I am trying to keep this short, I don’t know why I feel I must share this part of my life, it doesn’t really have anything to do with narcissism, but you know everything that has happened to us in our life makes us what we are today, the good and the bad.
Some things bring us to our knees, some things have us doing a happy dance, some times we feel our feet don’t even touch the ground, other times we don’t know if we’ll make it through the day and all of it teaches us something, or it should. It teaches us something about ourselves, about other people or about the world and no experience is wasted as long as we learn some thing from it. Like it or not it is all part of us and how we deal with the different things that happen to us depends on what happened to us prior to now. Our lives are a series of experiences all connected some how; you can’t remove one experience without it affecting future experiences.
I have said before that I don’t believe that women who get involved with a narcissist are flawed in any way, they aren’t weak and easy targets, the majority of them were strong self sufficient women. I have been really hesitant to write about my past experiences with the baby and stuff because I didn’t want any one out there to read it and think, “Well, it makes sense why she fell victim to a narcissist, look at her upbringing; I had a healthy loving upbringing, I have high self esteem, I would never allow anyone to treat me like that, I am safe.
No one is safe, narcissist’s are chameleons without a conscience; they will find a way to get to even the strongest, most intelligent person. My son was my weakness, my fear of something happening to some one I love was my weakness but I was not a weak person and I guess that is what I am trying to show.. Any way on with the story.
When Victor showed up I believe it was a Wednesday, I still had to work the week so in 2 days Victor sold all my furniture, and early Saturday morning we shoved everything I owed in my Honda Civic and drove straight through to Borden Ontario so we could start work on the Monday. I went with the attitude that it was an adventure and if it didn’t work out I would at least see another part of the country and I was young enough to go home and start over. Victor and I were there a year, spending as much time as possible in Quebec with his family and my brother and mother both came out for a visit at different times in that year. Victor was always very welcoming with my family and his family welcomed me with open arms.
Quebec was a real culture shock for me. This was at a time in the late 70’s early 80’s when Quebec wanted to separate and some of Victor’s friends were angry he was with an English Canadian, some businesses wouldn’t even try to talk to me, many of their laws were different, and it was like a foreign country. At that time in BC you couldn’t drink on a Sunday unless you bought dinner in a restaurant and it was before beer and wine stores. In Quebec people took their children into the bars, drank 7 days a week and could buy booze in the grocery store any day of the week.
Growing up my dad used to accuse me of doing drugs and being promiscuous, I got in trouble for smoking and hanging around with the “wrong” crowd and basically because I got pregnant I had disgraced the family. The truth be known I never even tried smoking a joint until I was well into my 20’s, was not a slut and was quite a prude. I wore conservative outfits, I never went out without my makeup done, and never left a dirty dish in the sink or a faucet not shone. There were no grey areas in my life, everything was right or it was wrong; there was no in between. Victor and I were like the Lady and the Tramp; from two different worlds but there was an appeal to the carefree life he led. Victor wasn’t encumbered by worrying about what people thought; that is not to say he didn’t worry about hurting someone because he did; there is no way he was a narcissist, he was kind and generous and genuine; he had a zest for life, he grabbed life with both hands and LIVED it; …….. Every second of it. Whereas I was spending my life being afraid; of being judged, criticized, or rejected, I didn’t even know what I wanted out of life if my parents didn’t tell me. I thought I knew, until I met Victor. As much as I had my hands full dealing with Victor living life to the fullest, he had his hands full dealing with my narrow mindedness; we clashed a lot.
Victor dabbled with drugs and every time he did I would get spitting angry, he drank to oblivion, and partied hard, but his whole family did. They didn’t even own a coffee pot and started the day with a beer. At Christmas I was mortified that his mother cooked a full turkey dinner and no one came to the table to eat it and just picked at it throughout the night. Some people didn’t even get their tree up before Christmas, I called my mother in tears, it was all so “unChristmaslike” for me and I missed home terribly. When I cooked while I was there I demanded people come to the table and eat. I told his father, “If I can go to the trouble of cooking you a meal the least you can do is come to the table and eat it.” He said something to Victor in French and he laughed; Victor said his dad liked my spunk.
