It’s not just jealousy; it’s a demand for loyalty through shared misery. But let me tell you something that will make the enemy tremble: you don’t owe anyone your sadness to prove your love. You don’t have to dim your light to make them more comfortable in the dark. That’s not humility; that’s bondage. And you were made for more than that. Your joy is your birthright. Your laughter is resistance. Your peace is a declaration that God—not the narcissist—is the author of your story.
So rise, laugh louder, love deeper, chase healing with holy fire. Because the more you reclaim your joy, the more you remind the darkness it can’t hold you anymore.
Have you ever noticed how the narcissist has a way of making joy feel dangerous? I’m not talking about just one moment, one argument, one sharp comment. I’m talking about that slow, quiet erosion of your ability to smile without fear. Over time, you start bracing yourself when you feel a little too light, a little too hopeful, because somewhere deep down, your nervous system has been trained to believe that happiness comes with punishment. And that’s no accident.
You see, the narcissist doesn’t always explode. Sometimes they whisper. Sometimes they sigh. Sometimes they plant just enough doubt, just enough guilt, just enough shame to turn your joy into a burden. Whether loud or subtle, whether overt or covert, the strategy is the same: make you question your right to be happy.
But let me tell you something, and I want you to let this settle into your bones: you were made for joy. Joy isn’t a luxury; it’s a lifeline. And the narcissist knows that. To the narcissist, life is a competition—a win-lose scoreboard. There’s no “you and me against the problem.” It’s always “me versus you.” Even when you don’t know it, if your light shines too bright, it casts a shadow on theirs. If your cup is full, they feel empty. And when you rise, they feel like they’re sinking.
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