I married a sociopath

I had no idea. We had the greatest love story, or so I thought. He was the man from the park with his dog. My attraction to him ran far deeper than looks or chemistry. We had, have, a karmic bond. He was meant to marry me, and I was meant to be married to him.

We got married within six months. That is the power of a karmic bond. Nobody understood this compulsion. The love from past lifetimes that brought us together was meant to be a lesson in this life.

I am a highly intelligent woman. I have a white-collar job in an extremely niche field. I went to a top girls’ school where only the top 1% of the nation’s girls qualified. I come from an upper-middle class family. My parents are happily married. My friends are happily coupled up. People I love and care about love me back. I rate my looks as above average. I have it all, more than I can ask for.

I am a victim of abuse. Not just any abuse, but sociopathic abuse. There is no allure about this — he was no Sherlock Holmes, despite his above average intelligence. Sociopathic abuse is far more sinister and harmful. How I beat him? Under immense mental stress and anguish, I mustered the gumption to investigate his whereabouts, uncover his lies, methodologically record and document evidence of his deception — while simultaneously having my heart broken, my pride shattered, my self-esteem grounded to dust by the man who used his fists to silence me, to torture me and to cause me pain.

In the end, I exposed him. This is the story of my life with him and the lessons I learnt. It is only in the face of despair and wretchedness do you find the inner strength you never knew you had. This isn’t my attempt at ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ rather it is the chronicles of how and what it takes to take outwit, outplay and outlast Moriarty.

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