loss of self

I’m sure most of you have read my previous stories which are real. No fiction here. This story my story about trauma, pain, and healing. Enjoy!

After leaving such relationships or removing myself from certain people from my life, I literally had nothing left to the person you know, who wrote this. Nothing left to my entire being. I wasn’t even lost at that point. Lost to me, would mean, I remembered who I was at some point throughout the mental, verbal abuse, c-ptsd and pain. That phase? Gone. But before we get to that….

The lows of the beginning of the abuse started when I was young. I felt a lot of shame for being the girl I was. When I was a young girl, I was Funny, happy, a go getter, hyper, sarcastic, playful and laughing was my job and I was always joking. When I was a child I was constantly misunderstood and silenced. Family meetings just turned into “him” barking at us and for us to shut the fuck up and listen. Instead of just having a simple conversation, he was on stage and talking at us until we were nothing. Hmmm I Wonder why I have problems speaking on my issues? Or speaking my emotions into existence? Keep reading. Teen years were relatively the same. I just felt even more dismissed, ignored, and misunderstood than before. However, I found salvation through my dance studio because with dance I would be able to move in rhythm without speaking a word. No one on the planet will understand what it meant to get on stage and perform. It makes me emotional, still. Sigh* moving on to my early twenties. Those were were a mess. I no longer danced. I no longer had an outlet. I was a superficial shell of myself. All I cared about was the next party, outting, or get together. I could never be alone because that would mean my brain would be on fire with feelings and emotions I didn’t want to deal with. I drank my sorrows and found shitty men. Not all were bad, the good ones I didn’t know what to do with because I was a toxic young 20 year old. Some of the people I hung out with at that time were not great for me either. I made bad choices and absolutely could’ve died. No joke, my ancestors and angels were with me during those reckless times saving me but shaking their damn heads! 

Fast forward- After some relationships that seemed all too similar to my narc father, I ended up losing everything about myself. Family members were even concerned for my well being. The pure and utter sorrow I felt for myself and the future with my child was so fucking heavy at that time. I can’t even put words very well. So bare with me. I thought I would never feel love. That feeling was just never for me I thought. I also thought I would never give love because how could I? The feeling of being in love and truly cared for without an agenda was no longer something I thought possible. I was so deep into depression and major anxiety disorder which was a complete nightmare. All I wanted was to be was a good mother to my son and in order to do so I had to put myself through therapy and go on meds. Which also did not happen over night. It took time and to get rid of the stubborn attitude and selfishness because I no longer only had me to worry about. I didn’t want to go to a therapist but I was on autopilot and at that time I had no other choice. Once on meds, I found yoga and practiced several days a week which I believe saved me in some major ways. In addition to yoga, I found journaling once again ** and reading tarot cards to go deeper into divination and it’s been the best thing I’ve ever done for myself as a whole person. To add to my healing journey, my spiritual path working with deities has been such a blessing to start working on my shadow and come to terms with the darker side of self. As far as Loved ones? I came back in contact with with friends again who were able to forgive me for disappearing on them for years on end because I didn’t feel good enough to leave the damn house.  Once being released from the narcs invisible grip**... guess what? I started looking like myself again. I started laughing at stupid shit again. I started giving zero fucks AGAIN. The girl my close friends knew, who would make Wookiee calls at busted grenades walking into bars...that was me. The funny girl. I was returning to Stephanie Fucking Danielle. And it felt good. Still does.

I didn’t start acknowledging the fact I had been abused in such ways until I turned 30. And now I’m 35. It’s a long road but I’m fucking ready for it. And I’m happier than ever before. For the record I DID find real love and what that actually feels like and I know now that I deserve it. I also know now how to love and it is so good. In the simplest terms. So good.

Long story short it took years to get to where I am today. And to think I’m only on the tip of the iceberg of my healing journey is nuts! I’m proud of myself and if you’ve lived any sort of life like mine with a narcissist, you have my love and support. I’ve had about 20 years of that type of abuse in my life. It’s a long recovery, but oh so worth it!!! Much love.

(Consider this a series….my next story will have more details on situations I had encountered or gone through.)

PS This may sound pathetic but until you live with a narcissist, or are in a romantic relationship or were raised by one? Please don’t speak on the matter or have an opinion about this topic or my life.

(**invisible grip happened long before I actually physically removed myself from a few different people. I needed the emotional and mental strength before literally leaving.)

(**journaling and writing poetry since I was 12! I still have those journals and poetry books. When I feel my lowest, I write. I started my blog inspired by inner child.)