It is funny how I have developed a habit of intellectualizing my trauma, immediately after it takes place. There is this way of reflecting back on what has happened, why it has happened, or what could I have done differently that could have helped me avoid the situation that I am trapped in, and so on. So, this is my story of being caught up in a toxic cycle of an “I-can-fix-him” complex that ended up breaking me into millions of pieces.

Growing up, I have been told by people in my life that I have a kind nature and that I understand where people are coming from. Though I acknowledged it and took it as a compliment, I never quite comprehended the reason behind it. I always assumed everyone has this nature, and there is nothing special about it. Later, as I grew up, I learned I am an empath to a certain level. I came to this conclusion after months and months of groundwork, reading, and researching empathy, its causes, and so on.

I have always been vocal about my experiences with narcissistic abuse, and how I have learned to practice self-love to help me push forward in life with light and love but never have I thought I would fall into the deeper and darker pits of toxic empathy, especially towards a vulnerable narcissist.

Though studies show that empathy can be defined with four themes involving understanding, feeling, sharing the feelings of someone else, and maintaining differentiation between the self and the other, toxic empathy can be defined as a tendency of prioritizing the needs of others ahead of their own and give without being asked. The abuser takes note of this and uses it to their own advantage. Toxic empathy is when a person over-identifies with someone’s emotions, and feelings and takes them on as their own personal. But, never have I imagined that this trait of mine would be a supply for a vulnerable narcissist. We all are aware of narcissism where the obvious one is the one who is grandiose narcissistic, but there is a second type, that is usually overlooked: vulnerable narcissist.

Nafeesah Allen, an American researcher defines a vulnerable narcissist as a type of narcissist that tends to be highly self-conscious, insecure, and hypersensitive to rejection. They oscillate between feeling inferior and superior to others, and they become easily offended, anxious, or even hostile when they’re not put on a pedestal. This dangerous combination of toxic empathy and vulnerable narcissism has disturbed my entire being.

This is my experience with someone I knew when I moved to the UK for school, in a nutshell, whom I adored and respected for his wisdom, calmness, and his gentle nature. But there was an aspect of him that is oblivious to people around him. I was surprised to know when he admitted to me in private that his every move is strategic and calculated. A normal person would say, ah! That is how an individual should be, and that is where one could also be wrong.

As university students, we were a group of friends who enjoyed making meals together. He was never the one contributing towards the meal preparation when later I understood that he never learned the essential survival skills like cooking, nor they were taught. This is the case with almost every brown guy. I used to see him rather starve himself than try and cook something. So, I began cooking larger portions of meals so that he can have them. It slowly became a cycle of the empath in me trying to take care of his well-being. It came to a point where he used to come back home with food waiting for him on the table. This slowly developed into a toxic cycle of this person knocking on my door late at night, drunk, (after reflection in conversations with him) I realized that he needed intimacy and validation, which I gave into despite knowing that it was toxic. It always began with several calls late at night, and not answering them ended with messages or constant knocking on my door, which added to my poor sleep cycle. Though I enjoyed his company, it was clearly visible to me that it was unhealthy. And so I tried several times to set a boundary, but he had this way of breaking down those walls by whispering sweet nothings in my ears and gifting me expensive things, where I was made to believe that his care was genuine and I always ended up giving in to his actions. I remember one of my close friends asking me, “why are you in this marriage when you are not even married to him?” I did not know what to say, I just replied, “I don’t know the reason but I deeply care for him.”

I was told by my therapist that my care and affection for this person is coming from unhealed trauma and if I do not try and set up boundaries with him, it could potentially lead to a toxic, and exhausting cycle of emotional abuse. I did try to set up boundaries, but I learned that these kinds of people have a tactic to tear your guard down. However, I failed which lead me to damage my self-worth, my trust, my confidence, and my peace. What no one tells you is that narcissistic abuse is a slow poison. Sometimes when you share your experience with your friends, the reaction can be, “oh my God! that’s atrocious,” that’s how visible the abuse can be but it can also be million little things, that happen over and over again, for months and months or even years, that form a pattern, a systematic way of tarnishing your self-worth, which leads you to snap, lose your mind, or even say things that you do not even mean. This is exactly when your reaction is taken as an offense, which I learned is reactive abuse and the abuser uses your response to the abuse to write the narrative that suits them.

It may take a long time for me to heal from this but what I can do is put forward a few signs that may tell you are dealing with a vulnerable narcissist:

1. They have self-serving empathy: They pretend to share your values and feelings for their own advantage. In my case, this person pretended to care for me by gifting things, so in return, I would continue serving his needs, which is a transaction for him.
2. Not all narcissists are arrogant: They might be the nicest person in the room, and the wisest when conversing with others but their overly judgemental and critical perception of the world is often overlooked.
3. They are constantly worried about other people’s perceptions of them: They always make sure to play the “good guy” image and edit the truth to suit their own narrative. Sometimes they may also project their wishes and desires as theirs but their victim’s.
4. They refuse to take accountability and responsibility: When you confront them with what has been bothering you, they deny it and refuse to take accountability, instead they blame you for the circumstances.
5. They control your narrative: This kind of person often goes around and flips the narrative in a strategic way to gain other people’s sympathy which potentially discredits the victim’s experience.
6. They always move in packs: This kind of person makes sure that everyone and everything revolves around them, they can also mostly be a person in power (probably at a workplace) so that no one can be in a place to hold them accountable for their actions.

Research says that toxic empathy and vulnerable narcissism can sometimes stem from childhood trauma. All of this might have taken a toll on my self-worth, blurred my judgment, and made me lose my sanity. As I am penning this in the middle of a mental breakdown, all I can say is that I am in search of myself, trying to heal myself, trying to stay calm, and distance myself from anything and anyone that is related to my abuser. I am learning that I may not be a perfect person, doing perfect things. I am aware that I have my own baggage. At the end of the day, all I can remember is my best friend’s constant reminder of me that as long as my intentions are pure, not contaminated or self-absorbed, I do not lose anyone, they lose me. Sometimes, we learn the lessons hard way but I am grateful to have found my darkest-hour friends, whom I will cherish for life.