A Narcissist Made Me Selfish

And I hated him for it

I’m on the phone with my brother. It’s the second or maybe the third year of my divorce and things are continuing to unravel. My husband, a diagnosed narcissist is a brutalizing bully.

“Every time you solve a problem,” he says. “A new one arises.”

It’s one step forward two steps back.

I’m not living, I am existing, surviving, barely getting by. All of my emotional energy is reserved for my three children. The only time I have is dedicated to them. There is zero time for others. Our problems are magnifying and growing exponentially day by day. Worse, there is no end in sight. No indicator they will be remedied or stopped.

I am immersed in myself.

An otherwise thoughtful person consumed with her own world. It’s all I can think about, worry about, obsess about, and talk about. My emotional walls are closing in on me. I feel boxed within my own existence.

The narcissist who’s consumed with himself has inflicted their signature emotional and financial oppression until I too live in my own world.

It’s poetically abusive. Though in reality, I am trapped within the narcissist's world. This is why I am now self-absorbed. Because I can’t escape him. He doesn’t want to let me go. There’s no satisfaction in that. There’s no narcissistic conquerer, there’s no win.

I don’t like this version of me. It’s not who I am. I am the woman who goes out into the world looking for people to help. My friend always says, “Colleen most people help those they love, you’ll help anyone.”

But not any longer.

I can’t even help myself. I’ve proven no match for my husband. I’m losing personal ground, unaware of the absolute depths of his narcissistic deprivation. Or the accurate dangers of this indescribable personality disorder the rest of the world can’t see.

For the first time in my life, the fixer and rescuer is begging for someone to help her. But I can’t find anyone who will assist me. The narcissist doesn’t care what people in my world think. The bully won’t be shut down by them.

The people closest to my husband ignore his bad behavior. They don’t want to get involved. What’s that quote? The one falsely attributed to Edmund Burke, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

Narcissistic evil triumphs in my life.

My husband continues to consume me.

All of my fun-loving thoughtful silliness is gone. The girl who drops wine off or leaves books in people’s mailboxes. Gone. The one who loads her kids in the car with Valentine’s and Halloween candy-filled ceramics to deliver. Gone. The woman who decorates her friend’s yards on their birthdays. Gone.

The deeply empathetic person who checks on her friends. Gone.

The one who sends cards, random texts, or drops off a care package. Gone. The one who remembers special days in people’s lives. Gone. The one who stops by or mails a gift unexpectedly. Gone. The one who remembers to ask about a sick child or aging parent. Gone.

The person who never forgoes a commitment.

Gone.

I am selfish, self-consumed for the first time in my life. It is unfamiliar to me. I have been raised in a family of first responders. Firefighters, cops, nurses, and teachers. The people who tend to society.

They have modeled an awareness to living outside our own four walls. A nearly effortless ability to notice human need and suffering and render assistance.

They taught me this and I walked it, until now.

It adds to my misery, this loss of self. It undermines my self-esteem. Why can’t I solve these problems? Why can’t I free myself of the narcissist? Why can’t I stop talking about my own struggles?

I hate the selfishness of insecurity and uncertainty.

I hate the narcissist for dragging me deeper into his world. For allowing me to peek into his miserly self-interested persona. The repulsive reality of having time for no one but yourself.

I try and escape to the surface. And breathe the air outside of my own four walls again. But it takes not only the five long years of divorce but several after to adequately catch my breath.

A narcissist made me selfish.

This can only be called disturbingly and poetically abusive.