Up until recently, I’ve been very open with my feelings on this blog, but I’ve been stifling what’s been stirring inside me.
Why have I been doing this?
Because I’ve been hurt by a narcissist. All the advice I’ve been reading on healing myself has said that I need to go completely no contact. Giving the narc any shred of insight into my pain or anything that relates to them will only feed them.
They don’t care if the attention they get from me is negative or positive as long as they are getting it. I’ve been trying not to show that. Once I learned the no contact rule, I stopped sharing my poems. I tried to ensure my blog and social media posts were neutral.
While no contact might be easy for people to do in their private lives, I can’t. Writing is what I do. Writing is how I heal. If the narc is stalking me or reading my blog, so be it. I can’t hold my pain inside, or I’ll be holding onto it forever.
If it feeds the narc to read my poetry or read of my pain and they think my pain tastes delicious, what should it matter to me? I’m not speaking to them. I’m letting my feelings out and letting go.
Becoming a shrinking violet will not get my power back. I need to keep on doing what I always do. Altering who I am in any way, although it may feed the narc, is still giving in to them.
I need to grow my blog to work for my writing career. I need to find readers. I need to connect with people. Should I throw my hands up and admit defeat to the narc? I can’t change what this person does, but I can work on empowering myself and gaining clarity for my own heart on the whole charade. My pain may help others. There’s power in that. I love to help others, and if they can learn from me, it’s worth it if my narc gets fed.
So, friends, I will tell you that I’m ashamed.
I’m ashamed that I fell for the love bombing. I hung in through the devaluing. And I suffered through the discard over and over again.
It’s painful to accept the fact that the person who I adored so completely was never real. I’ve been told that I shouldn’t feel too upset as the narc was mirroring me. I should feel grateful to have had a mirror held up to my face that showed me how delightful my own traits are. I should be proud that I never suspected anyone would treat me in such a horrible way because I’m not the kind of person who would do that to anyone else.
Even though I can logically “know” these things, in my heart, I still suffer.
I even started to wonder if I was the narcissist. I want so badly to believe that this person really is the good person they portrayed themselves to be (and constantly told me they were–practically a saint!) that I was willing to take on all the blame.
I know I was gaslighted. I know I was manipulated. I know I was studied. I know I was devalued and discarded. I felt crazy. I felt like a little bitch. I felt responsible for every negative thing that happened. I still do.
Here I still sit, with a shred of hope that I was wrong and that I really am just “overly sensitive” and “irrational” because that part of me still wishes I was “loved.”
You can probably read back through this blog and see all the times I’ve been discarded. I worked through my pain and I began to heal. I will again. Hopefully, one day I’ll heal completely and move on.
This time, I’m getting better. I’m learning, and I’m finding ways to cope, but it’s going to take some time. But I know that painting on a smile just to put on a show for the narc won’t work in my case.
I need to heal; therefore I need to write. My power lies in my pen. I won’t discard it. There’s no winning in that.
Here are poems I wrote. Each after just one of my many times being discarded. I’m not going to unpublished them anymore or hide them because they helped me and they may help others heal.
And here’s the best way I can describe how it feels to realize you weren’t loved at all but hated and used by a narcissist who enjoyed the process of hurting you…