There are all kinds of jerks and jerkettes out there. But have you ever been involved with one who was certifiable?

LANE: I feel like I've got a master's degree in narcissistic behavior. My dissertation is "Surrendering My Self-Esteem." Here's an example: My friend Grace's child was on dialysis. This meant two to three trips a week to the dialysis center. One February morning, I got a frantic call from her. Her car had died on the way to the dialysis center. The roads were icy. I assured her that I'd leave the house immediately — it was 6:30 a.m. — and either get her car started or drive them to the dialysis center. My only request was that she call me if she got her car to start.

So I went flying to get her, driving way too fast for conditions in an attempt to help alleviate a stressful and potentially dangerous situation. I finally got to where she told me she'd be, but I couldn't locate her vehicle. I started to panic and called her.

She answered her phone in a very calm voice. When I asked where she was, she told me that a very nice cab driver gave her car a jump and she was now at the facility. When I asked why in the world she hadn't called to tell me, she went on the offensive, telling me how much stress she was under and how I was making a bigger deal out of the entire situation than it warranted.

Grace was incapable of empathy. She couldn't conceive of anyone's discomfort other than her own. She never saw beyond her own misery, poverty and victimhood. Why does everything happen to me?

STACY: The only way my husband, Larry, could build himself up was by tearing me down. When I first met him he was kind, caring, complimentary, compassionate, generous, cheerful and fun-loving. But he spotted me for a vulnerable girl, a likely victim and a target of his true nature. He was an egocentric narcissist, "limited in outlook or concern to one's own activities and needs; self centered, selfish." Being insecure did not prevent him from being narcissistic.

He was also a blatant chronic liar and an effective actor. The kind, charismatic mask he wore when we first met, when he was trying desperately to seduce me, an 18-year-old virgin, a browbeaten girl who was unhappy living with an overbearing mother and three tyrannical older sisters, dropped as soon as he finally succeeded.

By the time we married, Larry had already begun to abuse me, verbally at first. The abuse escalated from verbal to physical and sexual. And once the babies started coming (three), I recognized each one as another link in the chain that bound me to my sadistic, selfish, stingy tormentor, a man who claimed to love me but needed me like an arrow needs a target.

I was finally financially able to leave her after the seven years of the nightmare that was my marriage. I was blessed freedom from the narcissist who called himself my husband and made me feel 90 years old when I was only 18.

Have you been involved with a mentally disturbed person? Send your tale, along with your questions, problems and rants to [email protected]. And check out my e-books, "Dear Cheryl: Advice from Tales from the Front" and "I'll Call You. Not."

Photo credit: at Pixabay