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May this be a place of healing and support!
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May this be a place of healing and support!
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May this be a place of healing and support!
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May this be a place of healing and support!
Becoming Careful With Words
Have you ever noticed how cautious you’ve become with your words? Not silent exactly—but careful. You think things through before you speak. You test the waters. You decide what’s worth saying and what’s better left alone. And somewhere along the way, staying quiet began to feel safer than being honest.
Maybe you see this in your kids too. They give shorter answers. They retreat to their rooms. They say “it’s fine” and “never mind” more than they used to. And you’re left wondering what changed. Was it something you did? Something you didn’t do? Or something they learned—quietly—about what happens when you speak up?
If you’ve lived with covert narcissism or chronic emotional invalidation, this didn’t happen by accident. You didn’t stop talking because you stopped caring. Your nervous system learned that honesty came with consequences. Conversations felt risky. Silence began to feel safer.
“If your body has been acting like it’s in a horror movie even though your life looks normal to the world around you — this post is for you.”
Many survivors of covert narcissistic abuse experience physical symptoms that seem random or mysterious — jaw tension, chest tightness, digestive issues, sleep problems, eye twitches, and even buzzing in the ears. What most people don’t realize is that these symptoms aren’t random at all. They’re your body’s way of communicating: a map of what you have survived.
Even if your mind hasn’t fully recognized the abuse, your body certainly has. And while doctors may run tests and say, “Everything looks fine,” your symptoms are telling a different story — one of survival and adaptation.
Many survivors of covert narcissistic abuse are told—by therapists, friends, books, or even themselves—that they’re codependent. But what they were actually doing… was fawning.
Fawning is a trauma response—a survival mechanism your nervous system uses in unsafe or unpredictable environments. Confusing fawning with codependency keeps many survivors stuck in shame and self-blame. Today, we’ll break down the difference and explain why it matters for your healing.
Why We Confuse Fawning With Codependency
At first glance, fawning and codependency can look similar:
Both involve people-pleasing.
Both appear compliant from the outside.
Both prioritize another person over yourself.
Both can make you lose your sense of self.
But the why behind these behaviors is completely different.
Have you ever experienced something intense or frightening and wanted to share it… only to have the person in front of you dismiss it? This is one of the most subtle and confusing ways relationships shape our reality — and how some people can either restore your trust in yourself or make you doubt your own experiences.
This story isn’t just about a scary moment I had on the water — it’s about what happens after danger, and why the people around us matter so much.
Have you ever wondered what would happen if you stopped pouring all your energy into that special someone?
What if you shifted even a small portion of that energy into yourself—your well-being, your hobbies, your friendships, your peace?
Here’s the thing: in a healthy relationship, that shift would be welcomed, even celebrated.
But in a relationship with a covert narcissist, it exposes the truth like nothing else.
Pulling back your supply isn’t about being mean. It’s about watching, listening, and learning what’s really underneath.
Because sometimes, self-care is more than bubble baths and candles. Sometimes, it’s the ultimate test of whether your partner can survive without your constant attention.
People often ask, “Why don’t you just leave?”
But if you’ve ever been in a relationship with a covert narcissist, you know — it’s not that simple.
Leaving isn’t just about walking out the door. It’s about leaving in stages: physically, emotionally, and mentally.
If the relationship is physically abusive, your body usually leaves first. Your survival instincts take over.
But when it’s emotionally abusive, it’s your heart that leaves first — long before your body can pack a bag.
And then there’s the mental leaving — the hardest and slowest part. Even years later, you might still find them living rent-free in your head, criticizing your choices and haunting your thoughts.
Leaving a covert narcissist isn’t a one-time event. It’s a process — one that unfolds layer by layer, one step at a time.
Have you ever asked yourself if the person you’re with could ever truly see the truth about themselves? Maybe you’ve tried giving them books, sharing articles, or gently explaining patterns of covert narcissism. You hoped, begged, and waited for that “aha moment,” only to be met with shutdown, deflection, or blame.
If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. Many of us have been there—stuck in the cycle of trying to make them wake up, all while losing pieces of ourselves in the process.
Have you ever asked yourself, “Am I the narcissist?”
It’s one of the most common fears I hear from survivors of covert narcissistic abuse. And here’s why: covert narcissists often use the very same words you do. At times, they mirror you. They accuse you of doing exactly what they’re doing. They’ll say things like, “You never listen,” “You always bring up the past,” or “Nothing ever gets resolved.” And these are the very things you are trying to communicate to them.
It’s confusing, disorienting, and often makes you second-guess yourself. But here’s the truth: the difference doesn’t lie in the words. It lies in the intentions behind them.
It’s not just about what is said, but how it is said, the energy behind it, and the capacity to follow through. Let’s break it down.
Welcome Back, Survivors
After learning the basics of covert narcissism—half-apologies, gaslighting, silent treatment, and baiting—you’ve probably realized that the advanced techniques are far more insidious. These are the behaviors that keep you trapped, confused, and second-guessing yourself.
Understanding them is the first step to reclaiming your clarity and your peace.
People often ask me, “How do I know when I’m healed?” And that’s a great question. What I love about it is how it shifts the focus away from the covert narcissist and back to yourself. You don’t need them to acknowledge it, change, or give you closure to heal. Most of the time, closure with a covert narcissistic person is like chasing the end of a rainbow—you will never catch it. Healing is about you.
Healing doesn’t arrive as a clear milestone. There’s no moment where everything suddenly feels resolved, where your past no longer touches you, or where triggers disappear entirely. Healing isn’t the absence of emotion or struggle. The answer lies in something quieter: your internal sense of safety. Not safety from the world, not because others behave well—but safety within yourself.