It took a long time for Claire*, 46, a finance manager, to realise that she was married to an emotionally abusive narcissist. Here’s how she and her sons, 17 and 14, survived the eventual divorce.
There were so many red flags in our marriage that it’s hard to understand how I ended up spending most of my adult life with my ex. When I first met him, I was a 19-year-old student living in London. He was 24 and a barman. I was drawn to his charisma, his humour and easy-going manner.
We bought a flat together and while we were happy, he would sometimes crack ‘jokes’ that would upset me – like saying that he’d only promised to get me a dog if I passed my master’s because he didn’t think I would actually do it. And everyone would laugh, but, having worked so hard to get my master’s (and the dog), this ‘joke’ would hit me squarely in the stomach.
There were so many situations where I would tell myself he didn’t mean it like that when he said hurtful things. I was so busy bending over backwards to please and appease him that I overlooked the fact it was never going to be enough.
There were so many situations where I would tell myself he didn’t mean it like that when he said hurtful things.
But we got married and had our two sons and there were times when things were great between us, but also occasions when I just couldn’t make excuses for his behaviour. He was a narcissist who always needed to make himself look good. There would be big displays of affection, like a showy party for my 40th birthday, but these felt insincere when I would receive put-downs, always out of other people’s earshot, and I often felt unsupported.
He always did what he wanted, like going off to Hong Kong for his 40th, without telling or involving me. He’d make this selfish behaviour feel normal, but it wasn’t.
Things came to a head when he left the children and I for a month to climb a mountain in Nepal during the pandemic. It was November 2020 and, with Covid cases spiking again and borders closing, I tried to talk him out of going. What if he couldn’t get back? Who would look after the boys, then 11 and nine, if I got sick? Sure enough, within a few days of his departure my youngest and I tested positive for Covid.
For the whole month he was away in Nepal, I didn’t get a single text or phone call.
For two weeks I was pretty much bed-ridden, relying on friends and family to drop off food for the boys. I had breathing difficulties so bad that a medic friend had to bring me an Oximeter to monitor my oxygen levels. It was a frightening time but for the whole month he was gone, I didn’t get a single text or phone call. He knew my son and I had Covid, yet the only communication was the sight of his triumphant selfie on LinkedIn when he reached the summit. It was the final straw.
As I slowly recovered, I reassessed my life and realised I could not only cope without him but would be better off alone.
I told him I’d had enough and filed for divorce but, now with embolisms on my lungs, I had to focus on my health for the time being, so proceedings stalled. At my dad’s insistence we went to a session of couples therapy, but my ex soon walked out, slamming the door. Ultimately it was him that filed for divorce, presenting me to the court as a bad mother and demanding full custody. Blindsided, I had to get statements from the boys’ grandparents, my parents, friends and the paediatrician to attest otherwise.
My youngest son felt I was abandoning them by moving out, and there were some tough conversations.
The divorce wasn’t pretty, but at least he didn’t get to keep the house, and we got shared custody, although I was the one who’d moved out. The boys were at this point 14 and 11 and while my eldest son, who’d witnessed certain things, perhaps understood why we were splitting up, his younger brother felt I was abandoning them by moving out, and there were some tough conversations.
Until the house was sold last summer and our financial ties were cut, things were incredibly tough, both emotionally and financially. But thanks to some good advice from friends and a great therapist, I was able to smooth the path through divorce a little. I learnt to allow myself grace and not blame myself for staying as long as I did too.
I worked out in advance of leaving what I would need to take with me and safeguarded documents; diverted his abusive text messages into a separate folder so I wouldn’t have to see them until I felt strong enough and leant on the female friends who showed up and supported me through this new unknown territory.When I finally moved into my own flat in 2023 it felt such a relief – and a new beginning.
I diverted his abusive text messages so I wouldn’t have to see them until I felt strong enough.
Some things I haven’t been able to control, like what happens when my kids are not with me. Through the divorce I could see that they had questions and got the impression that they were told things that might not have been true. But for me it was important that the boys never hear me say anything bad about their father. I’ve kept everything as normal as possible and always made sure that when they’re with me, everything they need is dealt with, whether it’s schoolbooks or a doctor’s appointment. I’m the one who charges across town when one of them forgets his sports kit – and children eventually work out who is there for them.
I’m in a better place now and in some ways it’s been transformative. I started performing standup comedy for a dare at an open mike night during my darkest times and it quickly became my life jacket. I was determined to turn divorce into a funny and teachable moment, and it’s helped me to find an identity of my own.
*Name and location has been changed to protect identity.
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