You probably won't be too surprised to hear that most of the people I speak to aren’t thinking they’re about to start a conversation about narcissism. What they share is how they’re feeling — overwhelmed, anxious or unsure. Often, they can’t quite put their finger on why. But as we talk, the patterns begins to take shape. The way the ground keeps shifting. The way their confidence has quietly worn thin. The way they’ve stopped trusting what they know to be true. That realisation often comes gently, and with grief. Because when the behaviour is subtle and the relationship is close, it’s easy to explain things away — and so hard to see clearly.

It can take time to recognise that something in a relationship just doesn’t feel right. Especially when there’s no obvious cruelty. No shouting, no ultimatums. Just that slow, steady sense that you’re always off-balance. That your words never quite land. That you leave conversations feeling unsettled, but can’t quite explain why.

You might notice you’ve started shrinking yourself without even realising. You tread more carefully. You share less. You apologise more. You rehearse what you’re going to say — not because you’re unsure of yourself, but because you’re bracing for how it might be used against you. Over time, you start to feel like you’re the problem. Like maybe you are too sensitive. Like maybe, if you could just do things a bit better, it wouldn’t always feel so hard.

Narcissistic behaviour isn’t always loud or obviously cruel. It’s often subtle. Polished. And it can come from anyone — a partner, a friend, a parent, a child, a colleague. Sometimes these are people we love deeply. People we admire. People we feel responsible for. And because they’re not awful all the time — because there are good days, shared laughter, moments of tenderness — it’s easy to doubt yourself. To give them the benefit of the doubt, again and again. Until you realise that, somewhere along the way, you’ve stopped trusting your own experience.

Gaslighting is a big part of this dynamic. It’s what happens when someone repeatedly makes you question what you saw, what you heard, what you felt — until their version of events starts to matter more than your own. It’s not always as obvious as being told you’re wrong. It can be more subtle: a raised eyebrow, a chuckle, a comment that leaves you flustered and unsure. It’s confusing. It’s exhausting. And it quietly chips away at your ability to feel grounded in yourself.

You can’t change them. That’s not your job. And it’s not your failure. But you can begin to protect your own peace — gently, steadily, without needing to make it a big declaration.

Here are a few ways to start creating that space for yourself:

• Notice what your body knows before your mind catches up.  

If you find yourself bracing every time the phone rings, or feeling like you need to recover after talking to them, that’s information. You’re not overreacting. Something in you is responding to something real.

• Give yourself permission to pause.  

You don’t have to respond straight away. Not to questions. Not to messages. Not to accusations. Taking a breath before reacting is a way of claiming your space

• Stop explaining yourself to people who aren’t listening.  

You are allowed to make decisions without defending them. You don’t have to argue your truth just because someone challenges it.

• Let go of trying to be the peacemaker.  

It’s not your responsibility to smooth things over, to make them comfortable, or to carry the emotional weight of the relationship. You’re allowed to step back.

• Create quiet boundaries.  

Not every boundary needs to be announced. Sometimes it’s just deciding not to share as much. Not replying straight away. Not explaining where you’re going or why when you just need some space. Boundaries can be small, soft shifts — and still powerful.

• Get support that nourishes you.  

You don’t have to hold all of this on your own. Whether it’s speaking to a trusted friend, working with someone who helps you feel seen, or simply having a space where you can let your guard down — support matters. The right kind doesn’t ask you to justify anything. It helps you feel like yourself again.

This isn’t about confrontation. It’s not about ultimatums. It’s about finding small, steady ways to protect what’s sacred inside of you — your clarity, your voice, your sense of self. You don’t have to cut ties to begin healing. You just need to stop handing over your peace.

And maybe more than anything, it’s about remembering that what you feel is real. That you’re not too much or too sensitive or imagining things. That your body knows, your heart knows, and your inner voice — though it may have gone quiet — is still there.

Keep coming back to yourself. You’re worth that. Every single time.

 

If something in this post resonates, and you’d like to explore it more deeply in a safe, supportive space, I’m here.

There are gentle ways forward — and you’re never alone on the path.