Loving a narcissist feels like being strapped into an amusement park ride you never signed up for. One moment, you're flying high, soaking up the affection, the compliments, the illusion of something real. And then, without warning, you're plummeting—heart racing, stomach in knots, wondering how the hell you got here again.
Let’s be honest—narcissists don’t show up waving red flags. They show up like your favorite song on a good day. Charming. Attentive. Magnetic. They study your soft spots like they’re preparing for a final exam and use that information to make you feel seen… at first.
And that’s how they get you.
They love-bomb the hell out of you. Grand gestures. Sweet words. You feel special, adored, chosen. But soon, things start to shift. Subtly. Like how they suddenly make you feel guilty for expressing a need. Or how they "joke" about your insecurities, only to say you're being too sensitive. They slowly start to chip away at your confidence—like a sculptor carving out the parts of you that once stood tall.
It’s confusing. Because you remember the version of them who held your face in their hands and told you they couldn’t believe they found someone like you. So when the gaslighting starts—when they twist your words, deny your reality, and make you question your sanity—you cling harder to the idea of who they were, instead of accepting who they really are.
And here's the raw truth: you’ll spend more time trying to get back to the “good times” than actually living in them.
I used to think if I loved harder, showed more patience, explained myself better—maybe they’d go back to the person I met. But narcissists don’t want love. They want control. They want admiration, obedience, and someone who will keep spinning on their emotional Ferris wheel without asking to get off.
There were days I felt euphoric just because they texted me “good morning” without attitude. Other days, I sat in silence, staring at my phone, crying because I knew I couldn’t do anything right in their eyes. That kind of emotional whiplash leaves scars.
It’s not just about heartbreak. It’s about the way they train you to second-guess your intuition. To apologize for things that weren’t your fault. To minimize your needs so you don’t rock the boat. You slowly lose yourself trying to keep the peace, forgetting you were never the problem in the first place.
Leaving a narcissist doesn’t just mean walking away—it means detoxing from the chaos. It means mourning the version of them that never existed, and rebuilding the version of you that they tried to destroy.
I won’t lie—it’s hard. There were nights I missed them so much it physically hurt. But then I’d remember the way they made me feel small. Replaceable. Powerless.
And I’ve worked too damn hard to ever feel that way again.
So if you’re reading this and you’re still on the ride—clutching the safety bar, holding your breath, hoping the next drop won’t be too steep—I see you. I’ve been you. And I promise there’s peace outside of the chaos. It doesn’t come all at once. But with every boundary you set, every time you choose yourself, you inch closer to it.
And eventually, you’ll look back and realize the ride’s over. You survived it. And you’re never getting back on.
Healing Tip: Reconnect With You
After loving a narcissist, your sense of self can feel shattered. Start small. Each day, do one thing that’s just for you—not to prove a point, not to win anyone back, not to appear “okay.” Just you, for you.
Journal what brings you peace. Take yourself on a walk. Wear the outfit you love but they criticized. Play the music they told you was “annoying.”
You don’t have to rebuild all at once. But with every little act of self-love, you reclaim the parts of you they tried to dim.
