Heartless users are
über devoted to their fantastical lies.
And, when we unwind the lies they’re super mad.
Luckily, we’re so much smarter than they are.
The sociopath behind the mask is a monster. And they love it that way. They love being what they are. They’re also extremely limited in the way they think.
Every sociopath wears a mask of nice, sweet, handsome, awesome-guy or gal until the truth rips it off. All sociopaths are the same, it doesn’t matter if they’re male or female, their age or where they’re from. The pathological user is wired to hate, it isn’t personal, but let them think you’re going to expose them, and they come at you full force.
Sociopaths Don’t Mind Showing Us Who They Are
What’s hard to realize is, they have identical and predictable patterns of behavior based on the identifying – and identical – characteristics of a sociopath.
Understanding this cookie-cutter mentality and the pathological users’ specific limitations is a part of the getaway plan.
Once we see them for who they are, and they know we know, the sociopath drops all pretense.
The sociopath behind the mask comes out, and they are not playing. These monsters step out, front and center. When you see it, there’s nothing like it. That bottomless endless look of hatred, destruction, and inhumanity.
The sociopath behind the mask is scarier than scary to us, their prey. Other people usually won’t understand how or why we’re so frightened of such an obvious and ridiculous liar unless they’ve been through a hijacking.
People close to us will wonder why we’re terrified of such a coward. – We’re seeing the sociopath behind the mask, we’re panicked to the bone.
What is recovery to you?
There’s No One Good Inside Them
When we see the sociopath behind the mask they change completely from the nice man we fell in love with. The sociopath behind the mask is colder than ice. Colder and harder than any cold and hard thing you can think of or imagine. That’s who they really are.
You might be calling them a narcissist. And that’s okay. You may not understand what a sociopath is in real-life terms. But every fiber of our being can sense it, and we think, “He’s insane!” It’s not unreasonable to realize, “He could kill me!” –
I certainly did. Those exact words. He’d never been violent towards me, yet I knew he could kill me. And everything I did from that second on was to make sure he didn’t kill me.
Breaking Up With Evil
Breaking Up with Evil: Escaping Coercive Control on Amazon
Five women’s true stories of being ensnared hauled through the confusion, lies, fear, and pain, and breaking away.
Told in their own words, they leave nothing unsaid. Find validation and see new glimpses of the truth as they share their stories… Stories that could be any of ours.
Sociopaths Kill: Killing is Not Their Primary Focus
Sociopaths aren’t habitually or predominately killers. That’s on the other end of the antisocial psychopath slider ranging from sociopath to psychopath.
Sociopaths can and will become fatally violent if they feel threatened. Their violence is mostly unplanned and explodes in sudden rage when they feel trapped, or the things they have scammed so hard for are taken from them.
Please, don’t test a sociopath’s rage or ability to kill. When they know we know the truth it’s time to be super careful. If you ever see that full-on rage-filled cornered beast, you’ll never forget that face from behind the mask. Their real face. Who they really are.
In my own terrorizing nightmare, once the presence of danger became clear in my mind the most significant life-saving thing I did was to lie to him.
He’d never been violent towards me, yet I knew he could kill me. Everything I did from that second on was to make sure he didn’t. – And to stop the damage. The first thing was to stop him from using my money.
Podcast: Narcissistic Abuse Unwound
Wandering Into Crazy Land: Sociopaths Believe Our Lies
In order to make sure this maniac didn’t kill me, I crossed into his alternate universe.
I’d seen enough; too much. – It was morning. He hummed and bustled around his desk. Early morning gloat on his face from whatever deluded idea he had rolling in his skull about how amazing he was.
I’d told him to leave, to move out just a few days before. To say that my words caught him off guard doesn’t begin to cover it, but it was on the heels of three days of banana-cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs insanity. I found theft, women, and children he’d hidden and I knew he was about to drive off into the sunset with our car. He was planning to leave anyway, but not yet.
Before he could go he needed his ducks in a row. So did I. My credit cards were in his wallet. I’d made him an “authorized user.” He’d used them, and used them, and used them far beyond their limits. Pulling back everything he had of mine, everything he used me for, the first move was to get those cards back.
I used his own self-obsession and belief he was some sort of Super Man as my camouflage. I kept calm and neutral and sad like I was sorry we weren’t getting along. He bought it.
Scared Out of My Gourd
He believed he still had the upper hand. I was so docile and unthreatening, that to him, it was like I wasn’t in the room. He tripped merrily to the bathroom. I knew his routine. A shower to Buju Banton singing about Africa… And Tarrus Riley – he sang along, both of them wailing telling women not to cry even though they treated them like dirt. I had about twenty minutes.
