,” the predator said, drooling. “I want you.”

Thus began my descent into the hell of narcissistic abuse.

Here are the seven descents into the hell of narcissistic abuse:

Love bombing
Even though my first instinct was to run away from the tidal wave that was him, I couldn’t help but fall hard and fast because of what he brought in such great quantities that had been missing from my life until now.

Emotion. attention. Emotion. devotion. Great sex.

Everything he did was perfect. Everything he said was perfect.

It was as if he had a secret insight into my soul and knew what I needed from a man. It’s as if I had handed him a list of the top ten qualities I was looking for, and within the first few months he had checked off every single one of them.

In addition, he told me that the universe sent me to him. Who am I to stand in the way of a higher power?

So, I gave up. And I fell in love. Oblivious that I wasn’t loved in return.

I was set up.

Setup
I believed what he said. I trusted him like no one else.

He told me things about himself that no one else knew, so I returned the favor and told him everything – my secrets, my fears, my insecurities.

It was us against the world, or so I thought. It was his back and I thought it was mine. I gave him my kindness, my compassion, my loyalty – and assumed I owned him.

This trust in him made me depend on him to return what I gave him.

This dependency laid the foundation for what was to come.

Falling
There was confusion. What he used to love about me, he now criticized. Just when I felt comfortable believing what he thought of me—that I was smart, good with money, and a great mother—he would make comments to the contrary.

Not all the time. But sometimes. And then a lot of the time until later years it was most of the time.

While I was everything to him, my value diminished in his eyes. Like a piece of property.

Thus, I made mistakes in my behavior since my childhood with my father. He began performing to get the love he was giving away for free.

This led me to blame myself. Surely it was my fault, wasn’t it?

I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Gas lighting
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“I never said that. You’re being paranoid.”

“This never happened.”

“Why do you have to keep bringing up the past?”

“You made me do it.”

I lived in two worlds with two different men. There was the man I met who was charming, loving and kind. And there was this other guy.

I didn’t like that other guy.

He told me I was a high maintenance, emotional hole with daddy issues who needed to have thicker skin. He told me I was lucky that he stuck with me and put up with me.

But then the man I met comes along and showers me with all the love and affection that the other man withheld. He told me that he was the lucky one, that he loved me, and couldn’t live without me.

It made me crazy. Especially as I spent less and less time in the world of the man I fell in love with, and more and more time in the world of that other man.

And that other guy had a completely different set of rules that I now needed to live by.

The game
Every day was spent trying to turn back time. I wanted to go back to the beginning when we were happy, when he was happy with me.

How do I make him love me like he did before?

I’ve tried everything. I loved him more. I said what he wanted me to say. I agreed even when I disagreed. I turned myself into something flexible that he could shape, like putty in his hands.

And sometimes, some days, just for a moment, I would get his love and affection.

But then I say something he doesn’t like or have a different opinion or defend myself and then poof!

no more love. No more affection. Just silence.

And days of it.

Loss
There was a stranger in my house. I saw it anytime I looked in the mirror.

I didn’t recognize my body or mind anymore. The voices in my head were harsh and punishing.

whats your problem? what is your problem? I asked my reflection.

Her gaunt face stared back, the dark circles under her eyes revealing her exhaustion.

Here are the seven descents into the hell of narcissistic abuse:

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