Either you left, or you're thinking about leaving. Either way, you're heading in the right direction, except for a little anxiety behind the idea. Do you feel like it's the wrong thing to do? Why would you think that if you know the narcissist is terrible?
I hear it all the time from clients, "I know he's awful, so why does walking out feel like I'm the bad guy?" That guilt isn't yours. It was planted.
That's what makes it tricky to make that final move. You want to, but something feels as though it's holding you back. Let me tell you, it never feels easy, but after it feels wrong, it will feel so right. Here's why.
1 You grieve a relationship that never actually existed
I want you to read something, and see if it resonates with you:
When I first met Steve, I knew he was The One. I'd never met anybody like him before. He was captivating. I couldn't get enough of him, and he made me feel like I was chosen by somebody, rather than them stuck with me.
I felt like he crashed into me for all the right reasons, and I wanted to do everything I could to make the relationship last forever. It was 'end game' for me.
That brief period I knew the Steve that I fell for didn't last, and it wasn't long before he made me feel so low. His cheating lying behavior was made to be something I was imagining. I was always overreacting, even though I had evidence.
My heart sinks every time I read a message like Steve's. Because the grief isn't for the man who screamed at her, it's for the man from week one. And that man? He was never real.
Steve would yell, tell me how needy I was, and cause me to become so anxious that I don't remember the last time I slept more than five hours a night.
Eventually, leaving him was my only option to save myself, but that came with a layer of grief I never anticipated. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn't grieving the abuse, I was grieving that man who I deemed The One.
I honestly didn't think it was possible to grieve somebody who was still living, but in all ways imaginable, I had to.
It felt so wrong leaving him knowing I had all this love, but that love wasn't for him, it was for a story I was sold that turned out to be nothing but lies.
I kept it going with hope things would change, but all I did was waste more and more time. That's hard to move on from, but I did. Powerful stuff, huh?
It came from a message I got a while back (with the name changed), but it shows how similarly narcissists cause pain to their victims. One victim speaks for all.
2 Your body feels like it's in some kind of withdrawal
The pain of leaving the one thing you thought was the answer to all your prayers, right? Before you overcome that pain, you have to come to the realization that the narcissist wasn't the answer at all.
That takes a lot of work, because you will have built a lot of hope and energy on the desire for that relationship to be what it never was: true love.
That intense connection you felt wasn't two souls colliding in the universe, it was a pre-orchestrated attachment the narcissist wanted to create between you so you'd never leave. They wanted you to think there was nobody else like them in the entire world, and that you were destined to meet.
See also 5 Creepy Things Every Narcissist Hides Somewhere in Their HouseI had a client describe it as flu without the fever. Shaking hands, no appetite, checking her phone every five minutes like a tic she couldn't stop. Sound familiar?
When you're reaching for your phone at 2am wanting to see if they called or text, that's why. And that one text, whether the narcissist sends it or you send it, will undo all the time you're learning to spend on your own.
The trauma bond here is real, and it is keeping your nervous system attached to the association of a potential return of them as some kind of relief. The truth is, the narcissist is the source of your pain.
You're addicted to that source, and of course, by default you're not going to feel 'over them' as a result.
3 On their way out, the narcissist rewrote the story
Deny. Attack. Reverse Victim and Offender. This is also known as DARVO, and it will explain the narrative the narcissist gave you that you're the abuser, and they, somehow, are the sad victim who was hurt badly by you. Now, you know this isn't true. You know what really happened.
In fact, you remember the very moment you approached the narcissist,hoping to have a serious conversation about your relationship and how you've been feeling.
You were hoping to show the narcissist how they've been treating you, in the hope they'd take a little accountability and say sorry for the things you're speaking up about. Don't count on it.
I had a client tell me once, "He cried so hard at the end that I apologised. I apologised to him, Alexander." That's how good DARVO works. Chilling, right?
Sadly for too many victims of narcissistic abuse, they believe this. They truly think it was all their fault, and they walk into their future forever 'regretting how they treat this person.'
This is gaslighting in its most dangerous form, there's no two ways about it. To believe this twisted version of events means the narcissist walks away from the abuse they dumped at your door a free person, ready to strike their next victim.
You're left with the wish that you could go back in time and start the relationship again, this time trying a lot harder to be a better, more understanding partner. You feel anything but free, and I don't blame you!
There's no freedom in being trapped in a blame game that you didn't sign up to be in. You also have zero place even being in it, because you did nothing wrong!
The narcissist wants a clear conscience before they go their own way, and leaving it all at your door is easy for them. It's what makes it all the more satisfying, in fact.
4 Initially, your freedom doesn't come with any relief
It's the same whenever anybody leaves a narcissist. There's no relief. There's no closure. There's no party to celebrate, or sudden ability to sleep well at night and feel good about yourself, either.
It takes time, and that time needs to be spent looking at the truth, not only of your relationship, but of the person you spent that time with. Freedom eventually does arrive, but it is quiet. It's not always obvious some days, but it's there.
I had a client say to me, "Alexander, I thought leaving meant I'd finally breathe. Instead I cried for three weeks straight." That's normal. That's the grief catching up with you.
One morning, you realize you slept well the previous night. You make a decision, and you don't feel scared or unsure about it. You make a new friend. You don't question yourself after you've said yes or no.
This is proof that you've come a long way, and that you once invested in something that made you feel the complete opposite. If you know that staying causes all that pain, you're far less likely to enter into something similar in the future, too.
Your path forward then isn't about walking a doubtless life, it's about learning to trust yourself again, and knowing that the trust you learn to build is for your own benefit.
This is about giving yourself one moment at a time, and knowing that you are going to feel worse before you start to feel better.
5 The Silence At Home Feels Louder Than The Shouting Ever Did
Here's a strange one. You spent so long wishing the shouting would stop, didn't you? Praying for one evening, just one, where you weren't walking on eggshells waiting for the next blow up.
And now it's quiet. And it's awful.
The silence at home has weight to it. It sits in the corner of the room and stares at you. You make a cup of tea and the kettle sounds too loud. You put the TV on just to have something fill the space.
Why does the quiet feel worse than the chaos? Because your nervous system spent years on high alert. It learned to expect noise. Now there's nothing to brace against, and your body doesn't know what to do with itself.
I've had clients tell me, "I actually miss the arguing," and then look horrified that they've said it out loud. Don't be. It doesn't mean you want them back. It means peace is unfamiliar, and unfamiliar feels unsafe before it feels good.
Give it time. The quiet starts to feel kind eventually.
6 You Keep Reaching For The Phone, And You Hate That You Do
Your hand moves before your brain does. You unlock your phone, you open the messages, you scroll to their name, and you sit there. Sometimes you type something. Sometimes you don't.
And the worst part? You hate yourself for it.
See also 8 Ways To Ruin A Narcissist's Life Without Breaking A SweatWhy are you doing this? They hurt you. You finally got out. You should be celebrating, right? But here you are, thumb hovering, missing the very person who put you on the floor.
I want you to hear me on this. Reaching for the phone doesn't mean you made the wrong choice. It means you spent years being trained to check in. To report. To soothe. To smooth things over before they got bad.
That muscle doesn't just switch off because you left.
So when you catch yourself doing it, don't pile shame on top of pain. Put the phone face down. Walk to another room. Drink a glass of water. Text literally anyone else.
The urge passes. It really does. And each time you don't send it, you get a little of yourself back.
