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I Married a Narcissist... Then She Turned My Life Into a Nightmare | Wistaloom
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Aug 2, 2025
I Married a Narcissist... Then She Turned My Life Into a Nightmare | Wistaloom I was a successful doctor — financially stable, hard-working, and loyal. But the day I married Amanda, everything started to unravel. She drained my savings, manipulated every argument, and destroyed every bit of peace I had… until I finally said the words: “I want a divorce.” What followed was gaslighting, public meltdowns, lies in court, false accusations, and relentless stalking — all to keep control over me. This is my story of emotional survival and finally walking away from a toxic marriage. If you’ve ever felt stuck, manipulated, or silenced in a relationship, you’re not alone. 🔔 Don’t forget to like, comment, and subscribe for more real stories and lessons in reclaiming your power.
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0:00
The wedding day was a blur of white lace
0:02
and forced smiles. A knot of dread had
0:05
tightened in my gut. A primal warning I
0:07
chose to ignore.
0:09
My wife, Amanda, had pressured me, her
0:13
will a formidable force against my quiet
0:15
reservations.
0:17
The ink on the marriage license was
0:18
barely dry before the unraveling began.
0:21
Just a few months in, she went behind my
0:23
back, draining most of my savings to put
0:25
a hefty deposit on a lavish apartment I
0:27
never wanted. When I confronted her, my
0:30
anger righteous and raw, she simply
0:32
shrugged. "You're my provider," she'd
0:35
said, her voice devoid of warmth. "You
0:38
need to accept that my word goes over
0:40
yours." It was a chilling declaration, a
0:43
glimpse into the transactional nature of
0:45
our union.
0:47
I remembered surprising her with a
0:48
Michael Kors handbag once. Her reaction,
0:52
a dismissive sniff, and a complaint that
0:54
the color didn't match her phone case. I
0:56
am a doctor. I make good money. But
0:58
after years of her relentless spending,
1:00
my savings account held less than
1:02
$2,000.
1:03
Our home, once a dream, had become a
1:06
sterile, joyless space. Intimacy was a
1:09
distant memory. Laughter a forgotten
1:12
sound. Our conversations revolved solely
1:14
around money, a constant, draining
1:17
negotiation.
1:18
Kids? She'd wanted them before marriage,
1:21
then abruptly changed her mind, another
1:23
promise broken. I hated it. I hated her.
1:27
The decision had been a slow, agonizing
1:30
realization.
1:31
I had secretly rented an apartment
1:33
across town, a stack of flat-packed IKEA
1:36
furniture waiting like a promise of a
1:38
new beginning. The lease on the Mercedes
1:41
she'd insisted I get was almost up, and
1:44
I was replacing it with a used Prius, a
1:46
quiet rebellion against her
1:47
materialistic grip. Tomorrow, I would
1:50
tell her, I wanted a divorce. I knew the
1:54
tears would flow, the pleas for therapy,
1:57
the promises to change. But I felt
2:00
nothing. This marriage had been wrong
2:02
from the start, and my only regret was
2:04
the decade it had taken me to see it.
2:06
The morning I planned to tell her, I
2:09
woke with an unexpected calm. Usually,
2:12
my mornings began with a run or a bike
2:14
ride, while she would stir, get dressed,
2:16
and make her smoothie. This morning, I
2:19
paced the kitchen, rehearsing the words.
2:22
each syllable a step towards freedom.
2:25
When she finally came downstairs, her
2:27
usual morning routine unfolding with a
2:29
practiced indifference, I felt an odd
2:31
sense of detachment.
2:34
"I need to speak to you," I said, my
2:36
voice steady. She barely grunted, not
2:39
looking up from the coffee machine.
