I Have Something To Say

Narcissistic abuse is a strange phenomenon to experience. Because of the very nature of the abuse, victims get sucked in gradually and often have a hard time putting their finger on what's going on. Many experience "waking up" to the realization that their parent, boss, or partner is a narcissist. Initially it can feel like the navigating the Twilight Zone as they step into a new world of insight and understanding. People who have experienced this form of abuse are often motivated to learn everything they can about narcissists to better understand what happened and why they got sucked in. This is good information to know, and there are so many great resources for survivors to understand the predatory nature of narcissists, sociopaths, and psychopaths. However, there is something that all survivors need to understand about narcissists: they aren't nearly as interesting as you. You were groomed by the narcissist because you are interesting. You have empathy, which...

I spent much of my childhood invisible. It was easier that way, as the alternative was to be blamed and punished for imagined faults and shortcomings projected on to me by my narcissistic parents. As an invisible person, I created other universes in my imagination which were not quite as sad and lonely as the one I was born into. To this day, my inner life is vivid, and I often prefer spending time "inside" to the more mundane realm of daily tasks and activities. Perhaps it is my inclination to disappear, to blend in, when the external stimuli overwhelms me. Perhaps I still hold on to the unconscious belief that I don't deserve to take up more space than I do in the hearts and minds of others. Perhaps I am simply so used to living this way that I don't see how to do it differently. But I long to be seen. I long to be seen in a way that tells me I am loved. I long to be seen in a way that tells me I am understood. I long to be seen in a way that tells me that it...

I am a highly sensitive person, and I often find myself in the position of understanding people better than they understand themselves. I often physically feel what others are feeling, and I can sense whether their thoughts are clear or whether there is a jumble of static in their brain. People who are not empaths are probably scratching their heads right now, but the empaths are nodding. My people get it, so much so, it's often not worth explaining to those who don't. People often want to talk to me, but I am sensitive to the people who drain me in order to make themselves feel better. They slather me with their problems that they have no interest in solving for themselves. Over time, I've learned to keep up pretty good boundaries and limit how much of myself I give to others. But then occasionally, a few slip through the cracks. Some people carry so much psychic chaos around, it zaps all my defenses. There is one such person who, from the very first moment I met he...

I was the scapegoat in my family, and my older brother was the golden child. According to my abusive parents, he could do no wrong, and I could do no right. We were often pitted against each other, as narcissists tend to do with their children. My brother beat me up daily after school, and when I told my mom about it, she shrugged and made it my fault. If he complained about me, she immediately took his side and I was punished. My father alternately ignored or raged at both of us, but my mother made it abundantly clear that my brother was the favored one. She fawned over him like she fawned over my narcissistic father. In her world, males were to be enabled and blindly followed, and females, well, were in the way. To them, I was the "annoying" one when I spoke up about things that weren't normal. I was the "over-emotional" one when I reacted to things that were not normal. I was the "rebellious" one when I challenged things that were not normal. ...

There are a number of resources and articles for survivors of narcissistic abuse, and taken in all together, are extremely helpful in better understanding the abuser and our own role in the abuse. There is a certain type of person narcissists, psychopaths, and Cluster B abusers tend to seek out. Terms like "codependent" and "empath" are tossed around, sometimes interchangeably, but they are not the same. A codependent's core issue (like the narcissist) is low self-esteem. They attach themselves to an alpha personality for their identity, and are constantly looking outside of themselves for validation and definition. They are helpers and fixers. Many people in the caring professions, such as teachers and nurses, tend to be codependent. They crave external praise and will go to great lengths to enable others in order to be liked. A codependent's sense of happiness and self-worth can be entirely dependent on the moods, actions, and feelings of the alpha. C...

After many years of carrying the emotional burden of narcissistic abuse, it's no wonder I am often debilitated with frequent neck and shoulder aches and migraines. I know where they come from. I know why I get them. I've lived with them most of my life. My vision blurs. Sometimes, like right now, every sound stabs my ears. Sometimes, I even get "abdominal migraines" when the stabs move to my gut. It's a not a normal pain, but it is a familiar pain. There are, of course, many things I do to try to prevent, manage, and heal the pain. A strict diet, therapy, kind self-talk, stretching, caffeine, whimpering into my pillow, etc. When the pain reaches a certain level, there is no pill or bargain for my eternal soul that will make it go away. I just have to wait it out. The headache I have today is actually a result of something moving in therapy- one of those great worse-before-it-gets-better deals. This familiar pain is in so many ways a metaphor for the kind of...

So, I've had a rough week. It started with a near miss accident, which I wrote about, here. As a result, all my symptoms of C-PTSD flared up, which I wrote about, here . So, understandably, I was already feeling tender when later this week, I started a new job. I work in an extremely competitive field, and my colleagues are all brilliant, highly respected, and accomplished people. So, you know, no pressure to fit in. Blerg. I am not worried about the work. I'm more than qualified to be there. I'm worried about how sensitive I am.  By reverse-engineering how I relate to the world over the last year or so, I feel particularly raw and vulnerable. I don't want to fall into my old ways of overachieving to prove myself to some uncaring, never satisfied, construct in my brain. I want to be real. But, being real right now comes with a lot of anxiety. Having to prove myself to others comes with a lot of traumatic emotional memories that I'm in the process of unraveling...

