Anyone who has gone through narcissistic abuse knows that there is no closure. Narcissists either discard you or you go no contact.
When my narcissist left me, I could not handle the pain. I couldn’t understand why the world kept moving and why my heart kept on beating.
For me, it felt like the end of the world.
I noticed his absence. And his absence hurt me so badly. He was no longer with me, and I was so used to him.
How unbearable it was for me to go to sleep without having anyone to kiss me good night.
How unbearable it was for me to wake up in the morning without him sleeping on the other side of the bed.
How unbearable it was for me to see his coat still hanging on the door. And he was not there.
The memories of him filled up my room. I would feel his presence everywhere. I would feel it in our bed.
I would feel it in the park where we used to go on the weekends. I would feel it in the cold, windy air.
I missed his smell. I missed his kisses, and I missed his voice. I missed his presence.
Most of all I missed myself. I missed who I was before I fell in love with him. I missed feeling worthy and appreciated.
I missed feeling beautiful. I missed feeling free. I used to have all those things, and then I met him. I met the man who would ruin my life..
It was kind of unbelievable to be able to feel love for the man who kept on hurting me.
The idea of not having closure with him drove me crazy. It was almost unbearable.
He had burned so many bridges that he could not come back. And I couldn’t go back to hell again.
His love suffocated me. He did not give me support nor understanding. Every day was a living hell.
I was constantly being told that I was stupid but that he loved me, so it did not matter to him. He wanted to make me believe that every single thing that I did was wrong.
One of the things that he would repeat over and over again—and what would hurt me each and every time so badly—was when he would say, “Nobody will ever want you but me!”
And I would always feel some bitterness behind those words of his. I would feel that he hated me. It seemed absurd.
He claimed to love me, but at the same time, he told me so many things that people would only say to somebody they hated.
And his eyes… His eyes were the most terrifying parts of his face. When he would talk down to me, it seemed that behind those eyes there was a certain blackness and void.
And there indeed was something strange in the way he would look at me. The eyes looked dead like his heart.
Those memories haunted me even in my dreams. I had nightmares that he had come to punish me. I would wake up in the middle of the night and be devastated.
And I would cry fearing that he was plotting against me and would come one day to take his revenge on me.
The very thought of him being furious with me for going no contact made me feel anxious.
I was broken into two pieces. I felt like a part of my body was dismembered and that I had to learn how to live without it. And the pain was huge.
I knew I could live without that part again, but that life would be a lot different.
There were no magical medications for treating my pain. It had lasted for too long. I knew I had to do something. So I did.
I made up a funeral for him in my mind.
I imagined him lying in a coffin. People approached me expressing compassion. And I was crying. I was crying my eyes out.
I let some women comfort me, saying that things would eventually be better.
Everyone who did not know what a monster he was mourned his death. They spoke well of him. I wanted so hard to believe them.
I wanted to remember my narcissist as an elegant, loving, and educated man—the man from the beginning of our relationship.
But, from the bottom of my heart, I knew I did not want to remember him at all.
I watched him lying in the coffin. No matter how hard I tried to hate him, I just could not. The man that I loved had died. He had died of an illness called ‘narcissism’.
The illness itself was fatal like cancer. It had destroyed his heart little by little. Then it had weakened his brain and his eyesight.
I was holding a rose in my hand. I wanted to put it on his chest. It was my last farewell to him.
I stooped to put the rose on his chest and I whispered in his ear, “May God forgive all your sins because I cannot!”
Those were the last words that I said to him. It was the last time that I touched him. And I walked away.
While walking away, I couldn’t fail to notice how my heart started beating so fast that I thought I would faint.
My legs were shaking, and I felt anxiety in the air.
It started raining all of a sudden, and all the raindrops mixed with my tears.
Finally, I felt like all the negative energy was washed away. I felt relieved.
It was my time to bury the man who had ruined me with the very memories of him.
This is how I managed to get my closure with the narcissist.
Thinking he was dead was easier for me to handle than knowing he was alive and could not give a damn about me.
I could not have done it differently. It was a matter of life and death. And I chose to live.