2:41
"Then I just said it. I'm leaving. I
2:45
want a divorce." I laid out the truth
2:47
calmly, rationally. We hadn't been happy
2:50
in a long time. She didn't care about my
2:53
emotional needs. The gaslighting began
2:56
almost instantly. Tears welled in her
2:59
eyes. "You never get me flowers
3:01
anymore," she sobbed. "You don't support
3:04
me. You don't care if I'm happy." I
3:07
brought up the therapy I'd suggested
3:09
over a year ago. The endless excuses
3:11
she'd made. I mentioned the budgets
3:14
she'd ignored, the times she'd dismissed
3:17
my feelings. Her crying escalated,
3:20
morphing into desperate pleas for
3:21
another chance. Promises to change, to
3:25
go to therapy. It was exactly as I had
3:28
predicted, and I felt nothing. Whatever
3:31
I had once felt for her was dead, gone.
3:34
She might as well have been a stranger
3:35
sobbing about her own broken marriage.
3:38
Eventually, I just walked out. My phone
3:42
became a vibrating testament to her rage
3:43
and desperation. calls and texts ranging
3:46
from furious accusations to pathetic
3:48
begging to chilling threats. Her mother
3:51
called. My mother called. By the end of
3:55
the day, I spoke briefly to my mom,
3:57
calmly, explaining that Amanda had bled
3:59
me dry financially and emotionally. To
4:02
my surprise, she was supportive. I was
4:04
in my new apartment. The mattress
4:06
unrolled, a cheap set of sheets from
4:08
Walmart on the bed. I ate Thai takeout
4:11
on the kitchen counter, watching Netflix
4:13
on my laptop.
4:15
I had everything I needed. Tomorrow she
4:18
would be served the papers. I kept
4:21
waiting for the sadness, the regret, to
4:24
set in. It never did. Instead, I felt a
4:28
lightness, as if a,000 lbs had been
4:30
lifted from my shoulders. My future,
4:33
once a suffocating tunnel, was now a
4:35
vast expanse of possibilities. I would
4:38
travel. I would try new restaurants. I
4:41
would find a job that made me happy, not
4:43
just rich. And yes, I would ask out the
4:46
barista who kept hitting on me.
4:49
Cheers, I thought, raising an imaginary
4:51
glass. I was free. I woke in my new
4:54
apartment, the sunlight streaming
4:56
through the window, a sense of peace I
4:58
hadn't felt in years. No familiar dread,
5:02
just a quiet sense of possibility.
5:05
I dressed, grabbed my keys, and headed
5:07
to the little cafe around the corner.
5:09
The one with the wooden tables and big
5:11
glass windows. The smell of fresh coffee
5:14
was a warm embrace. Amy the barista
5:17
smiled at me, her name tag a beacon of
5:19
normaly. I ordered my muffin and coffee,
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sat down and took a deep breath. Then I
5:26
heard it, a familiar voice, sharp and
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angry. I turned and there she was,
5:31
Amanda. Her eyes were red, her hair a
5:34
mess, her face a mask of fury. People in
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the cafe were staring. My heart sank.
5:40
This was going to be bad. "There you
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are," she shrieked, marching towards me.
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"I've been looking for you everywhere."
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"Amanda, what are you doing here?" I
5:50
asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
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Amy glanced over, her smile fading.
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"What am I doing here?" she yelled, her
5:58
voice rising. "I should be asking you
6:00
that. You left me and now you're out
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here getting coffee like nothing
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happened."
6:06
People were openly staring now. I felt a
6:08
flush of embarrassment quickly followed
6:10
by anger. I didn't want this scene. Not
6:13
here. Not in front of Amy. "Amanda, I'm
6:16
just getting a coffee," I said, trying
6:18
to keep my voice low. "Can we talk about
6:20
this later?" "No, we can't talk about
6:23
this later," she screamed, her voice
6:25
echoing through the cafe. "You're my
6:27
husband. You're supposed to be at home
6:29
with me, not here flirting with some
6:31
barista like a creep." I glanced at Amy,
6:34
who looked visibly uncomfortable. I
6:37
wanted to disappear. "Amanda, stop," I
6:40
said, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm
6:43
not doing this right now." "Oh, you're
6:45
not doing this right now?" she mocked,
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crossing her arms. "Well, too bad,
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because I'm doing this right now. You
6:52
owe me an explanation, and you're going
6:54
to give it to me." I looked around the
6:57
cafe. Every eye was on us. I just wanted
7:00
to get out. "I'm not going back with
7:03
you," I said firmly. the words a
7:06
liberation. Her face twisted in anger.