When I look back, I was very young, only 22-23 but I had very definite ideas of how a relationship should work; the roles of a man and a woman in the relationship and they were pretty stereotypical. The woman cleaned, cooked and the man did the outside yard work and fixed the vehicles. We lived on base so army was our life, all our friends were army and most of our entertainment took place on base. The army almost promoted infidelity. Every Friday night was a “smoker” for army personnel only, no wives or girlfriends until 9 pm.
They would barbeque steaks and get pissed, by the time I got there at 9 Victor would be 3 sheets to the wind or passed out. I remember one night in a club on base there was a group of us sitting at a table and the husband ½ of a couple we socialized with a lot was sitting two chairs down from me. I didn’t know the woman sitting beside him but ½ ways through the night I realized she was giving him a hand job under the table. I was disgusted, mortified, shocked, wanted to go home and puke.
Victor got out of the army a year after we moved to Ontario and I went ahead BC to get a job, a place for us to live and to plan our wedding. We got married Aug 28, 1981, our wedding is a post in itself and maybe someday I will tell you about it, here’s a clue………every time I hear the Glen Campbell song, “Someone Left My Cake Out In The Rain” I think of my wedding.
Victor embraced my family and our traditional Christmas’s, Thanksgivings and birthdays; as much as he was a free spirit he truly loved my family and my family loved him. Not ever having that when he was going up he was almost childlike in his enthusiasm for anything to do with family, I learned how to cook French Tourtiere and made it every Christmas until just a couple of years ago and I always gave Victor 4-6 pies and he would give me wild meat to go in it. Even though Victor’s father had been a hunting guide for a portion of his career he never taught Victor how to hunt. My dad was an avid hunter and was more than happy to teach him.
When we were back east I started to let my hair down a little bit, long before the movie “Dirty Dancing” came out Victor was doing it. God he could dance, he is the only man I’ve ever seen jive with 3 women at once and not miss a step. He loved to dance and I grew up dancing at home, both my parents loved to dance. I can remember standing on my dad’s feet as he whirled me around the living room dancing, even as an adult I used to love doing an old time waltz with my dad. Him being 6’3” ish and me 5’10” ish our one arm outstretched and his other arm around my waist guiding me we would glide across the dance floor, our long legs in perfect unison. Unfortunately if we were not careful we would get too close to someone else and lambaste them on the side of the head with our outstretched arms because we were so tall our arms were at the exact height of many of the other dancers. Victor and I were the same height in bare feet and that presented a problem in itself when dancing; he wasn’t used to a woman the same height as him and when he told me to “just relax and let yourself fall I’ve got you” when he dipped me, the idea being I would reach the full extension of my arms and that would help snap me back up; he miss judged the length of my arms and I landed full force on the floor. Then there was the time he had me above his head, I was to remain straight as he held me horizontal above his head and twirled me; that time we took out the ceiling fan in our living room. One thing for sure; every time we danced I fell in love with him all over again. As maddening as he could be and as annoying as I could be with my obsessive compulsiveness we loved each other.
He got on with the Federal prisons, I got back on with the Bank of Commerce, we each had our own sets of friends, mine the conservative group, his the rowdies and then we had our couples friends; when we threw a party there was never a dull moment. We bought a motorcycle and joined the same club I had belonged to a few years prior, we bought a “fixer-upper’ house under foreclosure in 1982 right after the bottom fell out of the real estate market but the mortgage rates were something like 20%. The people had put an addition on the side of it, two bedrooms and a living room but hadn’t removed the wall between the old house and the addition. In true Victor fashion, while I was at work he decided to take his chain saw and cut an archway into the living room. Great idea, but he didn’t measure anything, didn’t check for wiring, and didn’t cover anything with a tarp or even close a cupboard door. There was a fine layer of gyproc dusk over everything.
We put in grass and gardens, poured concrete in the back for a patio and settled in as proud home owners and newly weds, there was only one thing missing ……… a baby. Every month I agonized when I got my period and I still had to go every 3 months for another pap smear and the results were always the same; not good. Then one month I was late, I did a home pregnancy test and it came out positive. Back then they couldn’t say you were positively pregnant until you were 6 weeks and the next 2 weeks were a living hell until I got confirmation; Yes, you are pregnant!!
Posted by Carrie the Lady Witha Truck