Finding Freedom after Narcissistic Abuse
This is a piece I created a few years after exiting my narcissistic relationship. Looking back through the retrospectoscope I found I had clarity I’d not had during the years I was entrenched within the depths of my emotionally abusive marriage. I share this in the hopes that you, too, can see that there really is freedom on the other side!
Jailbreak (The get out of Jail Free Pass)
Sometimes a “soulmate” turns out to be a “cellmate.”
I spent twenty years in a marriage that, in retrospect, was a sentence—all stripes, no stars. The more I gave, the less I received. (The law of diminishing returns is alive and well in narcissistic relationships.) I was starving for crumbs of love, begging for a bone. Any crumbs, any bone:
“Throw me somethin’, Mister…
Please, Mister, please.”
Sadly, I’d become accustomed to the emotional starvation diet I was subsisting on, hoping—and assuming—that the real banquet was just around the corner. I scaled down my expectations, accepting less and less… A crumb, perhaps?
I, like most survivors of narcissistic abuse, was subsisting on scant breadcrumbs of “love” as my spirit and my soul were slowly being whittled away. (Breadcrumbing, by the way, is a well-known subtle control tactic narcissists use to keep their prey hooked: They toss you a few scattered morsels of affection and attention to keep hoping and waiting for more.)
My banquet, not surprisingly, never came. (In a narcissistic relationship it never does.) My self-esteem and my sense of self was steadily wasting away. I was dying on the vine. Like poor hungry Oliver Twist, I found myself begging for more: “Please, Sir, I want some more.”
And then he left. For the fourth time. (This is straight out of the narcissist’s playbook—Devalue/Discard/Hoover. Lather, rinse, repeat.)
My crumbs were gone. No feast for me.
I filed for divorce, continually hoping he’d come back, offer more crumbs, more bones. (This is classic trauma bonding at work.)
Thankfully, it didn’t happen.
Eventually I woke up. I realized I’d been living in a cell for one. There never was a soulmate, just a cellmate.
Orange may be the new black, but emotional prison is not the new home-sweet-home.
Cellmate is not the new soulmate.
That was four long, hard years ago. The road to freedom has been arduous.
Today I am thriving, growing, and…free.
Several months ago, a wise friend of mine casually commented, “You know, when he left he gave you a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ pass.”
She was right. (Word to the wise: having wise friends is a wise move.)
It was time for a jailbreak—time to break free, time to ditch the stripes and rediscover the stars!
I want you to know: There really is life beyond the confines of narcissistic abuse!
The journey may be challenging, but the taste of freedom is sweeter than any lousy breadcrumb of faux love the narcissist could ever offer. You, too, have the strength to break free and create a life filled with genuine love and respect. Because here’s the thing: If you die on the vine, no one gets wine.
Here’s to your jailbreak and to the beautiful future that awaits.