Passion, Desire and a Sociopath

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I thought we were happy as can be, in fact we had been looking at houses, talking about marriage, even picked out a ring! All the demons that had haunted our past seemed as though they were finally going away. I thought “finally, after all the pain and struggle, we were finally going to be happy together.” But I was wrong.

He became more and more distant to me the more that I tried to make him happy, it only seemed only make him more unhappy. I tried doing everything and anything I could think of to make him smile. I tried doing his laundry, I tried cooking dinner, I took care the dog, I even picked up his dry cleaning. I became more of a maid then a girlfriend. I’d try to do anything to make his life as easy as possible so that our relationship would get back to where I thought it was happy.

After weeks of giving him space giving everything I could, including my dignity, I was dying inside for attention and love he finally sat me down for one of the worst conversations I’ve ever had.

I just don’t have any passion or desire for you anymore.”

I listened to all that my ex had to say. Everything from how he didn’t have feelings for anything and felt numb to the world. In that conversation I felt bit and pieces of my self-esteem being ripped away. I sat there crying and all while he just sat and looked at me smirking.

For months I had tried everything in my power to make this man happy. No not just months, but for the last 5 years, I had done whatever I could to make him happy. I lost friendships, damaged family relationships, misses out on huge life events all for him. And now all I got in return was a smirk from a sociopath.

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Grief is a profound part of recovery and new life. Tears of regret, remorse and despair water the roots of love and life itself. To deny and avoid the hurt and pains of life’s losses is to negate life’s importance.

It’s hard to think where exactly to start my story… I suppose the best way to start would be the first time I met him.

The first time I saw Scott Douglas Rogers I thought he was the most attractive men I had ever seen. Tall, muscular, great smile, a sense of confidence that no one could resist and these ice blue eyes that gave me chills every time he would look at me. I had never been so attracted to someone in my whole life. My heart was still recovering from all the pain and shock from a pervious love lost when things between Scott and I started up.

Even when we met somewhere inside my head I knew that he was not the right guy for me. From the very beginning he would tell me horrible stories about things that he had done in his past.

He never lied or tried to cover up that he had cheated on almost every girl he had ever dated.

He didn’t lie about how him and his friends would do sexual things just to humiliate the girl involved.

He told me all about his baggage from childhood, his mom that committed suicide and how he still refused to get counseling for it.

From the very beginning I knew that Scott Rogers was not a good person.

But somewhere between my freshly broken heart and his piercing baby blue eyes, I lost myself.

It wasn’t long after we started dating my whole world became about him. I stopped worrying about taking care of the other relationships in my life, but only wanted to be around him. I stopped hanging out with my friends, I started screening my phone calls to avoid certain people so that I wouldn’t have to think of an excuse as to why I didn’t want to hang out.

In the beginning things were exciting, we would lay in bed all day and just talk. Talk about anything and everything that we wanted. I would lay there in his arms and just watch the shadows of the day crawl across his bedroom ceiling.

Love shadow

Like I had said earlier I had never been so attracted to someone in my life, and that scared me. He was more experienced in almost all ways of life then me. Sex, relationships, paying bills, you name and he had been doing it for years. And I would not hesitate for a minute to tell me when I needed to work on something.

Quickly over the months he began to be more and more critical of the things that I would do. In such a subtle way that I didn’t even notice the effect that it was having on me. Comments like…

“You really suck at cooking…”

“I need to start on your domestication training…”

“What kind of woman doesn’t know how to iron?”

He soon was critical of the way that I looked, encouraging me to dye my hair blonde or even getting fake boobs. Always talking about girls in the past that he had been with and how amazing their fake boobs had been. When I would stand up for myself it was normal for him to make comments like…

“There are tons of other girls that I could go be with! Your lucky to have me!”

When I would cry or try to tell him that his comments hurt my feelings, somehow I would always end up feeling like the bad guy. Even if in my head I knew I had done anything wrong, the arguments would get so ugly that I would rather just say I’m sorry then deal with anymore yelling.

“Your acting crazy…. your being overemotional…”

….. And it wasn’t long before I began to believe it.

Grief