I imagine most of my posts this week will be about processing the almost-crash we experienced, here . I've been doing my best to manage things as they come up, and I am realizing just how much extra time and space I need to allow myself right now. The tension, exhaustion, and nightmares are back. I feel like much of the progress I've made in recent months dealing with the realities of complex trauma have vanished and I'm back to where I was when I started. It feels like a setback, but I'm trying to see it as an opportunity to better understand how to better care for myself. In many ways, re-experiencing these symptoms is an indicator of growth, and I know by honoring the process, I will heal. But I also know that a big part of that healing is acknowledging where I'm at. It's not helpful to pretend to be mentally tough and pull myself together. Healing lies in acknowledging that what happened was scary, and allowing myself to feel that. My ego would so much ...

I love reading spirituality and self-help books. I am always looking for ways I can better understand myself and others through a lens of empathy and connection. On a long drive, I was listening to Brené Brown’s latest book, Braving the Wilderness .   It’s a well-articulated book about when integrity encourages us to stand alone rather than belong. I can relate to so any of her points, and a beautiful quote from my all-time favorite, Maya Angelou, ties it all together. I love Brown’s work, and I love that she is educating so many on the importance of empathy. As an empath, I already do so much of what she describes, but there’s always more to learn and be reminded of.   It makes me feel like I have kindred spirits in the world knowing that so many others are learning and resonating with her work.   That said, something has been bothering me, and it struck me in the middle of her book. She was talking about the importance of leaning in t...

  Narcissists, among other things, are extremely selfish and require everyone else around them to reflect their own image. Like the myth of Narcissus, they are totally preoccupied with how they look to others. Narcissists will go to any length to destroy anyone who they think makes them look bad. They run entirely on "likes" and compliments, and build up a grandiose version of themselves in which requires an entourage of others to agree with them. They have to be the best. They are always winning, and everyone else by default must be losing. Targets of narcissists are often the opposite. They tend to be caring, empathetic people who look after the needs of others, sometimes to their own detriment. Because the narcissist lacks empathy, he feeds off those who have it. Consequently, relationships with narcissists become one-sided. The narcissist who can never receive enough praise and attention will eventually overpower and criticize the target who can never give enough. Ta...

Victims do it. Abusers do it. Regular people do it without even realizing it. All too often in abusive situations, all the attention goes to protecting the abuser and blaming the victim. For most of my life, I absorbed the responsibility for my abuse. I did it because at a young, formative age, I was taught to do it. As a child, I had no other option but to accept that my parents' bad behavior was my fault. Their failure to treat me with love and respect was my fault. When I was sexually abused, I internalized that I was the one who was wrong and bad for what happened. I dutifully kept secrets for my abusers because I was used to doing it, and because I correctly believed I would be the one punished if I said anything. When I did finally stand up to the abuse and escape my toxic family, I was scapegoated. When I went no contact, I still felt guilty about it. Even today, it is difficult for me to separate understanding my abusers from excusing them. I've been putting off ...

Because I had been raised by abusers, I used to think that I could handle difficult people. I see the traps long before most people do, and I thought seeing them meant I could manage to avoid them. But I learned in the hardest way possible that I am not immune to abusive people in my present. I can manage abusive behavior, but it takes its toll on my mental, emotional, and physical health. For me, being around an abusive person, even if I am not the one being targeted, triggers all my past trauma.  It literally feels like poison in my body. When it comes to narcissism and other incurable personality disorders, the only solution is to get far away. Toxic people see an opportunity in me to be their codependent. You see, I have empathy. I am a hard worker. I have integrity. I play nice and get along with others. I allow others to have the spotlight. I prefer to let my own actions speak for themselves. I believe in the principles of "yes, and." I am a peacemaker. I ...

I'm a cat person, and for me, my devotion to cats is directly linked to the abuse I endured as a child. When I was growing up, my cats were the only consistent source of companionship. Growing up in an abusive environment that where I left left essentially to raise myself, my cats were always there to comfort me. I was often attacked and then left to cry in my room while my dad continued to rage outside my door. When the yelling stopped and all was quiet, I waited in the darkness, trying to stave off the loneliness that consumed me. My cat Athena somehow always knew when I was upset or lonely. She came to me, and curled up against me, purring away. It occurred to me that this animal had more compassion than my own parents. She calmed me down and connected me to feelings of safety and affection. I spent a lot of time alone in my room growing up, feeling abandoned and hurting from the constant verbal attacks. My mother would occasionally come in after one of my dad's rages...

I feel the feelings of those around me. I always have. If someone scrapes their knee, a tingle will shoot up my leg. I get headaches around anxious people. I get knots in my stomach around angry people. I completely short circuit around liars. I know what people are feeling, whether they are in the room or a thousand miles away. I am an empath. I used to make a living at it, years ago. I put myself through college as a professional psychic. I could tell others where they had been emotionally, and where they were going. I had lots of repeat clientele. People feel validated when they know someone understands what they are feeling. My spidey-sense has been helpful in steering me toward kind, compassionate people, and away from jerks. It is a part of who I am, and I value being tuned in to others. The very best parts of me can be attributed to the fact that I feel and care deeply for others. However, there is a dark side to feeling so much. It is difficult to turn it off. Toxic per...