Tuesday, June 17, 2025

 


**It drives narcissists crazy that you don't immediately "get over" the hurt they caused,** or that you dare to bring it up and hold them accountable—especially when there’s been no genuine apology, no sign of remorse, and certainly no effort to make things right. To them, the mere act of you remembering the pain they caused is an attack. They want you to forget, to move on, to pretend as if it never happened. They see your healing process as a nuisance, something that gets in the way of their comfort and control.

But here's the irony: when *they* get hurt—no matter how small the offense—they will carry it for years, sometimes decades. They will revisit that pain over and over again, bringing it up to justify future cruelty or gain sympathy. Their wounds are sacred. Yours are dismissed.

Narcissists operate under a set of double standards so deeply ingrained, they don’t even see the hypocrisy. They are allowed to feel, to explode, to break down, to express, to accuse, to cry, to rage. They can be dramatic, unforgiving, reactive, and emotionally volatile—and it's always justified in their mind. But when *you* show emotion, you're “too sensitive.” When you set a boundary, you're “cold” or “mean.” When you speak the truth, you're “starting drama.” The same behaviors they demand the right to engage in are considered intolerable when they come from you.

They believe their pain matters more than yours. Their stories deserve to be heard. Their emotions deserve space. But yours? You’re expected to swallow them. You're told to stay quiet for the sake of peace—their peace. And if you don’t, you’re labeled as difficult, unforgiving, or even toxic.

What they really want is for you to invalidate yourself—to gaslight your own experience so they don’t have to feel uncomfortable. But your healing doesn’t require their permission. You are not “too much” for needing closure, for asking questions, for acknowledging the harm done to you. Your feelings matter—even when they pretend they don’t. Especially then.

Your refusal to forget is not bitterness. It's a boundary. It’s your strength. It’s your voice saying: *What happened mattered. And so do I.*

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