NO CONTACT

I realized this week how important no contact really is when dealing with a sociopath.  Had the need for no contact been clearly explained to me I would have stopped months ago.
No one ever sat me down and explained that is was the sociopaths way of keeping you hooked and actually continuing the attempt to destroy.  Part of me wanted to maintain contact because I still wanted to believe that Bob cared.  I think deep down I knew he didn't and he never did care.  But there was a piece of me that was holding on to something I never had.  One of the big questions I had was, why did he continue contacting me?  In the first month we didn't speak at all, it was all email.  I think he was using that as a way to make me suffer.  Now I know that the sociopath tries to control the contact as a means of exerting control.  In the first month I still had his tweets coming in to my phone. That was how I found out he had bought a car and how he was in Georgia.  He knew what he was doing, he knew full well what he was doing.  He wanted to hurt me, he wished I were dead as he had told me many times.

I now know that all of those pictures coming through on twitter were coldly planned to mess with my head.  I now know the pictures he and his new victim put on face book were meant to mess with me.  He wanted me to see as much of his new life as he could to, or so he thought, whittle away at my sanity,  

I've don a lot of reading in the last couple of weeks.  What I have taken from the reading is the need for the sociopath to destroy as they build their new life with a new victim. Continuing to keep the abandoned victim

I was given an assignment...

The other day I was given an assignment.  I don’t like assignments.  I find assignments tedious and overwhelming.  I dislike assignments because I am being forced to look at something.  If it is something pleasurable then I don’t mind the tediousness of the assignment, it is less burdensome.

If, as in this case, I find the assignment difficult to face it becomes a source of more anxiety and that causes me to block my thought on the subject.  I usually jump into things with vigor and creatively approach what is at hand.  This is something I cannot approach in my traditional way.  It is cut and dry, it is life changing and I cannot hide in a delusional world bright colors and hopefulness. I cannot make it better, I can make tolerable.  I cannot fix it and make it go away.  It has made me be dependent, something I don’t want to be.  It has made me face myself, it has made me look at myself, it has made be honest and it has made me less concerned about other people and more concerned about me. It has taught me to say no and mean no. It has taught me to accept help from those who offer it, to accept my diminishing abilities and try to do it gracefully, smiling along the way and remaining the gentleman I was taught to be.

I am dying.  I am terminal. I thought I would react to this in a very different way. We have all thought about what we would do “if.” I know when I thought about dying I imagined overwhelming depression, a feeling of powerlessness, my chest got heavy and I imagined I would be overcome with anxiety. This has not been the case at all.  When I had the “talk” with my doctor two weeks ago I asked questions, a lot of questions.  I wanted to know when! I got the same response I have gotten from all of the doctors.  “Everyone is different.” I asked what to expect, “Everyone is different.” You see my wanting to know when and what to expect is really nothing more that my wanting to control something well beyond my control. I am naturally a very inquisitive person. I want to know the nitty gritty of everything, I research it and dissect it to understand it and the implications.  I know, to a degree what to expect.  I know, to a degree what to look for and I know that there are aspects which I will not recognize that require diligence on the part of those close to me.

End Stage Liver Disease, ESLD has many causes. It manifests differently, it can be complicated by other illness. It is fatal if not treated by transplantation. When I was given this assignment it was on the heals of my doctors telling me that I needed to be prepared to not undergo a transplant.  I was told that given my age and other illness I needed to understand that “the livers go to younger healthier people.” I was then catapulted into that class of patient who classified as terminal. I have a doctor who deals only with the chronically ill, the critically ill.  His approach is direct which I admire. He has also respected my wishes not to sugar coat any aspect of what is happening to me.  I admire him because he understands my need to know the details and causes and he takes the time to tell me and explain to me the intricacies.

