"There's a Stranger in My House"
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"There's a stranger in my house
It took a while to figure out
There's no way you could be who you say you are
You gotta be someone else..."
– Tamia
The lyrics of this song hit differently when you’ve lived them. Every year for seven years, I faced someone different. The man I initially met—someone I thought I could trust—became a stranger over time. He wasn’t the same person year after year. Slowly, he evolved into someone I couldn’t recognize and eventually despised.
At first, I ignored the red flags. I made excuses for his behavior, convincing myself that things would improve or that I was overreacting. But the worse he got, the more my health deteriorated—mentally, emotionally, and physically. I constantly adjusted to accommodate him, twisting myself into someone I didn’t recognize to keep the peace.
Everything I had fought so hard to free myself from came bulldozing back into my life, and I didn’t even see it happening. It was initially subtle, a slow erosion of boundaries, respect, and self-worth.
The Stranger in My Home
Have you ever been in a long-term relationship where intimacy disappeared, but the arguments and gaslighting remained? For four of those seven years, there was no intimacy between us. Instead, he found other ways to assert control—ways that were more manipulative and damaging than I could have imagined.
He purposely did things he knew would upset me, so I’d stop asking him to do anything. He’d sit for hours watching other women on social media, completely ignoring my presence. He even paid bills late on purpose to sabotage my credit, knowing his own financial history was already a mess.
Looking back, I know I should have left sooner. I tried, but the longer I allowed him to stay, the harder it became to leave. He wasn’t just occupying my home—he was occupying my mind, my emotions, and my energy.
When the Mask Slipped
I walked around for years in the presence of a stranger. He was so skilled at wearing a mask that even when it slipped, the shock on his face revealed just how much effort he had put into the façade.
At that moment, I saw him clearly for the first time. I saw his predatory nature, his inability to take accountability, and the deep resentment he carried toward women. It wasn’t me he hated—it was his mother, but I became the convenient target for his unresolved pain. Every woman he crossed paths with was and is a cause of his trauma.
He had mastered the art of deception, triangulating me with his family to create chaos and deflect blame. Lies poured out of his mouth effortlessly, and he avoided accountability like a plague. When I started to detach emotionally, he shifted tactics. He couldn’t manipulate me directly anymore, so he mimicked other people to try and appear “normal.” Television became his teacher, and he regurgitated what he learned as if it were his own wisdom.
The Breaking Point
His behavior became more blatant over time. He had secret social media accounts, a phone that was always on silent and facedown, and paychecks that didn’t add up to the hours he claimed to work. It was all too obvious.
I was living with someone who had no true identity, no moral compass, and no ability to connect on a human level. He was an empty shell, a stranger occupying my space and draining my energy.
The more aware I became, the more I craved freedom. I couldn’t keep sharing my home, mind, or heart with someone incapable of honesty, love, or respect. The stranger in my house became more unbearable each day, and my determination to reclaim my life grew stronger.
Lessons in Awareness and Strength
Looking back, I see how I ignored my intuition. I turned a blind eye to behavior that was not only unacceptable but destructive. I thought I could fix things if I worked, loved, or stayed longer. But no amount of effort could have changed someone so deeply broken and unwilling to grow.
This experience taught me hard lessons about boundaries, self-worth, and the power of awareness. I learned to trust my instincts, to listen when something feels off, and to never sacrifice my peace for someone else’s chaos.
If you’ve ever been in a similar situation, know freedom is possible. You don’t have to keep sharing your life with someone who diminishes you. The process of leaving might be painful, but staying will cost you so much more.
The stranger in my house no longer occupies my energy or my space. Reclaiming my life wasn’t easy, but it was worth every step of the journey.
To anyone still living with their own “stranger,” I hope you find the courage to regain your freedom. You deserve better.
Healing begins the moment you decide to stop accepting less than you deserve.
From Pit to Purpose: Recovering After Emotional Setbacks Workbook
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