Isolation
How abusers use smear campaigns to isolate their victims from their support system.
Day 7 of Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. In this series, I am sharing my real-life experience of how I nearly lost my life. While I saw the red flags, I didn’t trust my intuition enough to leave before it was too late. This month, I will outline the subtle signs of an abusive personality for each day of October.
On day one, I gave an overview of the abuse cycle known as DARVO.
On day two, I gave an in-depth look at how the abuse cycle starts with Love Bombing.
Day three, we went a little further and described the devaluation and Hoovering phase.
On day four, we discussed the classic schoolyard bully tactic: name-calling. Today, we’re talking about Word Salad. Years ago, I wrote an overview about how Word Salad is an important dynamic to notice if you find yourself in an abusive relationship.
On day five, I provided a detailed example of how my abuser used lying, labeling, and self-doubt as he attempted to gaslight me when I caught him lying.
Yesterday, we discussed Projection.
Today, we’ll talk about Isolation and how an abuser creates cracks in their victim’s support system, so they will be less likely to leave.
In my Book, Entangled In Blue, I explain how I found myself in an abusive marriage that nearly killed me. I left, but leaving nearly ruined my life. Knowing the signs of an abusive personality and getting out early before it escalates to physical violence is the only way to protect you or your loved one from falling victim to this highly lethal dynamic before it is too late.
Abusers use smear campaigns to discredit and socially isolate their victims, using innuendo, gossip, and outright lies to the victim’s family, friends, neighbors, and community members.
My roommate informed me that her boyfriend, whom she had met online and never met in person, was being released from jail in Arizona.
“He’s moving to Buffalo.” She said excitedly.
“Where is he going to stay?” I asked.
“Here!” She responded naturally. I didn’t say anything, but my silence made her aware of how uncomfortable I was with the idea. The following day, I informed Justin. I unknowingly provided him with the perfect ammunition to convince me to move in with him.
“There’s no sense in us both paying rent. You should move in with me.” He used the tired line he’d been saying all Summer, but now I was actually considering it. Justin even told my parents about the situation and got them to side with him.
My devout Catholic parents went from drilling into my brain as a child the message that I could not move in with a male unless I were married to him, to demanding I move in with Justin, stating that I would be safer living with him than my female friends!
Things were great for the first month we moved in together. We had fun painting our new apartment together, choosing furniture, and decorating it. A month later, Justin watched me brush my teeth one night. He was so attentive; it made me feel uncomfortable. Once I was finished, in a creepy tone, he told me he used my toothbrush to brush the dog’s teeth—the dog, he purchased, without consulting me first.
What bothered me the most was the disgustingly satisfied, sadistic smile on his face. I packed my things and tried to leave, but he fought me. I escaped with a basket of dirty laundry and my car keys. I drove to my parents. He followed me in a high-speed chase with a maniacal look in his eyes. A few times, he tried to ram my car. I seriously thought he was trying to ram me off the road and feared for my life. I was hysterical when I arrived at my parents, and Justin was eerily calm.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her!” Justin said to my dad. “You should probably send her to see someone. She’s crazy!” I ran to my childhood room. Justin convinced my dad that I was acting crazy and overreacting to a benign situation.
Perhaps I was overreacting to that individual situation. Still, when you add up all his microaggressions towards me, any reasonable person would find that I have been quite patient thus far.
A microaggression is a subtle, everyday slight or insult — verbal, non-verbal- that communicates a hostile message, often unintentionally, but over time, results in a harmful impact.
It pains me that it took me over twenty years to figure out that Justin was purposely trying to drive me crazy because he knew that I was starting to figure out how crazy he actually was. This is another act of Projection, along with isolating me from my parents by attempting to convince them that I was the crazy one. It wasn’t until I learned about crazy-making techniques that describe the tactics abusers use to psychologically torment their victims so that, over time, they cause self-doubt and confusion, resulting in the victim questioning reality.
Dad believed Justin and refused to provide me with emotional support. Mom, while sympathetic, was not going to risk becoming a victim of Dad’s wrath to back me up. They both refused to allow me to stay that night. They convinced me that getting this upset over a toothbrush was ridiculous and instructed me to go back home with Justin.
I know now that was the beginning of a well-calculated Smear Campaign.
Regrettably, I returned to our apartment with Justin and was rewarded with Love Bombing for submitting, thus completing the abuse cycle. He treated me like a saint for the next month.