Of the many possible effects of ESLD there is one particularly awful side effect. Hepatic Encephalopathy, HE.  HE is a bi product of toxins building up in the brain.  It affects memory, motor skills, mood, behavior causes fatigue and slurred speech.  It is a neuropsychiatric disorder and while treatable with medication it can rear its ugly head in a heartbeat and go from mild to full blown quickly without warning. It can lead to coma and death in it’s most severe form.  I have HE. For me it has led to extreme fatigue, something I am told will persist and worsen, I have good days and I have bad days.  I become very tired, it’s a tired that I don’t think is easily explained unless you have ever experienced it firsthand.  It is a feeling of intense exhaustion that comes on without warning and the brain tells the body to stop. I fall asleep now in an instant. Unfortunately, I fell asleep while driving, I woke, but had difficulty staying awake and making it home.  So, now I am faced with the reality that at some point I will be unable to drive.  HE is particularly scary because if you are not around someone who recognizes what is happening the signs can be mistaken.  Of course knowing all of this changes the way I approach things.  I know that I have roughly five hours during the day to function before I must stop. The simple tasks of everyday life are tiring.  I plan appointments and my driving so as not to be caught in the onset of debilitating fatigue.  I plan the important things so that my head is clear and I can cognitively process what I need to process.  What makes it difficult is noticing the subtle changes in the way I do things I used to do without difficulty.  At times I have problems with motor functions, I leave words out when I’m writing, I forget easily and can find myself at a complete loss for what I was doing.  I hate it that my speech slurs and I get unbalanced on my feet.

Despite all of this, I get up every morning, I take the medications needed to help me function as best I can. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t.  No matter how good I feel in the morning, no matter how good the medication works I know that it won’t get better, it will get worse.  

I think one of the hardest things about dying is really learning who is with you along the way.  I have always been the kind of person who stands by someone in need.  I have done that to a fault in my life, not going when I should have, but feeling obligated to be there for one in trouble.  I was raised that way, I was raised to put yourself second and do for others before yourself.  What I have experienced with illness is that people fall away.  I have learned they don’t do it gradually, they don’t do it by saying anything.  They just stop. Whether it’s not knowing what to say or do, or just a preoccupation with self, they stop.  People I thought would be there are no longer there.  I was told by a psychologist friend who does pre-transplant screening, someone admire,  when I was first presented with all of this, to know that people were going to fall away, that when that happened a new group of people would appear to support and stand by me.  That has happened and it has happened in such a way that has amazed me.  The people surrounding me now expect nothing from me, they understand the daily struggles I have.  They don’t expect me to function as if I am well, the don’t expect me to take charge.  They do expect me to do what I can for myself but understand there are times I need help.  They are there. They brighten my life, we talk about what is going on and what I need and how I feel.  They support me.  Most of all they make me feel safe. That’s important, the feeling of safety, the feeling that no matter what I will be cared for, not alone, not abandon,

My liver disease began many years ago and I was unaware until very recently that there is a genetic component to my liver disease and we now know the problems began in my twenties and have progressed.  That does not change the outcome however.  It does not change the truth that without a transplant I will die.  It does not change the reality that I am older and not a prime candidate for transplant.  It does not change the statistics that seventeen people die daily in the United States waiting for a liver.

One thing I can say is that my view of life has changed considerably.  I am more sensitive to others stress and their manufacturing unnecessary events in their lives.  I can say I remove myself from people creating havoc for themselves.  I also know when to say no and don’t fear doing so.  I also do the things I enjoy doing, I may do them more slowly and less obsessively but I have learned to enjoy it more and not feel guilty for making myself happy.

I have learned to count my blessings and be thankful for the very small group of people who, on a daily basis, surround me with unconditional love and allow me, without recrimination, to be me.

THE WEDDING PLANNER

What do you get when you cross a sociopathic gay guy, whose broke, steals from people, has committed forgery, evaded taxes, is a pathological liar, is abusive and psychotic?

DRUM ROLL PLEASE!

A GAY WEDDING PLANNER NAMED BOB HUNT!

Boy there is FRAUD written all over this one!

GAY WEDDING PLANNER, HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA HAHA

UPDATE: Apparently Big Daddy Bob Hunt is now an ORDAINED MINISTER providing Pedi Weddings in Savannah Gerogia!  WOO HOO, a wedding performed by a psycho riding a tricycle who looks like a pedophile and felon (oops, he is one of those, sorry)  http://www.savannahpediwedding.com/ What a joke!

My Responsibility to Others. The Moral and Ethical Question

Last night I finished "The Sociopath Beside Me" it was a great little book.  It left me with a burning question.

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.

My 22nd Anniversary would have been today...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I have been asked why...

I have been asked why, why are you doing this?  This is, in its simplest form, unloading my feelings about my relationship with Bob over the last 22 years.

In a deeper sense this is about my understanding.  Understanding why I fell in love with Bob.  Understanding why I  chose not to pay attention to the situations that spoke volumes about what the future would bring. Understanding Bobs sick need to play such horrible games with people’s lives.  Understanding my need for Bob to get better, understanding my need for wanting Bob to have a better life.  Understanding why I didn't listen to doctors much earlier when told Bob was not going to improve, that I should understand he would get worse, much worse.

