r/LifeAfterNarcissism

It's been well over a year since I went no-contact. Though I believe there's been a smear campaign, from all the people who are suddenly too busy to see me. Who knows, maybe they are really busy, but it has been so noticeable. I don't let it bother me too much, most of the time...I think if it is a smear campaign, it says more about them to just leave without checking in on me. If it's not, well, maybe my friendships weren't all that strong and it's for the best.

But I do feel alone and a bit hurt. And I know the key to healing is to keep busy, to keep my mind occupied with other things. Things have gotten better as time has gone on, but there are still days/moments where I completely doubt myself and think I got everything wrong. That I'm a bad person—even though I really can't find any evidence of that. I still end up searching, and I know I can't keep doing that...I just end up spiralling, trying to find explanations for why I feel alone, and then it just takes me back to analyzing everything again, being paranoid and wondering if I should try and communicate further to fix things. Don't worry, I won't—I definitely think the best thing is to maintain no-contact and keep away from him and everyone in his circle.

I just...I don't want to keep going back to this. Before I met him, I was confident and knew myself, and trusted myself. At least, I felt I did...now I just question everything and am unsure, and I really don't trust people or my instincts in the same way. Which I don't want....I know the majority of people are kind and mean well, and they don't deserve to be thought of in the same light as him.

I've reminded myself of this many times over the past year, and it helps...but then again, days like today where I spiral and question it all over again. How long will this go for? Does anyone have any suggestions or techniques to use in the moment or ways to make things easier?

Hey,
A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go no contact with my parents (I’m on day 20 now).
I booked a session with a psychologist who specializes in psychological abuse, and I’ve been waiting for many days for the appointment. I finally had the session today, and she didn’t understand me at all.
Has anyone else experienced this? She also questioned my perspective because I have a diagnosis that is a result of my upbringing (which has been well-managed for many years).
Has anyone been through something similar, or does anyone know of psychologists who can help with a plan for dealing with the acute fear I’m experiencing on day 20 of no contact

For those of you who may need the extra push to leave or ask for help - this one's for you. 💜

365 Days

8,760 hours.

525,600 minutes.

31,536,000 seconds.

One year ago today, my life took a turn in a way that I never imagined. I finally exposed a family secret. I stopped sugarcoating my life. Our life. I removed the perfect, imaginary white picket fence. I stopped the chaos. I stopped the abuse. I finally didn't have to live in fight or flight anymore.

I fought for my freedom.

And guess what?

I fucking won. 🏆

I broke the generational trauma curse.

It takes a person an average of seven times to leave their abuser for good. I left three times, and all three times I came back. The last time, I left for good without a plan.

Drumroll, please. 🥁

The abuser is my mother.

Not a spouse. Not a significant other.

You read correctly.

My mother.

I always thought I'd live in this fucked-up web of secrets and lies my entire life and die that way. I had no identity for 35 years.

At a very young age, I became the parent to both of my parents. I was the oldest on both sides of the family, so naturally, I became the caretaker. What I didn't know was that later on down the line, it would almost cost me my life.

Literally.

If I learned two things in my life, it's these:

1. You are only as sick as your secrets.

2. What you allow will continue.

Those two live rent-free in my head daily, or hourly some days.

I had asked for help so many times as a child AND as an adult, and I was failed repeatedly. Family, friends, random adults, police, school counselors, the system itself. So many times that it all seemed normal to me. I figured this happened in all families. I finally just gave up and accepted my fate.

Moreso after my dad died, because the burden became my responsibility, and at the same time, I became the sole surviving punching bag.

It was a regular Monday. I was still sick, coming up on almost a year, and fully dependent on her—medically fragile at the time, if you will. My friend, a retired nurse, convinced me to speak up at my doctor's appointment that afternoon and ask for help.

I was nervous as hell—shaking, sweating, you name it. I had no idea what was about to happen, and every possible scenario was running through my head. I was that 7, 8, 12, 15, 16 year-old kid all over again, about to ask a MANDATED REPORTER adult for help.

She drove me to my appointment, parked, and said, "Hurry up."

