For years, I tried to convince people to believe my experiences as a narcissistic abuse survivor. I’d relay moments in time that I had to endure, or character traits of the toxic person I had in my life, but I was met with that slightly uncertain and questioning head tilt.
And from those who didn’t offer this reaction, I had, “I don’t want to know,” “He always seemed like such a nice guy, “Families can be complicated, I’m sure he’s just under a lot of stress” Instead.
There are some things only people who’ve experienced a toxic relationship can ever truly understand. By talking about them, I hope we can finally start to show some understanding and compassion for the long-lasting effects they have.
1. What people have the potential to really be like.
To others, you’re describing a person who doesn’t exist. You see the mask slip the moment you come home from that party or dinner. In fact, the moment you get in the car to drive home, their smile fades, and they spend the journey yelling or sitting in an anxiety-inducing stony silence, which is abuse in itself.
When somebody is all smiles to the outside world, it can be so very incredibly hard to convince those people that there is a Hyde to that Jekyll. In their eyes, it’s like you’re inventing a version of the toxic person that only you have seen. You’re desperate, and you need somebody to listen, understand, and validate your feelings. But so often none of those things come.
2. That not all abuse is visible
If somebody hits or punches you, they will leave a mark. This mark will become the evidence you require to speak out about the abuse you endure within a toxic relationship. With words, there are only emotional scars. You can’t show somebody how you feel; you can only tell them.
As much as it’d help to have a visible physical imprint from every harsh word, humiliation, and criticism you’ve received, it just isn’t possible. But emotional abuse is just as bad, and just as intimidating as physical abuse, and only those who have lived through this kind of relationship will know how heavy those soul scars are to carry.
3. Healing from a toxic relationship is never linear.
The time will (hopefully) come for all victims of a toxic relationship to have the opportunity to heal. I’d love to tell you that lighting a candle, doing a little meditation, and taking a nice bath will help you feel much better, but I’d be doing you a disservice to fluff healing in that way.
Sure, those things can be nice, but they don’t reach down into your trauma and rip it from you, freeing you from it. Real healing can be messy. One day, you feel like you’re coping, and the next, it’s as if you’re going nowhere fast. Over time, strength will resurface, but not before a non-linear path of recovery. This is normal for any survivor, but not many understand the complex layers of healing.
4. How hard it is to grieve for somebody who is alive.
Grief seems to always be reserved for the dead, doesn’t it? A loved one passes, and you go through each stage, adjusting to this new normal that you’re forced into without them here with you.
But what about grieving the living? With every single toxic person comes a version of them that you wish they were. You wish they were kinder, more loving, more consistent, more supportive, less critical, less violent, even. But that person only exists in your mind, and instead, you’re getting the abusive version.
To grieve what you never had while they’re right there in front of you is something that we don’t talk about enough, and something only people who have survived these relationships will understand.
5. How the inner critic is rarely your own voice.
Inner critics are known to suppress your genuine thoughts and feelings, leaving your authentic self lost and seemingly worthless. But the voice of the inner critic was rarely born; it was instilled, likely by a toxic parent, and it shifted voice as you got older. I say that because those who were raised by somebody like that are far more likely to enter into similarly dysfunctional romantic relationships, because it’s all they know and are familiar with.
Your inner critic is usually the echoes of the toxic people you’ve met so far along the way in life, and who have shaped you to feel terrified. You will do anything to feel safe, including listening to them. But if you try to explain that to somebody who hasn’t experienced toxicity in a relationship, you’ll likely just be met with strange looks, leaving you feeling even more isolated.
6. Charm doesn’t equate to sincerity.
If a person appears overly charming, they will present a wonderfully positive affective presence – but that positivity will be as fragile as an eggshell. In other words, they are giving off a vibe that others feel comfortable being around. “Wow, this person is being so nice.” Their shoulders drop, and they relax into conversation. But what’s underneath?
If you know the other side of this person’s coin, you’ll know full well that underneath is a totally different personality, one that only you understand because only you witness. There’s rarely anything sincere about charm.
7. The jolt to the nervous system before bed is real.
Sleep is a consequence of allowing your nervous system to regulate and relax. With permission, your body and mind can rest and recover from each day, but it’s not like that when you’ve survived a toxic relationship.
Instead, you’re taught through your abuser’s moods and inconsistencies to always be on high alert. And the result is a nervous system that’s trapped in threat mode. Sleep goes right out the window, whether it’s difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep. Your nervous system responds to what’s going on around you, so a toxic relationship will make you feel as though you’re on the constant edge of falling apart.
In other words, you’re perpetually stressed. So right before you become most vulnerable at bedtime, your experience in a toxic relationship will remind you to remain alert.
8. Success is as scary as failure.
To those who don’t know what a toxic relationship looks like, I’ll try to make a little sense of it for you:
You have goals, but they get crushed by a person who wants you to have zero faith in yourself. When opportunities to succeed do arise, you worry that you won’t be good enough to attain (or even retain) them, and so you fear doing well. You also fear failing because you know the inevitable, “I told you not to bother, but you wouldn’t listen,” will come.
What’s the alternative, and the one thing nobody can truly understand unless you’ve been there? That the nothingness of limbo is the safest place to stay, even though it’s the most destructive.
9. Just how skewed the concept of love can be.
The love that you think you feel in toxic dynamics is not what love actually is. It might feel like it at times, with the love bombing and fairytale vibe kicking in and making you feel on top of the world, but what goes up must come down.
I grew up thinking love was slamming doors followed by flowers. I grew up thinking that yelling and throwing things across the room was how couples solved problems. Love is not any of that. But it’s so hard to even make others understand that years of your existence consisted of a skewed view of what should be a beautiful concept.
10. Fear was instilled – not born – into you.
Nobody is born with fear. As kids, we climb, we reach for the world through inquisitive eyes. It’s only through time with a toxic person that fear becomes a part of you via their wishes to contain you and keep you small.
It’s done this way so that you are never bigger than they are. They love to see the darkness shroud your eyes as you say no to opportunities to keep them happy.
And before you know it, you’re somebody who is constantly anxious and fearful, and people can’t understand why. You try to tell them, but they can’t relate, because they’ve never been trapped in a toxic relationship.
11. Going no-contact was a last resort – not revenge.
I went no contact with a toxic person in my life, and there were repercussions to it. From losing loved ones who either took that person’s side or who refused to get off the fence, to others taking revenge on me and not allowing me to have contact with their loved ones (I don’t respond to bullies!). People doubted my experiences, and only a few of the more loyal understood and validated me.
One thing is clear – going no-contact wasn’t a decision I made lightly. I had a choice to either remain suffering and under the abuser’s control, or break free and form some kind of life for my child and me.
I chose the latter, not out of revenge, but out of self-advocation. Nobody really knows what it’s like to have to make that choice until they are faced with it themselves.
Final thoughts…
If you’ve ever been stuck in toxic dynamics, I want you to know that I know what it feels like. You probably think the whole experience has defined you as a person, but actually, in truth, the relationship should act as a catalyst for your true self to heal and grab life by the horns.
Those who haven’t been through what you have will never truly understand the depths you’ve been to, but that doesn’t mean your past was your imagination. To live through it means you survived, and that means you now have every chance to thrive.
