The Devastating Reason Why I Thought Narcissistic Abuse Was Love

Love is the best thing, isn’t it? That feeling of trust, loyalty, respect, honesty, compromise, being valued, being appreciated…

I’m an ex-victim of narcissistic abuse, and for today only, I have been given permission to use my voice on Alexander’s platform.

I thought narcissistic abuse was love, until I realized it contained none of the above.

It took me a long time to get there though, and I know for those who are struggling, you’ll understand what that means.

Narcissistic abuse is real, and it’s about as far away from love as you could get.

I’ll explain why.

A Little About Me

I’ll call myself Emma, and say that I’m from London. I grew up in a pub that my parents owned.

My mother had been married before, but her husband died young and she remarried and had me.

I knew my father to be stern and cold. He was never there for my needs, and he had no real part in raising me except teaching me how to polish my shoes and fold my clothes (he was ex-military).

My father was deeply abusive to my mum, and it transpired that a bag of nerves raised another bag of nerves.

I became so hypervigilant, waiting for the next time he would shout, or throw his dinner at her because it wasn’t cooked right.

I couldn’t wait to get out and find true love. So when I met (I’ll call him) David, everything felt perfect.

David was deeply kind to me. He listened to me talk about my past and childhood for as long as I’d talk. He just wanted to make it all better, and we were soon both head over heels.

After a few short months, David asked me to marry him, and I said yes. Finally, I was able to leave my home and start a loving family with somebody who saw my value.

It’s all I ever wanted.

I was always a shy person who never really knew my worth, but David came along and changed all of that. He spoiled me, and took me out on dates that made me feel alive and appreciated.

And Then…

They say nothing lasts forever, but I really didn’t expect David to be the one who would confirm that for me.

Yes, we married. We had to get married in a registry office because he’d previously been married before (as were the rules then), and left town after she cheated on him. He needed a new life where nobody knew him, and that’s how I met him.

It wasn’t long after that I fell pregnant with our first born. 14 months later, we had another, and then I miscarried.

David didn’t even stay home from work to be with me and help look after the children as I was miscarrying. He said work was more important. 5 years after that, we had our third and final child.

Over the years, David ensured the bills were paid and that the children had what they needed.

I was told never to go to work and to stay at home to look after the children.

When they were old enough, I was criticized for not going out to work and that the reason we couldn’t afford to move to a bigger house was because of that.

I blamed myself for years, and held onto that guilt.

It was my fault that we couldn’t move, even though our houses spanned over three floors, with four bedrooms as it was.

I was ‘drab’ and ‘tired looking.’ I ‘wasn’t the woman I used to be’ and I ‘preferred the children over David.’

The years went by, and I lost myself further and further to him, but all the while being taken on holiday, with flowers brought home to me, and a great intimate life.

David frequently danced with me in the kitchen, sometimes on the same days he’d leave for work and come home in the worst moods. The kinds of moods that gave me palpitations.

The morning after he threatened to leave, he would make me a cup of tea and apologize for his words.

He used to order our favorite takeaway in the evening after he would ignore all my calls that day because our middle child hurt himself at school, just because he was “too busy to answer.”

Ring Any Bells?

I wonder at this point how relatable I am to you.

Have you been through this? Where narcissistic abuse felt like love, and you were convinced that was the case?

I want you to pause for a moment and consider how different the two are yet how much both concepts can intertwine.

There’s the initial butterflies, and boy did I feel those. Then you can take the romantic dates, and all the ‘getting to know you’ conversations.

That feeling of, “Wow. You seem to really know me.”

When Promises Are Made…

Promises are what we all live for. It was certainly that way for me, anyway. I longed to hear somebody tell me that everything would be okay, and that I deserved more than my past gave me.

When David told me he would take care of me, I thought all my birthdays had come at once. I was desperate to feel and experience love for what I knew it to be from all the fairytale stories and books I’d read.

When promises are made – you expect them to be fulfilled.

That’s the point of them.

What I Didn’t See

I didn’t see any abuse for a long, long time.

All I noticed was a change in how I felt.

I put that down over the years to hormones. Aging. The menopause. The kids all leaving home.

I just didn’t notice all the red flags, instead assuming it was just David being David.

My feelings didn’t matter.
The way I cooked was never right.
If I got upset, I was tutted at and told I was a crybaby.
If I was mad at something, I was told to get over it.
He hated the music I liked.
He refused to help me if I asked for it, yet intruded when I didn’t.
He ignored me, sometimes for days on end.
Other times, I’d be his best friend and soulmate.

For years, I made excuses for his behavior, and because we were married and he told me he loved me, I convinced myself that I must have been doing something wrong.