I went into the office alone, shaking. I avoided saying anything to the provider and was ready to chicken out. When the RN came back in, I looked at her with tears in my eyes and said, "Can I ask you something?"

She said yes.

I asked, "What happens if you answer the safety questions, the one that asks if you are safe at home—and you say yes?"

Mind you, since I turned 18, my answer had always been yes. "I feel safe. I don't feel like I'm in danger," or whatever I needed to say just to get it over with.

Lying through my damn teeth.

She looked at me and said, "We don't handle that here." Then she told me, "I suggest you don't go home or get into a vehicle with her."

I said, "I'm not stupid, but that's easier said than done when I'm fully dependent on her."

She said again, "We don't handle that here."

Meanwhile, I'm sobbing.

She walked me to the front receptionist. I left, pulled myself together in the hallway, and walked down to the car like nothing happened.

Of course, the screaming and yelling continued long after we got home. I locked myself in my room, and the same patterns followed—screaming, yelling, throwing things, threatening me. The whole nine yards.

I finally got the courage to text my best friend:

"You need to come get me right now. I'm done."

She said, "I'll be there in two hours."

I'm pretty sure she drove 100 mph because she made it in under two.

She walked up to the door, and a loud "WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING HERE?" came from the other side of the wall.

I had my purse and one bag packed because I was trying to be silent. When my bestie got there, we were just throwing shit into bags, hoping it would stick.

I left with five bags, Teddy, and my pillow.

We got in the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Drive until I tell you to stop."

I had no clue. No plan.

If you can imagine that. I always have a plan.

I honestly thought I'd be at the bus stop.

We ended up at a hotel in a different county so I could be far enough away to not be petrified and so no one could find me.

I was so scared that I didn't leave the hotel room for two straight weeks. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to be caught on camera. Nothing. I had DoorDash delivered to my door and cracked it just enough to get the bag inside.

She put the fear of God in me my entire life, and that doesn't just go away because you leave.

We went from one hotel to another for another week. During that time, I called every single number I could find for help. Literally begging.

And everyone's response was:

"If she doesn't have a diagnosis, we can't service her."

How?

HOW?

The system is SOOOO broken.

I felt SO defeated. Pages and pages of names and phone numbers with a big, fat NO next to them.

I reached out to old friends and some family, and they didn't want to be involved. It was, "She's sick. She's crazy. She needs help."

Well, I'm ONE person, and I cannot handle it myself—which is why I'm asking for help.

And I was met with, "Sorry, but I can't be involved."

There was probably A LOT of disbelief. How could such a kind person—the post office lady, the tall blonde behind the counter—be acting like this?

I can tell you how.

It doesn't discriminate.

Age, gender, race, career, socioeconomic class, family size. What have you.

The list goes on.

I had exhausted every resource and option except one: hiring a family interventionist.

And let me tell you: IT 👏🏼 WAS 👏🏼 NOT 👏🏼 CHEAP 👏🏼

I hemmed and hawed. I stewed. I sat on it. I cried. I was scared to death to pull that trigger. I was called names—this wasn't the first time, just this time it was someone new. I was told they wouldn't help.

The whole nine.

But I went through with it against some people's wishes people who didn't want to be involved.

But you know what?

At the end of the day, she's still my mom.

And I can say: "Hey. I tried."

I wanted to exhaust every option.

I wanted to know that, deep down, I tried.

I didn't want my guilt to eat me alive like it has for the last 35 years.

It was a two-day journey: day one was eight to ten hours of preparation, and day two was the actual intervention.

And let me tell you right now:

It went over like a bag of dicks. I knew going in that it would fail.

But again, I tried. I gave it my all.

I'll let that rest here.

After the intervention, we had to figure out what to do with me because living in a hotel with no vehicle wasn't conducive long-term. There was a lot of brainstorming and back-and-forth conversation in a tiny hotel room, but we came up with a plan.

I had my safety team. I had the interventionist in my corner.

And we executed the dang plan. 👊🏼👏🏼

And I can confidently say, as of today:

The grass is greener on the other side.

My life is full of joy and gratitude.

