For years I protected the sociopath in my life, I supported him in a delusional way, my delusional way. I stood by as time and time again Bob repeated the same behaviors, created the same hurts, created the same mistrust, created the same chaos in mine and other peoples lives. I never divulged the pain I was in, If I did it was fleeting and I would close up again, believing in my state of denial that everything would be alright. 22 years of believing everything would be alright. As we know, "alright" never came. "Alright"
never existed, it didn't exist the night I met Bob. It didn't exist during the first phase of our relationship and it most certainly didn't exist through the many years we were together.
I was asked while still living in Savannah by a friend who worked for the health department who had told me her fears about Bob's manipulation, if he was pedophile. Of course I told her I didn't think he was although the thought had crossed my mind having seen instances of deviance. I think I did not honestly believe he was that sick, that coupled with my horror of the word and the actions the word conjures made me sick and feeling unclean. In my world pedophilia is among the most heinous of crimes.
Several years ago Bob and I were visiting a friend, her sister was in town from San Diego with her two small sons. The boys were, I believe five and nine at the time. The boys were dealing with severe family dysfunction and hated their father for his abuse of them and their mother.
That day I saw something that scared me, that made me stop wondering, the situation led me to think that if Bob was not now actively seeking out children that natural progression might lead him there.
Bob sat on the sofa next to the oldest boy. He sat close to him, his arm stretched around the boy but on the back of the sofa. I think in retrospect I felt chills. Bob talked to the boy with caring and concern, I don't even remember what they talked about, all I remember is that feeling of being very uncomfortable with seeing the interaction.
When we left and were driving home, Bob made a statement, a statement that gave me great concern. He said, "that boy is gay, I know he is and someone needs to help him." For the remainder of their visit I would be busy if asked to stop by, I would make up excuses to not be around those boys. I didn't want Bob around those boys.
A large portion of "The Sociopath Beside Me" deals with the shock, horror and melting away of the denial state, the state that tells us our perception are wrong, that we are imagining things, that it is us not them. I read in horror as the author described her husbands pedophilia, the progression of it and his descent into the worsening of his behavior.
I have looked the other way for so long. I believed it was me, for so long. I believed it was an illusion for so long. I made the conscious decision to disbelieve.
My question is, to what degree am I responsible for protecting others from the evil I have experienced? Am I responsible to be the oracle, the warning system to alert those of the dangers they face by interaction with the evil I experienced? Am I responsible for outing the sociopath?
The ethical and moral me says that I must not hide the truth any longer, that I, me must stop the insidious madness so that others are not hurt.