Last Thursday night I was having dinner at Ivy’s with a group of friends. I was recognized by the first physician Bob and I had in Indianapolis.  He came to the table to ask how I was;  I was with a group of fourteen so I excused myself and moved away from the table to talk.  He put his arms around me and said, "You did everything you could, you know that". I just looked at him, tears welling in my eyes.  He told me he had heard that Bob had skipped town owing a lot of money, he knew about the shoplifting, he knew how seriously ill I had been.  He went back to the time before Bob left in 2008.  I remember the day I sat sobbing in this man’s office because Bob was unraveling again. He told me that day to leave, get out.  He told me that he had refused to see Bob because nothing was going to help him.  Over the year after he stopped seeing this doctor Bob went to at last three different doctors, all discontinued treatment, all for the same reasons. Nothing was going to help, not love, not support, not stability, not caring, not medication, nothing, nothing was going to help Bob.  Everybody saw the seriousness, but I continued on thinking it would get better, it got much worse.

So, when I am asked why I am going over it all again it is because I need closure.  I was told not to expect closure from Bob, which will never happen.   I have asked Bob many times to talk so that we can close our relationship.  He  would only say, “We will someday.”  It is to late now.  I know that Bob thinks everybody else is to blame, he always has.

In putting this to paper I am releasing it,  I am gaining a better understanding of the why and how things came to be.  In the past two weeks I have met some incredible people, people who have suffered through and come out the other side of the manipulation deceit, fear and isolation the sociopath creates.  Its funny, Bob used to repeatedly tell me that nobody liked me, when he left I had maybe five friends on Facebook, today I have I have many.  Those people  like me, enjoy me and count me as a good friend, a well intentioned friend.  When Bob left I had a Twitter account,  now I have three. For the first time in a long time I am me, the guy that got marked and lost his life, his whole life, to a sociopath.

So, when will I stop? I can't answer that, it will end when it ends. This is process, a process I must go through.  I've been told its going to be painful. So far the most painful thing has been the realization and acceptance that the person I loved and knew was incapable of love, was an illusion, a chameleon that changed as he needed to satisfy himself.

Will I ever forget what has happened, no.  Will I ever forgive what has happened, no.  Will I ever be able to tell Bob I love him and hope he has a nice life, no.  Will I ever trust anything Bob has ever told me, no.  I thank everyone who has taken the time to view these entries. For now I will continue, knowing that I will make it to the other side.

This is a wonderful quote from an amazing woman, it is fitting for all that is my world now ...

I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

― Maya Angelou

<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]-->
<!--[endif]-->

Hyper Smash

A Great Blog

I received a nice message from positivagirl at http://datingasociopath.com/2013/05/22/dating-a-female-sociopath/?replytocom=1045#respond


This website is invaluable, it has given me insight and helped me to understand the denial process I was under and the things I dismissed in dealing with my sociopath;


Hi Drewe, I am sorry it has taken me so long to respond. How harsh it is when somebody cruelly rips away your world, and then leaves you with nothing it is so hard to rebuild your life. Do you have friends and family around you for support? Or was that taken away from you too? I am sorry to hear your story, and will add it to the my story page. I just wanted you to know that you are not alone. There are millions of people who have been through the same thing. If nothing else, despite he left you dependent on him, you can at least have peace of mind now. There is no more abuse. From this, there are can only bring healing this is not a reflection on you, or your self worth. I understand PTSD. I was diagnosed severe chronic which took me years to come out of the other side of trauma. That alone can be difficult to cope with.

Morning, thank you so much for the reply.  It is interactions with people who "get it" as my dear friend Jenni White (Director of Adult Services at Coburn Place in Indianapolis) says.

It has been a terrible road to go down.  At first 22 years of "stuff" flooded over me.  I was able to hold it together in the beginning  but over about two months I began to crumble.  I had been isolated from everyone and everything, he made sure of that.  I was completely alone when he left.  I had my first hospital admission in November.  I had five admissions in three months, the last was the most serious.

The losses I am dealing with are difficult.  Of all of the losses, the one that has been the most difficult was the loss of my dogs.  I had the option of sending them to a shelter that would make sure they were safe and I could have them back when I was ready.  The only problem was that they would not guarantee they would be kept together.  I sent them with a "friend" to Louisville who promised to keep them together.  Instead, he lied to me and gave them away  and split them up.  Those animals were my life.

