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  • Writer's pictureLoveday Funck

Are They Even Capable of Love?

Have you ever loved someone who seemed to tear you down even as they built you up? Does the concept of parental love feel like a distant dream, shattered by a past filled with manipulation and emotional abuse? If so, you're not alone. Millions navigate the aftermath of narcissistic abuse, a journey that can leave you feeling lost and questioning your own reality.


But there is hope. On April 30th, I'm launching a campaign on Indiegogo to help you reclaim your strength and rebuild your life with "The Art of Resilience: Narcissistic Abuse Recovery Oracle." This unique deck is more than just a divination tool – it's a powerful companion designed to guide you through the emotional rollercoaster of healing.


The Shattered Illusion: When Parental Love Isn't What It Seems


We're raised to believe parents are our safe haven, a source of unconditional love and unwavering support. This makes narcissistic abuse at the hands of a parent especially devastating. It shatters the very foundation of our understanding of family.


For me, that harsh reality came crashing down in the form of my ex-partner, Rageroo. He'd shower his child with affection, bragging about their accomplishments. Yet, his actions spoke a different language. His anger towards his ex-wife, the child's mother, was relentless. Here was a woman who had escaped an abusive father, only to find herself trapped in another. Rageroo even admitted wanting to "change her" into someone he deemed perfect, a chilling disregard for who she truly was.


The cycle of abuse continued. Rageroo demonized his ex, painting her as the villain while placing himself on a pedestal. Their child became a pawn in this twisted game. Victories, like the child aligning with his political views, were celebrated. It became clear – love, for him, was a conditional game with a hidden agenda.


Looking back, I see the pattern in our relationship. A compliment, always in earshot of his child, subtly comparing me to his ex. Rageroo would buy my favorite creamer, but with a backhanded remark about how his ex would never appreciate it. My apologies for feeling tired became a chance to highlight, once again, how "unlike his ex-wife," I was "willing to admit fault."


These seemingly insignificant moments, strung together, created a warped reality. It may be tempting to believe narcissists aren't aware of their actions, but the damage they inflict is undeniable. It's like being battered by an erratic hammer – the blows, though scattered, leave lasting cracks.


The journey to healing from narcissistic abuse is long, but it's possible. If you suspect you're in a similar situation, know that you're not alone. There are resources available to help you rebuild your self-esteem and navigate a path towards a healthier future, for yourself and your children.


What follows is a fictionalized account of a relationship with a narcissist:


We all have stories whispered to us as children, of love as a sheltering oak, of parents as lighthouses in the storm. But some of us are born beneath a different moon, where the tales told are crueler, sharper things.


I knew love as a fickle sprite, flitting in and out of reach. My ex, Rageroo, a man who wore a mask of charm, would shower his child with praise, a dazzling sunbeam illuminating their

achievements. Yet, a shadow clung to him, a darkness that spoke volumes louder than his words. It spoke in the venom he spat when mentioning his ex-wife, the child's mother.


This woman, they said, had escaped an abusive father only to find another in him. He'd confessed, with a chilling casualness, to wanting to "mold" her into some perfect ideal, a horrifying disregard for the woman she truly was.


The cycle spun, a grotesque tapestry woven with lies. Rageroo painted his ex as the villain, a harridan who didn't deserve their child's love. The child, a pawn in this twisted game, became a trophy to be won. Their alignment on political views became a victory lap, a smug confirmation of his supposed superiority. Love, in his game, had a cruel price tag: unwavering loyalty and a malleable soul.


The cracks in the facade became clearer with time. A backhanded compliment, a seemingly innocuous remark about his ex's supposed inability to appreciate a simple gift. My apologies for human tiredness twisted into an opportunity to highlight his manufactured "virtue." These moments, like whispers in the dark, chipped away at my sense of self.


They say narcissists are oblivious to the wreckage they leave. But the damage is undeniable, a slow erosion that leaves you hollowed out. It's like being battered by a dream-addled giant, their blows erratic, yet leaving behind a constellation of bruises on your soul.


But even in the gloaming, there are embers of hope. This story, a fragment of a much larger tale, is a testament to that. It's a reminder that the path to healing, though arduous, is paved with courage and self-discovery. And who knows, perhaps there's a different story waiting to be written, one where love isn't a weapon, but a sanctuary we build, brick by broken brick.

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