If You Love a Narcissist You Will Definitely Lose Yourself
The devastating reality of attaching yourself to narcissism
We focus on the narcissist. And honestly, who could blame us? They rob us blind.
They steal our innate goodness, innocence, and love. Our entire identity lost in a squirmish of emotional survival.
One we never saw coming.
It’s easy to want to direct our attention towards this wicked relationship python. One who spies the harmless deer with keen intentions. They slither into our hearts and suffocate us in order to render us powerless.
But to regain our strength, we must acknowledge the most devastating truth. We didn’t lose our lives in the struggle, we lost ourselves.
And while the narcissist might be an ugly reminder, we allowed it to happen.
Therefore, it’s somehow therapeutic if not survival, to concentrate on the thief. Rather than the once beautiful soul who innocently surrendered. Who knowingly, said ‘take me.’
Because if we acknowledge we invited the charming prowler in…how much more devastating would our reality be?
We opened the door.
We offered up our emotional virginity.
We were ready.
It’s almost more to comprehend than we are willing to bear. It’s too much to relive the unimaginable crime. That we allowed the deadly python to suck the life out of us.
The really good part of us. The one before a treacherous encounter left us tainted, traumatized and totaled.
We willingly offered ourselves up. We lost ourselves in love. In a truly unhealthy love. But we didn’t know any better. Because we saw the best in people.
We were extreme hearts.
As severely warm as the narcissist was cold.
The average person will simply witness our tears over a failed relationship.
They will never grasp our truth.
We didn’t lose one. We lost two.
They won’t understand this isn’t the average breakup. No. Those will just wound us. But the narcissist doesn’t just hurt the heart. The narcissist destroys it. Leaves it behind. Suffocated. So severely it may never have the chance of beating again.
A breakup is something we can recover from.
The loss of one. A redirection of heart. A signal that this isn’t the right time or the right person. A new start. A do-over.
Heartbreaking? Pint of Ben & Jerry’s? Pina Colada with a rum floater? Hallmark Channel movie marathon? Call your sister. Call your momma. Call your Grandma. Kinda sad. Yes!
But again, this isn’t the average heartbreak.
This is the ugliest of breakups. The disbanding of narcissism. This is sadness laced with fear laced with emotional abandonment and abuse. It is not a goodbye. It is an escape.
It is the beautiful deer who finally breaks free of the slithering clutches and is exhausted. And frightened. And disillusioned. Who now understands the world can be a frightening place. One where naive beings have absolutely no idea what they will happen upon.
Nor the price they will pay for their overzealous hearts.
Because the type of broken love they experience requires the sacrifice of two people.
The narcissist and the beauty.
The ugly and the innocent.
Sadly, it makes sense.
In the most disturbing of ways. Because it was never a healthy love. It was unhealthy and entwined. Never of the same pack. It was the predator and the prey. One’s survival was dependent upon the other.
Both could never exist.
There was only room for one which meant the extinction of the other.
A truth only the survivors of narcissism can comprehend. It’s impossible to survive and thrive while still in their clutches.
And when we finally break free, we realize this is anything but the average broken heart. We didn’t just shed one being. One part of us. We shed everything.
Because survival with a narcissist meant we had to sacrifice ourselves for our own survival.
Initially, it seemed to be in the name of love. A pittance for an overly loving individual. Easy for a giver to give. Effortless for a caring person to care.
The definition of love.
Yet, at some point, though it is difficult to admit, the narcissist stops asking for love. But rather expects it.
This is the time we could have actually have slithered away.
The moment they temporarily let their guard down because they knew they had disarmed us. The pivotal moment between captor and captive.
But instead, we just kept loving.
Even at our own expense.
Thinking the best of them. Giving them second chances, believing they were capable of more.
But they were not and never were.
And at some point, as much as we would like to blame the narcissist, we must acknowledge we were no longer completely hostage.
We willingly looked the other way. And allowed them to damage not only our hearts but our entire beings.
We learned how to survive in their world and we kept surviving. No longer their prisoner. We wholeheartedly offered up the best part of ourselves. Because we didn’t believe it was a sacrifice.
We believed it was love. We believed it was loyalty.
We believed an ugly person would someday recognize our beauty.
The dangerous python would find refuge in the gentle deer. In the innate goodness, innocence, and love in another human being. But none would make it out alive.
A gorgeous identity would be lost in a squirmish of emotional survival.