From Broken to Brave: The Power of Naming the Narcissist

lovesdreflection
May 9
2 min read

There is a unique kind of power that comes from putting a name to the pain you’ve endured. For years, I struggled to articulate the invisible wounds left by manipulation, emotional withholding, and constant self-doubt. It felt like I was suffocating in silence—unable to understand or explain the darkness I was trapped in.

But everything changed when I found the words: covert narcissist.

Suddenly, the chaos made sense. The constant gaslighting, the passive-aggressive digs, the emotional push and pull—it all aligned with a behavior pattern that wasn’t born out of love or misunderstanding, but out of control and manipulation.

The Power of Naming

There is something incredibly empowering about naming the thing that haunts you. In naming it, you strip it of its mystery, its ability to lurk in the shadows of confusion. Naming the narcissist in my life was like turning on a light in a dark room—I could finally see the exits.

For so long, I had justified the behavior, blamed myself, and tried desperately to fix something that was never mine to fix. But by calling it what it was, I freed myself from the shackles of misplaced guilt.

It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t meet their impossible expectations.
It wasn’t my imagination that things changed based on their mood.
It wasn’t me who kept causing conflict—I was simply the one being manipulated.

Naming the narcissist didn’t change the past, but it did change how I saw it. And that shift in perspective was everything.

Breaking the Silence

After discovering the truth, I spoke it aloud for the first time. It felt terrifying—like I was betraying a secret that I had promised to keep. But that promise was built on lies and manipulation, and I no longer wanted to protect it.

I confided in a friend, then in a counselor, and finally, I said it to myself in the mirror: "I was manipulated. I was controlled. But I am not broken.”

Each time I spoke it, I took back a little more power. It was like pulling shards of glass out of my soul, painful, but necessary for healing.

Reclaiming My Identity

Naming the narcissist wasn’t just about identifying the source of my pain; it was about reclaiming my identity. I had been wrapped up in their version of me for so long—an image distorted by criticism, judgment, and silent punishments.

But with every step away from the manipulation, I started to rediscover who I was:

I was strong, not weak.
I was empathetic, not overly sensitive.
I was worthy of respect, not conditional affection.

The more I embraced my truth, the less hold they had on me.