Narcissist: The Wife
I am Ashleigh Hovenier, the wife.
All of my life I have been controlled by other people, but it is only now that I have realised that this is the case. My parents have always told me what to do, be this, do not become that, go there, stay here, speak up, be quiet. Well, I say my parents, it is my mother mainly, she is the tour de force of the Hovenier household. My father is a weak man, he just goes along with what she wants, anything for a quiet life. She is the one who had the affairs, she is the one who would pack her bag and threaten to leave my father, my brother and me. Not that she cared. I was the one who was left to pick up the pieces, I had to look after my father and my brother as they fell apart. Weak, both of them. You see, I was controlled again, controlled by their weakness. My mother controlled me by bossing me around, I was controlled by the weakness of my father and brother, their learned helplessness which meant I was the one who always had to ride into battle on their behalf and save them.
I see now that when I finally was able to leave home and go to university, I just substituted one controller for another when Peter came along. I did not see it coming, I suppose nobody does do you, otherwise, well, if you did you would not go along with it. Oh, he was clever, he played the kind man, the concerned man, the supportive man. Pretending to nurse me when my problems came to the fore, problems my toxic mother embedded in me. I must have been so easy for him to pick up and mould into whatever he wanted of me. He promised me the world, and, in fairness, he did deliver, but there was a price to pay and one that I did not agree to. I was to be his trophy, his golden girl, his plaything which he paraded around so all of his cronies could worship at the altar of the great and wonderful Peter Hovenier. Little do his friends, colleagues and family know of the real Peter Hovenier but I do. I know what he does when the bedroom door is closed. I know what he does away from the eyes of observers. Sometimes subtle, sometimes not, but I accepted this price because look at what I had, a huge house, several holidays a year and I mean expensive holidays, wine collections, designer clothes, great cars and no money concerns. I had my heard turned by this and he made me grateful for what he provided and made me forget that I provided too. I have a good career, not that he ever supported me in it. Typical Peter. The Peter Hovenier Show starring Peter Hovenier with a supporting cast of hundreds but they naturally get no billing.
I do love Peter. I do. I know he has treated me badly, but we have been together for twenty years and that must mean something, yes? I know he loves me, how can he not, but if only he could keep the beast at bay and then we could be happy. That is all I have ever wanted, the happy ever after. I suppose it is too late for me, but I can ensure that Amelia gets that. That is her right. She is me, just like me. She looks like me, sounds like me, is nearly as clever as me and behaves just like me. Thank God and I do thank God, that I have managed to ensure she is like me and not like him. That is a blessing. Of course, it was inevitable she would turn out like me, because I am the one that has done everything for her.
What of Christopher? Oh yes, well he was Peter´s idea. He thought that another baby would bring us closer together, not that he knows much about closeness. He is so selfish to use a child for his own needs, but that is what Peter is all about. He uses people. He is well known for it and that is why I need to stop him using me. I am not his possession and it is only as of late I have realised that is what I am to him, a possession in a gilded cage, well no longer. I am doing what is right for me. I will no longer be controlled.
Even Ian controls me. I know he means well but he has become rather needy. Oh, he was marvellous when everything was going his way, but now that he has a fight on his hands because Peter wants me back, he starts to show his true colours. I do find that whining of his unattractive, spoils his other qualities you see. I think he needs the input of a therapist, seeing a psychologist has worked wonders for me, in just one session I have been able to see that I am the victim of so many people – my parents, Peter, the bosses at work, my brother and Ian too. They all want a piece of me and want me to themselves. In a way, I understand, after all, I am quite the prize and I think, as I look back, being treated as a prize made me blind to what these people were really doing. Controlling me.
They want to use me. They want me to be the thing they want me to be and I just went along with it. I did not see what was happening. I did not realise what they were doing, but now, well now, that light has come on hasn´t it and I can see clearly for the first time in my life. I have been the recipient of the ideas and desires of everybody else and I just fitted it, I gave them what they wanted, and I did so without complaint, without resistance and never did a thing for me. How on earth did I let this happen? That will be my mother, she made me like this, turned me into some compliant Robowoman, tried to make me the thing that she has always wanted to be, but could not be and my father, he just stood by and let her and then she roped in both him and my brother to keep me under control as an adult. The three of them working together to stop me being me.
What will I do? Well, it is rather all exciting isn´t it, finally the focus being me, rather than me doing everything for everybody else. Don´t tell anybody but it is rather edifying to be wanted by two men. My mother always accused me of being man mad, which is rich coming from a floozy like her. I cannot help it that people fall for me. I do not ask them to, it just happens. I draw people to me but then they want me all to themselves and they will not let me be me. They make it so I do not know who I am, they try to make me become what they want me to be. My parents wanted me to be a doctor, then an engineer, but never a banker. My brother wants me to be some kind of saint. Peter wanted me to be mother, support act, cook, whore and bottlewasher. My friends want me to be the life and soul of the party, the shining star, the entertainment and Ian wants me to be his damsel in distress that he rescues. None of them know me. None of them really know who I am.
Do you know who the narcissist is?
Listen Narcissist : Seduction
Listen Narcissist: Ensnared