As I embarked on my journey to break free from trauma bonds and recover from the impact of narcissistic abuse and persistent mental anguish, I began to realize how narcissists served as distorted reflections of myself.

> Where a narcissist exhibits a lack of empathy, I find myself overwhelmed with deep empathy for others, even for those who have caused me pain.

> Where a narcissist seeks vengeance, I strive for forgiveness and the cessation of harmful cycles.

> Where a narcissist inflicts pain on others, I often turn that pain inward.

> Where a narcissist is treated as the favored child, I experience the role of the scapegoat.

> Where a narcissist channels their grief into anger, I often succumb to profound sadness.

> Where a narcissist longs for the power they missed in childhood, I yearn for the love that eluded me.

The terms "sociopath" and "empath"—representing the narcissist and borderline personality respectively—are akin to Yin and Yang.

As opposing forces that draw together like magnets, we are fated to become entwined with each other throughout our lives.

It was through the abuse I endured from a sociopath that I finally recognized my own borderline tendencies.

Part of the healing process from narcissistic abuse involves understanding that the narcissist acts as a mirror.

However, once you begin to peer into that mirror, you open Pandora's Box.

You cannot reintroduce the inner demons you unleash.

Your healing journey will directly correlate with the extent of truth you are willing to confront.

It may be uncomfortable, but the more truth you accept, the freer you will become.

The narcissist relies on a partner who lacks self-love: this is crucial.

This dependency allows them to reflect their own needs back onto their partner, who falls in love with the narcissist's facade.

Unbeknownst to them, they are enamored with a parody of themselves, as they have never truly loved themselves, leaving them devoid of self-awareness.

Recognize that the qualities you admired in the narcissist are traits that exist within you. The narcissist lacks a cohesive identity, so they absorb aspects of yours to fulfill their own needs.

It seems rather self-absorbed to become enamored with a reflection of oneself, does it not?

This is where the narcissist acts as your mirror.

Initially, it is beneficial to transform the qualities you admired in them into self-recognition. Did you appreciate their humor, intelligence, confidence, style, creativity, values, or interests?

These were all your traits. It's time to learn to cherish and safeguard them from those who would exploit them.

Idealizing oneself through the lens of a narcissist is in itself narcissistic: it signals codependency, a life steeped in fantasy, and a love that is merely a projection of a false self. This fictitious self, representing your perceived perfection and worth, becomes essential for emotional regulation.

When they depart with your idealized self, it feels as though your inner child has been abducted—because it has. They have taken your identity; the only means through which you could love yourself was via this false self.

That is why genuine self-love is crucial for recovery.

True self-love does not require abuse or abusers to thrive. It is divine, not misled by false idols.

Narcissists also reflect our childhood traumas: no one without attachment wounds would find themselves involved with a narcissist.

To heal, you must acknowledge that at some point in your youth, like the narcissist, your self-love was taken from you by an adult or multiple adults.

Victims of narcissistic abuse often deny this truth. I, too, denied the reality of my father's behavior to survive and convince myself that I was still loved, even when he inflicted deep wounds.

There are many other ways in which narcissists serve as our mirrors, and none of them are easy to confront.

For instance, I found myself repeatedly forming trauma bonds with abusers.

Few things tear at my heart more than the horror of abuse. It's an incomprehensible act for me.

Yet, as I examined my past, a realization struck me: if a narcissist is emotionally a child trapped in an adult's body, and if I am drawn to them, then I am likely not attracted to emotionally mature adults.

Confronting this painful truth compelled me to nurture my inner child and guide her toward maturity, breaking the cycle of despair.

I also grappled with the hidden sexuality of every narcissist I became entangled with.

At one point, I genuinely questioned my own heterosexuality as I uncovered the men I dated were often concealing their true identities.

However, I am solely attracted to men. Not only do I feel aversion toward women, but I also harbor disgust towards my own body. This has always been clear to me.

Yet, as I recognized the narcissists as my mirrors, I pondered why I wasn't also attracted to women.

One day, while in deep reflection, a surge of memories flooded back:

I recalled my childhood disdain for traditional girl toys, adamantly claiming to my family that I was a boy. I favored activities typically associated with boys and had no desire to marry or have children.

My family labeled me a tomboy, and I accepted that label as it provided a semblance of understanding to my identity.

After the suicide of my first love, I ceased presenting as a boy, fearing that my appearance contributed to his tragic end.

I turned to feminism to liberate myself from self-loathing and to embrace my equality, which was beneficial.

But now I realize that I have always felt masculine and have been attracted to boys, suggesting I might be in denial about my sexuality, much like a closeted narcissist.

I believe this might explain why closeted narcissists were drawn to me. My masculine energy allowed them to indulge their fantasy of heterosexuality. My innocent trust made them feel less like predators by desiring an adult with a childlike essence. They made my fantasy of being an acceptable little girl feel authentic.

While it's true that I have not inflicted harm upon those I care for, due to my empathy, I have undeniably contributed to the downfall of numerous narcissists, which fills me with guilt. I can feel their pain and see how they mentally unravel, which mirrors my own experience.

I now understand that my lack of narcissistic traits stems not from choice but from chance. It is akin to a game of chance; we are assigned our roles by our parents at birth.

Moreover, many individuals find themselves trauma-bonded to narcissists, whether they are self-aware or concealing their true selves, in spaces meant for recovery, which perpetuates their confusion and anger.

This is also a way many of us remain in denial, similar to narcissists, staying trapped in anger.

This cycle continued for me when I initially started seeking knowledge, and even in therapy, I encountered a narcissistic therapist—abuse continued until I could confront my deepest self-deceptions.

I have always perceived my flaws and carried a significant burden of self-blame. Healing required me to release some of that blame while also examining the factors that bonded me to them, which has been an arduous process.

It has been filled with shame, pain, discomfort, and grief. Yet, if you cannot recognize these elements as you heal, then, much like the narcissist, you are unable to truly look in the mirror or engage in self-reflection, and therefore, you are not healing.

You are deceiving yourself just as they deceive both you and themselves.

The individuals we connect with and their traumas serve as a reflection of our own wounds.

We attract relationships that mirror our levels of truth, healing, and inner strength.

Upon realizing these truths, we come to understand our interconnectedness and can forgive ourselves and others, recognizing that we are one.

The true adversary we must confront is within.

I believe that our spiritual mission in this life is to acknowledge how closely intertwined we are, despite our feelings of opposition and fear.

The next step involves breaking the cycle of abuse and embracing the divine within ourselves, expelling our inner demons.

My memoir, This is a Story About Ghosts: A Memoir of Borderline Personality Disorder, is now available on Amazon.

For personalized coaching aimed at recovering from narcissistic abuse, BPD, or sexual assault, visit https://am-champion.com.

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> A.M. Champion is the author of several works, including She Saints & Holy Profanities, The Good Girl is Always a Ghost, and others. Her writing has appeared in numerous literary journals. She has received various accolades and holds degrees in Behavioral Psychology and Creative Writing.