Finding Forgiveness After Narcissistic Abuse

I told myself I wasn’t going to write about my narcissistic abuse journey anymore, but as soon as I made that assertion, I immediately realized I had more to say.

“This is not my story anymore!” I kept thinking.

But, the truth is, I will always wear the scars narcissistic abuse left on me — though now they remind me of my strength rather than make me feel ashamed.

I’ve come to a place of peace and acceptance. And I guess it’s important to share this part of the journey, too. It’s a story I would have liked to have heard when I was still torn to shreds and wondering if I’d ever feel whole again.

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For anyone unfamiliar with my story — the long and short of it goes like this.

I met a man in 2017 who seemed to be everything I’d ever dreamed of. He fully engrained himself in my life and the lives of my children. I loved him bigger and harder than I’ve ever loved in my life, despite his mood swings. Despite his storylines that didn’t always add up. Despite his jealousy. Despite all the emotional rollercoaster rides he took me on.

And though when I met him I was deadset on never getting married again — when he proposed, I accepted and then two years after we met, I found out he was married and had been living a double life the entirety of our relationship.

When he was cornered and caught by his wife, and by me, he turned the tables on me — convinced her I was crazy and making it all up. She stayed with him despite all the concrete evidence I gave her — and I never heard from him or saw him again.

I was left as nothing but a hollowed-out shell of the woman I was when I’d first met him and I barely functioned for the first year.

It took me a long time to understand it, but in time I realized he left me with a beautiful opportunity to get to know myself in a way I never had before.

But before I would be able to fully heal, I had to forgive him. And I also had to forgive myself.

Forgiving myself turned out to be the most difficult part of my healing journey.

Forgiving Him

I’ve read hundreds of stories and articles about people who display narcissistic personality traits. Obviously, I can’t diagnose him with anything. However, I can say he fits the mold in most ways. And while I understand why so many people vilify narcissists, over time, my perception has softened.

He was, and might always be, a broken man. I knew that pretty quickly out of the gate. I used to half-jokingly ask him who he really was under all his layers of shiny bells and whistles.

I knew he had secrets. I saw the way he struggled with his sense of self. In his eyes, I saw immense sadness — and that’s part of what drew me to him. I recognized his pain — though I learned we each carried ours in very different ways.

I held him more than once as he cried — telling me he didn’t understand why he was the way he was. “I don’t know why I say the things I say or do the things I do” he sobbed. His pain was real and the empathic co-dependent in me was determined to fix it.

At the time, I thought he was referring to how hot and cold he could be with me and how much it would tear me apart. Looking back I see how much deeper his pain went. It was as close to confessing the depth of his deceit he could get without naming it.

Yes — he lied to me. Big, ugly, terrible, incredibly painful lies. Yes — he hurt me in unimaginable ways.

But there were moments when we had the most amazing times. We went on amazing adventures. Some of the best moments of my life were experienced right next to him.

We had moments of complete vulnerability, too. I felt safe enough to tell him some of the horrors that had happened to me as a child — words I’d never spoken out loud. And he held me and cried with me as my body rattled in pain.

He kept those secrets safe. He never once used them against me. People might say narcissists only do things to suit themselves — but those moments were real. I know they were.

And I believe he loved me. The best way he knew how, anyway. In the one instance when I found out a pretty big lie, not long before I found out the whole truth, I asked him why he’d keep such a big secret from me. And with so much emotion he blurted out, “because I didn’t want to lose you.”

I know it was selfish of him to want to keep me in the first place, given he was leaving the home I thought we shared to go home to a wife I didn’t know existed.

But I found forgiveness for him when I realized he’s doomed to hurt himself and everyone who tries to love him for the rest of this life.

What a terrible fate.

I don’t want to ever see him again, but I feel no anger towards him anymore. Now when he crosses my mind, I only pray that he’ll find a way out of the personal hell he’s put himself in.

Forgiving Myself

Forgiving myself has been a much longer process. There are a hundred things I could name as to why I just couldn’t let myself off the hook — but if I’m honest with you — the reason I couldn’t forgive myself for so long was that I hated myself for still loving him.

I still love him.

How could this be? What’s wrong with me that I could still love a man who hurt me so deeply that I’ve lost years of my life trying to recover??

Every time I dug all the way down to the depth of my inability to forgive myself — all I could find was love for him and shame for feeling it.

And so I’d pile excuses back on top of it and lock it away again.

Eventually, I started praying for understanding. Over and over again. And I continued to dream about him. Over and over again. My mind and my soul were trying to work out the details.

Finally, after I had the same dream three times in a row — I came to a place of peace.

The first two times I had the dream, I was either at a party or in a house and I knew he was right behind me. I could feel his presence.

Everything in me wanted to turn to him and tell him I forgave him and that I’d always love him, but I wouldn’t do it. I would just stand there. Refusing to turn around.

And then I’d wake up drenched in shame.

The third night I had the dream, I asked him questions I needed to be answered with my back turned to him. He responded to each one. And with each answer, I felt equal parts love and shame.

Then a bright light appeared in front of me. The light had no form, but I knew it was something like an angel — neither male nor female. Just a higher being of pure love.

I sobbed, “What’s wrong with me? I still love him!”

And though there were no words spoken, I heard the most loving voice in my mind say, “There is no shame in love. To love is to be true to yourself.” And with that, I felt his presence fade away and I woke up.

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It took me a few days to process that dream, however, as I sat with the words I heard, I realized I will always love him because the love I had for him was, and is, unconditional.

But still loving him doesn’t mean I haven’t learned my lessons and moved on. He will never be allowed into my life again.

And with that realization, I finally found peace. Indescribable peace.

He gave me a gift. Through all the ways our relationship destroyed the person I thought I was — I came to know myself better now than I ever have before.

I now understand how my childhood trauma was impacting my adult decisions. I love myself and the skin I’m in. I know my worth now.

I am whole.

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I want you to know that if you are in the process of healing from emotional trauma — you will feel whole again, too. You will. Perhaps more whole than you ever felt before if you’re able to put in the work.

I heard a quote the other day that summed it all up.

“Destruction makes available the ingredients for a new creation.”

When everything you thought you knew about yourself gets stolen away. — you get to choose who you will become next.

Originally published on Medium.