Love is the most beautiful thing in the world, isn’t it? That feeling of trust, loyalty, respect, honesty, compromise, appreciation, and gratitude…

I’m a former victim of narcissistic abuse, and just today, I was allowed to use my voice on the Alexander platform.

I used to think narcissistic abuse was love, until I realized it wasn’t.

But it took me a long time to get to this point, and I know you’ll understand what that means to those who are suffering.

Narcissistic abuse is real, and it’s far from love.

I’ll explain why.

About Me

I’ll call myself Emma and say I’m from London. I grew up in a pub my parents owned.

My mother had been married before, but her husband died young, so she remarried and had me.

I knew my father was strict and cold. He was never there to meet my needs, and he had no real role in my upbringing other than teaching me to shine my shoes and fold my clothes (he was a former soldier).

My father was severely abusive to my mother, and it turned out my extreme stress triggered other stressors.

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I became hypervigilant, waiting for the next time he’d yell or throw his dinner at her because it wasn’t cooked properly.

I was eager to get out and find true love. So when I met (I’ll call him) David, I felt like everything was fine.

David was incredibly kind to me. He listened to me talk about my past and my childhood as long as I did. He just wanted to make things better, and we quickly fell in love.

After a few short months, David asked me to marry him, and I said yes. Finally, I was able to leave home and start a loving family with someone who understood my worth.

It was all I had ever wanted.

I’ve always been a shy person who didn’t truly know my worth, but David came along and changed all that. He pampered me, took me on dates that made me feel alive and appreciated.

Then…

They say nothing lasts forever, but I really didn’t expect David to be the one to confirm that.

Yes, we got married. We had to get married at a registry office because he was previously married (as was the rule back then) and left town after I cheated on him. He needed a new life where no one knew him, and that’s how I met him.

It wasn’t long before I became pregnant with our first child. 14 months later, we had another child, and then I miscarried.

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David didn’t even stay home from work to be with me and help with the kids while I miscarried. He said work was more important. Five years after that, we had our third and final child.

Over the years, David made sure the bills were paid and the kids’ needs were met.

I was told never to go to work and to stay home to take care of the children.

As they grew older, I was criticized for not going out to work, and that this was the reason we couldn’t afford to move to a bigger house.

I blamed myself for years, holding onto this guilt.

It was my fault that we couldn’t move, even though our house was a three-story, four-bedroom building.

I was “dull” and “tired-looking.” I wasn’t the woman I’d been, and I “preferred the children to David.”

The years passed, and I lost myself more and more with him, but it was all about vacation, bringing me flowers, and a great sex life.

David would often dance with me in the kitchen, sometimes on the same days he left for work and returned in his worst moods. Moods that would send my heart into a trance.

The morning after he threatened to leave, he would make me a cup of tea and apologize for his words.

He would order our favorite takeaway in the evening after ignoring all my calls that day because our middle child hurt himself at school, simply because he was “too busy to answer.”

Remember Anything?

I wonder now how close I am to you.

Have you experienced this? Where have you felt narcissistic abuse as love, and been convinced of it?

I want you to pause for a moment and think about how different these two concepts are, yet how intertwined they can be.

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There’s that initial nervousness—oh my God! Then you get into the romantic dates, all the “get to know” conversations.

That feeling of, “Oh my God! It seems like you really know me.”

When Promises Are Made…

Promises are what we all live for. They certainly were for me, anyway. I longed to hear someone tell me that everything would be okay, that I deserved more than my past had given me.

When David told me he was going to take care of me, I thought all my birthdays had arrived at once. I longed to feel and experience love because of what I knew from all the fairy tales and books I’d read.

When promises are made, you expect them to be kept.

That’s their purpose.

What I DidN’t See

I didn’t see any abuse for a very long time.

All I noticed was a change in my emotions.

Over the years, I attributed it to hormones. Aging. Menopause. The kids leaving home.

I didn’t pay attention to all the warning signs; I just assumed David was David.

My feelings didn’t matter.
My cooking was never right.
If I got upset, I was made fun of and called a crybaby.
If I got angry about something, I was told to get over it.
He hated the music I loved.
He would refuse to help me if I asked for it, but would intrude when I didn’t.
He would ignore me, sometimes for days at a time.

Other times, I considered him his best friend and soulmate.

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For years, I made excuses for his behavior, and because we were married and he told me he loved me, I convinced myself I must have been doing something wrong.

Refusal To Admit

How could I admit that nothing was as it seemed?

It took me years to realize this, and then suddenly I had to admit it was just a farce, and that it wasn’t love at all.

I had to accept the fact that I wasn’t lovable, and not attribute it to my unlovableness.

That was hard for me, very hard.

Waking Up Changed My Life

It took time, but I soon realized I couldn’t let what was happening continue.

Once I recognized the narcissistic abuse, I had to grieve.

Mourn the time I wasted.

Mourn the love I never had.

Mourn the end of a marriage.

Mourn the man I was attached to—in such abusive ways.