When the Music’s Over

Loving a covert narcissist is a like a fantastical technicolor fairy tale. And not in a Disney themed swirling ballgown and glittery kind of way. It is a fairy tale because the happily-ever-after hijacking of your life suddenly sweeps you off both feet as they fly up over your punch-drunk head straight up to the ceiling, and the handsome, charismatic, perfect prince transports you to unimaginable heights that you never knew existed. This is the idealization or love-bombing phase. It could last for a few months or many, many years, but one thing is for certain, it will not last forever.

Next comes the devaluation that prepares for act three, the end. They begin to pick and pull at the little strings of imperfection until you feel the unraveling begin and scramble to hold the magic together in efforts to avoid the ever-approaching end. “I don’t like the way you talk to people,” they may say as they pet the flabbiest part of your body. You may catch them looking at you with a face that you don’t quite recognize, and little hints of hatred seem to bubble up out of nowhere. You think to yourself, “Am I imagining this? Did I do something wrong? Why is he looking at me with such venom?” Cue the music. It’s almost time for the final curtain.

The final act, the discard, is already on its way. When the music is over, the discarded one is consumed with feelings of shock and abandonment…