Being married to a Narcissist can be one of the most devastating types of marriage.

This is her story of being married to a narcissist:

At seventeen, I had such low self-esteem that when I met my future husband,I truly believed he would be my only chance to become a wife and mother.

That's all I'd ever truly wanted to be. Sure, he had some horrendous character defects, but I was too immature, too inexperienced to recognize what that meant.

Since my narcissistic mother hadn't had a "real wedding," she wanted one for me. She got her way - I had to suffer through my own wedding, full of people I didn't know, and scheduled when it was most convenient for them.

He warned me before we married that he didn't believe in God. Of course, I didn't believe him. He also said he didn't ever want children; he went on to tell me exactly how he felt about kids. I knew he would change his mind once we had a beautiful baby of our own.

Boy oh boy, was I wrong.

Those only times in his life he ever told me the truth, and I didn't believe him.

My husband was a pathological liar, cheating on me at every opportunity. Of course, having been raised with a skewed family model, I never questioned him, never raised a fuss when he'd come home late. I was never allowed to ask where he'd been.

We got married on a Saturday afternoon.

We spent our "honeymoon" in a broken-down mobile home usually reserved for the ranch hands. The mobile home had no locks on the doors, no telephone. We had Saturday night to ourselves - I cried myself to sleep.

He was already disgusted. He had to work the graveyard shift the following night; I'd be alone in that dilapidated mobile home, two miles down a dirt road - no locks, no phone, no vehicle.

Did I manage to convey just how terrified I was?

I was the only girl in a family of six children and I thought I was marrying a man like my dad. Instead, I married a monster of a narcissist - just like dear old mom.

After our disastrous wedding night, he left the following afternoon, telling me he'd be home the next morning. I didn't sleep for the first month of my nightmare marriage.

That Monday morning, I waited for his return with the hope that I'd misunderstood something: he'd return, we'd have something in common and things would be, well, better.

Man, was I a target for his plan.

He finally arrived home, seven hours late. I was hysterical, weeping - weak with relief that he was alive. Just getting to our little "abode" was a hazard; I just knew he was dead in a ditch.

He merely looked at me and said coldly,"When you see the whites of my eyes, I'm home. Don't ask me where I've been or what I've been doing or who I've been with."

I was terrified.

I never asked again where he'd been or what he'd been doing or with whom.

After multiple failed attempts at birth control, I became pregnant after our first year of marriage. He was furious; he didn't want me to get "fat." I was slender after the initial horrible morning sickness, pregnancy agreed with me and I never gained an ounce of excess weight. Of course, it helped that I was nineteen years old and in excellent shape.

However, he found me repellent and disgusting. He had absolutely no interest in our baby and frequently left me without transportation. I frequently caught him "pleasuring himself" to avoid having sex with me. I was so confused, so hurt. I was relieved as well. I'd had no idea I was married to a man who hated women thanks to his overbearing monstrous mother; he made sure I toed the line.

I got pregnant again quickly; I only gave birth to daughters. My little girls gave me a reason to live. He ignored his daughters unless it was to receive the accolades they amassed, he continued to live his life apart from us unless it was to terrorize us. I'm grateful he never hit us, although he had a special gift for vicious verbal abuse that caused such damage, I sometimes wished he'd hit me.

My precious little girls were in constant terror of their father, yet one daughter was like him. It took every ounce of patience to break that child's vicious will without destroying her soul. She was sneaky; lied even if the truth was better. She stole money, hoarded candy, and tortured her sisters.

However, when I got down to the heart of her, she had a tender heart; this confused her when she indulged her evil behavior. I could see she was genuinely perplexed by what she did and frequently we would have talks, punishments. She even signed Behavioral Contracts. A three-year-old who could sign a "Behavior Contract" was a lot of work, but I refused to give up on her.

Her father recognized her as being just like him - he loathed her. She didn't have much use for him anyway, which I found funny. I always told her, you get what you give.

I finally left that monster when my daughters were fourteen, twelve, and eleven, when he became more verbally abusive, aggressive and had taken to abusing them when I was at work.

I didn't find out about the abuse until much later. It's baffling that a child will protect an abusive parent; abuse does not preclude the shame of the abusive parent. The child always finds a way to blame themselves for the horrible acts.

What I've learned from this man are universal truths: Men tell the truth. If they say they don't believe in God? Believe them. If they say they hate children and do not want any? Believe them. 

They cannot help but tell you the truth when put to the test. The lies come later, when the verbose, full-of-lies storytelling begins. These men never use three words when two will do, so when are caught red-handed, the stories are fantastical and wordy.

Now, I can laugh at him.

At the time, I was genuinely perplexed as to why he was going into such detail about going fishing. The truth was, he wasn't fishing at all; he was on his way to see some woman, the car broke down and he had to come up with a story.

What the idiot didn't realize is that I'd called the tow company for the bill to give to the insurance company. I knew his story was a lie. Of course, as I'd been trained early and hard, I NEVER brought it up. I just left the tow bill out where he could see it so he'd know that I KNEW.

I got away from him for my daughters sake; he'd done enough damage. They still haven't healed. They still blame me for staying as long as I did.

My advice for someone else in my shoes? Do the best you can, leave as soon as you can. The best way to avoid these extremely bad people, is to run, not walk, from them, no matter how desperately they pursue you.

Listen to your instincts - they're there for an excellent reason.