lf1

LETTER TO LOVEFRAUD: My story with sociopaths (in three parts)

Editor’s note: A Lovefraud reader who posts as “Uhlen47” sent in her story.

Discovering your website was, in many ways, a godsend. I am 59 years old, and I have not had a relationship for 11 years. Why? Because the last relationship I had was with a sociopath, and I have been too frightened to enter into another because I don’t trust my judgment.

The Beginning

My mother was/is a sociopath with whom I no longer have a relationship. She abused me as a child, mentally, emotionally, and physically. My only gratitude to her is that she provided food, clothing and shelter, but she provided these probably because too much negative social stigma was attached to not providing it, and my grandparents would have had a legitimate reason to snatch us (my sister, brother and me) away from her. She is the type of sociopath who held a job, was socially adept (being a union representative and beloved by co-workers and union activists), and financially responsible. But she abused her children horribly. And she even abused lovers who eventually left her.

The Middle

I married my mother when I was 18 years old. He was charming, worldly, sophisticated, supposedly educated, and sexy. I married him because I wanted to escape from my mother’s house, and because I did not know what else to do with my life. I had tried attending community college, but I had to work two jobs, pay rent to my mother, and go to classes. When I needed $11 for books, my mother would not give me the money.

So I married a Vietnam vet and functional alcoholic, who promised to love, honor and obey, who cherished me and lavished attention on me, who was in a bad marriage at the time and needed to get away from his horrible wife, who had a darling 3-year-old whom his wife wanted to take from him. He was the perfect, charming, charismatic and sexy victim. We dated for almost a year before we got married. He never, not once, exhibited any aggression or negativity toward me. If there were signs, and I’m sure there were, I was too young and inexperienced to notice them.

My grandparents paid for our wedding, and we were married in my hometown in Texas. The night of our wedding, he slapped me, slapped me hard, slapped me several times, and made me strip in front of him after he slapped me. After hitting and verbally humiliating me, we had “make up” sex.

I learned that I was about 6 weeks pregnant shortly after we got married. I had the baby, a daughter, and was thrilled to have someone to love. I didn’t work. I had no car. And my husband made sure that we always lived far enough out in a suburb with little or no access to public transportation. So I had very little contact with the outside world. I was, by and large, a prisoner who only got a reprieve when and how he wanted me to have it.

However, he worked and was regularly sleeping with other women. Once I contracted trichomoniasis, a common STD. When I told him that we both needed treatment, he accused ME of sleeping around. Truth is, I was too terrified of him to even think about cheating.

Physical abuse

Did I mention that he also physically abused our daughter? I still have horrible flashes of him holding her down and spanking her when she was barely old enough to walk, for some unknown slight. I have not forgiven myself for that. I have not forgiven myself for the enraged helplessness I felt at seeing him do that to my baby.

After slapping me around one night, and spanking my daughter, I issued him an ultimatum. I told him that if he ever violently touched either of us again, I would leave him. He did not touch either of us in violence for one year. Six months of that year were spent with me attending a business college, learning how to type, file and do shorthand. I was preparing to leave him, just in case.

I got a job as a “stenographer” with the State of Texas. Not long after, “just in case” arrived. He accused me of some slight, slapped me around, grabbed me by the neck and started choking me. I had to plead for my life. I believe he accused me of cheating, because I had stopped having sex with him and had moved into the spare bedroom.

I went to work the next day and gave my notice. My supervisor, who was a lawyer, wanted to prosecute my husband. I just wanted to leave. Two weeks later, while he was out cheating, I packed two suitcases, and was driven to the airport by a co-worker. I was finally free, or so I thought. Plus, I had to get away quickly before he discovered that I was pregnant. There was no way I was going to bring another child of his into the world.

I returned to California and moved in with my sister. He followed me out to California. He persuaded me to come and talk with him in an apartment he had rented. I went, like an idiot, and he threatened to kill me if I left the room. I waited until he got drunk and passed out. Then I left him forever. And, I got an abortion.

Did I mention that my babysitter followed him, while he followed me? She asked me to meet with me, and I agreed. She confessed that she had been sleeping with Chris for several months, and was in love with him. I told her she was welcome to take him, and that he was all hers.

The End

At age 48, after countless boyfriends and another marriage, I was again single. I met a man at my daughter’s wedding. He was tall, charming, drank a bit too much, and was an actual Ugandan prince! I was so awed by his bloodline (which was real) and by his charm, sophistication and artistic talent. He was an actual artist who actually sold his paintings. He also elicited an enormous amount of sympathy from me: His parents had met in London while in college. His mother got pregnant, and gave him away to an orphanage. When his grandmother discovered that, she went to London and claimed him. Because of the shame surrounding the pregnancy, his grandmother raised him. His parents never had anything to do with him. I wanted to give him the love he missed as a child. I felt so much sorrow for him that I cried for him.

Lies and the biggest lie

He never mentally or physically abused me, but he lied from the very beginning. He lied about being single (he was married, but separated). He lied about his ability to sell his paintings (he did sell them, but never saw a cent of the money; his paintings were barter for his room and board). His only income was state general assistance, or welfare for adults.

The biggest lie was his lie of omission. He was HIV+ and did not tell me. When he told me, he pretended that he had just found out. This was about two months into the relationship. We had used protection, but as we know, protection can leak, tear or burst. At the same time, he was trying to sleaze and con me into sending him to Uganda for a visit. For me, this was absolutely ludicrous. I lived somewhat comfortably, but I still lived on a teacher’s salary.

