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My Life With a Sociopath

Non-Fiction... Yes, this REALLY happened.

By LilithVPublished 6 years ago 9 min read
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Now, now, I know you think I am exaggerating, so let me explain...

I grew up with a guy named "Jamie." I was 4 years old when he was born. He is "family," but not family. He had a junkie dad who never stuck around and a mother with a whole host of problems of her own.

In 2010-2011, I had jumped from a 2-year abusive relationship to a relationship I never belonged in with my best friend. We split and of course, I came home. I had always lived in a shit town in the south but not always the same location down there. OK, home. Home is where we are now.

"Jamie" had moved with his mother into my deceased grandmother's house. They bought it for all of 4 grand, not that it mattered. I ended up moving into the house behind everyone that was my brother's until he went to prison for 5 years. "Jamie" and his brother would come and hang out. I got high on pills and drunk at the same time... I wanted a companion. Not a relationship... not a commitment. A friend with benefits. I let him know what I wanted because that night things almost went too far.

The next day, he showed up again. I tried explaining friends with benefits, and he was not having it. Said he couldn't. That it was a relationship or nothing. I should have taken nothing.

For 5 years, off and on, he would threaten to make me disappear. Tell me that if he just dumped my van (that I no longer used), that he would give a sob-story that I ran off. He would make me disappear and everyone would believe him because I was known for being a runner... because everyone had believed for well over a decade, that I was mentally ill. He would tell me how he could dismember me, and no one would ever find my body. Poof. Never to return.

For a while, the relationship would go OK, and then something would break again. Something, everything, nothing. I should have taken nothing. He wanted to dictate everything, he was cruel to my child (who luckily lived with his father), would tell me how I was getting fat, and he would always take jobs out of town. Always something far away, where he would have to at least commute an hour one way, an hour back. He took his time. I never knew what he was doing, but I did know we stayed broke. The south is always poverty level, in case you didn't know.

We would lie in bed and talk about how we felt. What runs through his head at night, how he might miss his dad. One time he told me he didn't know how to "act human." I thought he was joking, though I had always known he was socially awkward. He wasn't kidding. He never knew what was appropriate to talk about, what should be said in certain situations. He said he had never felt "real" love, that he had never really felt sadness. He believed he had never felt anything remotely human. Mind you, I still thought he was exaggerating.

He told me, after two years together, that he had been to doctors because he had a shitload of stomach problems in high school and had to quit. Turns out, they believed it was insane anxiety. He would brag about how he never really told the truth to any doctor. He liked hurting people and he "got off" on it. Yes, you heard that right.

He also told me that he used to run drugs, and one night he decided to drive to a nearby town while waiting for his pick-up from the dealer. He saw a man walking down the backroads, and he thought... "No one will miss him." Yup, you read that right, too. He used to carry guns on him as a teen, because of the drug running. He claims he offered a blunt to the guy, and the guy got in the car with him. He said he took him down some winding dirt road and made him get out. He said they smoked the blunt then he made the guy walk further down the road. He yelled for the guy to drop to his knees while facing him. He said he SHOT HIM and left him there. I don't really know how much truth there is to it, but I do know there was a cold case for the description of this dead man, a few years ago... though I never knew a name.

For the first 6 months of our relationship, I guess I blacked out. 6 months I don't remember. One day I came to, and all I remembered is him picking me up by my neck against the wall.

Fast forward to 2014. At this point, I have zero sex drive and all the abuse I have gone through in my life will not get out of my head. I start looking for an escape. Anything. Something to save me. I met a man online; he lived 15 minutes away. He was a Dominant, and I was curious. I would make excuses to leave. It was an experience for sure, and something I would never forget. He was a real gentleman. It lasted 2 weeks. I would always feel guilty and run; just to run right back.

I finally stopped because I was terrified "Jamie" really would make me disappear. I lived with the guilt for a while. I talked to my cousin about it, but he just made me feel even more guilty because he said "Jamie" was good for me. No one realized I was not the crazy one, "Jamie" appeared "normal" by all accounts; but isn't that what a sociopath is great at? He had everyone fooled and it pissed me off. I started becoming violent... pissed because no one could see it and he kept forcing me to go to the psychiatrist. That made him look even greater.

