3 Things Narcissists Don't Want You to Know

By Hally Rhiannon-Nammu

When you come out of a narcissistic relationship, you are in pieces. Your mind is fighting you and the addiction to return to the relationship is overwhelming. There is another way, another choice. From victim to survivor, there is a better place to get to. This book helps you explore 3 areas to gain awareness and develop tools to help you. The book explores what you have been through and re-enforces you are not alone; that you are worth the healing journey to the amazing person you know you are.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hally Rhiannon-Nammu
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005560645

Hally Rhiannon-Nammu

Hally Rhiannon-Nammu is an author and a subject-matter expert. With over 15 years running her own business, over 16,000 client contact hours and countless qualifications, Hally has been featured across the world for her work and knowledge. An author of 10 books, 4 book collaborations, numerous articles, Hally shares her passion with you by continuing to make a difference and helping many her way.

Book preview

COVER_-_3_Things_Narcissists_Don’t_Want_You_to_Know.jpg

In dedication to my two girls, Tusharn and Dolya, who passed away last year. They were the strength, when I had none and they were the hope, when it had been lost.

Always and forever in my heart.

Contents

Out of Domestic Prison

Introduction

What is a Narcissist?

The Hard Truths

The Fun Part…

How did You End up Here (Sophie’s story)

What Happens Now

What’s next for you? Want more? Need more?

Narcissist Rehab

Testimonials

About the Author

Bonus Material

Contact Hally

Out of Domestic Prison

Have a Listen to the Audio

"To recall the experience with the last narcissist that almost destroyed my life, me and all that I cared about, is like taking a sharp knife and stabbing myself repeatedly in the heart and stomach.

Yet, it is there, every day, in every hour… or so it used to be, in the early days, when I left. It was unrelenting, non-stop, all encompassing and overwhelming…it used to be, but not anymore.

I had my first experience with narcissists when I grew up with one that was malicious, abusive, controlling, a pathological liar and constantly used humiliation in all forms - physically, emotionally, intellectually and mentally. This happened to be my adoptive mother, a fact I was unaware of at the time. (Consequently, years later discovering that my whole identity was based on lies).

Fast forward to several failed relationships with repeating patterns, I conceded to marrying one that I met in the job I worked. At that time in my life all was collapsing. I was grieving the loss of my dog, my best friend leaving, losing a job that was my dream job and happened to consume 80 hours in my week. Then add on top, I had no idea who I was.

He had the charismatic charm of a snake on heat and yet, I didn’t notice. I didn’t see the neon flashing red flags. It was what I believed was my normal. It was what I knew, what I was used to and I thought this was how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to marry and settle down and this person seemed appropriate, despite the myriad of warnings.

All the while there was a nagging in me, a feeling that all of it was wrong. Yet, it was just a whisper and over time it became even less.

Then one day, some ten years later, in the haze of fading into the abusive arguments, no longer recognising myself in the mirror, finding myself alone in a room of drug dealers, prostitutes and his friends. In all of these repeated parties, I woke up to where the pain, the excruciating pain, that sits in the bones, runs through the veins and causes the silent tears to fall, invisible to all. I thought I was going to die from the intensity of it.

However, this time, amongst these layers, I heard a voice within me, one I did not recognise. It provided a strength I thought had been consumed with all else. It did not whisper, though it did not yell. It had a familiarity of a time long forgotten and it stayed there, reminding me I had two choices.

One I knew would see my end, and the other, the one I selected, was to leave knowing that if I didn’t the other would not be far off.

I was petrified, less than a shell of who I was, focused on keeping the ridiculous amount of anxiety from overflowing into a permanent panic attack. To describe these last weeks before I left words do little justice in wondering if I would make it out, in one piece.

Then the morning came. It came fast, hard and beyond intense. I took it second by second, doing whatever I could, saying whatever I could to ensure the successful escape of me, my girls and my piano. The rest of my belongings would be a bonus if I could take that too.

Then, just like that, after five gruelling hours I was out; having felt every solitary second as though they were hours in themselves. But I