Reconnecting to the very thing that seemed to leave you feeling broken, insecure, and powerless is not easy once you moved past it and started the healing process. It can feel like you are reopening the wounds you worked so hard to close. It's important to remember how far you have come and stay anchored in the version of yourself that fought to heal.
People who know me would describe me as a giver, an empath — someone who sees the good in others and offers second (and third) chances.
Unfortunately, that also made me the perfect target for an extremely toxic narcissist.
The warning signs were always there: aggression, silence, truth twisting, and LOVE BOMBING at its most deceptive.
To describe it simply, it’s a kind of hell, one you fear you’ll never break free from.
You become disillusioned. Emotionally, spiritually, mentally detached from the version of reality you once trusted.
It’s a dark, disorienting place. And I lived there for far too long.
Recognizing you’re in the center of this kind of abuse isn’t easy especially when the person you’re with is a grandiose narcissist: an expert manipulator.
A creature of habit, constantly studying you, figuring out what works… so they can repeat it, and keep you tethered.
Early on, it felt like a fairytale.
The promises of forever, the assurance of security, it all felt real. So genuine. So honest.
It was everything I had hoped a lifelong relationship would be. He promised me the world. He showed up in the middle of my workday with surprise gifts and grand gestures making me feel seen, chosen, prioritized.
At the time, I believed it was love.
Now I see it for what it was; tactical and calculated.
A slow, methodical way to chip away at the walls I had so carefully built. Walls that existed to protect me.
It didn’t feel like the shift happened overnight. But then again, it kind of did.
One day I looked up, and everything felt off. Unsafe. Unreal.
The love and affection that once poured in so freely had become breadcrumbs.
Sprinkled just enough to keep me hopeful, just enough to keep me there.
I wasn’t feeling prioritized anymore. I was feeling lost and disconnected from myself.
Confused, disoriented, and emotionally exiled from the life I once recognized as mine.
Then came the isolation, and the silence. He began pulling back from family events; first subtly, then deliberately.
And I became the one making excuses. The vague lines I repeated over and over to my family:
“I’m just not feeling well.”
“It’s been a long week.”
Never the truth, that he didn’t want to go and that he didn’t want me to go either. So, I stayed behind time and time again. Quietly drifting further and further from the people I loved and from the version of myself I used to know. When I found the courage to speak up about the pain and loneliness, he would become enraged OR he would just go silent. I couldn’t tell you which one was worse, honestly. When enraged he was so frightening; his eyes so piercing and focused on making sure I knew who held the power never knowing what actions might accompany the rage and what disgusting hurtful words would come next to take space in my heart. But then on the other hand, the silent treatment. This just affirming he’s better than me, superior, and I am not worth his time, I'm not worth the energy of using words.
So, I would sit there, trapped. Isolated from my family and now isolated in my own home. There are no words to describe the brutal feelings that stir within you when you are left in that extremely noisy silence.
I would start to ask myself the same questions, on loop:
How did I end up here?
How do I fix this?
How does this get better?
How?
You walk on eggshells to keep the peace. You shrink. You lose your shine. You begin to wonder if your feelings are just too much and if in fact this is all just you….
Add comment
Comments