7:09
You think you're done? You don't get to
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just leave me like this. She lunged,
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grabbing my arm, trying to pull me
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towards the door. I pulled my arm away.
7:20
No, I'm not, I said, my voice steady.
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It's over, Amanda. I'm not coming back.
7:27
She looked like she was going to
7:28
explode. You're going to regret this,
7:30
she hissed. You're nothing without me.
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You hear me? Nothing, I said. Nothing,
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just turned and walked out of the cafe,
7:38
my coffee and muffin forgotten.
7:41
I heard her footsteps behind me, her
7:43
angry shouts echoing. I got to my car,
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and she was right there. Get in your car
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and go home, I said, turning to face
7:51
her. You're making a scene. I don't
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care, she screamed. You're my husband.
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You're supposed to be with me. I'm not
7:58
your anything anymore, I said, opening
8:00
my car door. Just go. I got in, started
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the engine, and backed out. In my rear
8:06
view mirror, I saw her getting into her
8:08
car, too. I took a deep breath. I
8:11
couldn't go back to the apartment if she
8:13
was following me. I needed to lose her.
8:16
I drove through side streets, my heart
8:18
pounding, my hands slick on the wheel.
8:21
After a few minutes, she was gone. I
8:24
took a few more turns just to be safe,
8:26
then made my way back to my new place.
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My hands shook as I parked, hurried
8:31
inside, and locked the door. I stood
8:33
there catching my breath, drained but
8:35
relieved. This was only the beginning,
8:37
but I knew I couldn't go back. Not now,
8:40
not ever. After I lost her that day, I
8:43
foolishly hoped she would give up. I was
8:46
wrong. It didn't take long for her to
8:49
find my new apartment. Perhaps she
8:51
followed me, or perhaps she asked
8:53
around. Either way, she found me.
8:57
The first sign was a pile of mail on my
8:59
doorstep, all addressed to Amanda McCoy.
9:03
She had forwarded her mail to my new
9:04
place. I called her furious. "Oh, I just
9:09
thought it would be easier for you to
9:10
pay my bills," she'd purr, her voice
9:13
dripping with sarcasm.
9:15
I hung up and blocked her number, but
9:17
the mail kept coming. She was making it
9:20
clear. She knew where I lived.
9:23
Then one night, I came home to find her
9:26
sitting on the steps outside my
9:27
building. I tried to ignore her, but she
9:30
stood up, blocking my way. "You think
9:33
you can just leave me?" she said, her
9:36
voice low and cold. "You think you can
9:38
just move on like I don't exist?" "I'm
9:41
not doing this, Amanda," I said, trying
9:44
to stay calm. "This is my home. This is
9:47
my home," she snapped. "I'm your wife.
9:50
You don't get to run away from me."
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I pushed past her and she started
9:54
screaming, calling me every name in the
9:56
book. Neighbors peered out their
9:58
windows. She was making a scene again. I
10:01
went inside and locked the door, my
10:03
hands shaking.
10:05
She pounded on the door for what felt
10:07
like hours, shouting that I owed her,
10:09
that I had ruined her life. I called the
10:12
police, but by the time they arrived,
10:14
she was gone. They told me to get a
10:17
restraining order, but I hesitated,
10:18
still hoping she would calm down. When
10:20
the divorce proceedings began, things
10:22
escalated further. She was vile, a side
10:25
of her I never knew existed. Mediation
10:28
sessions turned into shouting matches.
10:31
She would show up late, disheveled and
10:33
angry, interrupting me, calling me
10:35
names, accusing me of every horrible
10:38
thing imaginable.
10:40
At one point during a particularly nasty
10:42
meeting, she leaned across the table and
10:44
said loud enough for everyone to hear.
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You know, I've been thinking a lot about
10:51
that vacation we took to Mexico. Do you
10:53
remember that night when you got drunk
10:55
and hit me? I was stunned. I had never
10:58
laid a hand on her. What the hell are
11:00
you talking about, Amanda? I said, my
11:02
voice shaking. Oh, you don't remember?
