Four Months After Narcissistic Abuse Discard

Finding solace in reflection and growth four months after breaking free from narcissistic abuse.

“Don't believe the devilI

don't believe his book

But the truth is not the same

Without the lies he made up

Don't believe in excess

Success is to give

Don't believe in riches

But you should see where I liveI... I believe in love”

U2 God Part II

It’s a line from a song I had on more mixtapes and CDs than I can count. And the moment it surfaced, I realized something uncomfortable: the version of me who thinks like that isn’t even seated at the table anymore.

Life does that.The universe does that.

Experiences stack. Thought patterns form. Feelings follow. And eventually, you change.

Coming out of the ass end of an abusive narcissistic relationship has altered my thoughts, my behavior, and my mood in ways I’m still tracking. Layer on top of that the fact that my father has been in the ICU for over a month, and I feel like a case vignette pulled straight out of a nursing textbook. My stress levels are objectively at all-time highs.

And I can feel the difference.

I’m handling stress differently. I’m handling people differently. My body feels different. My thinking feels different. My worldview has shifted.

I’ll admit it: I technically broke no contact. I yelled a holiday greeting when I crossed paths with my ex near my apartment. It felt good for about five minutes. Then, less than an hour later, I learned my father had been intubated. Guilt and shame rushed in immediately.

Karma, as always, has a dark sense of humor.

Four months out from narcissistic abuse, here’s what I’ve noticed.

1. I am not happy with my field

I started my career in social work and mental health in New York in 2012. I can’t speak for other states, but here there was a very clear political and philosophical shift in how antagonistic, abusive, and exploitative behavior was supposed to be understood.

Trauma-informed care became the dominant framework.

Every training.Every agency.Every continuing education requirement.

Trauma-informed care.

And to be clear, there is validity there. It’s saturated with attachment theory. It explains how people became who they are. It contextualizes behavior.

But explanation is not change.

What trauma-informed care has become in practice is consequences-free psychology. Once I understand your background, check the right boxes, and identify the attachment wound, that’s basically it. You get a narrative. You get protection. You get insulation from challenge.

The moment I try to go further — the moment I challenge the behavior itself — especially with individuals showing clear antagonistic traits, entitlement, coercive control, or emotional abuse, I become the problem.

They get upset.They complain.And suddenly I’m the unsafe one.

Trust me. It happened.

Therapy is not just about “safety.” It’s about structure. Boundaries. Firewalls. You cannot create change without them. No friction, no accountability, no consequences — no container for growth. Just validation.

Now we operate in a field where challenging distorted thinking, naming abusive behavior, or pointing out impact on others is labeled “triggering.”

And triggering is treated as inherently bad.

So instead of confronting harm, we soothe it.Instead of responsibility, we offer understanding.Instead of limits, we offer language.

And we call that progress.

Here’s the uncomfortable part: this didn’t start in the therapy room.

This mirrors exactly what has happened in families.

Economic pressure, inflation, and labor demands quietly forced both parents — or the only parent — into survival mode. More hours. More jobs. More stress. Less margin. Less presence.

Children weren’t abandoned dramatically.They were outsourced.

Earlier daycare. Longer after-school programs. Screens filling the gaps. Parents exhausted and overwhelmed. Physically present sometimes. Emotionally unavailable often.

Kids adapted.

They learned not to need too much.They learned not to ask too often.They learned to self-contain.

That isn’t secure attachment. That’s early independence born from absence.

Now those kids are adults.

They show up angry, entitled, emotionally dysregulated, fragile, unable to tolerate frustration. And instead of naming the obvious — that chronic emotional unavailability has consequences — we pathologize the reaction and protect the behavior.

We explain.We validate.We excuse.

And when someone finally pushes back and says, “This hurts people,” that person is accused of harm.

Nobody cared when the fire was burning in inner-city and rural communities. Nobody talked about trauma-informed care when kids were raising themselves because parents were working doubles or checked out entirely.

But now that the same dynamics show up in middle-class offices, boardrooms, and therapy rooms, we pretend the solution is infinite gentleness and zero confrontation.

It isn’t.