Writing is helping, therapy is helping.  No contact has been a good thing, it has allowed my true feelings to come out.  Finding your blog was a great help, so much, all of what I have read has given me insight and validated the way I feel and the way I have been treated.  It mirrors my life.  Bob knew that.  He posted on Twitter that I was doing it to hurt him, typical sociopath.

I was never worried about my physical safety.  Everyone else was, but not me.  I was fearful when Bob was out of control and psychotic, but in general no.  I think it was, I know it was my denial.  Several months ago I attended a meeting hosted by a man here in Indy that has opened a treatment center for drug abuse and serves those with HIV.  He made a comment that turned on a light in my head.  He said that HIV/AIDS patients function with a distinct level if denial, it is what allows them to function on a daily basis.  It allows them to create as much normalcy in their lives as possible.  I found the comment could 

apply to me, my situation.  My denial allowed me to function while Bob was still in my life.  While it was not optimal functioning and eventually was a negative for me, it kept me on a level of functioning most of the time.  I also was not as adept at recognizing the pathology.  While I was, at time concerned about the anti social aspect of Bob's behavior, I never connected it with being a sociopath.  Perhaps that was my denial also.

Bob took anything and everything that meant anything to me.  He took friends, he did that by playing the victim and painting a dour picture of me so that my relationships would falter.  He took "things" from me.  He took my self worth, my self esteem from me.  I was continually "gaslighted" told I was imagining things, told I was sick and the one with the problems.  I was constantly beaten down by a sick sadistic predator.

I have been fortunate to make friends, but I tread lightly and trust is a huge issue for me at this point.  I am learning to trust my intuition again, if my crazy meter goes off I remove myself and have no contact with people who trigger my uneasiness.  

I am at a critical stage where all of the past is beginning to make sense.  I am replaying the the last 22 years with Bob, it, at times seems so unreal, like a bad movie.  I remember sitting last summer with Bob, he wanted to watch "I love you Phillip Morris."  I sat and watched the film becoming more and more uneasy.  I was watching my relationship with Bob.  A sick sadistic relationship that made me nervous and scared. I remember going to bed that night, looking at Bob, holding my dogs tight and being afraid of the future, afraid of the past, it was all making sense.  I remember the feeling of hopelessness, the feeling of being trapped with someone who was crazy and unstable.  I knew I needed to get out, I didn't know how.  I am now able to look back at that time, that very difficult time, I had doctors and therapists telling me to get out, to save myself.  My denial was still strong and allowed me to function.

I am at a critical stage where the severity of Bob's personality has become clear to me.   A sharp, undistorted, crisp view, I liken it to a beautiful morning with a shimmering blue sky.  That view scares me.  That view puts fear in me, fear for my safety, fear of Bob, fear of Bob's family.  I am not entirely convinced that Bob will not continue to try and harm me.  I maintained contact to make sure he was far away, a safe buffer zone; but again denial played a large part, Bob has lived up to every expectation I had of him, at points I knew, others were quick to see, not me.  I am scared because I understand how twisted the relationship is, or was, and I know from my work that it never truly ends until someone dies.   I hope that is not me.

I had in the beginning I been in contact with The Gay Men's Domestic Violence Project in Boston.  Initially there was concern over my physical safety and plans were discussed to relocate me.  As my physical health deteriorated from stress it was thought best for me to stay near the doctors who were treating me.  I am, again, faced with the prospect of relocation.  My dearest friend lives in Savannah as do others I know, however, Bob is there, making a return to Savannah impossible.  Another case of his allowing me to be alienated from those who care about me.  

I am sure Bob will continue his assault in some way.  The issue is how? I have begun to out him and sociopaths don't like to be outed, it makes them angry.  In outing him I am hoping that my story will reach those he is setting up for victimization now.  He is, as a good sociopath, constantly scoping out empathic people to destroy.  

I hope we can have a dialog, I don't want what has happened to me to happen to another human being, ever!  I know that it will, but if my story is told and others see it and internalize it then someone, even if just one someone can be helped then it has been for good'

I am reminded of a topic we discussed at a meeting to create an action plan for domestic abuse in Indianapolis.  During the afternoon the participants, many from service agencies discussed the "Re-victimization of the victim," I had never thought of the concept. But it is very true and very real as is the trauma.  The difficulty is that the "system" continually re-victimizes the victim and adds to the trauma, until that is fully understood by providers, police, the courts, and the public, victims don't have a chance

Again, thanks for the kind words and concern, it means alot to me. www.hypersmash.com