Over the course of my narcissistic abuse, my body reacted in all kinds of strange ways. At first, my physical symptoms of trauma were the typical kind - insomnia, exhaustion, that kind of thing. But things progressed quickly from there.

My esophagus began to spasm, with attacks sometimes going on for days or weeks at a time. My esophageal valve would close and not open again. This meant food and liquids couldn't enter my stomach and stayed stuck in my chest. I ended up in the hospital twice drinking liquid lidocaine in an attempt to get my esophageal valve relaxed enough to open again. My esophageal dysmotility made eating and digesting food incredibly difficult and sometimes debilitating. I took medications for 15 years, but they never helped. It felt like a vice grip around my rib cage that just squeezed and squeezed. The pain was constant, and sometimes I'd just go without eating all together in an attempt to avoid it. I changed my diet, did a ton of research, saw all the specialists, but still couldn't get my digestive issues resolved.

Then, I developed double pneumonia. I was on strict doctor's orders to stay on bedrest for 10 days. I went home with heavy-duty meds, knowing I'd be better soon as long as I finally let my body recover. No problem, because my narcissist was home to care for me and nurse me back to health, right?  Not even close. Within a day or two, I was getting out of bed to go up and down the stairs, without being able to breathe, in order to get myself something to eat or drink from the kitchen. Otherwise - well, it would have been 9 days of not eating or drinking at all.

Pretty soon, I got used to not eating. It became easier not to eat, because eating hurt. So I stopped eating. My weight dropped from 120 lbs to 97 lbs within a couple of months.

And then the joint pain began. I owned a dance studio. I taught dance almost every day, and it was my livelihood. Suddenly, it was like my ankles were frozen in place. They clicked every time I moved. I could barely walk, and had to throw out all my cute high heels (which I was famous for) and replace them all with orthopedic-friendly shoes. Even then, all I could feel was a constant, agonizing ache that never went away, and nerve pain that sent shooting, electric-like shock waves all the way up my legs. I went Christmas shopping with my mom one year. I was only in my 30's. She had to take my arm and help me down the corridors, supporting my weight. Still, the pain was excruciating. It would take all of my energy during the day just to function like a normal human without bursting into tears. At night, I would lie in my bed and just cry because everything hurt so much, and I couldn't hold the sobs back anymore. 

Normally I liked to sleep on my side, but the bones in my shoulder and hip were so sharp that I couldn't lie that way anymore. I had to get a pad to surround my seatbelt strap, because the canvas fabric was rubbing my jutting clavicle bones raw. Around this time, I was officially diagnosed with an eating disorder. The anorexia didn't start the way anyone might expect. But once my weight started to drop, I developed a toxic fascination with seeing just how skinny I could get before my narcissist would step in and help me. It's true. Deep down, sadly, I think I stopped eating just to see if my narcissist would care. If he would finally step in and do anything to help me, after twenty years of marriage, because he must love me too much to sit by and watch me waste away, right?

Nope. The only thing that concerned him was the often-mentioned complaint that my "boobs were getting smaller". And then I realized he really didn't care if I died. And then I realized that if I did die, he would be the only parent my children would have left. And that was... unacceptable. That's when I finally ended it. Leaving my narcissist did not automatically cure all of the physical ailments I was suffering from. But I finally realized that the old adage is true -YOU CAN'T HEAL IN THE PLACE THAT IS MAKING YOU SICK.

Permanently cutting contact with my narcissistic abuser was the first step toward my recovery. From there, it was my job to find the right kind of help and treatments to aid my own healing and help my kids heal, too. Because - guess what? They both developed the same esophogeal dismotility as I have - all stemming from similar trauma, all unleashed on us from the same narcissistic abuser.

No, my abuser did not ride in on a white horse to carry me away into the sunset. I finally got better when I got up off my knees, wiped the tears off my face, and chose to get to work getting better - for ME. I would love to give you all the tools you need to SAVE YOURSELF! You don't need the knight. You don't need the horse. All you need is here at your fingertips, and you have all the power required to stop being a victim and become a survivor. Trust me, I tried every single trauma treatment under the sun. Below, you'll find info on what these treatments are really like, and what helped me finally heal from extreme narcissitic trauma and (C) PTSD.