Looking back on the last several years of my decade-plus marriage to a narcissist who had a knack for bringing toxic energy home every single evening, I shudder when I think of how many times and for how long I turned a blind eye. If I hadn’t found a way to get past all the hurt and self-recrimination by reconnecting with my passion for the written word, I might still be struggling with symptoms of PTSD.
But I have healed and to an unexpected degree. I did this by digging deep, thinking about what I wanted to do with my life, and figuring out what would make me truly and undeniably happy.
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