Version number two: The Reactor. When pleasing them does not work, and you’ve tried everything to calm the chaos but the abuse only grows worse, a new version of you begins to emerge: The Reactor. This version does not care about peace anymore. You have been silent for too long. Every time you swallowed your pain, it turned into anger, and eventually, that anger spills out. You start matching their energy. You yell back, defend yourself, slam doors, and say things you may later regret. You begin to fight fire with fire because you realize kindness is not protecting you; it’s destroying you.
This version of you does not feel like you anymore. You catch yourself saying things that do not sound like your voice, doing things that do not align with your values. You look in the mirror after an argument and cannot even recognize the person staring back. That’s where the guilt begins. You think, “Maybe I’m just as bad. Maybe I’m the toxic one.” But what’s really happening is survival. You’re not reacting because you enjoy it. You know that deep down. You are reacting because you are trapped. Your body senses danger and goes into defense mode. You’re not trying to hurt them; you’re trying to protect yourself. Yet, this is exactly what the narcissist wants. They want you to lose control so they can point their finger and say, “See, see, you are the crazy one.” They love chaos. They’re merchants of chaos. They thrive on emotional reactions. They drain energy from every outburst you have. They never get tired of the game. Why? Because your reactions feed their ego. They feel powerful watching you unravel. You, on the other hand, feel ashamed. You start questioning your morality, sanity, and worth. The Reactor version of you is a heartbreaking paradox. You’re fighting for your dignity in a war designed to make you lose it.
Eventually, exhaustion takes over. You realize no reaction, explanation, or emotional performance will ever be enough. So you stop arguing. Why? Because you have lost the strength to fight. And that is when you transform again, which brings us to version number three: The Silent or Depressed One. This is the darkest version, the one where you stop recognizing your own soul. The Silent or Depressed One appears when your nervous system shuts down completely. It’s no longer fight or flight; it’s total freeze. You stop explaining, defending, and crying. Your face becomes emotionless. Your eyes look drained, and your smile feels artificial. You sit in rooms you once decorated with love and feel nothing. Music sounds hollow. Laughter feels foreign. Beauty does not move you anymore. You’re not just tired; you are empty. You wake up every morning with a heavy chest, staring at the ceiling, wondering how you will make it through another day. You try to fake normalcy for your kids, friends, and job, but inside, you have completely shut down. You’re not living anymore; you’re just existing.
This version of you is misunderstood the most. People see you and think you’re just sad or moody. But the truth is, you have been emotionally murdered over and over until your body decided to protect you by numbing everything. It is pure self-preservation via dissociation. Yet something profound happens in this silence. As you begin to detach emotionally, something spiritual awakens. You start observing instead of reacting. You start seeing through the illusion. You realize that the love you have been begging for will never come from this person. In that silence, a small voice inside you whispers. This is when the internal divorce begins. Long before you ever physically leave, you start disconnecting from their control. You stop craving their validation and waiting for their apologies. It is not dramatic or loud; it’s quiet, steady, and irreversible. The Silent One marks the beginning of your return to yourself.
continue reading on the next page
Sharing is caring!