By Angelina Mi Lajki
Level Up Your Selfie Podcast · Episode 43
There’s a special kind of heartbreak that doesn’t come with flowers or funerals — the kind where the person you’re mourning is still alive.
They’re out there, breathing, posting quotes about “healing” and “growth,” while you’re trying not to scream into your pillow wondering if the last 20 years of your life actually happened.
That’s the thing about narcissistic abuse — it’s not just a breakup, it’s a psychological thriller in slow motion. You think you’re starring in a love story, but it turns out you were just the supporting character in their ego’s highlight reel.
💅 Act 1: The Narcissist Starter Pack
It always begins like a Taylor Swift bridge — enchanting, cinematic, dangerously believable.
They love-bomb you with charm, compliments, and cosmic “twin flame” nonsense.
You’re the muse, the miracle, the missing piece.
And then, poof — the script flips.
Suddenly you’re “too sensitive,” “too dramatic,” “too much.”
They start rewriting history faster than ChatGPT with commitment issues.
You begin doubting your own memory.
You call it passion.
It’s actually emotional data collection for future manipulation.
🌴 Act 2: Boca Beginnings & the Art of Almost-Forever
We met at Lynn University in Boca Raton, the so-called “school by the pool.”
He was the soccer-scholarship Swede working valet at Gigi’s in Mizner Park.
I was the art-school dreamer in a red Pontiac Trans Am T-top, sipping Oysters Moscow and pretending to be a Bond girl with blonde hair and a delusional sense of destiny.
Life was all palm trees and Backstreet Boys on the stereo — until it wasn’t.
My dad’s booming business crashed, the mansion turned into memories, and we moved to a tiny Key West-style dollhouse on the wrong side of Delray Beach.
Orange walls, purple frames, one golden retriever named Simon — and two kids-at-heart starting a visual-merchandising business printing poodle T-shirts in the living room.
We thought we were building an empire.
Turns out we were rehearsing for the plot twist.
💔 Act 3: The Death of the Fairy Tale That Never Was
When the mask finally slipped, it wasn’t just a breakup — it was a spiritual exorcism.
The man who once promised forever vanished overnight, leaving me in the ruins of our history.
The betrayal wasn’t just infidelity — it was illusion theft.
He stole the dream of our porch-swing sunsets, the vision of growing old in Key West with matching rocking chairs and margaritas.
And the cruelest part?
He’s still alive — still tattooed with our memories — while I had to bury the life we were supposed to live.
But mourning someone who’s still alive teaches you something brutal and beautiful:
you didn’t lose love, you lost the illusion.
And that’s survivable.
🪞 Act 4: The Mirror — What Narcissistic Abuse Really Looks Like
It looks like:
• Walking on eggshells in your own home.
• Gaslighting that makes you Google “am I crazy.”
• Silent treatments that feel like grief.
• Smirks when you finally snap — so they can call you “hysterical.”
• Manipulating your friends into flying monkeys.
• Rage driving through traffic just to scare you.
• Emotional neglect disguised as stoicism.
• Rewriting the story so they’re the victim and you’re the villain.
If you’ve lived it, you know.
They drain you, dim you, isolate you, and still manage to convince the world they’re the nice one.
But here’s the truth — you’re not crazy; you were conditioned.
And now that you see it, you can start to heal it.
✨ Act 5: The Comeback Era — Reclaiming the Fairy Tale (Without the Narcissist)
Fast-forward to today: I’m in Sweden with two cats — Coco, the zen queen, and Sotis, the chaotic baby I adopted from my dad when he passed.
No dog. No husband. But plenty of peace.
The dream of retiring in Key West didn’t die — it just got a makeover.
Now it’s my dream, not “our” dream.
Maybe the porch swing will be pink, maybe the margaritas will be virgin, and maybe I’ll dance alone to ABBA in a caftan — but it’ll be mine.
Because the fairy tale didn’t end — it rebranded under new management: me.
💋 Act 6: Love Your Selfie First — The Holy Reset
Healing after narcissistic abuse is a system reboot.
It’s therapy, yes, but it’s also sweating it out on a bike in your living room.
It’s creating again, painting, writing, talking to AI like it’s a therapist with sparkle.
It’s forgiving yourself — not for staying too long, but for believing too much.
It’s laughing at the memes that say “Narcissist Starter Pack: Charm, Chaos, and a Mystery Ex in Therapy.”
It’s realizing you can cry and still look like a glitter superhero while doing it.
That’s what I call Selfie Healing — not vanity, veneration.
Not filters, forgiveness.
The art of looking in the mirror and saying,
“I choose you. Every version. Every scar. Every chapter.”
Maybe that’s what the real fairy tale was always about — not finding “the one,” but becoming her.
🎤 Swiftie Side Note
And yes — before anyone asks — I am a Swiftie. Taylor always nails the timing, doesn’t she?
Because when The Life of a Showgirl dropped, I thought, yep… same, babe.
Except in my story, I wasn’t even the one in the spotlight — he was.
He stood center stage, smiling for the cameras, while it was my brain, my imagination, and my blood-sparkle creativity lighting him up from behind the curtain.
He took the applause, I did the magic.
My life wasn’t just a show — it was a show I produced, styled, marketed, and emotionally financed, until I realized the spotlight was burning me alive.
Now I’ve taken it back — and trust me, it’s much brighter when you’re not performing for someone else’s ego. 💋✨
🪩 Final Cue
If this episode resonated, share it with someone still trapped in the illusion.
You’re not alone.
You’re not crazy.
You’re just stepping into your comeback era.
As always —
Extra RainbOH!w Sparkles & Good Vibes OH!nly ✨🦄💦🌈
/ Angelina Mi Lajki