There have been a multitude of challenges this year, but I've overcome almost all of them in one form or another.

People used to ask me, "How are you?" "How are things?"

Without hesitation, I'd always say, "I'm okay."

Like clockwork.

And then the pit in my stomach would rise.

But the truth is, I was never okay.

Not one single person in 35 years ever questioned my "I'm okay."

Not once.

Maybe they didn't want to know. Maybe they didn't know how to ask. Maybe they believed me.

I'll never know.

But today?

Today, if someone asks me how I am, I can confidently say:

"I'm great."

And for the first time in my life, I actually mean it. 💛

But hey, I didn't cry today. 💋

I really fricking need your experience and advice about that

Anything would do. Whether it's how you handled rent, found a job, etc

i can usually brush off criticism from other people, but even a small comment from my parent can stay in my head for hours. i know i don't need their approval anymore, but i still find myself thinking about what they said and wondering if they were right.

does anyone else still react this way even after becoming an adult?

For context, I'm 52 gay f and thankfully in a happy healthy relationship for over 20 years. My mum was lovely, but I lost her 11 years ago to lung cancer. I've always hated my dad, but never felt like I had the right to do anything but accommodate him. After mum died I spent 11 years trying to get him to like me (I wasn't aware I as doing this) then after a horrible situation last year where he spoke to me like I was 10 years old I sought counselling - which led me to the realisation he is a covert, malignant narcissist. I went low contact with him over a year ago, and after setting a boundary 3 months ago of only communicating with me adult to adult and with respect, he's stopped communicating all together. The longer it goes on, the better I feel. But I'm finding I'm now looking back with horror at situations in my life which I'd previously just absorbed, and taken responsibility for. Does anyone else do this? Here's one of the many for me, where I've spent the last 30 years thinking was somehow my fault.

In my second year of university I was 23, and I realised I was gay, and when I came home I told my mum. The following morning my dad came into the kitchen, seething with pent up rage and said:

Dad: So your mums upstairs upset, and she says you told her you think you're gay

Me: Yes, I did and I am

Dad: Well you might think you're gay but I don't think you are

Me (in shock and starting to panic) well I am Dad

Dad: (getting cold angry now) Well there are some things you should tell people and some things you should keep to yourself and this is something you should keep to yourself

Me: (actually daring to stand up myself) I don't think you should...

He picked me up by my collar and threw me 3 meters across the kitchen into the units.

All I remember is his body pressed against mine, his hands on my collar and me freezing, but saying get off me, get your fucking hands off me. Then nothing.

I don't remember how I left the house, where I went or how I got back to university, and I don't remember much for the next year.

Just typing that out makes my chest burn. I know none of it was my fault, but it still feels like I did something wrong and I don't know why.

It doesn't matter whether or not narcissists feel conscience and whether or not they are able to see the picture clearly.

Life moves on for everyone, time keeps moving for everyone and until they realise the reality, they gonna be at the end of their life and careers.

My narc parents spent a lifetime trying to get into positions of power, to gain status and money.

They placed all of the resources in the golden child and placed all expectations on him and he had to excel at school.

The golden child was exactly like my father or at least he pretended to be like him and so he was favoured by my father.

The school topper and charming guy turned out to be a big loser just after school and hasn't been able to get his life together ever since, since 12 years of his life. He has lost his looks, his career, his charm (and has become a creepy guy), everything.

He tried his very best to sabotage my career, and he actually did, I missed out on the very exam that would have opened gates for me to become who i have always wanted to be.

Ever since then i have had an identity crisis, not knowing what i am here to do because the only thing that made me, "me" is lost.

Even when I moved to college, and would have to return to home in vacations, he would try his best to sabotage me. He would miss out on his college opportunities so that he can come home and sabotage me so that I don't surpass him.

But life moves on eventually. I moved to another city and changed my college. Haven't gone home in a year.

Now I have the chance to build my career and at least have time freedom, even though narc parents try to control through financial constraints.

But the narc brother? His career is over. He can never go back to college. He's never gonna get those opportunities back. And he made nothing out of the opportunities he had while he was trying to sabotage me.

