You don’t need to hit rock bottom to call it abuse.
Sometimes, it’s a slow erosion — your confidence chipped away by “jokes,” your sanity twisted by gaslight, your boundaries ignored like background noise.
And still, you wondered if it was really that bad.
That’s how narcissists keep their power. They don’t have to raise a fist — they just have to make you doubt yourself.
I know because I’ve lived it. I’ve stood in the shower wondering why I felt like a villain for asking for respect. I’ve reread my own texts, second-guessing every word like I was writing a legal defense.
And I’ve heard the same whispers you hear:
“Maybe it was me.”
“I should’ve left sooner.”
“No one gets it.”
But you’re not crazy. You’re not weak. You’re not alone.
See, the real war isn’t just leaving — it’s choosing yourself again and again after you leave. And that war? You’ve already started winning.
This post isn’t about grand victories. It’s about the quiet, badass moments that prove you’re rewriting your story — one defiant breath at a time.
Let’s name those wins.
Let’s honor your comeback.
1. You Almost Sent the Text That Would’ve Set You Back 6 Months — But You Didn’t
You stared at it for hours.
A paragraph, maybe two. Half apology. Half scream. You wanted to explain everything they got wrong — again. The lies. The gaslighting. The manipulation.
You weren’t trying to win them back — not really.
You just wanted them to finally understand.
But instead of pressing send, you pressed delete.
That’s not weakness. That’s power.
Because you knew — even if just for a moment — that no amount of explanation was going to rewrite the story in their mind.
They weren’t confused. They were committed to misunderstanding you.
I remember deleting a message I wrote after my ex accused me of being “too emotional” for the third time in one week. I wanted to tell her how small I felt.
Instead, I closed the app.
That silence?
It wasn’t empty. It was sacred.
You broke the cycle. You chose your peace over their confusion.
You chose you.
Takeaway: Silence isn’t weakness — it’s self-respect in its rawest form.
2. You Remembered Their Birthday — and Let the Silence Say Everything
You woke up and felt it.
That date burned into your bones — like muscle memory. Your thumb hovered over their name. Your chest tightened.
You imagined what they’d think if you sent a message.
“Wow, they still care.”
“See? I was never the bad guy.”
You could’ve sent a polite “Happy Birthday.” You could’ve taken the high road.
But you didn’t. You did something braver:
You stayed quiet.
Because you realized — it’s not your job to make someone who broke you feel remembered.
That’s a radical shift in loyalty. To yourself.
A few years back, I set a reminder for my ex’s birthday — even after she left me in the middle of a depressive spiral. I thought maybe that small gesture would… mean something.
But it wouldn’t. Not to someone who only showed up when I was useful.
So I let the day pass. No post. No text. No regret.
That kind of silence?
It’s not cold. It’s healing.
You stopped performing for someone who never stayed for the encore.
That’s not petty.
That’s proof you’ve outgrown the act.
Takeaway: You don’t owe celebration to someone who broke you in secret.
3. You Walked Past the Mirror — and Didn’t Apologize to Your Reflection
You used to avoid mirrors like they were haunted.
Not because of your face — but because of what their voice turned into in your head.
“You look tired.”
“You’ve gained weight.”
“You used to try harder.”
And somewhere along the line, you stopped seeing yourself. You only saw the flaws they pointed out.
But today?
You caught a glimpse. And instead of flinching, you nodded.
You didn’t fix your posture. You didn’t suck in your stomach. You just were.
That’s massive.
After my relationship ended, I realized I’d stopped looking at myself in full-length mirrors.
Because she once told me, “You’re lucky you have a good personality.”
For a while, I believed her.
But the first time I walked past that mirror and didn’t feel the need to improve anything, I knew I was healing.
You’re not a project. You’re a f***ing masterpiece in progress.
And the masterpiece doesn’t need permission to take up space.
Takeaway: Healing begins the moment you stop seeing yourself through their eyes.
4. You Read Their Message — and Chose Peace Over Proof
You saw the message.
The emoji. The ellipsis. The weird timing.
It reeked of bait.
Before, you would’ve gone into detective mode. Analyzing every word. Dissecting every intention. Compiling screenshots like evidence in a courtroom.
But this time?
You read it once…
and let it go.
You didn’t ask your friends what they thought. You didn’t scroll through old texts to compare timelines. You didn’t bring it up in therapy.
Because deep down, you already knew the pattern. You didn’t need proof. You needed peace.
I used to send my therapist screenshots like they were gospel.
“Look what she said!”
“Am I overreacting?”
Eventually, my therapist said, “Why do you need confirmation of what you already feel?”
That hit like a punch to the gut. Because I did know. I just didn’t trust myself yet.
But the day I stopped forwarding messages, I started forwarding my own growth.
You don’t need to win the argument. You already won the battle: choosing not to play.
Takeaway: You don’t need to win the argument when you’ve already won your freedom.
5. You Felt Crushing Loneliness — and Still Didn’t Run Back to the Fire
The bed felt bigger that night. The silence felt like punishment.
Loneliness has a way of distorting memories. It turns red flags into rose petals. Turns trauma into nostalgia.
You remembered their hands, their scent, the way they held you after the shouting — not the shouting itself.
But even with that ache in your chest, you didn’t reach out.
That’s not a small thing. That’s a revolution.
Because you didn’t just resist a person — you resisted the part of yourself that still craved their validation.
That’s strength.
I had nights where I gripped my phone like a lifeline. Scrolling through old photos. Tempted to say, “I miss you.”
But I didn’t.
Because I realized: what I missed wasn’t them — it was the version of me I used to be before they broke me.
You stayed with the silence.
