Emily Saved My Life

Several of my recent posts have paved the way for me to finally get around to writing this one, a post which is long over due and one that I've thought about writing many times over the past year. I've hesitated writing it for several reasons. First, it is almost impossible to tell this story without a solid understanding of the events that led up to it without it sounding as if It was somehow justified in doing what It did. Funny, as I typed that last sentence I realized that there is NO way It could be justified and that my prior hesitation was based on self-blame, the most debilitating kind of victim blaming. It's definitely time for this post.

When I separated from my first husband I was in a solid position to start a brand new life. I was finishing up graduate course work and preparing to write a thesis. I had a successful business teaching martial arts and self-defense for women and girls. I had recently published a book, Training Women in the Martial Arts: A Special Journey. I had a solid five figures in my bank account and no debt. I had a close network of friends and lived in a community who loved and respected me. My goal was to finish my course work and then begin thinking about opening a school and applying for a Women's Studies teaching position in Arizona, Colorado or New Mexico when the time was right.

After It, I still have the book and I made it out west.

But I also have Emily. Emily is a 48 pound Portuguese Water Dog, who saved my life....

When Oliver died I felt as if I had lost the very last part of who I was and the dreams I had dreamed before meeting It. At the time I thought I had given them over to the man of my dreams. But, of course, I had actually been robbed of them by a sociopath. When I look back it's clear to me that there was always a small part at the core of my being that knew what was happening. It was the part that prevented me from investing too much in a life with It. For example I resisted starting a career and making close friends in Saratoga. In fact I resisted anything that resembled planting roots there. Somehow I knew It was temporary and was going to come crashing down around me. It was only a matter of how and when.

Life with a sociopath is filled with thousands of emotional paper cuts that leave you bleeding and drained. Some of them become infected and fester, others are kissed and salved by the sociopath. This is the dynamic that creates a bond much like experienced by those victimized in the Stockholm bank hostage incident for which The Stockholm Syndrome is named. Paper cuts hurt! Sometimes it's all we can do to focus on anything else with a fresh paper cut. Imagine having thousands of them. When someone helps relieve the pain we are grateful; EVEN if they are the one who cut us in the first place. The more cuts the less able we are to heal. Some get infected. Others scar over. We get used to the pain and long for whatever relief is available.

In the midst of it all I decided my life felt incomplete without a canine friend. Over the years I had been told by several close friends that the Portuguese Water Dog would be the perfect breed of dog for me given my tastes and lifestyle. In spite of It's objections, and after a great deal of deliberation (mostly about the problems I'd face with It) I decided to find a breeder and adopt a Portie. I adopted Emily in June of 08.

My dogs have always been my kids, i.e. members of the family. I've always permitted them in the bed to sleep with me and have treated them as if they were almost human. Though It liked Emily (It found her to be a fabulous status symbol, especially when the Obama family started discussing adopting one) and treated her kindly for the most part, Emily was never allowed in the bed and spent a lot of time in her crate. She did join us on camping trips and really enjoyed swimming in Lake George etc, but I had to buy Emily her own tent as she was not permitted to sleep in the same tent with us. That tent cost a pretty penny and was deliberately destroyed by It while It was packing my things (a story for another time.)

I felt awful about Emily being sent so often to her crate, but since that was what she knew I dealt with it and rationalized that it was just one of the kind of compromises made in any relationship. What I didn't realize was that Emily was nourishing my core being and would end up being my wake up call.

As time went on I began to soothe my paper cuts with alcohol and marijuanna. Before It, I drank only on occasion and hadn't been in the presence of pot since high school (with the exception of once on a trip to Europe.) My self-esteem was in the toilet. I was too fat ( 5'5" - 135 solid muscle), not pretty enough, not feminine enough, not young enough and on and on. I went from being a feminist who spoke out publicly about violence against women and body issues and who was openly and vehemently opposed to cosmetics, to a woman considering plastic surgery and any other means to please It. After a skiing accident, followed by surgery and a blood clot which forced me to close my martial arts school in PA I was alone in It's world and began spiraling downward more quickly.

After several breakups and reconciliations I moved into It's house in October of 2008. I later found out that the only reason It reconciled with me was that It wanted my help moving, paying rent, and cleaning house. By that time I was aware that It has NPD and was trying to get It into therapy (I believed they could be cured at that time!). Things were unraveling at that point faster than I could cope with and I began to abuse alcohol like there was no tomorrow.

Each November 1st there is a huge pagan festival in Saratoga called Wickerman. It and I attended Wickerman in 07 and had a beautiful time. It was attentive and charming. We danced, ate, drank and enjoyed the event. The 08 Wickerman festival proved to be the exact opposite and the end of the road. Over the last several months of our relationship It became increasingly aloof and inattentive. It spent more and more time chatting on line, at work and less and less time with me. It became more and more openly critical and abusive. When we were out, including at a concert on our anniversary, It would wander off and leave me alone. It would especially like to do this when we were at places where I didn't know any one.

The night of the 08 Wickerman was seasonably cold for upstate NY. This year we took It's son and Emily to the event with us. In contrast to the previous year It wandered off the moment we got there and avoided me at every turn. I tried unsuccessfully to tell it how I was feeling an to find some folks to hang out with. I ended up standing around alone. I started drinking beer and later switched to wine trying to escape how desperately lonely and frightened I was that I had moved in with a man who was completely uninterested in my feelings. I became very intoxicated and got very sick on the way home. It had to pull over several times for me to vomit.

It's new house was literally in the middle of nowhere. When we reached the house it was hitting freezing temperatures. It pulled in the driveway and I got out to vomit again. I passed out in the driveway. When I came to, I realized I had somehow gotten to my car and pulled out a sleeping bag that I kept in it. I had no idea how long I was out for or how I managed to get the sleeping bag. I do know that without it I might have frozen to death. I looked over at the side door and saw Emily (who was only 7 months old) laying on her bed that I put in It's car for her. She wasn't tied up and her bed was covered in frost. She was shivering. I wrapped her up in my arms to try and warm her. I found that It hadn't locked the door, but It made no effort to insure Emily or my safety. I took Emily inside to her crate and held her for a while. I promised her we would get out.

I went to the bedroom to find It sleeping peacefully. I woke It and simply said, "I guess you want me to leave." It replied, "Yes." I laid down and tried to sleep.

There is so much more I could add to this story, but it's impossible to really convey the darkness and emptiness I felt. What I remember most is that my awakening enabled me to see a dark emptiness in It's gaze. A gaze I once saw intense attentiveness in. I read somewhere that sociopaths have the ability to look at you like no one else can and it is true. In the beginning they are exciting and it seems like they are looking deeply into you. In a way they are. They are studying you. But that same empty stare that once seemed so affectionate becomes terrifying once they've used you up. That's what I was finally able to see after that night.

It's not uncommon for an abused woman to stay in an abusive relationship as long as the abuse is confined to her. Once he starts abusing her children she will often wake up and take measures to get out. Emily saved my life. I got out for the love of Emily.

It's last words to me, as It looked at Emily waiting patiently for me in my car, were, "Look at your beautiful dog." As I drove away I thought to myself... No one will ever hurt my girl again. She will always be permitted in my bed no matter who else is sleeping there. She is my best friend and my Angel. Emily and I are living our dream in AZ where we are both respected and well loved. Although we share out lives with two other dogs, Emily will always be my most special girl. My beautiful Portuguese Water Dog who saved my life.

Thank you Emily for saving my life. Mommy loves you!