Dear Kumquatwriter,

Thank you so much for telling your story with such honesty and grace and openness.  It must have been tremendously difficult.  I wanted to share a little about how much your story, in particular, has helped me to heal.  I suspect that discussing Andy and that time in your life is still very painful, but I think that your emotional honesty has touched many people—not just in Andy’s circle, but in other circumstances as well.

Many years ago now, I was involved with a childhood friend whose mental illness and abusive tendencies ballooned when she was in her twenties/early thirties.  (I learned that her particular personality disorder does often escalate in severity at that time.) 

I find it difficult to explain the absolute charm that they can create, but it is very distinctive.  The caring, the ‘you’re special to me’, the interest, the presents, the courting, it’s a high like no other.  But, of course, it has a rotten core.  The narcissist is doing it coldly, calculatingly, beautifully timed and very precise.  Of course it feels good. 

Your posts about this have helped me accept what I knew in my mind, but had a hard time accepting in my heart: this was not my fault.  This was an abuser tactic to get close to me.  I read plenty of non-fiction psychology stuff about it, but your first person account was able to move that knowledge from my thinking brain to my feeling heart.  I am not alone in this.  It happened to others.  It is understandable that I was charmed and flattered and warmed.  Why?  Because my abuser specifically studied me and worked very hard to pretend to be exactly the sort of person I liked/admired. 

My story is not quite as jaw-dropping as yours—she didn’t channel hobbits, but it had its what-the-fuck-holy-shit moments.  I will now recount one, as one vic to another, because even though it is awful, it is also funny.  (Or, at least, I think so!)

So, my buddy, call her A, had been courting friends for a while, and periodically, they would wise up and dump her.  (Several actually moved cross-country to escape.)  Friend A was well-aware this was happening, and—she got DOLLS to replace them, which she kept on a shelf. 

No, I am not kidding.

Yes, they looked exactly like the friend who escaped.  She dressed them up like us.

During our friendship, when there was any crisis, she would point to the doll shelf and say, “Someday, you’ll wind up on my shelf!  Just like my other dolls!”

And yes, in fact, I did wind up on that shelf—she bought a doll who looked like me.  She dressed it like me.  (This will out me to friends who know this story, but I am cool with that.)

It ain’t subtext when it’s text: to the narcissist sociopathic abuser, we are a TOY.  Not a person, a TOY.

To anyone who is still in the beautiful awful thrill-ride of being the victim of one of these people: You can escape.  It will get better.  Normal friendships do not have the ‘high’ because they are healthy—small warmth happens in tiny doses, then increases—but as time passes, you learn about other, even more awesome truly hard won closeness that so far surpasses the fake high.  To the abuser, we are not a person, we are a TOY. But to real loved ones, we are people, with flaws and joys and the acceptance and cherishing from a deep relationship is so much better than the fake high.  

To those who love a victim:  One of my other close friends helped me escape the toxicity and abuse.   I am forever grateful for the assistance, and it was key in helping me.  Even if the attempt to help someone escape backfires, I think it is both loving and honorable to try. 

So, kumquatwriter: I think your story is helpful, not just to the Andy crowds, but to others.  My abuse was so much milder, but it was still difficult to find real-person accounts that helped me truly understand the effects this person had on me.  Your story helped me heal.  Thank you.  

PS: You may publish this if you want, or not, as you choose.  Mostly I wanted to say THANK YOU.  Really, truly and deeply, thank you.