The truth is: a sociopath by any other name is still a sociopath. The irrelevant-for-recovery DSM trips us up in seeing what’s really happening. Underneath it all, they’re identically pure poop.
For amusement and because we need classifications that are useful to resolve this sickeningly real situation, I’ve assigned categories to distinguish variations of a sociopath (aka narcissist) that matter to us. – Unlike the categories in the DSM. Every sociopath creates a persona to live by. They need a front, a “personality” to present which is constructed as a face of normal.
Our own thoughts during PTSD freak us out. How can we think we’d want someone dead? It’s okay, it is fleeting and fine as long as we aren’t doing any killing.
PTSD after a sociopath is a full and whole body and mind experience. We find ourselves thinking and feeling things we’ve never experienced before. Among the mad and sad we can hardly acknowledge, there are seconds we wish they were d-e-a-d.
PTSD is a tangle of flooding, swirling emotions, and thoughts, and this is one of them. I wish they were just dead.
You don’t have to pretend that you don’t have this feeling if you’ve got it, nor feel guilty for it.
It’s our body is good and mad these life-stealing parasites – and rightly so.
The feeling is within a short phase of recovery, it doesn’t come up all day long in the way other thoughts or memories do and the phase doesn’t last too long. It’s normal. Don’t worry, this sickening thought will soon vanish.
This startling though passing thought, during a certain point in the odyssey of restoring your life which usually hits within in the first months of the recovery from a sociopath con man and the unavoidable PTSD can really freak us out.
This is because we’re normal. So, instead of thinking something is wrong with us for thinking this, rest assured we feel bad for feeling it is reassurance that we’re normal.
This thought comes to almost all our minds and to some of our lips after a sociopath splits the scene and we’re left swirling in a cesspool of lies, deceit, ruin and devastation, shock, and is usually about two months after they’ve gone if we’re moving along, on course in the phases of recovery.
Better Off Dead: Them That Is
We have every right to go through the emotions and the experience of putting our out-of-balance nervous system back together after our life was hijacked by a sociopath con man. Not many people talk about this – you can bet I will.
Images dance through our minds of how: Beaten, chopped up – mostly beaten. We’d kinda like to see them tortured slowly. I even briefly wondered how people hire hitmen.
And instantly knew I’d do no such thing. And if I did I’d be suspect number one: The ex-spouse.
At an odd moment, the thought might run past the viewing screen in your mind that we could maybe hire someone to kill them. That thought and doing something about it are lightyears apart.
We know we can’t; first of all, it’s seriously cost-prohibitive. (Yes, dark humor.) And secondly: We know we won’t do any such thing.
It’s a horrifying idea to feel, but die, sociopath, die are indeed terrible words that float up out of someplace in our body.
And a very normal thought in PTSD after a con man sociopath… Even if you’re calling them a narcopath or narcissist who has torn up our life. This feeling is so normal there’s a name for it: battered women’s syndrome.
Makes inr=e rethink the circumstances under which Lorena Bobbit cut of her sleeping husband’s penis with a kitchen knife in 1993. We all know it now: John Bobbit is a sociopath. Nobody knew or talked about that back then.
We have dreams during which someone – or we – kill them. We picture them being strangled or stoned to death. These life-stealing dirtbags have earned nothing less. Not all sociopaths beat their prey.
But emotional abuse does not go by harmlessly. When discovering we were ensnared by a sociopath; the deception, the mind-f**k, the house of cards. This is more than plenty to make us – naturally, instinctively form a very deep place in our lives – to want them dead during the normal-and-to-be-expected PTSD we go through.
Wishing the Narcissistic Sociopath Would Die is Normal: It’s Part of Healing
While it’s true the sociopath has no conscience, the fact is we do have a conscience. And feelings. And we really would not ever come remotely close to killing the bastard or bastardette. As surprised as we are at this thought… allow it. It’s okay. It’s natural. — This feeling passes quite quickly.
