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Feeling Regrets – Midwest Nice and Narcissists Don’t Mix (“Sorry”)
The other day, someone said “Why do you say sorry for everything? Why do you use the word sorry so much? You don’t need to” and it sent me down this rabbit hole of finally understanding something about myself.
This is about my history and a past marriage. I was an overly apologetic, accommodating Midwesterner, and he was a born and raised Philly boy Narcissist.
Midwesterners…we apologize for EVERYTHING. (see link below!) Dozens if not hundreds of times a day we unknowingly add “sorry” to the beginning and/or ending of a sentence, as well as sneak it in the middle. A Narcissist sees this person as the perfect catch because the Narcissist need someone who will bow down and do everything their way in order to get a constant feeding for their ego. A Narcissist needs someone who will apologize for no reason, and do things exactly the way the Narcissist wants. A Midwesterner is raised to be constantly helpful, giving and an accommodating person to everyone. AKA Midwest Nice. In a study, it was found that Nebraskans are some of the most giving when it comes to volunteering – giving their time, energy and resources to help others. Guess where this author grew up…yup. Truly the perfect storm. Midwest Nice meets Narcissist.
When a Narcissist hears someone say sorry for something they don’t need to be sorry about…it is like finding the Holy Grail. Narcissists need a partner who will compromise every aspect of themselves in order to please others. They need someone who doesn’t have healthy boundaries. And naturally, that is how I was raised. Pretty fucked up, right?
Historical research has explained this Midwest phenomenon of helpfulness and being accommodating. With westward expansion and the land rush, settlers from various countries and areas of the East converged. As part of survival, they learned to work together, support their neighbors, be helpful to one another. A way of life began – put aside your own basic survival to help your neighbor who wasn’t surviving. Because we are supposed to make sure everyone “survives”. Barn raising – everyone helped each other build their barns, for example. Put aside what you are doing or need, to help someone more in need….was a way of life. And generation after generation grew up with this “lifestyle” – my needs aren’t as important as your needs.
Midwesterners are overly apologetic, is our way of surviving. We hate inconveniencing anyone! We know we all are surviving life and we feel bad if we have to ask for help. Why? Again, here goes history fucking us up. Our ancestors got on a wagon, set out alone on a risky journey. They moved away from everything they knew and were expected to survive alone with limited skills, only to realize they need others. Feeling bad for needing help and inconveniencing others knowing they too have a life of survival, our ancestors unknowingly began the “sorry”. I also think the “Catholic Guilt” played a part. (Lots of Catholics migrated to the Midwest in the 1800’s.) “Sorry to bother ya, but any chance you might be able to ____”. Just one example of how polite and guilt ridden we are for asking for help in our own survival.
We are also unknowingly quick to apologize if someone is the least bit unhappy about something … whether we were the cause of it or not! “I’m sorry your project isn’t going well” or “oh geeze sorry I didn’t know you were having a bad day” or “oh gosh my bad sorry for accidentally bumping into you”.
How does this apply to me and how I ended up with a Narcissist? This “Midwest Nice” culture I was raised in, mixed with growing up with a Mom who constantly criticized me and put me down and told me I was never going to be good enough at anything, caused me to double down on the “sorry” and the compromising shit.
Sh’e’d always find ways to find fault in whatever I was doing. She also expected me to give up doing normal kid stuff to do adult chores. She’d tell me to do the laundry, when I couldn’t read and then get mad that I wasn’t doing my part. Me: “I’m sorry I haven’t learned to read I’ll tell my teacher I need to learn that”. She’d tell me I didn’t make the ice tea right. Me: “Sorry I’ll try and do better”. She’d tell me I didn’t make my bed right. Me: “Sorry, I’ll do it over”. I lived in constant anxiety of waiting for the next criticism and put down and a life of redoing everything. I unknowingly became an anxiety ridden perfectionist who basically apologized for existing every waking moment of my life. And so, it became a way of life. I simply wanted to be loved, but in my house it was conditional. I had to do things perfectly to get any attention or approval.
Jump to meeting the Narcissist. I had been raised that in order to be loved, I must do exactly what someone expects and to constantly put them first to please someone for love. I was raised in an environment where we are to say sorry for everything. An East Coast Narcissist saw someone like me as the perfect partner; I would give up every molecule of my being to please him and apologize if something was less than perfect.
He convinced me to give up so many things that mattered to me. For example – sell my furniture because he didn’t like any of it, and I gave in to please him, hoping he love and appreciate me. Over time he chipped away all the pieces of me. And I always gave in because I thought he’d then love me and appreciate me being so “giving”. It actually told him I’m willing to give up myself and I was an easy pushover. As time went on, dealing with him became survival. I realized he loved money more than me, and selling all my things was a way to make him money and leave me with nothing. I kept trying to make it all work. If I just was a little bit better maybe things would be okay. (Cycle of Abuse, right?) He would threaten me if I tried to leave, he would tell me I wouldn’t be able to live without him. He constantly told me how imperfect I was and I’d never find anyone to love me other than him. He would tell me to redo everything I did. I had married my mother.
His love of money hit an all time high when I became very ill. He took out a half million dollar life insurance policy on me when I had Lyme disease, gambling on my illness hoping I’d die and make him rich, instead of using that $43 each month to pay for my medicine and medical bills. I was worth more dead to him than alive.
In the end, I lost myself. I tried various ways to survive the relationship while pleasing him because I knew no other way of life. I tried to find ways of finding pieces and scraps of happiness while putting him first. Because if I tried to step away, he blew up and became more controlling. Life with him crushed me and crippled me. I thought I had my shit together and was handling it. I thought I could pretend we were the perfect happy family. I thought I could bamboozle everyone until the kids graduated. I thought I could survive putting the needs of his ego first; the kind of man who could run and push the statute of Liberty over and laugh and not give a fuck. It was all about him. And I went numb and put up with him. Until….my kids told me life with their Dad was abusive and how I was trying to survive it was wrong, it was unhealthy, and my way of survival wasn’t really working.
