Why I Refuse to Call My Ex Husband a Covert Narcissist

Posted on by stilllearning2b
covert narcissist

 

If anyone has the right to call her ex a covert narcissist, it’s me. While on the surface, he was a giving and caring man everyone loved, the man behind the curtain was another story entirely. He crafted false financial documents and insurance forms to support his lies as he bled our accounts dry. He wooed women, eventually wedding one without attending to the detail of obtaining a divorce from me first. He neglected the requirements of the criminal court system, earning a felony warrant. Even the judge in the divorce case asked my ex’s attorney if his client was “psycho.”

And maybe he is. Not a psycho necessarily, but a narcissist.

But, despite all of the evidence, I intentionally choose to not label my ex as a narcissist.

It seems like “narcissist ex” is the gluten-free of the relationship world – all of a sudden, it’s everywhere. But is it really that pervasive or are we just using the label too recklessly?

Just over 6% of the population has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) based upon the criteria set forth in the DSM-5: seeking approval from others, viewing oneself as exceptional, blaming setbacks on others, inability to identify with others’ needs and/or feelings and superficial relationships based upon manipulation.

Even though my former husband’s actions seem to check every box, I am bucking the “my ex is a narcissist” trend. Here’s why:

 

If He’s the “Attacker,” Then I’m the Victim

This was certainly my mindset early on – I viewed him as some Machiavellian perpetrator, deviously plotting ways to hurt me from his basement lair, cleverly disguised as an innocent office. In some ways, it was a comforting mindset as it pardoned me from any culpability. But it was also limiting.

Because if I was a victim, I was powerless.

In order to claim responsibility for my own well-being and create a sense of possibility for the future, I disarmed his memory. He’s no longer my attacker; he’s just the man I used to love who traveled down a dark path.

Preservation of Memory

By the time he sent the text that ended the marriage, my ex and I had spent sixteen years together. It was a lot to lose. If I accepted the proposal offered forth by many who dealt with him in the months to come that he was, in fact, a narcissist, it essentially would discount the thousands of positive memories I had of our time together.

From what I knew, we did have a good marriage with so many happy memories. I decided that those moments were real enough to me at the time and I chose to allow them to remain (as much as possible) unsullied by the idea that they were all orchestrated for some great plot.

It Ignores the Unknowns

 Even the DSM-5 offers the disclaimer that a personality disorder cannot be diagnosed in the presence of addiction or physical illness, as both can mimic the mental condition. My ex admitted to a drinking problem after he left and he was suffering from some pretty substantial medical complaints for the last year or so of the marriage.

It is impossible for anyone, especially a layperson, to diagnose someone with a personality disorder without all of the information (much less the presence of the actual individual in question). Just because a person exhibits certain behaviors does mean that they automatically deserve a diagnosis.

We Are All More Than a Label

Calling someone a narcissist is reductionistic; it distills them down into a list of traits and ignores the complete person. Yes, my ex-husband lied, cheated and stole. But he also showed me (and others) great kindness and tenderness. He was the man that cried at our wedding and nursed our dogs back to health.

By not assigning him a label, I am able to remember the whole man – from loving husband to cruel persecutor and everything in between.

Peace is More Important Than a Reason

In the beginning, I struggled to understand why my husband acted that way and how he could be so cold and calculating. I assumed that once I had a reason, I would be able to move on. I tested out many possible labels (narcissist among them), but none managed to make the pain okay.

Finally, I decided to view him as lost. Hurting. Desperate and in pain. And with that shift, I found compassion, which led to being able to release the anger that held me back. So rather than see him as the evil antagonist in some twisted plot, I try to see him as human. Imperfect rather than malevolent. Not for his benefit, but for mine.

Labels, such as narcissist, have their place in public discourse. They help to provide a framework for understanding and a shared language to discuss important issues. It’s shorthand for a list of common experiences and emotions. I know when I read posts from people that use the term “narcissistic ex,” I will relate to stories of manipulation, gas lighting and projection. I can expect to see similarities between their stories and mine. In fact, I found books about narcissists and sociopaths helpful during the healing journey to provide information and perspective that helped me make sense of my own situation.