How else was he emotionally abusive? I had to always drive. He had no car, and wanted to be drunk, so he never drove. I also paid for gas on our excursions. He cooked for me one night at my apartment, and took home the food that wasn’t cooked (this really shocked me — to see him take a roast out of my freezer and take it home with him). He never bought me anything — not even a drink. If I got sick, he stayed away and offered no comfort to me at all. He just took from me: emotional support, mental support, physical comfort, sex, companionship. He took from me and offered nothing in kind in return.

HIV+

I broke it off with him when I insisted on going to his doctor’s appointment with him, and learning from his physician (while he was present in the room) that he had been HIV+ for at least 10-15 years. He was diagnosed shortly after coming to this country, before HIV tests were routinely given to immigrants.

This experience and relationship, though short in duration (it didn’t even last six months), had a lasting impact on me. Someone was actually willing to take my life for his own means. There was no remorse or guilt on his part — a true sociopath. I was shocked to learn that there was a man out there willing to take my life. And, I reasoned, if there was one, there would be others. This man called me one year later and wanted to be “friends.” I rightly thought he was crazy and asked him never to call me again.

I have been afraid of being in a relationship since then. However, I need to really, really heal from my past and have a real adult relationship with a man. I really want that and I need a way to get it. I sometimes fear that it is too late for me, particularly since I am now 59 years old, and way past my prime.

Thank you for allowing me to share my story.

 



4 Comments on "LETTER TO LOVEFRAUD: My story with sociopaths (in three parts)"

Trackback | Comments RSS Feed

  1. Ulen47 – thank you so much for sharing your story and welcome to Lovefraud. I can see that your involvements with sociopaths have gone from bad to worse to life-threatening.

    The key to finding a fulfilling relationship is healing the pain of your past – going all the way back to your mother. We have many articles here at Lovefraud that will help you.

    Make the decision to recover, and miracles may happen.



    Report this comment

  2. cherith10 says:

    Ulen47, You mentioned being 59 and well past your prime. That time in life, a time I also share, offers a peculiar vantage point: youth doesn’t seem that far away and old age looms ahead. It is hard not to look back with bitterness, realizing I gave a large part of my life to a man who didn’t/couldn’t love me. Ulen, let’s not allow those deceivers to succeed in taking our lives. We ARE alive and there’s always ways to express love and compassion to others. Thank God that Vietnam vet and Ugandan prince are out of your life! Move on. The possibilities for growth are still ahead for both of us.



    Report this comment

    • Phillip says:

      Cherith,
      I agree. Ulen47, do not let these evil people win by making you seem smaller than you really are. Don’t get on yourself about the time spent with these idiots. I did that for a couple months, but this site, and the folks on it, helped me to realize that it wasn’t my fault. I gave 8 years of my life away, but I came away knowing that I am stronger than I realized.
      You are a very strong woman. You are still here, voicing your opinion, and your story, which will help countless others.
      May God bless you, and use you to help others.



      Report this comment

  3. Stargazer says:

    Dear Ulen47:

    Your story is very painful, and you’ve had a lot of abuse. But you are still alive to tell your story, and so there is a reason you have gone through this, even though you haven’t discovered the reason yet. And in your spirit (which knows the reason), age has nothing to do with anything. You can be in your 50’s but radiate with the spirit of a 20 year old or 10 year old or 30 year old. I am 53 but feel younger now than I did when I was 43. The worry about age will just make you feel hopeless. In the realm of the spirit – in the present moment – age does not exist. We all wake up from our dream (story) when we wake up. It could happen when we’re 20 in chronological years. It could happen when we’re 90. For you, it’s happening at 59. So 59 a wonderful age! It’s the age your story was shared on Lovefraud and the age you are becoming self aware and reaching out for help. I think this is fantastic!

    A healthy relationship is very healing, and we all need them. But you cannot get the love and healing you need if you cannot manifest a healthy relationship. It’s a catch 22. You know this and you are admitting this to yourself and a whole forum full of others. What a great starting point. So what do you do? You start with exactly where you’re at – it’s a perfect starting point for your journey of healing. You acknowledge that you would like a healthy relationship but you don’t know how to create one. You are being completely honest with yourself. So what is the next step? You find help removing the obstacles to getting what you want. It always amazes me that when you truly put what you want out there very sincerely, things happen to help you out. There are many therapists out there, and there is probably one you can relate to and feel comfortable with who can really help you. If you feel safe with your therapist, you can begin to form a healthy relationship with him/her. This may be your first healthy relationship. A good therapeutic relationship will be a lifeline and a jumping off point for other healthy relationships. Granted, there are some bad therapists out there and some exploitive ones. If you get one that is licensed, they have to abide by certain ethical rules of conduct or they can lose their license. I’d say find one of these just for your own peace of mind. Outside of that, go with someone with whom you feel safe and “seen” for more than just your story, someone who can be a cheerleader in your life and show you the light at the end of the tunnel. I recently found such a therapist who uses a technique called DBT. I’m not even really sure what it is but it helps with trauma and PTSD. Maybe this is something you could look into.

    I think it is amazing that in spite of all you have gone through, you managed to put yourself through school and have become a teacher. You obviously are a very strong and determined person. I wish you all the best on your journey. I suspect a few years down the road, you will be in a different – and better – place.

    Warmly, Star



    Report this comment

Post a Comment

You must be logged in to post a comment.