Compassion for a Narcissist Helped Me Heal
The one emotion I never expected to feel for my abuser led me down the path of recovery.
“You look great, you lost so much weight!” my friend exclaims as she steps through my front door. I haven’t seen her in two years. I wish I could tell her my current body shape results from a healthy diet and plenty of exercises, but she is right: I look much healthier than I did months ago.
It’s been over half a year since I saw my abusive ex last; I would have never expected the road to healing would be so long and bumpy. But here I am, alive, facing each day as they come. I am not fully healed, maybe I never will be, but I made a lot of progress.
I know, because I tune into my feelings, as my friend and I spend the next 6 hours writing a timeline of everything that happened. It is difficult, but it doesn’t hurt as much. My friend shakes her head and gasps in horror at my detailed description of the events.
Sometimes she comments, calling my ex all the deserved names. Normally I would agree vigorously, feeling the anger bubble up inside me, but not today. Today I feel compassion.
“But you know what?” I respond bluntly. “In a way, I feel sorry for him.”
She looks at me puzzled; I wonder if she worries I’m still hanging onto something that was never there.
“There is nothing to feel sorry for him about. He has abused multiple women, and he is walking scot-free, living his fancy life.” She is trying to talk some sense into me. I know.
But then, I have also learned so much about narcissism that I know it’s not true. His life is a fabrication. A lie. An act. There is nothing fancy about something that isn’t genuine.
And as for the repercussions, yes, I wholeheartedly believe that we need to overhaul the laws against psychological abuse. We need to raise awareness, help current and future victims to be safe and to heal. We need to understand the severity narcissistic abuse has on its victims and recognise it as a crime like we do for physical abuse.
But freedom is in the beholder's eye, and people suffering from Narcissistic Personality Disorder are prisoners in their own skin.
Compassion doesn’t mean forgiveness
I can feel compassion without forgiving. In my eyes, forgiveness requires the offender to show remorse. Narcissists and sociopaths are incapable of feeling genuine remorse. I never received an apology — not even a fake one. When my ex left me, he immediately devoted all his attention to his new supply, pretended I never existed.
At first, I had sent him heartfelt letters, pouring out my emotions (I know, shouldn’t have done that). The only response I received was a warning not to contact him again.
I wanted to forgive him so badly. I thought practising forgiveness was the key to happiness. I thought a genuine apology, and my consequent forgiveness, would give me closure, soothe my anger. But I know it will never come, it would never play out in the way healthy people exchange apologies and practise forgiveness.
Remorse is a feeling a narcissist cannot feel. It would require them to examine their behaviour and admit to wrongdoing. It goes against every grain in their body. Contrary to the story of Narcissus, narcissism is rooted in insecurity and self-loathing. The only way they can deal with this hatred towards themselves is to repeat the mantra over and over so that they believe it: They are not at fault. They are never at fault. They are perfect.
No, I cannot forgive someone who is incapable of taking responsibility for their actions or feeling empathy for those they have harmed.
Compassion doesn’t mean hope
I’ve read so many articles suggesting we should feel compassion or empathy with narcissists that made me cringe. Empathy is such a dangerous emotion to feel for someone who can not feel empathy theirself. In a relationship, empathy for the abuser is often the reason so many victims tolerate and minimise the abuse.
They stay in unhealthy situations, often jeopardising their own safety and mental health in an attempt to empathise with their abuser, or believing that their endless love and compassion can fix them.
Carrie Wynn wrote a very compelling article about the dangers of having compassion for narcissists. I agree with every sentence. Feeling compassion if you are still in the relationship or even in contact with the abuser can lead to so much more pain for yourself.
But my situation is different. I am not with him anymore and I never will be again. I have spent so many hours reading, studying, observing, examining. I have been so obsessed with learning about this personality disorder that I started studying for a Bachelor in psychology. I still have so much to learn, but I know one thing for certain: I am worth more.
Narcissistic personality disorder cannot be cured. No, I don’t have hope. Not for him, not for us, and not for anyone I might meet who displays all the signs that are big red flags for me now.
Does compassion mean love?
I guess that’s a tricky one. The heart is difficult to persuade. Do I still love him? I guess, in a way, I always will. I cannot help it. He was such a big part of my life. No, he was my life.
I still remember those moments when we were together; I would just look at him and feel endless happiness. I thought it wasn’t possible to love someone as much as I loved him. Maybe it wasn’t healthy, but I felt it, and to me it was real.
There were points when I got frustrated. How could I still love someone who never existed in the first place? I looked for help in forums and support groups. Many victims confided that they still felt the love years and years later.
I don’t beat myself up for it anymore. I now think it’s a good thing; it means I am human. With all the gaslighting and manipulation not too long ago, I was convinced I was selfish, coldhearted, probably highly narcissistic and most of all, mentally ill. Not normal. But that switch that goes from “you are my soulmate” to “you don’t exist anymore” in the blink of an eye, I don’t have it. There were days I wish I could find it, but its non-existence proves I am a healthy human being.
Compassion expresses the love I still feel. Compassion is the one emotion I can channel my love into. It doesn’t mean I want him back. It means I can still feel the love I have for him, without expecting it will ever be returned.
Compassion doesn't need action
To me, compassion is removed from all expectations. It’s just an emotion. Something I feel, expecting no gain or change. It combines love and sadness; it converts my empathy into a passive feeling. An emotion that is just there.
It doesn’t fuel me like anger. It doesn’t eat away at me like sadness. It doesn’t cripple me like melancholy. It doesn’t take me down like guilt.
It doesn’t break me. It enables me to speak about the events, my ex, the abuse, without triggering a flurry of emotions. It’s there for me to feel something that is not so intense that I still feel it days and weeks after. It helps me to move on.
When my friend and I go over the events, I can feel it so clearly. When I retell the stories, I think about him and the life he is still leading. How exhausting it must be to carry these layers and layers of secrets, always trying to remember who knows what version of the story, always afraid that somewhere, someone will uncover another lie.
How tiring it must be, to carry all these identities and be someone entirely different, depending on which direction you are facing. When life is just a stage, every day an act, you can never be yourself because there is no self left.
How lonely it must be if you trust no one. If you cannot feel safe or rejoice in the arms of someone who deeply loves you. If it doesn’t matter how many people would turn the world upside down to be with you, it will never be enough to make you happy.
How sad must it be, to never feel contentment, never share the happiness of others, because your own need for adoration and success is a bottomless pit.
And how truly free is a person who can never relate to other people, never form genuine connections, never reflect on themselves, never change, never grow.
By feeling compassion, I recognise that compared to narcissists, I can heal.
“Better a broken heart than no heart at all.” — Doctor Who
Final Words
To all my readers who are still on the healing journey: please don’t feel like you have to rush to compassion. It has helped me with my experience, but everyone is different. Don’t feel guilty if you have no love, compassion or empathy for your abusers. That’s totally understandable.
I am sharing my story because compassion was an emotion I never expected to feel. But I didn’t force it, I didn’t practise it. It just came after learning so much about narcissistic personality disorder. It helped me personally to recognise that I may be broken, but fixable. It helped me to recognise that my life, even when it didn’t feel fancy, is still so much happier and better than the ones narcissists like to show off on social media.
But it took me a long time to get to this point. And more importantly, I am at this point while I am entirely removed from the situation.