And the silence became a sanctuary.
Takeaway: Missing them doesn’t mean you should return to what hurt you.
6. You Said No — and Didn’t Write a 5-Paragraph Explanation This Time
“No” is a full sentence.
But survivors often feel the need to add a novel afterward.
You want to seem “reasonable.” You want them to understand. You want to be “nice.”
But this time?
You just said no. And left it at that.
No justification. No emotional labor. No permission slip.
That’s what reclaiming your voice looks like.
I once told a toxic friend I couldn’t make our weekly call — no explanation, just a clear no.
She replied, “What’s wrong with you lately?”
That used to trigger guilt. This time, I didn’t answer.
Because the part of me that used to bend, shrink, and over-give?
He’s gone.
You’re not responsible for how others react to your boundaries. You’re only responsible for enforcing them.
You’re not cruel. You’re clear.
And clear is beautiful.
Takeaway: “No” is a full sentence — not a request for negotiation.
7. You Cried So Hard You Couldn’t Breathe — and Didn’t Shame Yourself for It
You didn’t wipe the tears fast. You didn’t apologize. You didn’t hide in the bathroom with the fan on.
You just cried.
Not the silent movie kind. The loud, snotty, shoulder-shaking kind.
And you didn’t hate yourself for it.
That matters.
Because narcissistic abuse teaches you that your emotions are “too much.” That your sadness is a weapon. That your vulnerability is dangerous.
But you let it out anyway.
That’s brave.
I remember crying in my car after a panic attack triggered by an old song. For once, I didn’t reach for a distraction. I let it all come. And when it was over, I exhaled like I’d just survived a storm.
You gave yourself what they never gave you:
Emotional safety.
Tears aren’t weakness. They’re truth leaving the body.
Takeaway: Your emotions aren’t too much — they’re proof you survived what was.
8. You Finally Closed the Tab That Asked If They Could Ever Change
You’ve read every article. Watched every YouTube therapist. Gone down every Reddit rabbit hole.
You were chasing a “what if” that slowly became a “never was.”
But one night, you closed all the tabs. And chose reality over rescue fantasy.
That is not giving up. That’s growing up.
Because you realized:
You’re not responsible for fixing someone who doesn’t want to be fixed.
I remember bookmarking an article called “Narcissists Who Finally Changed at 50.” I told myself maybe if I just loved harder, it would finally click for her.
It never did.
The night I deleted that bookmark?
I slept for 8 hours straight. First time in weeks.
Hope is only healthy when it includes you in the outcome.
You stopped looking for answers from people who benefit from your confusion.
That’s not defeat. That’s freedom.
Takeaway: You’re not here to fix someone who chose to stay broken.
9. You Talked to Yourself Like a Person Worth Saving
“You’re so stupid.”
“You’re impossible to love.”
“You ruin everything.”
Sound familiar?
You heard those words long before you ever said them. Because they planted them in you.
But now, something’s changing. You catch the thoughts. You challenge them.
You whisper instead:
“You’re trying.”
“You did your best.”
“That was brave.”
That is reprogramming. That is rewiring. That is reclaiming your voice.
I used to beat myself up for staying too long. I’d replay every red flag I missed. But then I started journaling — not about what I did wrong, but what I survived.
The voice in my head shifted from critic to coach. Not overnight. But one word at a time.
When you talk to yourself with compassion, you’re no longer repeating their abuse.
You’re writing a new script.
One where you are the hero.
Takeaway: When your inner voice shifts from critic to coach, the healing accelerates.
10. You Wrote the Truth Down — Even If No One Else Ever Sees It
Maybe it was a journal. Maybe a Twitter (X) thread at 2 AM. Maybe just a note in your phone.
But you finally got the story out of your body.
That matters more than likes. That matters more than readers.
Because what was once unspeakable — now has language.
I wrote my first piece on emotional abuse and almost deleted it. I thought, “Who cares?” But the truth was, I needed to hear it.
That one act cracked something open in me.
Shame turned into story. Story turned into survival. Survival turned into strength.
You don’t have to share it with the world. Just write it. Speak it. Feel it.
Because now the pain isn’t a secret. It’s a signal — that you’re healing.
Takeaway: The moment you gave your pain a voice, it stopped owning you.
The Comeback You Didn’t Even Know You Were Living
Maybe part of you still whispers, “But what if I overreacted?”
Or “What if they weren’t that bad?”
Maybe you still feel ridiculous for crying over someone who never cried for you.
Maybe you still scroll their social media wondering how they moved on like it was nothing.
Let me say this as clearly as I can:
You’re not crazy. You’re not weak. And no, you’re not too sensitive.
You’re just human — a human who loved deep, got burned hard, and is still standing.
Those 10 tiny wins?
They aren’t tiny at all.
They’re seismic shifts.
Every time you chose silence over chaos… Every time you picked peace over performance… Every time you looked in the mirror and didn’t flinch…
You reclaimed another piece of yourself they tried to erase.
This wasn’t just an article. This was a mirror. And for once, it didn’t lie to you.
Because this is the truth:
You don’t need to be “fully healed” to be powerful. You don’t need to explain your side to be valid. You don’t need applause to be worthy.
You survived the gaslighting, the manipulation, the rewriting of your reality.
And still — you rise.
So if your hands ever shake, if your chest ever tightens, if you ever hear their voice in your head…
Remember this:
They didn’t break you. They revealed you.
And what’s rising now?
That’s not damage. That’s destiny.
John Emmanuel is a results-obsessed relationship blogger and founder of Top Love Hacks, dedicated to helping you level up your dating and relationship game by motivating you to be in control of your love life.
