As a Survivor of Narcissistic Abuse, there are times when BAM! Out of the blue, it hits you. A mixture of rage, anger, hatred, and sadness. Then more rage.

You’ll be doing fine, and then suddenly, it slaps you in the face. It just happened to me, after finding a picture taken a couple of months after I had neck surgery.

The operation was necessary because my then-husband, a Malignant Narcissist, threw me onto our back deck in a violent rage. As a result, my neck was broken in three places.

While I was lying on the wooden boards, unable to move, he stood over me. “What are you going to do now, bitch? You can’t do shit, can you, whore?” He sneered at me, then he went back inside, slammed the door, and bolted the lock.

It was cold and rainy that morning. I was wearing only the thin T-shirt and shorts I’d slept in the night before. His rage had been sudden and unexpected.

He knocked me onto the kitchen floor and dragged me by my hair to the back door. Then he picked me up and threw me outside like a bag of trash. Our autistic son saw it all.

Seeing that picture again caused my previously suppressed emotions to erupt with a vengeance. It’s no wonder it takes so long to heal from Narcissistic Abuse. There’s so much to get over.

I’ve already gotten a whole lot out of my system. I’ve dealt with painful memories and faced many demons. Yet sometimes, it seems like I have an endless supply of emotional baggage.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. But it can’t say how traumatic and life-altering the injury was.

It can’t say how much I suffered for almost a year before the surgery because the neurosurgeon was booked. Or what my son went through since his mother couldn’t function.

What it can say is that I survived. The Narcissist didn’t win, after all. Despite many attempts to destroy me, ultimately, he failed.

Before I close, I’d like to say a very special Fuck You to Chuck Henson. May you rot in hell.

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