One of the most frustrating aspects of narcissistic abuse is the aftermath of overthinking that ensues. The mind is submerged in a circus set up on quicksand amidst a Wild West shootout. The struggle to gain some type of footing to explain it all to yourself goes on and on and on.
Something inside us assumes a rationale explanation, that a sense of closure exists.
I was awake at 2:00 AM this morning. My son lay in the bed beside me, and my dog was curled up at my feet. Disgruntled to be conscious at this hour, I kept trying to shove the thoughts away and also wrap my mind around the last text I had received the day before. Could I psychoanalyze it? Sure. Could I see the fear driving their text? Yes. And no explanations I arrived at seemed to help. I still felt the tightness gripping my chest. I felt my mind ruminating over the same details, trying to solve the unsolvable. The discouragement and sense of ‘How am I still susceptible to this?’ plagued me.
I’ve spent years upon years, working to come to terms with narcissistic personalities I’ve encountered. Some, I don’t ever have to deal with again. Some are intricately woven into the current fabric of my reality and as often as I seem to wash the fabric or shake out the fabric or forgive the fabric, that thread starts to bleed into the rest of it at some point. So I end up awake in the middle of the night, going back over conversations. I assess where my mistakes were, how I could have done it differently, what my motives were — were they driven by ego? Were they from the heart? Are motives from the heart safe in this scenario? Am I just as guilty for this mess? I feel angry, tied up, pushed back into a corner, with my ‘only option’ to the narcissist is to admit defeat. That’s not me. I can admit mistakes, but not defeat. Is that for the best? Depends on who you’re asking.
So after all these years of experiencing the swings of conflict rise and fall and the emotional and energetic toll it takes on my life, I’m still often scratching my head while also banging it against a wall.
What am I still missing? Have I made any headway on this journey, when it can still sting this much? What am I not getting here?
I think one of the amazing tricks of the narcissist is that they get you to think about them…a lot. Even when you’d rather not. They find ways to circle back and drop something in your peripheral to drive you up the wall. You get consumed again, overanalyzing how to respond to a not-normal situation. Will treating them like a human work this time? Should you just not respond? Will that make it worse? The right note to hit with a narcissist is always changing, reverberating instability. It hurts. It’s really painful. It’s time-consuming and exhausting, trying to get it ‘just right’ to avoid ‘consequences’ that come out of thin air.
There are times where I am so exasperated, I just get into it with the other party. It definitely doesn’t go well. The steam I was trying to blow off gets blown right back in my direction.
So how do you handle a narcissist? There is infinite advice ad nauseam about narcissists on the internet. I’ve read a lot of it. It can create some sense of ‘Oh my god, I’m not alone’ while also stoking the same old frustration and fear that the narcissist stirs up in the first place.
Last night, I was desperate to get off the merry-go-round and I heard the message from the spirit realm to be kind to myself. This struck me as ‘off topic’ and I was saddened, annoyed to find myself resistant to this advice. I noticed the catch in my chest when this instruction came through. I felt pain. I felt a bit lost on how to go about that.
Comical. I am well-practiced in kindness towards others. This is one of my highest values, my modus operandi. This is what the narcissist hates about me. And yet, to offer kindness to myself feels like having to do some heavy lifting and I haven’t really been working out.
But I gave it a go, anyway. I focused on saying a few kind words to myself, on choosing to see myself in the situation, instead of just seeing the narcissist. I looked back at myself, struggling in the middle of the night, in a lot of pain and confusion. I felt compassion. I took a deep breath for myself. In short order, I fell back asleep.
After dropping my son off for school this morning, I took a walk to mull this over. This whole ‘kindness towards self’ thing. I observed that it felt somewhat unnatural, even though being kind to others (in most cases) feels quite natural. There’s some kind of rub there, which tells me I’ve met an edge of myself to start exploring. To pull it up from the depths and introduce myself. I can see how much I desperately want things to be kind between me and the narcissist, but suprisingly I’m not quite as desperate to create that dynamic in myself. You know what comes naturally in treatment of myself? Judgment. Easy breezy. I can do that all day. Taking accountability, feeling remorseful, being a little hard on myself. I am an expert. Let me know if you need any tips.
What if the dynamic to focus on is not with the narcissist? What if I’m still subconsciously trying to get from the narcissist what I’ve been neglecting to give myself. This may not be such big news to many besides myself, but as I see how I extend myself to everyone else to create harmony, I catch a glimpse that there is someone very thirsty inside, not getting in on that harmony I’m doling out.
On the walk, I asked myself, ‘What do you need from me?’ The first thing I heard was ‘hope’ and the second thing I heard was ‘comfort’. I really do need those things. A scared part of me has held out on giving it to myself, in case that means I won’t need other people. I really want other people around. I want to be connected. I don’t want to do it all myself. I want someone else to swoop in and do it. I don’t want to be too independent and inaccessible. But is it fair to just keep leaving my cup empty until someone else does something about it? And have I secretly thought if I just keep pouring my cup into others, then they’ll do the same for me? It doesn’t sound far-fetched honestly. It sounds really nice to have a volley ball game of kindness, but it also sounds like I’m, nevertheless, extremely parched.
How can I extend myself to myself in the ways that really matter? Touching on the deepest needs I have: for understanding, for empathy, for closeness, for fondness, for comfort, and for respect (to name a few)? My body listens up when I mention these words. Yes, I need these things. And I know how to give these things, like it’s my profession. If I don’t know how to give these things to myself, perhaps I can see how easily I can judge myself and beat myself up — and just start swapping out the goods.
I know deep down that kindness does cure, that empathy is an elixir. I’ve administered it and I’ve really needed it. But it’s only an antidote to the narcissist when it’s redirected towards yourself.
You deserve kindness. You deserve someone in your corner, listening with their whole being, connecting to your story. You deserve someone understanding your hidden pain and seeing behind the curtain when you are triggered and end up making a mess of things. Your deserve nurturing love. You deserve mercy. You deserve someone routing for you. You deserve someone choosing you and letting you be a human. And I think if you go look in a mirror, you’ll see someone who beautifully fits that bill.
