Here comes number eight: highly in tune with human behavior and emotions. Have you ever walked into a room and instantly knew something was off before anyone even said a word? If that sounds like you, you’re not paranoid; you’re trained. Victims of narcissistic abuse often develop this almost spooky ability to read people like open books. You can sense tension, pick up on micro-expressions, and catch the slightest shift in someone’s voice. But here’s the thing: that’s not just some cool party trick; it’s a survival tool. You learn to scan every little detail to avoid walking into the next emotional ambush.
Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score, explains that trauma wires your brain to stay alert. Being able to anticipate danger makes it easier to survive. People might even praise you for being so in tune or deeply intuitive. But under the hood, it’s hyper-vigilance in disguise. Therapist Pete Walker, who wrote Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving, puts it bluntly: survivors develop exquisite sensitivity to the moods of others because their survival once depended on it. You don’t just notice things; you monitor them obsessively. You’re not trying to connect; you’re trying to protect. The emotional sonar isn’t a gift; it’s a scar that learned how to listen. However, once you realize it, you can start turning that scanner down and choose connection over caution, little by little.
Finally, we’re down to number nine: avoiding looking at themselves in the mirror. For victims of narcissistic abuse, the mirror can become a symbol of all the things they were told they were not. If you’ve ever found yourself avoiding mirrors, it’s more than just a simple disinterest in your appearance; it’s often tied to a deeper emotional pain. When narcissists tear down your sense of self-worth, they make you question everything about who you are. Psychologist Dr. Jennifer Freyd, in her book Blind to Betrayal, talks about how emotional abuse can warp your perception of yourself so deeply that even looking at your own reflection feels like confronting all the negativity others have projected onto you. You’re afraid to face the truth that they convinced you was yours—that you weren’t worthy, valuable, or good enough. This self-rejection runs deep, and it’s more than skin deep. In fact, this avoidance is a coping mechanism that keeps self-hatred at bay. When you don’t look at yourself, you don’t have to confront the painful internalized beliefs that the narcissist instilled in you.
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