These out-of-character flashing thoughts occur during a brief part of the reaction to the trauma at their hands. It’s got a name. It’s called Battered Person Syndrome. Lorena gave her husband’s penis a whack 20 years ago, June 23, 1993.
Lorena faced court charges and trials and public scrutiny and then it was judged that she was under temporary insanity when she chopped off her hubby’s little, sleepy, dangling thingy with a kitchen knife.
The Trauma of The Hijacking Took Over Lorena Bobbit
Can you picture it? — Did she drop the knife and run when her cheating-beating-husband woke from a dead sleep screaming and spurting blood from his little sausage? Or, rather – from where it used to be? – We know she held onto his penis – later it was sewn back on.
Have questions and want real answers…? Think about recovery sessions.
We Feel Kinda Crazy and Kinda Guilty
If we’re smirking and enjoying this scenario does this make us cold and heartless?? No. It means we’re alive, and thank goodness we have a sense of humor.
Temporary insanity… For some of us, on some days, it feels like we might be losing our minds… But, really you’re going to be okay. Let’s open our hearts toward ourselves. Think of how you were genuine, sincere, and doing what normal people do. That’s all good.
What We Believe Makes Our Lives
And John Bobbit came out okay. He even got to star in a couple adult movies; all due to his hacked-off, patched-up penis. Yes, irony. Humor heals.
Be careful what you believe about your experience. Anything telling you it’s your fault is flat-out wrong. If the answers you find make more pain and confusion rather than a shock but a feeling in your gut of truth and resolution: Keep looking. There are real answers.
Go Beyond Answers or Explanations That Point to Fault in You
Seek out an accurate perspective on what these soul-jackings are. (Yes, that perspective is all over this website.) These are crimes. We were not in relationships and likely, neither was Lorena Bobbit.
Did you see that Bobbit guy’s photo? The face of a sociopath if there ever was one. John Bobbit has a criminal record before Lorena, during, and after Lorena for violence against women.
Know the Real Deal: Be Free
We want to refocus and look at it for what it was, a crime. The sociopath has a simplistic, myopic mind. They only care about two things: 1) getting what they want, and 2) not getting caught.
All the emotional upheaval we go through is the fallout of the way they bulldoze through countless targets’ worlds with their permanent view of life, which is: “I am better than everyone. I deserve whatever I want. I will take it. You will be grateful. You will shut up.”
Sociopaths believe they are fantastic. We know they’re monsters, and that we are not. So, no… No matter the dark surprising thoughts that rise up in a phase of the recovery. We won’t go around killing anyone.
Breaking Up with Evil: Escaping Coercive Control by Jennifer Smith
We’re going to look toward rebuilding our lives and using the madness to hopefully, ideally create something of value for ourselves and our loved ones. Within Nichiren Buddhism this is called: turning karma into mission. Transform the icky karma of meeting Mr. Poopy-pants into value – Lorena did it.
Lorena started an organization, called Lorena’s Red Wagon, that helps victims of domestic abuse with profoundly simple and equally significant things – like providing birthday cakes for the children of victims who have escaped, but are say, maybe in a shelter. I officially love Lorena Bobbit.
Our actions in challenging our destiny become examples and inspiration for countless others… When we change our karma into mission, we transform our destiny from playing a negative role to a positive one… Therefore those who keep advancing, while regarding everything as part of their mission proceed toward the goal of transforming their destiny. ~ Daisaku Ikeda, Living Buddhism, August 2003
Add these to your contacts so you don’t miss a newsletter! jennifer@truelovescam.com info@truelovescam.com
As a certified coach, upholding industry standards I strive to inform, educate, invite thought and dialogue, to co-plan, co-strategize, advise, consult, refer, recommend, train, teach, guide and coach people in guided recovery and discovery specific to these crimes, and from hell and broken in the aftermath to whole again, and more. You decide what winning is.
