That’s a tragic way to live—not just for you, but even for the narcissist, because they’ve never learned how to celebrate someone else without turning it into a threat. They miss out on the beautiful communion that happens when two souls rejoice together. Instead, they treat love like leverage.
Now, maybe you’re thinking, “But there were good times. There were gifts, compliments, those moments when they told me I was everything.” Yes, there were. But let’s call it what it was: love bombing. That wasn’t celebration; it was a setup. The narcissist wants to become your only source of affirmation. So when they pull back, it hits you like spiritual whiplash. You start chasing that high again, and that’s how they trap you. That’s the hook.
Even after the breakup, when they try to creep back in with promises, with nostalgia, with sweet nothings, they’ll say they just want to see you happy. But say one holy, honest sentence—”My joy doesn’t include you”—and watch that benevolence turn to bitterness.
So what do you do? How do you hold on to joy when it feels like it’s been stolen, diluted, dismissed? Let me give you what I’ve seen work—not just in theory, but in the trenches where real healing happens.
First, find your people. Isolation is where fear grows. Don’t let the narcissist cut you off from community. Whether it’s old friends, a church family, the moms at school pickup, a gym buddy, or a mentor, surround yourself with voices that celebrate you just as you are. And if you don’t have those voices yet, seek them. Even if for a season that voice comes from a counselor, a coach, or a therapist, let it be a voice of truth, not manipulation.
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