We are raising adults who were never required to metabolize frustration, limits, or accountability — and then forbidding the systems meant to help them from introducing those things later.

2. Feeling “safe” is uncomfortable

My father has been in the ICU for a month. It’s been brutal — and surprisingly, I’ve felt safe.

Not because I enjoy it, but because I’m no longer marinating in the chaos that defined the last few years.

Then it hit me: the constant stimuli my ex created. The disappearances during my father’s health crises. Discovering dating apps out of boredom while I was trying to be present for my family.

That realization sent me into an angry feedback loop. I was furious with myself for staying. Ashamed of the family conflict that could have been avoided. Angry at all the times I wasn’t present because I was too busy appeasing someone else.

Then I got angry at them. For the sacrifices I made. For the fact that I couldn’t even send a simple text asking for quiet companionship when I needed it.

I free-fell backward through grief — anger, bargaining, the whole cycle.

What pulled me out wasn’t avoidance. It was appreciation, used correctly instead of as self-gaslighting.

I appreciated the thoughts and feelings — especially the absent ones. Appreciation uses the same neural pathways as worry. When used well, it reframes without denying reality.

I didn’t have someone to dump my pain on. But I took inventory. I reached out. I leaned on real connections while internally kicking and screaming.

My sense of self came back intact.

Small internal wins stacked into real gains.

3. I am hypersensitive to antagonistic behavior

This has been both really fucking cool and deeply frustrating.

I used to live in a bubble of not caring too much. Now, I grey-stone fast.

When someone escalates, I flatten. Yes or no. No explanations. Validation without justification.

Victims of antagonistic abuse eventually shut down — logically and behaviorally. It’s learned helplessness. If every attempt to explain reality is met with manipulation, gaslighting, or DARVO, you stop trying.

You want the sky to be green? Fine. It’s green.Call me an asshole? Sure.Just keep me out of your orbit.

But when I see it coming, I feel the pull toward control — the dark-empath thrill, that momentary sense of power.

I don’t believe in karma, but I do believe in warning signs. That version of me isn’t who I want to be.

Confidence beats power every time.

4. I am numb and my sex drive is gone

This has happened before.

Emotional intimacy feels safe.Physical intimacy doesn’t.

I used to rationalize it as love. It wasn’t.

Between betrayal, objectification, and intimacy I would not have consented to with full information, my body shut it down. Simple self-protection.

There’s a pattern here: apologies followed by intimacy. Intimacy followed by rage. Accusations.

Expulsion. Gaslighting.

That night broke something in me.

My body decided the safest option was to opt out entirely.

Understanding that has sucked. I know I’m not ready for anything serious. I just want to hold someone without fear.

I’m allowed to be angry about that.

5. It’s fucking sad

When you look at the risk factors for antagonistic personality styles, it’s hard not to feel sad.

I don’t relate to growing up where my existence was treated as a burden or where I was abandoned outright. But I did learn to believe I was the problem — to over-please and over-function.

That created unhealthy patterns.

And resilience.

That resilience attracts antagonistic personalities. They mirror it. Want it. Can’t sustain it. Resent you for having it.

That’s when devaluation starts.

They don’t change.

Every survivor knows this. We still fantasize that one day they’ll finally get it.

They won’t.

You want to fix it with a hug and “everything will be okay.”

Life isn’t built that way.

We are manufacturing abandonment.

Now go out and dance.

Author’s Disclaimer & Professional Boundary Statement

This blog contains personal reflections and first-person accounts of my own experiences, perceptions, and emotional responses. It is not intended to assert objective facts about any specific individual, nor to diagnose, evaluate, or characterize the mental health, motives, or intent of any person.

Although I am a licensed clinician, this writing is not clinical work, therapy, assessment, or professional opinion, and no therapeutic relationship is implied. I am not acting in a professional or evaluative capacity in this forum.

Descriptions of behaviors, dynamics, or patterns are shared solely from my subjective perspective and lived experience, for reflective and educational purposes. Others may experience or interpret the same events differently.

Identifying details have been altered or omitted to protect privacy. Any resemblance to specific individuals, organizations, or circumstances is incidental and not intended to assert factual claims about any person.