If you're reading this and wondering if life will ever feel normal again after narcissistic abuse, I want you to know something — you're not alone, and there is hope, even if it doesn't feel like it right now.
My story started like so many others. He came into my life at a time when I was grieving, broken, and vulnerable. I had just experienced unimaginable loss and was barely holding myself together. He was charming, attentive, and made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t in so long. He called me his soulmate, promised me forever, and made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I had finally found someone who would never hurt me.
I glowed in those early days — friends and family even commented on how happy I looked. But slowly, things shifted. The man who once lifted me up began breaking me down piece by piece. It was subtle at first: small criticisms, comparisons to other women, and moments where I’d catch him pulling away emotionally. Then came the gaslighting — making me feel crazy for being hurt when he blatantly disrespected me.
I found myself constantly begging for the love and attention he freely gave at the start. Silent treatments became a regular punishment. When I spoke up about my pain, he’d turn it around on me, making me the villain in my own story. There were times when I couldn’t even recognize myself anymore. The confident, joyful woman I once was had disappeared, replaced by someone walking on eggshells, desperate to prove her worth.
Things got darker during my pregnancy. He abandoned me emotionally and physically, living his life like I didn’t exist while I carried his child. I found out he was talking to other women, on dating apps, even lying to people saying we weren’t together — all while I was days away from giving birth. I made every excuse for his behavior: "He’s just grieving," "He’s lost," "He’ll come back to being the man I first met." But that man was a mask.
Even after countless betrayals, I kept going back. Why? Because the trauma bond had a grip on me that I couldn't explain. I thought I needed him to be happy. I thought I could fix him if I just loved him enough. But love doesn’t look like begging for scraps of attention. It doesn’t look like being blamed for someone else’s cruelty.
One day, after another round of rejection and manipulation, something inside me snapped. I realized I was fighting for a fantasy that was killing me. I looked at my child and knew I couldn't let this be the story they grew up around. I couldn’t keep losing myself to someone who never truly cared for me.
Breaking free was messy, painful, and terrifying. But it was also the most powerful thing I've ever done. Every day, I’m learning to love myself again. I'm rediscovering my worth and rewriting my story on my terms.
To anyone stuck in the cycle, hear me: You are not crazy. You are not unworthy. You are not weak. The abuse you endured is not your fault, and healing is possible. There’s life on the other side of this pain, and you deserve every bit of it.
If you've made it this far, please leave me a comment. I could use all the support I can find. I would love to read your story - I believe you.
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