Understanding the Language of Narcissistic Abuse

I fell hard. And fast.

Overwhelmed by his attention and adoration, I jumped in headfirst without blinking, believing him after only weeks of dating when he declared his never-ending love and that I was his soul mate, that I had brought meaning into his meaningless existence.

I was everything he had ever wanted, ever dreamed for, ever hoped for, he said, and proved it daily by drowning me in love and passion. He couldn’t keep his hands off me, we made love often, sometimes up to five or six times a day. Not an hour went by that I didn’t hear from him. He wrote me notes, he wrote me poetry, he recited poems in public, he told everyone I would be his wife, that I was the mother of his unborn children.

I didn’t have time to think, to reflect, to question. There was nothing I could do but free fall into his love and ride it like a roller coaster with my eyes squeezed shut—it was scary as hell, but I didn’t want to get off...


What I've Learned About Surviving Emotional Abuse

"Loving you was like going to war; I never came back the same."

I'd always considered myself a smart girl, a girl who had lines, who had boundaries, and who would never tolerate a man behaving badly.

But I was also a nice girl, a girl who loved unconditionally, who trusted people implicitly and lived under the assumption that everyone was like me: a good person at heart, though imperfect, someone who didn’t possess a malicious bone in my body.

I was incapable of bringing harm or suffering to someone on purpose, so I naively believed everyone else was equally nice.

Especially the one who I’d fallen head over heels in love with, and who had initially returned my love in abundance, vowing his loyalty and devotion until death do us part. In the beginning, I was the object of his flagrant affection. I was adored. I was placed on a pedestal so high that I had to look down to see the clouds. And I loved him back with equal measure, often thinking: Life was good.

Until it wasn’t.


Help! I Think My Partner is a Narcissist!

In an abusive relationship, some labels matter and some labels don't.

But it's important to remember, an asshole is an asshole, whether or not a diagnosis ever follows...


I Thought I Was Alone, and Then I Met the World: A Survivor's Story

The fear of putting my words out there for all to see was overwhelming, not just for strangers to read, but the people who knew me back then, the friends that I no longer had, the judgers, the skeptics … and Facebook. What would they do when I broke my silence?

But maybe there would be that one woman out there who had a similar story to mine, a woman like me who was all alone too, who had suffered for years at the punishing hands of a man she loved. A woman who felt dazed and confused, not herself anymore, crazy. Maybe that woman would read my story and feel less alone. Maybe I would feel less alone. Maybe she was still in an abusive relationship and my story would help her take the first steps to escape it like I did. Was there another woman out there like me?


These Are My First Words

These are not my first words ever spoken, ever written, ever shared.

They carry much more weight because of that big looming bubble of space that has followed me for years and whispered in my ear:

You need to speak up, Suzanna. You don't have much time...