11:06
How convenient. She turned to the
11:08
mediator. a sweet smile plastered on her
11:10
face. He has a history of violence. I'm
11:14
just saying I don't feel safe. The
11:17
mediator looked uncomfortable and I felt
11:19
like I was in a nightmare. She was
11:21
lying. Outright lying. And there was
11:24
nothing I could do to prove otherwise.
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I knew then that she was going to drag
11:29
this out, make it as painful as
11:31
possible. It wasn't about the money. It
11:34
was about control.
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She couldn't stand that I had taken any
11:38
of it back. The worst part was when she
11:41
started showing up at my job. I work at
11:44
a hospital and she would come in
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pretending to be a patient, making a
11:48
scene in the waiting room until security
11:50
had to escort her out. She called my
11:53
boss telling him I was mentally
11:55
unstable, that I was abusing drugs, that
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I was a danger to my patients. None of
12:00
it was true, but it was humiliating and
12:02
I could tell people were starting to
12:04
talk. My boss called me in concerned. He
12:08
was kind about it, but he said I needed
12:09
to get things under control. I knew he
12:12
was right. The final straw came after
12:14
the divorce was finalized.
12:17
I thought things would calm down once
12:18
the papers were signed. But I was wrong
12:21
again. One night, I came home late and
12:24
found her car parked outside my
12:26
building. She was just sitting there
12:28
staring up at my window. I tried to
12:31
ignore it, went inside and shut the
12:33
blinds, but it kept happening. Every
12:36
night she would be there just sitting in
12:38
her car watching. Then one night I came
12:41
home and she wasn't in her car. A weird
12:45
sense of relief washed over me. Maybe
12:47
she had finally given up. But when I
12:50
opened my door, I found her sitting on
12:52
my couch. I froze. I had no idea how she
12:56
had gotten in. My heart was pounding.
12:59
What are you doing here?" I demanded.
13:01
She stood up, a slow, eerie smile
13:04
spreading across her face. I still have
13:06
a key, remember?
13:08
I had forgotten to change the locks.
13:11
"Stupid."
13:12
I backed up towards the door, ready to
13:14
call the police. "Get out," I said,
13:18
trying to sound firm. She just laughed.
13:21
"Oh, come on. You don't mean that. We're
13:24
meant to be together. You know that. You
13:26
can't just run away from me. I'm
13:28
serious." Amanda, get out or I'm calling
13:30
the cops.
13:32
She shrugged, then walked past me, her
13:34
shoulder brushing mine as she went to
13:35
the door. Fine, I'll go, but this isn't
13:39
over. Not by a long shot.
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I watched her leave, my hands shaking. I
13:45
called the locksmith that night and
13:47
changed the locks. The next morning, I
13:49
went to the courthouse and filed for a
13:51
restraining order. I couldn't take it
13:53
anymore. I couldn't live my life looking
13:55
over my shoulder, waiting for her to
13:57
show up and ruin everything again. The
13:59
process was long and draining. I had to
14:02
document everything. Every phone call,
14:05
every visit, every time she showed up at
14:06
my job. When we finally went to court,
14:09
she sat there acting like the victim,
14:12
crying and saying she just wanted to
14:14
work things out. But the judge saw
14:16
through it. The order was granted, and
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she was barred from coming near me, my
14:21
home, or my work. I thought that would
14:24
be the end of it. But even now, I still
14:27
see her car sometimes parked down the
14:29
street from my building or outside my
14:31
office.
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She's careful not to get too close, not
14:35
to break the restraining order, but I
14:37
know she's still watching, waiting.
14:41
It's a constant nagging presence in the
14:43
back of my mind, and I hate it. I hate
14:46
that she still has this hold on me even
14:48
after everything.
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But I'm trying to move on. I've started
14:53
going out again, seeing friends, trying
14:55
to rebuild my life. It's not easy, and
14:58
some days it feels like I'm just going
15:00
through the motions, but I'm free. And
15:02
that's something I just have to keep
15:03
reminding myself of. I'm free.