The Lost Letters: The Dark World of Narcissistic Abuse

The Insatiable Void

Were there signs? Of course there were. Subtle ones and others . . . not so subtle. But there was always the doubt. That comes right from the start, planted within you, a poisonous seed that flourishes in the fertile soil of your beautiful, empathetic heart. Nourished on your goodness, it suffocates the truth and chokes your heart with lies—lies you think are truths. Their truths. It's amazing how fast it happens. I sometimes wonder if Black Ops agencies who turn people into killers use the same strategies. It's effective. And fast. They could learn a lot from narcissists. Maybe they have.

And it is done so expertly, so naturally. That large measure of injury and guilt they ladle out for your having even considered such a thing of them when you ask for clarity. Because in the early days, before they have groomed you to think as they do, see as they do, you will ask questions because shit won't make sense. I promise. Pay attention to that. Or don't—and end up like me. Your choice, but it won't work out any better for you if allow yourself to fall into the iron-gloved clutch of a narcissist. You lose. Always.

Always.

Engrave that onto your heart. You will lose. Get out early and you will lose far less, but you will still be battle-scarred. You will need therapy and the intervention and support of friends and family. Your instincts will be fucked and trust will be in very short supply. That's the light version. Get out too late, and you can lose all. Everything. Perhaps even your future. Don't be that woman. Don't be me.

Early in the game they hand you the baton to do their dirty work for them, because it is a game. It is not love. Even if it looks like it, it's not. It's a lie. A mirage of love. A fantasy. You get close enough to it, and it vanishes. It's ephemeral.

And so, transfixed by their narrative, you carry on witnessing the signs as they become more obvious. As they yell at a waiter for bringing the dinner they ordered, blaming them for having heard them wrong, when you remember hearing them order that exact dish.

But then, perhaps you didn't hear it right after all. He is so convincing in his outrage. You see the waiter's uncertainty, their humiliation, their eagerness to escape. You want to pity them, but that would be a betrayal to the one who owns you so you look down at your food and resign yourself to eating a cold dinner because you must wait for your husband to get the dinner he wants to be brought to the table.

Later, you will wonder if it was all about control. That dinner was to celebrate your finishing a book. Maybe he wanted to see you eat your dinner cold, while he ate his hot. They offer to keep my food warm, but he answers for me, tells them no, it will be fine. They shoot a look at me, give me a chance to speak for myself, their look betraying how taken aback they are of my husband's control over me in an ultra liberal society. It is Sweden after all. Not Saudi Arabia. I agree, meek, grateful for once his anger is directed at someone other than me. I dare not oppose him. He is the king, the emperor, the ruler of my existence, the definer of my reality. It isn't beyond him to get up and leave me behind, abandon me in the restaurant without paying the bill. I don't dare tempt fate. I will eat my dinner cold and be glad of it. I will thank him after for treating me to dinner, because he expects it. I have learned that. Always express gratitude. Always. Even for the abuse.

You never know what a narcissist's motivations are. You can't know. Their minds are slippery, dark, evil, mercurial. Everything moves, shifts, morphs to their prevailing narrative where they are the victim in a world out to get them.

Their inner world is nothing like yours which thrives on trust, intimacy, constancy, communication, cooperation, nurturing others, and wanting what's best for your partner. No. I will tell you what to expect. It will be unpredictable. Because that is the root of power. And they like power. Absolute power. You can either give it to them willingly, or they will take it by force, through manipulation, gaslighting, blame, isolation, and eventually, deprivation.