It only took a few counseling sessions to realize I’d spent most of my adult life married to a narcissist. And that I'd completely lost my perspective along the way.
A narcissistic person believes the world revolves around them, that they are primary and others secondary. They don't feel empathy. They hold themselves in high esteem and get very defensive when challenged. If you think you might be married to a narcissist, check out these 10 signs you're in a relationship with a narcissist - if you are, like me, it will be obvious.
I'd always known that my husband was the center of his own universe, that his needs, preferences, and comfort came before everyone else's. But I didn't realize how deep his self-interest ran.
Nor did I understand how I was accommodating him. Always taking the high road by being the first to apologize. Coaching the kids on why they shouldn't argue with him, or explaining away his absence at the band concert, game, or birthday party. Listening to him drone on and on about his day, his job, his boss, even though he never asked me anything about mine.
When I took a new job recently, he didn't even ask me where it was or what I would be doing. His only response - a text message that read, "Congrats."
And now, here we are, in an ongoing marital crisis. It's almost certain that he has cheated, somehow, somewhere, with someone. He denies it, but the evidence says otherwise. He has not apologized, nor found it necessary to explain. He does not feel accountable to me. To him, it's clearly none of my business. I am not owed explanation.
He doesn't feel remorse or empathy. He doesn't understand or acknowledge the pain he's causing, in fact, my pain is an inconvenience to him. It's uncomfortable - it creates a nagging fear that he might not be the great guy he thinks he is.
So counseling has not gone well. He serves his time, like a detention. He says what he thinks the counselor and I want to hear, or parrots something I've already said. It's safer for him that way. He doesn't have to run the risk he might feel something.
When I ask him what his plans are, he says he needs more time. "Time for what?" I ask. There is no answer. When I tell him I have needs, too, he says, "It's not all about you."
And so we sit, session after session, at an impasse. He continues to insist that nothing has changed, and I continue to insist that everything has changed. Who’s right?
Sadly, we’re both right. It just depends who you ask.
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