Labels are like Cliff Notes. We use them as shortcuts as we develop our own understanding or to help someone else develop theirs. Just like Cliff Notes, they are not the entire story, full of detail and nuance. If we stop at labels, we are limiting ourselves and others. We may be blinded by assumptions as we fill in the gaps in our knowledge automatically.

So your ex may be a narcissist, but that’s not the entire story. Don’t let the label limit you; it’s just the beginning.

Why I Refuse to Call My Ex Husband a Narcissist

Posted on by stilllearning2b
covert narcissist

If anyone has the right to call her ex a narcissist, it’s me. While on the surface, he was a giving and caring man everyone loved, the man behind the curtain was another story entirely. He crafted false financial documents and insurance forms to support his lies as he bled our accounts dry. He wooed women, eventually wedding one without attending to the detail of obtaining a divorce from me first. He neglected the requirements of the criminal court system, earning a felony warrant. Even the judge in the divorce case asked my ex’s attorney if his client was “psycho.”

And maybe he is. Not a psycho necessarily, but a narcissist.

But, despite all of the evidence, I intentionally choose to not label my ex as a narcissist.

It seems like “narcissist ex” is the gluten-free of the relationship world – all of a sudden, it’s everywhere. But is it really that pervasive or are we just using the label too recklessly?

Just over 6% of the population has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) based upon the criteria set forth in the DSM-5: seeking approval from others, viewing oneself as exceptional, blaming setbacks on others, inability to identify with others’ needs and/or feelings and superficial relationships based upon manipulation.

Even though my former husband’s actions seem to check every box, I am bucking the “my ex is a narcissist” trend. Here’s why:

 

If He’s the “Attacker,” Then I’m the Victim

This was certainly my mindset early on – I viewed him as some Machiavellian perpetrator, deviously plotting ways to hurt me from his basement lair, cleverly disguised as an innocent office. In some ways, it was a comforting mindset as it pardoned me from any culpability. But it was also limiting.

Because if I was a victim, I was powerless.

In order to claim responsibility for my own well-being and create a sense of possibility for the future, I disarmed his memory. He’s no longer my attacker; he’s just the man I used to love who traveled down a dark path.

Preservation of Memory

By the time he sent the text that ended the marriage, my ex and I had spent sixteen years together. It was a lot to lose. If I accepted the proposal offered forth by many who dealt with him in the months to come that he was, in fact, a narcissist, it essentially would discount the thousands of positive memories I had of our time together.

From what I knew, we did have a good marriage with so many happy memories. I decided that those moments were real enough to me at the time and I chose to allow them to remain (as much as possible) unsullied by the idea that they were all orchestrated for some great plot.

It Ignores the Unknowns

 

Even the DSM-5 offers the disclaimer that a personality disorder cannot be diagnosed in the presence of addiction or physical illness, as both can mimic the mental condition. My ex admitted to a drinking problem after he left and he was suffering from some pretty substantial medical complaints for the last year or so of the marriage.

It is impossible for anyone, especially a layperson, to diagnose someone with a personality disorder without all of the information (much less the presence of the actual individual in question). Just because a person exhibits certain behaviors does mean that they automatically deserve a diagnosis.

We Are All More Than a Label

 

Calling someone a narcissist is reductionistic; it distills them down into a list of traits and ignores the complete person. Yes, my ex-husband lied, cheated and stole. But he also showed me (and others) great kindness and tenderness. He was the man that cried at our wedding and nursed our dogs back to health.

By not assigning him a label, I am able to remember the whole man – from loving husband to cruel persecutor and everything in between.

Peace is More Important Than a Reason

In the beginning, I struggled to understand why my husband acted that way and how he could be so cold and calculating. I assumed that once I had a reason, I would be able to move on. I tested out many possible labels (narcissist among them), but none managed to make the pain okay.