Meanwhile the narc parents spent their entire life chasing status and people pleasing and now their lives are at their end and neither have they made a crazy amount of money, nor have any crazy reputation, nor do they have any bonds with their family nor have they had any fun in their life.

What was the damn point of living life like this?

Living like a narcissist is like this :

We can be jobless and unemployed, for an entire lifetime but we are never gonna know what it feels like having a job and the perks and benefits of having your own job: independence, being able to choose where we stay and who we associate with, being able to rent a flat in a good place and stay with our people, meet new people and try out new things with them on the side.

We can stay passionless for our entire life but we are never gonna know what it's like to explore different things.

That is a narcissist's life.

They can never explore life on their own, explore new horizons, because they are so dependent and tied to the toxic family.

They can never explore genuine friendships, genuine relationships.

And the positions of power they hold on to are temporary and they will be forgotten by the world as soon as they fade. Worst case they don't equip themselves to such psoitions in which case they are gonna be a complete loser.

And their reputation is gonna suffer due to their stupid deeds.

And they are gonna have lived their life without gaining any good reputation or major contributions in any field or having made any crazy money.

And neither would they have explored anything in life because they are passionless.

Meanwhile the biggest irony is that the only person with the highest degree of freedom is the very person who was tried to be put in a prison by the family, the scapegoat, because he has no expectations to fulfill and no one to please.

The scapegoat is controlled for a decade or two through money and through the toxic family and their manipulation, until the scapegoat is in the same environment as them. But eventually that problem is gonna be solved with a job as well.

IT IS JUST A MATTER OF TIME.

The world is a lot larger than the home. Narcissists fail to understand this and spend their entire lives in homes and around their families.

The real prisoners are the narcissists.

I used to dream about absolute peace. Just waking up without my stomach in knots, not having to scan the energy of a room the second I walked into it, and not bracing for an explosion over nothing. Now that the chaos is actually gone and I’m safe, I didn’t expect my brain to feel so... confused by it. Sometimes peace feels like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or I catch myself feeling this bizarre, misplaced wave of boredom or guilt just because my nervous system doesn't know what to do with a friday night where nothing bad is happening. It’s like my body is still wired for a war that’s already over. For people who have been out for a while: What was the strangest adjustment you had to make to normalcy? Did it take a long time for safety to actually feel safe instead of just quiet? I'd love to hear what helped your system finally settle down

I would definitely not want to go back being in the same dynamic ever again, even if someone shoots me. The grief, however is strangely taking a toll on me. I am grieving what I believed to be a genuine connection. I am grieving the loss of all connection, the narc, the common connections, all of them. I am grieving how unapologetically they still are playing the victim, doing smear campaigns, sending flying monkeys. I dread thinking about having to talk with the narc in the future as well. I still shouldn’t get surprised after this much cruelty over the course of a decade, at least, yet I'm surprised now that I actively took the courage to step out.

I know I'm healing, getting my regulated nervous system back, getting my peace back. I am finding more peace with myself. I stopped feeling lonely altogether. I felt more free, confident and happy. I know I'm on the right path, even if it hurts a lot. I know I did everything I could, gave my best, been there even when I was bleeding, I did everything I could possibly have done. Yet humiliations didn't stop. They always made everything about themselves, even involving topics that were my problems. They had to be the ultimate victim. I really don't know how I stop myself from feeling strange, sick or pathetic. I feel like I'm in a constant fight with myself. I get shivers run down my spine sometimes when I think about what they might say if I happen to break the contact even for 5 min. I am grieving a lot of things I believed to be precious for a very long time.

Thank you so much for this sub. I really am grateful. Would love to hear about basically anything that you guys do now that makes you happy. Maybe making that morning coffee without having any jittery anxiety. Maybe anything.

But there is still good stuff on the other side of this, I truly want to believe what I'm going through now, is temporary, and I hope I heal somedat. It is definitely better than what condition I was in before. Even after losing everyone, every important person connected to the narc, it's possible to move forward. I want to hear any comments, anything that you guys have. Thanks!