He came home one night from work and told me he needed to talk to me. That there was a woman he had been watching that was on his route home. He knew when she was home when she wasn't. He wanted to break in on her, rape her, rob her and kill her to see if he could "get away with it." I kept telling myself that I would eventually find a way out.

OK. Let's move a little farther ahead... February 2015. I am 409 lbs from depression and I am an alcoholic. I have been drinking a liter of vodka a day for a year. Yes, I realize now that this made me look even crazier, but I needed to escape the fear I felt every fucking day. July of 2015, I swallowed 250 Klonopin, Xanax, and Zoloft. I was done. Done with life, done with everything. Finished. I chased the pills with alcohol hoping to make them kick in faster. 3 AM "Jamie" is home from work; comes in and finds me passed out on the bed. He finds the empty pill and vodka bottles. HE LEFT ME THERE. Left me to die. Never called an ambulance, never called my family for help who lived right in front of us, NEVER CALLED anyone. I slept for three days and woke up like nothing had happened. Then I knew, I had to change something. I had to leave, but this time I would have a plan. For once in my life, I would be responsible. Something I was never really good at.

October 31, 2015... yes, Halloween... I joined an online chat platform game, an MMORPG. I needed friends, I needed social interaction, I needed a release. By the beginning of December 2015, I had met someone on the game. He seemed to be everything I ever wanted. We were long distance for 4 months.

"Jamie" caught me, once, on there with him, and hit me in the head... calling me a stupid whore. I broke down crying. I told him I wanted to go to Colorado. I had friends there I wanted to meet in person. He complained about us not having enough money, about how he didn't want to go to Colorado because there was "nothing out there." I told him he didn't have to go, but one way or another I was. He didn't realize I would not ever come back, but that was a fear of his. I had all his secrets, not that I gave a shit. I wanted to leave, and leave was what I was going to do. We fought about it for well over 6 hours. He pushed me, pulled my hair, and then would hold me when I screamed and cried. I felt guilty for "hurting" him, even though I know now that he never felt it. He told me when I got to Colorado, that if I made it out there, to never come back. Little did he know, that was exactly my plan.

I had to make it through the holidays, I had to make sure my son would be safe with his father (who is not "Jamie"), I had to make sure I would have the money, make sure no one knew.

I put on an act from the middle of December 2015 to the end of February 2016. You would be surprised what someone with anxiety and fear can do when they have had enough.

February 2, 2016, I made a plan with a life-long friend. I would pack my bags, leave them at her house (I went to see her once a week), and I would get everything I needed over there.

February 21, 2016, I packed my purse and laptop bag."Jamie" was asleep in the bedroom. I made sure he was sound asleep; I got in the car and hauled ass to my friend's house. On February 22, 2016, I bought the plane ticket. I made plans for where I would stay when I got to Colorado. That same day, "Jamie" tried to show up to my friend's house, but they would not let him in the apartment building (yes we call apartments 'houses' in the south. Everything is a house). My mother sent my brother looking for the car and me because "Jamie" would need it for work. I threw the keys at him and told him to leave. That this was the real deal and I would be gone within 24 hours.

My parents tried to report me as missing, so before they had the chance, I called the sheriff's dept and told them the situation. I had a police escort to the airport the next morning.

I flew out of the local airport; the connected flight was in ATL. Whew. I knew he could not find me there. I had an hour layover and flew Delta from ATL to DIA. BEST DECISION I HAVE EVER MADE.

I am not mentally handicapped; I have no mental illness. It happened to be everything I had been through affecting me. I am now 33 (2 years later), married to the man of my dreams with a career, I have lost over 200 lbs., done a ton of soul healing right beside a man who TRULY knows what love means, and a high-rise apartment. Tell me what I can't do and I will show you what I can.

I do hope one day, however, that they solve that cold case... if that is what really happened.

guilty
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About the Creator

LilithV

I am happily married to my very best friend. My passions are healing, occult, history, religion, theology, and psychology. I write all from personal life experiences and all my writings are non-fiction.

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