My Ex Was A Narcissistic Sociopath

Yes… You read the title correctly. (I know that in a previous post, the title to this post was supposed to be, “My Ex-Best Friend Was A Psychopath,” but I had to change it, because this title makes more sense to me).

I have been so hesitant to post and talk about this story, because of the mere fact that it has to do with a sensitive topic. However, I believe whole heartedly that it is a topic that needs to be talked about… and because of that… I am giving you this story.

This is based on a true story. Written in first person. © D.D. Lawrance. All names and places have been changed for the sake of this story. Thank you.


My name is Lydia, but most people just call me ‘Lynn’ for short. I’m not quite sure why; it’s just always been like that.

Anyway… There was a point in time in my life where I thought my best friend (at the time) and I had the world at our fingertips. He and I were both writers, and we would feed our ideas off each other; we were like magnets. Where ever he went, I went… and where ever I went, he went (except to the bathroom and shower of course, because that would be extremely weird).

No… throughout high school, he and I were joined at the hip. But… I didn’t know what he was back then… Nobody knew what he was. I don’t even think his own family knew what he was… he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. He could literally lie, manipulate, cheat, and scam his way out of any situation. He could also lie, manipulate, cheat, and scam his way into any situation… and he wouldn’t even feel bad about it.

Yes, unfortunately, there was a time when my best-friend-at-the-time and I dated… a couple of times. The first time was shortly after we graduated high school; He and I graduated in the same year. We also had known each other since we were in second grade.

Believe me when I tell you that it was a complete shock when I finally found out what he was… or, what he had become… a narcissistic sociopath. He would hurt people –more mentally than anything– in order to get what he wanted. Hell, he even hurt me… which was something that I didn’t even think was possible. But, most people don’t that something like that is possible when it comes to someone we care about… and when it comes to someone we think cares about us in return. At the time we were each other’s “other halves.” I was his other half, and he was mine… “was” being the key word of course.

Now, I don’t know if I became blinded by the “rose-colored glasses” at the time –especially the second time we dated; we were kind of on-again-off-again, but most would say that I was… and looking back at everything… I was blinded by those rose-colored glasses. I thought I knew him so well… but I didn’t.

He was not only a narcissistic sociopath, but he was also highly mentally abusive. From what I understand –in a lot of cases– those two things go hand-in-hand. He manipulated me into thinking that he was the only person in my life that I could trust; he even went as far as isolating me from my own family and friends. Not acceptable. But –like I said before– I didn’t see what was going on around me. There were other people who did see it though, but did I listen? No. I thought all was fine. When I did finally realize what was happening, and what he was doing to me, I was absolutely appalled. I really started to realize what was happening when I noticed how miserable I was feeling. I was in an extremely dark place at the time, and it wasn’t like he would help the situation.

I do have to say though… he did give me extreme whip-lash. I say that because –on top of everything else that he was putting me through– there would be times I felt like I was dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. There would be times where he would seem all nice and caring, but then in the next breath, he would belittle me, toss insults at me, criticize me, push my boundaries… and if I ever did try to speak up about it, or let him know how he was making me feel, he would make it seem like I was the crazy one. There would also be times where he would do just the opposite and pretend that I didn’t even exist… I was invisible to him. How healthy is that? Not very healthy if you ask me. And some say that mental abuse doesn’t do damage.

“You don’t have any marks on you.”

“Do you have any bruises?”

“Are you bleeding?” … On and on…

From my experience, and other experiences I have witnessed, mental abuse can be just as damaging –if not, more damaging– than physical abuse. I think that’s because it’s the hardest to detect… especially if one is experiencing it first-hand.

When I finally opened my eyes and saw what was going on around me, and realized that I needed to get out of that situation, I packed my things –I had very little at the time– and left without saying so much as, “goodbye.” I didn’t think he was worth that.

I just… left.

From there, I picked myself up, and moved on with my life… and I am the happiest I’ve ever been.

I just realized… I never mentioned his name. But I guess that doesn’t really matter anymore… does it…?



Author’s Note: I know that topics of abuse –no matter the kind– can be tough to talk about (or even to read about)… thank you for taking the time to read this story. I’m hoping that, by sharing this story, it helps others –or maybe even the person reading this– know that they’re/you’re not alone. ❤

❤ Des ❤

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