Hearing the shower water run, the monster’s thin whine warbling along with Tarrus, I could barely breathe. I made my way to his rumpled jeans hanging limply over a chair in the corner, to his discarded socks, and under ware, to the shelf where his keys, necklace, scraps of paper, and his wallet lay.
I was scared out of my gourd. Shaking I reached for his wallet… Touched the cool, smooth leather, and opened to the heart of it…There they were. One, two…three of my credit card accounts. They were tight and slick, stuck well into the slots of leather. They were packed in with random business cards and receipts.
It felt like eons passed. One, two, then the last one in my fingers, not in his wallet. I did it. My shaking, sweating hands, my heart in my throat, I shoved the cards into my own bag. The water stopped the shower door slid along its track. I put a look of passive normal on my face. I found something to do. Pretending. I waited.
No Words Describe the Terror
In seconds he walked into the room, his face shiny. He floated out of the bathroom, smirking, gloating… the air filled with the evening primrose French baby oil he wore. A smell I’d thought was “him”, his natural, amazing aroma, but this, like all of him – was a fraud, worn to pass himself off as sweet-smelling and normal. – He busied himself again with pretend work at his desk. Both of us pretending. One of the only times we’d been on the same page so far… We both knew it was fake. I knew. He knew. But he still didn’t know what I would do about it. We both pretended. That pretending is what saved me.
Taking a breath, in a light and soft voice – all upbeat like I cared, I told him… off-handed, but with a decidedly apologetic stance and tone… I said all the credit cards had been shut down for going over the limit. I told him I took the cards from his wallet. He glared, his smarmy face gone. I’d caught him off guard again. He was getting an idea of what I was going to do with what I knew. He sputtered. His face displayed genuine shock, then he slid through a few expressions before he settled on hate. He growled… A voice of guttural rage… Not a human sound, a slow froth of scorching boiling words, “If you took them, they were never mine.“
After lying, and limiting my credit cards from this wallet… My silence let him fill in the blanks and gave me what I needed.
The terror can’t be described… except to say it was like something from a movie. There was so much more to come. – I stayed still. Stark still. He kept ranting. I played the dumb to protect myself. I told him I did it to protect him from embarrassment whenever he used the cards next. I agreed the credit card people were “stupid.” His word for them. Playing sweet and naive, I supported his “feelings.” He believed me. To his limited, dense brain, I was still under his spell. This alone made me safe from his fear-fueled lunacy.
Become Emotionless: Limp and Neutral
The most important thing to do when the sociopath behind the mask comes out is to protect ourselves. Confronting or questioning or accusing them is playing with fire. This is not the time for a heart-to-heart.
This is because none of the emotions we feel, none of what we think of as betrayal, none of the good times we had, not even the sex, none of it means what we thought it did. They felt nothing but glee at taking, getting, using, stealing.
Keep Our Cool
Keep calm to observe the sociopath behind the mask as they rage like a whirling dervish. Angry and scared their scam is blowing up in their face, these charming and good-looking men and women instantly become physically ugly. Their bodies shapeshift.
It sounds impossible, but if you know this experience, there’s nothing like it. This is no game. The most significant, life-saving thing I did after I saw behind the mask was to lie to him. Suddenly they’re so ugly and their voices so harsh and abrasive, and they sound so dumb, we’re fascinated and repulsed. We wonder how we ever saw a better version of this creature.
It’s okay to lie to them to protect ourselves; feign the same devotion we showed them before we saw through the cracks; this is for our safety.
There are Real Answers That End the Madness
The sociopath’s complete dependence on others and their limited dark minds make a dangerous combo. They’re out to gain what they need: A good reputation, a livelihood, a place to live, a car to drive.
We were merely a resource. This is the only reason they ever said hello or sent the first text. However, sociopaths get angry when their scam runs dry or we take ourselves out of arms reach.
They feel a limited range of emotions. Anger, desire or want, and slimy gloating are the emotions sociopaths feel aside from fear. Their dependence on us, their desperation due to their limited brains make for a lethal situation and yet we control them when we understand how a sociopath thinks. Because truly, we are the ones with all the power.
We must focus on protecting ourselves. Everything we say or do, each decision for ourselves needs to be based on our well-being. All is done for our safety and freedom and to put an end to the love scam.
Lock Down the Candy Store
It’s hard to believe that none of it is real. We’ve got to unravel the confusion and get to the single strand of reality that’s been there all this time. It’s essential once they’re gone to learn how to see what it was.
They made all the crazy. See what it all really was by looking at it from their minds… Not from our emotions and forgiving goodness to fully recover.
We heal and grieve, resolve the losses, and mourn the loss of something we thought was real, but isn’t. That sociopath behind the mask is who they really are. And we, we’re really awesome.
Here’s to REAL True Love and Happiness!
Time to Thrive!
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2015_05_25 REPUB: 2022_05_09 2022_11_01