Finally, I decided to view him as lost. Hurting. Desperate and in pain. And with that shift, I found compassion, which led to being able to release the anger that held me back. So rather than see him as the evil antagonist in some twisted plot, I try to see him as human. Imperfect rather than malevolent. Not for his benefit, but for mine.

Labels, such as narcissist, have their place in public discourse. They help to provide a framework for understanding and a shared language to discuss important issues. It’s shorthand for a list of common experiences and emotions. I know when I read posts from people that use the term “narcissistic ex,” I will relate to stories of manipulation, gas lighting and projection. I can expect to see similarities between their stories and mine. In fact, I found books about narcissists and sociopaths helpful during the healing journey to provide information and perspective that helped me make sense of my own situation.

Labels are like Cliff Notes. We use them as shortcuts as we develop our own understanding or to help someone else develop theirs. Just like Cliff Notes, they are not the entire story, full of detail and nuance. If we stop at labels, we are limiting ourselves and others. We may be blinded by assumptions as we fill in the gaps in our knowledge automatically.

So your ex may be a narcissist, but that’s not the entire story. Don’t let the label limit you; it’s just the beginning.

Curiosity Cap

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do you ever approach a new situation with the assumption it is going to be terrible?

Perhaps it’s the biting cold of your first winter run. Or the inaugural road trip with a young child. Or a medical procedure that carries the expectation of pain.

The potential list is endless; we greet new experiences with a suitcase full of expectation expressed as worries or complaints.

About something we’ve never done.

We anticipate the discomfort. The annoyances. The pain.

And by doing so, we prime the pump for reality to bear out our assumptions.

Helping to ensure that the anticipated awfulness comes to be.

There is a different way.

Put down that suitcase of expectations and put on that cap of curiosity.

My curiosity cap. And a reminder not to take things too seriously.
My curiosity cap. And a reminder not to take things too seriously.

After all, this is something you haven’t experienced before, right? Or, even if you’ve done it prior, there are some variables that have been manipulated so that it is no longer the same event.

So rather than lead with a conclusion of full-on suckitude, approach with a sense of curiosity.

I wonder how the cold air is going to feel on my lungs.

It will be interesting to see how the baby responds to travel.

I’m intrigued to see what it feels like to have my body repaired.

And yes, you may find that it is terrible.

But you also leave the door open for the discovery that it’s not.

Growth Mindset in Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“I can’t do math.”

These are often the first words out of my incoming students’ lips when I first meet them each August.

“Then I’m going to make it my personal goal for the year to show you that you can,” I always respond with an encouraging smile. Because before I can teach them math, I have to teach them that they can do math.

I first learned about fixed versus growth mindsets in my developmental psychology class in college. At its heart, it states that we fall into one of two camps when it comes to beliefs about self – one that asserts that we are born to be good at certain things and inadequate at others and one that maintains that we can always improve.

I was intrigued. Could we really change how people interact with the world and embrace challenge simply by praising their efforts as children rather than their innate gifts?

It seems so.

In fact, I would argue that it is one of the most important lessons, not only for our children, but ourselves.

Because if you believe your nature and abilities are fixed, you are imprisoned by your own beliefs. Whereas if you trust that you can learn from your experiences, obstacles make you stronger instead of holding you back.

A fixed mindset says, “I am my ability.” A growth mindset says, “I am my effort.”

A fixed mindset claims, “The product is all that matters.” A growth mindset responds, “I learn and grow through the process.”

A fixed mindset declares, “My weaknesses are part of who I am and should be hidden.” A growth mindset insists, “My weaknesses show me areas where I can improve.”

A fixed mindset believes in fate. A growth mindset takes responsibility.

A fixed mindset blames and deflects. A growth mindset listens and adapts.

A fixed mindset prefers to live inside a comfort zone. A growth mindset embraces the idea that growth occurs at the edge of panic and ease.