Affiliate links are in every True Love Scam Recovery article. Clicks on these links provide minor compensation to keep the site running. www.truelovescam.com and its agents are not licensed as attorneys, medical doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, or therapists. See the entire and full True Love Scam Recovery Privacy Policy and Legal Agreement and Disclaimer here. Thank you.
After the sociopath, we’re left with many things. Mostly super icky things. We need to find the good after the sociopath walks out.
After the sociopath walks out we’re each left with a basket of garbage and rubble we need to turn to great good for ourselves.
We might be left with some good things we can spot right off the bat; definitely, we’re left with some not-so-good things that require persistent and courageous attention.One of those such things that I haven’t gotten a grip on yet is fat.
I’m not a woman who strives for Skinny-Minnie. The opposite: the idea of being too thin freaks me out. Seeing so many size-two and under tiny, little boyish-waifs who refuse to eat pasta, bread, French fries, cheese – no nuts unless they’re raw, organic almonds. It’s exhausting.
Certainly, they eat no butter, bananas (too much sugar content), or heaven forbid – ice cream – at least not in public, I can’t handle that. Ice cream…? Who doesn’t need ice cream once in a while?
Find the way back to you. Get them out of your bones.
Rapid and scary weight loss is part of the ride out of hell after a sociopath. First I dropped two clothing sizes practically overnight after the monster checked out. Then gained those and two more.
Yes, count ‘em, that’s an upswing of four clothing sizes. Yikes, so I’m carrying around an extra two-sizes of behind. Let’s say two and a half. I don’t know my weight in numbers; I don’t have a scale. I find them brutally demeaning. I weigh heavy, meaning I can carry more weight than I look like I do.
PTSD and Sustained Trauma Make Us Ill
Many of us are left with our health torn apart after the sociopath walks out. Do what works. Bit by bit life gets better after the sociopath walks out.
I also battled being sick a lot after the sociopath, so there were days – weeks at a time that I skipped exercise because of migraines, outbreaks on my hands of blisters that bloom with stress, or a cold, which I started getting every three to four months v.s. once in three to four years pre-sociopath.
The Return to Exercise and Health
As chub-lade and sluggish as I am, I barely make it through a yoga class. I tried. The teacher kept singling me out to ask if I was alright, as my belly fat blocked me from bending and gyrating myself into a crescent side twist. Under her yoga-perfect scrutiny, my size grew alarmingly.
My now super-huge thighs and extra-fat feeling knees left me unable to rest in child’s pose. At every solicitous query into my okay-ness I wanted to knock her in the head. Or scream, No. I’m not okay. I’m fat! – And out of breath. And nearly collapsing to the floor.
Heavy and Lumpy
After the yoga class humbling, I tried walking for exercise outdoors. Embarrassingly, I feel too fat to walk! There’s a rolling sensation from ample ass and back-side through my hips and groin and thighs rendering a rhythmic, lumpy duck waddle.
It’s disheartening living in stretchy jeans (in a size I abhor) and long-sleeved tee-shirts in a world where women wear skinny jeans and tiny body-skimming tops that show their exercised and tanned arms and short or long sundresses – called town gowns – year-round.
Fatty-Fatty Two by Four
And sometimes, alone, at home where no one can see me, I think I’m still beautiful and wonder why it matters. Then someone asks me to go to a concert or a show – and I say, “No.” – Because I truly have nothing to wear.
I’ll not buy a little black dress to cover this. It would look so bad to my eye that I would crumple and cry before I got out the door. And heels make the impression of a huge, lumpy olive on top of a spindly toothpick. Horrible aesthetics. Sigh.
The Bright Side
I console myself that I have nice feet and a good pedicure in year-round sandal country. Killer hair too. Sorry to be so superficial, but every bit counts right now. But, neither of those are health risks.
I know, I know, we might say all of this is ego, or superficial. Maybe. But I feel it all in quiet agony. And – the thing is – I feel my body freezing up; I used to do all this close-to-impressively-advanced yoga, and walk, and feel like a dancer, a swan – able, competent.
