The things I hid.
By: The Narcissist'S Lover
Tags: Heartbreak, Shame, Ego, Relationships, Narcissism

The goal was always to put him first. I think I was convinced that I didn't deserve him, but I always told him I had no problem hiding in his shadow. I don’t think anyone really wants that — to know that you will always serve as the subtext to someone else’s ALL CAPS TITLE. But, I had convinced myself he was the one, so the sacrifice went towards the ultimate goal of true love.

I often felt indebted to him, but I hid my debt because of him. I wanted to impress him so badly, and he was certainly a taker. He was entitled to it, whatever he wanted. I started pouring money into him like water. I earned a lot more then, and I wanted to give him a reason to keep me around, and what works better than giving gifts to the person you love? I told myself to expect nothing in return and that, if I really loved him, I would give selflessly because he deserved greatness.

On our first “date”, he invited me to dinner at an expensive restaurant and didn’t bring his wallet because he said I could afford it.

I bought him plane tickets and coordinated trips because he said he always wanted to travel. I wanted to give him that experience and be that travel partner, so any time or money sacrificed seemed like a small price to pay for my one true love and partner in crime.

Sooner or later, I was swimming in credit card debt. Every step of the way, for the six years I knew him, I hid that from him because I didn’t want him to find a reason to get rid of me. Everything seemed to hinge on this ability to do and give the best of the best to the person that deserved it most, and that certainly was not me.

I soon developed my second hidden habit: substance abuse. To be honest, it became much worse than I expected (as it always does). He smoked a lot of weed — a lot of it — and so nearly every moment I spent with him, I ended up high as a kite. I think maybe because he had set that precedent, all of the other substances seemed justifiable. It all crept up on me slowly, and I felt so much shame.

He detested intimacy with me even though he said he loved me, and I soon started drinking to cope with our everyday moments. When we went out to dinner, I wanted a glass of wine. When we went out with friends, I ordered doubles. Getting fucked up to deal with rejection became my primary goal. If I numbed that feeling, I didn’t have to worry about it, right?

Any time I would order a drink, it always came with a dose of shaming from him. Because his mother had her own keen fondness for drinking, I think he held me to a different standard than anyone else, but most especially himself. He could drink, and he drank a lot with friends, but if I wanted a drink, it came with a death glare and side eye. So, logically, I started to hide it. After getting back together after our first breakup, I had begun to get smart about where and when I could drink so that he would not judge me.

It started small — if I knew I had to meet up with him later, I’d start drinking early in the day. His fears of intimacy (will elaborate on at some other point) and blatant rejection of me physically left me feeling so inadequate, but I could forget that feeling with an extra glass of wine. Then, at some point, it felt okay to start bringing the drinks with me. If I made a drink that I couldn’t finish before leaving to see him, it couldn’t hurt to bring it with me! Of course I recognized the perils of drinking and driving, but I stayed careful and vigilant (despite breaking my car mirrors twice), and, in the grand scheme of things, I desperately needed to get through the hard times to the other side I thought existed: the true love.

Then, that rejection started feeling worse. After a few incidents of shaming after requesting intimacy, I started picking up alcohol on the way. I would buy individual cans of wine or those teeny tiny bottles because I knew I could finish them on the long drive to his place. My goal of achieving real love with “my person” soon revolved around my need to hide my emotions so I wouldn’t upset him. Everything revolved around keeping him happy and feeding his ego, and drinking guaranteed I would be complacent enough to do just that.

When weed, wine, and liquor wouldn’t suffice, the alternatives could very dramatically remove me from the situation . It started innocently enough with vaping (eye-roll), but I would vape until I made myself sick or nearly passed out (also, I’m asthmatic. What was I thinking?). At one point, a coworker started selling coke and MDMA, and right away, I recognized that it could forcibly make me happy and energetic even if I felt like shit. Going to concerts often revolved around getting MDMA because I “wanted to have fun”, but it also guaranteed I would still feel really good even when he refused to hold my hand or sleep in the same bed with me or even dance to the music with me. Even when said coworker developed epilepsy from increasingly dangerous cocktails of drugs, it didn’t deter me from seeking them out. I needed to stay happy even as feelings of inadequacy and self-hatred crushed my spirit.

I was the significant other of Ego and Narcissism. I focused on keeping him happy because everyone, especially himself, loved him. He collected friends and his own little entourage. Everyone loved him because he could adapt his personality to any situation or for any group. He was high-energy and an entertainer — the center of attention. And I, his pedestal and shadow, silently supported him and gave him the tools to be the best and brightest. And I played that role really well. At Christmas, as I showered him with gifts that I had carefully curated, he, multiple years in a row, presented me with a framed picture of himself.

There were times of vulnerability in our relationship when I could get him to kind of drop his swagger and bravado. Despite everything, he still felt like “my person”, so I justified every struggle and worry and moment of self-hatred. Looking back on it now, I’m not sure if he knew any of this. He was often too wrapped up in his life and ego to pay any real attention to mine, and I let him. I thought if I could make myself small, he would feel more impressive, and then he would love me for my sacrifice and loyalty. So I stood quietly and resolutely as his pedestal so that he could stand in the spotlight as my statuesque love.