It’s always been easy to see the overt problems in the system. Those problems were obvious. Yet, the other parent surely had numerous errors in how they showed up and led me through the narcissist household. But it was only today that I realized just how much the other parent was at fault.

It’s easy to overlook behaviors when the other parent is calm, and holds the most warmth in the system. It’s easy to think they are “the good one” when you empathize with their position of being married to a monster, and craft up excuses of why they stay. It’s easy to uphold the behaviors they taught you, which are precisely the behaviors that kept them in the relationship with the N—because you were hopeful they were on your side.

That’s what I’ve done my entire life. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was always arguing with him why he was wrong. She was warm. She was calm.

And yet she never defended me. In fact, she threw me to the wolves every time.

Any time I directly identified problematic behavior towards me, from the age I could speak into adulthood, she turned on me and told me why I was wrong and why I should accept the behavior. Eventually I became mute.

As a child struggling with the emotions of living in such a system, she ignored the physical signs that it was severely harming me while other adults grew concerned. She ignored medical advice.

She showed me how to embrace a person who was emotionally, mentally and spiritually stabbing me, and physically destroying me. She encouraged it.

She encouraged the infantilization and withheld teaching me adult skills, even when I pleaded with her as a child while watching my friends learn how to pay bills and approach college. She entered my abusive siblings into programs that taught them life skills.

She took my all of paychecks at my first job— $800+ a month—and taught me nothing about money or opening a bank account. She spent it all on furniture and decor.

She became ill and I grieved her for years. She was still alive and never again herself.

Somehow she became the almost perfect parent. If only she hadn’t gotten ill, she could have been.

But today I realized she was never a parent, and I was never her child.

I was always a pawn in their system.

Her addition in my life was the soil the Narc needed to flourish against me. What she taught me gave the Narc the key to affect me.

She was never perfect, never well-meaning, never truly warm, and just as damaging.

The other parent was just as complicit, and maybe even moreso.

I was raised by a narcissist family. Was the scapegoat. Went no contact recently. And the more I heal, the more I realize how f*cked some of these moments are, some even hit me in the gut in a way in which they didn’t as they were happening.

Wondering if anyone would be down to share the moments they were told were “smaller” in importance they now realize were big red flags too.

When I was in high school I won this very big scholarship and they actually featured me in a television commercial because the scholarship folks were in kahoots with tv station and they knew that I wanted to be in communications when I went to college. Maybe I got a congratulations once but my family did not celebrate me at all. I’m realizing I would get text or phone calls constantly from friends who randomly saw me TV that day but I never got one from relatives.

And then there’s another memory of all of my golden child sister and me going to my aunts place for Christmas. And there was an extra Christmas gift under the tree that I presume now was originally for my sister. But my aunt maybe because she felt guilty that she got my sister an extra gift and not me “raffled” the gift between the two of us. I won the raffle. When I opened the gift and was super excited, she out of nowhere said “oh oh Steve Harvey Miss universe” and reenacted the Miss universe pageant where Steve Harvey called on the wrong person, and she gave the gift to my sister. I didn’t say much at the time, I was a teen and had already been trained to just accept this behavior from the family. My sister also reveled in these moments, and I’m no contact with her too.

Back then those moments were just reminders of the bs and so normalized I never examined them, I was used to just journaling and being sad that that was “my reality”, but now they truly make my stomach turn.

Marking these under milestones & progress because I love that now I’m reclaiming my anger from the moments when I couldn’t.

TLDR:

Low contact is hard because my kids miss their grandparents, and the constant boundary pushing may be triggering a depression relapse.

Details:

Many months ago, I told N-mom to stop triangulating me and she didn't. Then she wanted to invite a dangerous family member to one of the most important days of my middle-aged life, and i told her only if she copied me on the communication, and they showed up (invited by her) and I hadn't been copied. I confronted her, she denied i had been clear and Enabler-Dad backed her up and called it "stupid" in front of my children. I informed her I'm no longer accessible by text or phone and only email, and that I'm not comfortable with her serving as a proxy between me and anyone else at any time for any reason. Since then, she's done that three times (first a missive about a colleague's career; second a copy/ paste of a family members EXPLICIT medical details; third "i bumped into this colleague of yours and they said to say hi"). After the first two violations I reiterated the boundary and just got criticized in response. After the third I informed to get in touch with me via postcard only moving forward, email privilege is revoked.

