Much is made about the “discard phase” in narcissistic relationships. I always envisioned mine playing out in a dramatic, destructive way.
He would leave in a whirlwind, blaming me for everything, playing the victim. He’d hide money, leave me with debts, take everything he could. I would be left picking up the pieces of my shattered life — but at least I would be free. Safe. Without the fear of what he might do if I abandoned him. Without the inevitable (and ridiculous) guilt I was sure to feel.
So I waited.
I had already left — seven times — only to be stalked and terrorized into returning. Each time, I lost more of myself. So I thought, Fine. I’ll wait for him to leave. Let him think he won.
Genius, right?
And I waited. And waited. And waited.
Meanwhile, I became more depressed, more exhausted, more in debt, more isolated. My life trickled away, piece by piece. Death by a thousand cuts.
Until one day, I finally understood — the discard had already happened.
Share this post