Health Matters Most
What if the roots of some serious illnesses are developing here? High blood pressure and high cholesterol or heart disease or diabetes. Surely it’s best to lose weight. But… dieting? It makes me nervous. It makes me eat… more.
So on a significant day for me, I took myself in hand. December 4th marks the day I began practicing the Buddhism I practice with SGI… something to celebrate.
But, on this year when December 4th came around, I was bedridden with a cold; it looked like a dismal day of defeat. I decided this would not be the case. I vowed that despite outward appearances, despite not feeling like moving, I decided today would be the day I became an athlete.
A yoga-lete, I coined the name – unless that already exists somewhere out there – because I want to live my life doing yoga and walk-jogging and hiking. So, that day I got myself together. I’ve heard so many times that you can “walk yourself fit”. So. Here I go. I will let nothing stop me. Start where I am and walk it off. Grateful for moving.
I went for a 30-minute walk in the neighborhood avoiding people. I ignored my rolling rear-end. At a mid-height garden wall, I lifted my legs and used it to stretch. I said, “I’m an athlete; a yoga-lete.
This is the first day of being an athlete.” The following day I said, “This is day two of being an athlete; a yoga-lete!” – and did some stretches. I felt good keeping my word to myself and said, “It may not look like it, but I’m a yoga-lete.”
The next morning, I woke up smiling. Looking forward to how cool it’ll be to see my tummy shrink back into its proper place.
On that day – Day three – I went for a 30-minute walk, more vigorous, though nothing truly athletic, but outside, where people could see me. I passed The Peninsula Club on South Santa Monica Blvd, and witnessed a man and woman climbing out of a Ferrari. He lifted her with a hand leveraged in his.
He looked typical Beverly Hills with jeans, a Kitson-perfect tee-shirt, and the right hat and sunglasses. She looked ridiculous-ish. She was über slender, short, as is the norm here in HollywoodLand, but made tallish in extreme platform heels of 5 inches giving her feet the flexibility of a horse hoof.
She wore all black. A short black dress, her black hair in a meticulous up-do. Dark, updated, Breakfast at Tiffany’s sunglasses, and because it’s winter in Beverly Hills – a black fluffy wrap held close around herself, clutched in her hands in front of her rail-thin body.
As we can all now recognize a sociopath when we see one – we can read people in general. The “read” evoked involuntary laughter – after she walked by. She had her head held as if in mockery of a high fashion model’s fish lip, sunken cheek haughtiness as if to telegraph “I’m so beautiful.”
Vapid, empty, like a cutout paper-doll. She took it all so seriously walking the same attitude; one foot placed directly in the path of the previous step, the far-apart, inner edges of her thighs only striving to meet.
She rolled forward in awkward rotation, roiling from her hips and back-side as I did! – So. Wow. I walk like a faux-fashion model without even trying!
Day 4. I did a two-mile walk exercise video with closing yoga stretches in my apartment hosted by Leslie Sansone. I even broke a sweat. I’m an athlete. I’m a yoga-lete. I’m a fashion model, yoga-lete walkin’ It off after the sociopath walks out. We’re pretty awesome…
And, you know what? Now neuroscientists have proof: diets don’t work. Eat intuitively. Live intuitively. Trust out lives. Here’s a TED Talk about this…
Add these to your contacts so you don’t miss a newsletter! jennifer@truelovescam.com info@truelovescam.com
As a certified coach, upholding industry standards I strive to inform, educate, invite thought and dialogue, to co-plan, co-strategize, advise, consult, refer, recommend, train, teach, guide and coach people in guided recovery and discovery specific to these crimes, and from hell and broken in the aftermath to whole again, and more. You decide what winning is.
Affiliate links are in every True Love Scam Recovery article. Clicks on these links provide minor compensation to keep the site running. www.truelovescam.com and its agents are not licensed as attorneys, medical doctors, psychiatrists, psychologists, or therapists. See the entire and full True Love Scam Recovery Privacy Policy and Legal Agreement and Disclaimer here. Thank you.
