The Cycle That Broke Me: When Narcissistic Abuse Made Me Snap

People talk about abuse like it’s easy to name—like it’s obvious. But sometimes it looks like someone saying, “God sent me to love you.” And then turning around and treating you like you’re disposable.

He didn’t hit me.
He didn’t scream at me.
But he slowly, strategically broke me.

He made me feel chosen. Special. Like I was the one. Like we were building something eternal. He said he wanted a future, a family, to heal together. But over time, the promises faded and the real him emerged.

And I wasn’t ready for how much it would destroy me.

I Snapped. And I’m Not Proud.

There’s no neat way to explain what happens when your mind, your heart, and your nervous system are under attack every day.

I wasn’t okay. And I cracked.

I had emotional reactions I now regret—things I wish I could take back. I yelled. I broke things. I lost control. I got petty. Toxic. Obsessive. I did things out of hurt and anger because I didn’t know where else to put the pain.

And in the middle of it all, he made me believe that I was lucky he stayed as long as he did. That my reactions to his betrayal made me the problem. That no one else would love me with all my “issues.”

The gaslighting ran so deep, I started to believe it.

I started to think maybe I was unlovable. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I did deserve to be left.

But Here’s the Truth…

I wasn’t reacting out of nowhere.

I was reacting to:

• Being lied to
• Being ignored
• Being triangulated against another woman
• Being blamed for every argument
• Watching him publicly desire other women while telling me I was “too sensitive”
• And then being left—while pregnant—for the very woman he once swore I didn’t need to worry about

I was in survival mode.
And no, it doesn’t excuse everything I did.
But it explains it.

When someone convinces you they’re your soul mate, and then starts treating you like you’re nothing—it chips away at your sense of reality. And eventually, it chips away at your sanity.

I Wanted Revenge

I’m not going to lie—I wanted him to hurt the way I was hurting.

I couldn’t process how someone I would have died for could betray me so deeply and move on like I never mattered. I felt discarded. Replaced. Invisible. And that made me want revenge.

Not because I’m evil—but because I was in so much pain, and no one was seeing it. Especially not him.

I wanted him to see what he did to me.
I wanted him to acknowledge it.
To care.
To hurt even a fraction of what I was feeling.

But he never did. And he probably never will.

I Wish He Could See What He Did

I wish he could see that I wasn’t born angry.
That I didn’t walk into this with hate in my heart.
That I became someone I didn’t recognize because the love I thought would heal me was actually destroying me.

And I wish I could tell him:

You didn’t just break my heart—you broke my spirit.
You made me feel like I was nothing.
You convinced me God sent you to love me, and then you discarded me like trash.
And the worst part? You blamed me for the damage you caused.

The Healing I Never Got From Him

He never acknowledged it. He never took accountability. He just moved on—with someone else—while I was still trying to piece myself back together with a baby in my womb and a storm in my chest.

So I had to give myself the closure he never did.
I had to name the abuse.
I had to grieve the woman I became in the middle of it.
And I had to forgive myself for breaking under a love that was never real to begin with.

I’m still healing.
Still rebuilding.
But I’m no longer blaming myself for the scars he created.

Final Thoughts

If you’ve ever snapped under the weight of someone else’s manipulation, I want you to know this:

Your reaction doesn’t define you.
Your trauma doesn’t make you unlovable.
Your regret doesn’t mean you deserved the pain.

You are not too broken to be whole again.

You are a human who was pushed past her breaking point—and now, piece by piece, you are coming back to yourself.

This is what healing looks like.
Messy. Honest. And real.