On the inside, I had blinders on and was numb to reality. When you give up everything to make someone else happy, you lose your soul and don’t even realize it. On the outside, all it takes is for someone to bump into that fucked up survival plan you’ve created. And it jars you, it makes you uncomfortable, it feels like they are wrong, but slowly you begin to realize you have been accommodating a Narcissist. I realized it was not working, and I felt how miserable I really was. I had given up every molecule of myself for his ego and insecurities. I was scared he would hurt me and even death was an option. I was just trying to live in an unhealthy situation.
I was afraid to walk away, fear of him hurting me or even killing me. Because I was worth more dead than alive. I’d try to slowly leave step by step, but each step he became more abusive. In the end, I had to jump ship cold turkey. There is no reasoning with a Narcissist.
That was me, then. And I’m battling not to be that person now.
You can’t take the Midwestern Girl out of me. I will always be loving, giving. I’m just more guarded now in how I let anyone get close to my heart. It’s tough, it hurts, I live with lots of regrets. I wish my Mom had been loving, and I will never know what a Mother’s love feels like. I know I’ve done the best I can to be loving to my kids and made sure I didn’t treat them the way I was treated.
But I won’t apologize or say “sorry” for my Midwestern heart. Sorry but, it is who I am, it is in my DNA. (Spoken in pure Midwestern fashion, LOL).
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Feeling the Fear of Fear and the Darkness Attached

Loving someone who has PTSD who denies they have PTSD… and instead tells you they have PTSD from you, well, is twisted. Welcome to my first story.
I loved him at his worst. I never understood for the longest time what the real situation was. We were best friends, lovers, shared everything with each other, connected deeply.
Except, there was another woman.
I didn’t understand. I was told she was an ex-girlfriend. I witnessed her bullying him constantly. I witnessed her calling and texting every 5 minutes from the time he woke up until he went to sleep, and even then she wouldn’t stop. She demanded she be involved in every aspect of his life. She even bought him a cabin in a place that has everything he loves, just to lure him in. It isolated him from the world. Then one day he told me she was his girlfriend, and I was like a mistress. When I told him I felt used and just like a whore, he tried to tell me I wasn’t. Then tried to tell me she wasn’t his girlfriend. He told me he didn’t love her, he told he hadn’t had sex with her since he met me. But she got all the things that couples do that I wish we would do. I felt like I was getting Jedi mind fucked. Why didn’t I leave? I know the answer, to post next.
7 years of never understanding why my best friend ran off with her several times a year but always claiming he could never take off work to be with me. Only she got the vacations. He only chose her to hide away from the world. And soon I learned only she got the invites to family events and dinners. Only she got the dates in town. Only she was allowed to stop by his work. But he tried to tell me only I got the sex and intimacy, further solidifying that I was just a serogate vagina and emotional crutch. He got angry at me for not believing him. I hear you, the reader, asking… Why the fuck didn’t I get out.
A relationship is more than sex and intimacy. And he complained that we needed to have great communication. Of course we did, but her never allowed us to grow closer. Our intimacy was his way of communicating with me how he felt about me. And I communicated how much I hated how he wouldn’t let her go.
He tried to convince me that I was the problem, stuck on labels. I was stuck on having a safe, healthy relationship. I was convinced…correction, convinced myself he loved me more than her. I was convinced we could have a future together, I was convinced we were soulmates. But she always won. Correction. The fear of fear always won.
Turns out – he has a genuine fear of his past, of a fear he faced (and overcame). But the fear is attached…to her. Once upon a time, she did leave him. Moved on with her life, and found someone new. And he couldn’t handle it. He had lost so much already in life. He had an affair with her and lost everything, all for her pussy. And then pussy left. And he wanted to kill himself. Because he felt complete loss. And so, he played the pretend boyfriend. He numbed himself. He held onto her like an alcoholic holds the bottle of whiskey. Always giving in to her demands for fear if he stopped being her boyfriend, he might feel the darkness.
He was afraid that if he stopped having her in his life, he would feel that loss again and want to kill himself again. He clung to her for fear he would face the darkness and not make it out.
Just like someone who witnesses something tragic, and drinks to numb themselves. The alcohol is the crutch to get through life. And they don’t stop drinking out of for fear if they do, they will relive all those feelings again. He wouldn’t let go. He wasted her life, always kind of being there but never really being present.
And he wanted me to accept she and fear came first, the fear came before me. He wouldn’t put us first. I was expected to give in and give up any hope of a future so that he avoided dealing with his fears. His needs to always call her. His need to never be honest with her, his need to bamboozle her. He never allowed me to meet her. He never allowed me to take care of his feelings.
The funny thing is, he never gave himself credit for not killing himself. And he never saw in himself he was in a better place: he would tell me if I left him it would crush him, but he would understand and celebrate the good times we had. I never understood why he couldn’t celebrate what he had with her, see it has his past, and move the fuck on.
We argued, we fought, we went round and round. I was in so much pain for loving him at his worst and he still chose fear and her. He didn’t see it. He never saw that what he was doing was hurting me. Just like the alcoholic who thinks they have their drinking under control. But they don’t. He didn’t have his fear under control and believed she was the solution to his problems.
His PTSD broke my heart in a thousand pieces. And the huge chunk of my heart I gave him, is gone. I sit here hurting. He may never know that what he has done is simply a result of PTSD. He blames me and my anger for tearing us apart. I own that I never believed that he didn’t love her and it was just fear of fear and the darkness. I lost him to my own fears.