“Growth mindset” is now a buzzword in education as well as business, where companies seek out new hires that demonstrate this trait. Perhaps it’s time for it to become a buzzword in marriages as well.

A fixed mindset seeks a partner who worships and validates you. A growth mindset desires a partner who challenges and encourages you.

A fixed mindset sees a conflict in the marriage as a fatal flaw. A growth mindset recognizes conflict as opportunity.

A fixed mindset feels threatened by feedback and responds defensively. A growth mindset is grateful for the chance to improve.

A fixed mindset creates a marriage that is rigid. A growth mindset leads to a marriage that is flexible and adaptable.

A fixed mindset is driven by a need for approval. A growth mindset is motivated by a need to learn.

A fixed mindset seeks validation outside of yourself and it will never be enough. A growth mindset finds validation within yourself and it will always be enough.

With children, we teach them to have a growth mindset by praising their efforts, “You worked really hard on that project,” rather than their abilities, “You are so smart at reading.” As adults, it is more difficult to adjust our ingrained patterns. But it is not impossible.

Start by identifying one fixed belief you have about yourself (What do you say you “can’t” do?). And then work to change it.

Here’s how I applied that idea in my own life.

A growth mindset says you’re good. And you can be better.

Now go to it!

Lipstick On a Pig

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It was just an ordinary day. But my reaction was anything but ordinary.

It started out innocently enough. My now-ex-husband and I were walking through the mall on a cold, rainy Saturday afternoon when he posed an innocuous question:

“How many stores here apart from department stores do you think sell lipstick?”

I pondered for a moment, mentally cataloging the Brookstone and Ambercrombies,  before responding, “I don’t think any more than three or four.”

“I disagree. I’ll bet there’s at least five.”

It became a challenge. What should have been a fun, mall version of Slugbug or logging truck tallying turned into an all-out war.

At least for me.

 

I started out confidently enough as we passed store after store that did not display any lipstick on its shelves.

But then my assurance was shaken when we found two stores in a row that promoted lip coloring products: Spencer’s Gifts had black lipstick for those that leaned towards Goth and a store that appeared to cater to strippers had a small lipstick display with the accessories.

We hadn’t even walked a full wing of the mall and the count was already almost halfway there.

He kept it light, teasing and joking and laughing.

I didn’t.

After a third store, a place that sold upscale handbags and scarves, proved to have lipstick, I grew obsessed.

 

For some reason, this became about more than lipstick to me.

It wasn’t even so much about needing to be right.

It was about wanting him to be wrong.

 

As I think back now on my first marriage, I realize that I had a tendency to point out his mistakes or misdirections.

Rather than simply turning off the oven, I felt the need to inform him that he left it on.

Instead of simply securing an unlocked door, I felt the need to point out that the door was left unbolted.

 

Now, I fully recognize that this was not an attractive trait I carried. I accept full weight of that fact. I fight sometimes with a need to be right, an insecurity found in wrong answers that was fortified with a drive for good grades in school.

But there’s more to the lipstick story than that.

 

Because I have never been that prone to point out mistakes with anyone else. In fact, I generally am more apt to avoid confrontation and do a behind-the-scenes cover-up than to announce someone’s mistake.

So why did I act that way with my ex?

 

I think it was because he never admitted his own wrongs.

He never copped to forgetting something.

He hated to reveal any weakness and would strive to cover it up.

He always seemed to know everything.

Be able to do everything.

And so I felt a need to prove him wrong.

To show that, like all of us, he had areas of strength and areas of deficiency.

To bring him down from a pedestal to a human level.

 

 

Interestingly enough, one of the traits that Brock possesses that attracted me was his ease with admitting fault.

Because in order to fix anything, we have to first accept our responsibility.

Otherwise, all we’re doing is putting lipstick on a pig.

 

 

Side note: I am fully aware that this inability to admit fault and the need to be perceived as all-knowing is a characteristic of narcissism. I refrain from labeling him. Here’s why.