Hi, I'm Emilia Isabelle

The Badge of Leaving a Narcissist

First off, let me preface this by saying not everyone gets the luxury of leaving

Leaving a narcissist is never just leaving. It’s a battle that doesn’t stop when the relationship ends. It’s a constant game of defence, where you’re not just protecting yourself. You’re protecting your child, your peace, and your truth.

Yesterday, I broke down in front of my son. I cried because I felt like I had let him down when it came to his dad. My son has emotional intelligence beyond his years and he sat with me, hugged me, and told me I hadn’t. That moment hurt and healed me all at once. Hurt, because my child has witnessed me cry too many times. He knows the reasons I left. He understands far more than a child should ever have to. And yet, healed, because in his words I saw his clarity, he knows the truth despite the pain that truth causes.

When you leave a narcissist, they don’t just let you go. They rewrite history. They create a version of events that paints you as the villain. In their story, they’re the victims, and you’re the reason for all their suffering. It doesn’t matter how much evidence you have, how calm you remain, or how fair you try to be. Their narrative is already written, and it will never have you as the good guy.

I had to fight hard for a non-molestation order, and despite the judge acknowledging the evidence of his violence toward me it didn’t come without a fight (and that’s without him even bothering to show up to court). And even with that protection in place, he still finds ways to try to get to me. Messaging mutual people. Threatening court. Acting like I’ve ever tried to stop him from seeing our son. I haven’t. The order even sets out a clear pathway for him: he can have contact through a contact centre, organised via a third party. I even identified who that third party could be. Still, instead of taking the route laid out, he chooses threats and manipulation.

That’s the hard part, knowing I have never once stood in his way, never been bitter or nasty, only put mechanisms in place to protect myself but none of that matters when you’re dealing with a narcissist. Their story is already set: you are the problem.

So, I’ve had to accept a painful truth. His version of events will always exist. People will hear it. Some may even believe it. But my energy cannot be wasted trying to rewrite his lies. My focus has to be on staying ten steps ahead, documenting, printing, saving messages, and keeping letters. A paper trail becomes your lifeline.

It’s exhausting. It’s unfair. No one should have to live like this. But this is my reality. And while he can write whatever version of the story he likes, I know my truth. My son knows my truth. And in the end, that’s what matters.