THE AUTHOR IS LUCKY TO BE ALIVE TO SHARE THIS COMPELLING STORY This story is figuratively ripped from the pages of my diary. I share the intimate details of my life in an emotionally & mentally abusive relationship that ended very badly, with death and destruction splattered across the front...
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THE AUTHOR IS LUCKY TO BE ALIVE TO SHARE THIS COMPELLING STORY
This story is figuratively ripped from the pages of my diary. I share the intimate details of my life in an emotionally & mentally abusive relationship that ended very badly, with death and destruction splattered across the front pages and international TV breaking news. I reflect on how I fed into and enabled my husband's controlling behaviors with my own self-sabotaging bad habits, and how I finally woke up to recognize the reality of the situation, and saw the warning signs of a dangerous reaction to my exit from the relationship. Despite my depression, anxiety, and fear, I pulled myself out, and believe I saved both my daughter and myself.
In August 2001, I was a 39-year-old mother to an 8-year-old daughter and was an Ivy League Business School MBA with a high-paying finance management job. Yet, I had absolutely no idea how I could possibly divorce my emotionally and mentally abusive husband, Louis William Joy, III, who on the surface, seemed like a very nice, well-educated, professional guy.
With every step that I took forward to leave, I was pushed back by his intimidation and the control he had systematically gained over me throughout our 20-year marriage. When l finally got the courage to leave, my husband hunted me down for two days, and in a rage, unable to find me and having been served a temporary restraining order, he flew our private airplane into our newly built home in Amherst, NH, burning it to the ground and killing himself in the process.
Through our population’s vicarious detective work via suspense crime shows, most of us have learned the profile of the typical serial killer, rapist, pedophile, stalker, etc., but few can begin to comprehend the profile of an individual with the capacity to murder family or intimate partners. When a tragic murder and /or suicide occurs, everyone shakes their head in disbelief and wonder, saying the person must have snapped, distraught about the end of the relationship or child custody rights. People can only rationalize such acts by assuming something went awry, because they sure seemed like a nice person who loved their family. The horrific accounts of the deaths are splattered across the news media, and reporters scramble to find the inside scoop to explain it all away. Typically, the majority of sound bites from interviews of people who knew those involved indicate they are shocked that this could have happened to such normal people. Yet few of these victims’ life stories are ever told in detail. Truth is, there is a lot going on behind closed doors and smiling faces that the individuals cover up with their external persona.
I can confidently say that if I had not taken action to secure our safety, my daughter and I may not have survived. And nobody would have understood how or why it happened. I am that person you see every day at work and in the neighborhood who seems to have the perfect life, but is actually living in a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship with a very dangerous spouse.
I don’t view Lou as the villain and me as either the victim or the heroine. I don’t know if he could be diagnosed as having borderline or narcissistic or any other personality disorder, or if he was just difficult and, at the end, very troubled. I have no idea what labels would define my co-dependent and enabling behaviors over the years. I do know that our relationship was dysfunctional and unhealthy.
I reveal events from the years that led up to the tragic ending to educate about relationships like ours. I hope that by sharing what went on behind the screen of the picture perfect life that people will recognize themselves, friends, family, coworkers, or patients long before a crisis, and ultimately help save lives. I would like to think that with the right kind of assistance, things could have ended better; I know they could have ended much worse.
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