Surviving Divorce from a Narcissist

Divorcing a narcissist can be a minefield. In this week’s blog Rachel describes her experiences with the legal process and her ex whilst divorcing someone thought to be a narcissist.

A Journey Through Legal and Emotional Turmoil

Divorcing a narcissist is one of the most challenging and draining experiences anyone can endure. It's not just about ending a relationship; it's about disentangling yourself from a web of psychological manipulation, financial control, and emotional abuse. My journey through this process was a harrowing battle, not just against my ex-husband, but also against a system that seemed ill-equipped to protect or even believe (in) me.    

The Trap: Financial Control and Isolation    

One of the most insidious aspects of my marriage was the economic abuse. My ex-husband, a successful professional, controlled all our finances. When I finally mustered the courage to leave, he unilaterally cut off my access to our joint bank accounts and credit cards. Overnight, I was left with no money to live on or to fund my escape. The bank manager, though sympathetic, was at a loss as to how to help me. It was a chilling realisation of how isolated and powerless I had become.    

Without access to money, leaving was nearly impossible. The financial constraints added another layer of control, ensuring that I remained trapped in the marriage. I had used a solicitor for years for various legal matters, and I turned to her again for help. She was fantastic, understanding my situation and safety concerns. However, the scale of the work was overwhelming, and despite her best efforts, the urgency and complexity of my case strained her ability to respond as quickly as needed.    

Looking back, I only wish that I had known that dedicated Financial Planners and Divorce Coaches existed at this stage.    

Legal Battles: A Broken System    

The police became involved, but they decided that I didn’t have a case against my husband for harassment and stalking. They deemed his actions to be just below the threshold of criminal behaviour, and worse still, they didn’t fully believe me. My husband, with his impeccable reputation, was able to project an image of concern and care, while painting me as the unstable party. I, an academic doctor, living in a nice house, was perceived as someone who couldn’t possibly be a victim of abuse. It was as if my circumstances and profession disqualified me from being taken seriously.    

Victim Support was helpful, but they too put me at low risk because of the police report. It was as if the system had decided that my suffering was less valid because it didn’t fit their preconceived notions of what a domestic abuse victim should look like.    

Financially, I was in a dire situation. My solicitor recognised this and allowed me to pay her bills with a token monthly payment of £25. This was a godsend, but it also tied me to her, as I couldn’t afford to pay off my debt and switch solicitors. I wasn’t aware of the existence of dedicated loans for such situations until it was too late. Even if I had been, these loans came with their own set of challenges, including the need to pay off existing debts, interest payments on the loan, the uncertainty of how much money would be required for what was likely to be a long legal battle, and whether eventual court proceedings would enable me to clear the debt on the loan, in any case.    

The Courtroom Ordeal: A Fight for Justice    

The court process was equally disheartening. In advance of the FDR, my first barrister did not submit the necessary paperwork on time. This resulted in the judge making a pre-emptive decision without allowing any negotiation between the parties. It was a relatively short relationship and marriage. Without having my paperwork, the judge indicated that they felt that if they were the final hearing judge I would not be due anything from the divorce. My barrister even suggested that my husband might have a legitimate case against me, leaving me in utter despair.    

After realising the incompetence and possible narcissistic traits of my first barrister, I tried to find a new one. However, I was told by the court that I could not do this directly and had to go through my solicitor. Fortunately, my solicitor eventually secured a family law barrister experienced in dealing with economic abuse, but she did not carry forward the official complaints I wanted to make against the first barrister and judge. I was forced to navigate a system that seemed more interested in maintaining its own processes than in ensuring justice.    

For the second and final court case, I completed the Section 25 paperwork myself, under my solicitor’s guidance, to save money. By this time, my debt had risen to over £30,000. The second and final judge, thankfully, saw through my ex-husband’s manipulations, but was constrained by the limitations of family law. Although the judge acknowledged that I was entitled to a significant portion of the funds I had brought into the marriage, she could only award me two-thirds of what I was due because an open offer had been made (he had not negotiated on his ‘offer’ of settlement; I had played the legal game, in turn finding that my negotiation offer had been capped permanently); our claim had deliberately excluded all multimillion assets that belonged to my ex-husband.    

The Aftermath: A System That Failed to Believe    

Throughout this ordeal, I had to educate myself about legal procedures and navigate a support system that was fragmented and lacked belief in my situation. The legal system’s failure to front-load me with necessary information and its lack of urgency at every level compounded my difficulties.    

My ex-husband, a multimillionaire with a well-known and expensive legal team, had divorced under similar circumstances before. His legal bill this time almost reached £200,000, and he was determined to destroy me for daring to leave him. Despite his many narcissistic red flags, I was the only one who saw them and was willing to deal with them to achieve my freedom.    

In the end, I did achieve freedom, but at a massive emotional, physical, and economic cost. The word that best describes what was missing from the entire broken system is ‘belief.’ No one believed me—not the police, not the (first) court, not even the support services. I had to learn to believe in myself, to stand up for myself, far quicker than I ever hoped to gain that belief from others.    

Moving Forward: Lessons Learned    

My story is a testament to the resilience required to survive a divorce from a narcissist. It highlights the failures of a system that should protect the vulnerable but instead often sides with the abuser, especially when they present a respectable front. My experience has taught me that belief in oneself is crucial when facing such adversity. The system may be broken, but with perseverance and self-belief, it is possible to break free and rebuild a life of independence and dignity.