How I Unraveled 26 Years of Narcissist Abuse
Through this confusing, painful, humiliating mess, I learned the truth: they didn’t abuse me because I am pathetic or worthless, but because I have so much to offer.
Note: This article contains brief descriptions of emotional and physical abuse.
Last summer, I sat on my bedroom floor with a guitar and notebook composing lyrics to express myself: “Over all these years, I shared with you. I gave you my heart, watched it all fall apart. Over all these years, I trusted you. I really believed you would love me too.”
For decades I clung to the hope that they would love me if only I pushed myself hard enough to earn it. Then I discovered two close family members have a narcissistic personality disorder.
Since childhood, I stretched and morphed myself hoping to feel seen, wanted, and loved by these people. I earned straight A’s through high school and college, studied classical piano for ten years, worked out religiously, and crafted an impressive resume. I broke into one of the hottest tech industries and worked at two of the world’s largest companies. It wasn’t enough. I spent years devouring self-help books and practicing communication techniques, trying to be a better person.