My youngest wants to see her. I had told him I'd arrange for a play date in a public place but then the third violation occurred. I dont have the energy to make it happen any time soon.

My self trust is starting to waver. The actual material consequence of these violations isn't so bad. It's the principle that's got me angry. But the reason I went structured-contact in the first place is I discerned the parents are getting worse with age and I honestly believe that in addition to the damage done emotionally by modeling ugliness in front of my kids, they are going to get someone killed and play the victim and it's my job to make sure that doesn't happen to me or my dependents on my watch.

Affirmation/ advice welcome i guess?

It doesn't feel as intense as before, yet, lingering unfairness, how the narc is slowly turning everyone against me. I just cannot shift or get distracted. I am slowly feeling the grief taking over me. I have absolutely zero support system, now that common connections are awkward in the middle too. I feel helpless, but not lonely. I am enjoying my company more than ever, feeling so free, wouldn't trade it for anything. However, I do think I might need to allow the idea that I also deserve love and compassion I have provided for this decade, to that narc, and got nothing but humiliation, gaslighting and disrespect back in return. I realized I find it very hard to think that I also deserve to move on in my life, and build new connections. Even if surface level, even if not that deep. I do not allow myself and am punishing so so much consciously and subconsciously. Share some hopeful stories, guys. I am incredibly grateful to this sub, otherwise it would have been 10x more difficult, dealing with this much grief, even with therapy.

I saw a poem about child abuse survivors and trying to cope.

It said:
“I found some peace in acknowledging that my dad was not entirely a bad man. But he was not a good father.”

I struggle with wrapping my mind around how my parents could be the way that they were with others(and me on very rare occasions) but still abuse me severely enough to cause me brain damage and mental health disorders. This poem gave me some comfort.

I had a hard time believing that my parents were truly evil people because had I not gotten into therapy when I did, I would’ve repeated the cycle.
Like how can I believe that my parents are completely evil and there’s absolutely no hope for them but not believe that about my younger self? Am I doomed to repeat the cycle regardless of how much therapy I do? Are all of my traits rooted in my trauma (good or bad?)

Don’t get me wrong, they still chose to do evil against an innocent child but they didn’t choose it with every single human they interacted with. They knew what they were doing was wrong on some level but they had been programmed that way themselves so they didn’t know the full depth of what they were doing.

This probably should’ve been a journal entry but hopefully some of you can relate.

Mods,

You run a sub supporting narc trauma victims. I understand it is for family only, but the name of the sub isn't clear enough.

Additionally, you delete some relationship posts over others.

I just wanted to feedback. It was pretty painful after everything and you could have helpfully signposted as you've done for others.

Shame and self-blame runs deep. Could you be more gentle?

Can I also suggest your sub name needs tweaking?

I finally left. Loaded everything into a U-Haul and got out after years of financial control, being blamed for everything, physical abusive and finding out he’d betrayed me in ways I’ve never imagined someone would do.

And I still can’t stop. Every morning I wake up and reach out sometimes angry, sometimes threatening, and I’m scared of myself, scared it’ll cause real problems for me. I’ve blocked him almost everywhere and I keep finding one more channel to use. Which is email. I feel like I just can’t stop

I know he’s the source of the pain. I know it doesn’t make sense that he’s the one I run to for relief. Knowing it doesn’t stop me.

For those who’ve been here: how did you actually break the loop? How did you handle the anger without doing something you’d regret? I’m not looking for “just block him” pls! I’ve heard it. I jwant to hear from people who lived it and got to the other side.

Have you ever thought about it?

Narcissists are like vampires, and we, their victims, are their food.

Lately, this thought keeps running through my mind, because my narcissistic husband (from whom I am separated) is acting like he is starving and as if I am the only food in the world to eat.

They are predators, and we are their prey.

Can anyone else out there relate to feeling like a narcissist's meal?