I was a victim of Narcissistic Abuse for 6 years. I’d never heard of NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder), let alone think I could ever be a victim of it. I’ve been free for about two months now. It’s not something I’ve ever openly talked about, but, I’m in need of a cleanse. I have to let it out. Suffering in silence is never the best option. So, I wrote a letter to my abuser. Not that he’s going to care. I did it for me. For my sanity. For my peace. I wanted to share it because it may help someone else too. This will also appear in To Mend a Broken Heart.
I held on as long as I could, despite how much it hurt me. You made sure I hurt. Everything you said. Everything you did. You never cared about anyone but yourself. I was your narcissistic supply, and you drained me dry. I was confused without knowing why. Couldn’t sleep at night, so I’d stay up and cry. You never laid a hand on me, but somehow I would be in physical pain if I thought of my life without you in it. My chest would tighten. Breathing became heavy. Tears would spill like water over a levee. But you knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you? The whole time. Taking everything you could until there was nothing left, so you’d leave for awhile and let me restock. Then, the cycle would continue. I was the Diamond mine and you were the miner. You did your best to strip my inner strength so that I would succumb to whatever you wanted. But you failed. My strength doesn’t come from me. God is my strength (Exodus 15:2). My shield (Psalms 28:7). You couldn’t have it. I pleaded in tears to my Father to show me who you really are. Reveal the monster in you. The person you do your best to hide. My Father took the veil off. I saw everything clearly for the first time. I knew cutting myself away from you suddenly wouldn’t help me heal. It would only leave me with so many questions. So, I weaned myself. I played your game. Only this time, I could see your hand. Anticipate every move. I cut off your supply, leading you to believe that our separation was your idea, when in truth, I never wanted to speak to you again. Oddly, I don’t have any room in my heart to hate you, and for so long, this old heart of mine condemned me. Deceived me. Until finally I found comfort (1John 3:19,20). This isn’t to try and make you feel bad. You’re forced to live in an endless loop. A hole. A void you’ll never fill. That’s why you project it on to others. I was in that place with you. It’s so empty down there. For your crimes, that’s punishment enough. My calling is higher; it was time for me to come out of it. Maybe someday you will too. I’m forgiving you. I’m forgetting you. I just wanted to leave this letter here, all about the one person you care about most in this world. You.