Even a Stopped Clock Is Right Twice a Day

Or, another paradox of healing from narcissistic abuse.

In the early days of my healing, I wanted to reject everything, and I mean everything, the narcissist touched in any way. Physically, the thrift shop run by our local animal shelter got every gift he gave me. Mentally, I went through a long and somewhat painful untangling of the lies, nonsense, and ugly things he said while we were together.

As my nervous system recovered and my own “snow globe” settled, more and more realizations hit me. For example, about a year after leaving, I recall pondering how on earth he had achieved the professional success he talked about, given his lack of education and training for the roles he was in. And all of a sudden it hit me that all I knew was that he said he did these things but I had no actual proof. I had accepted his stories all along and never questioned if they were true.

As I had more of these realizations, I saw that I didn’t have to sign up for his version of reality, and this was liberating. I could and did question everything he believed, from his convoluted personal history to the overly forceful way he insisted on training our dog. And I started to look more critically at some the “wisdom” he imparted, finally seeing it for the shallow, pat, grandiose nonsense it was.

Everything having to do with him was now filed in the “the narcissistic ex was an idiot” drawer in my brain. If he said it, did it, advised it, or thought it, it was obviously wrong

But lately I have found myself being more willing to allow that there may have been some small — and, dear reader, I do honestly mean small — ways he had valid opinions or insight. For example, he was a big believer in the power of dreams and, while he used a very shallow pool of knowledge to promote himself as a wise and talented healer, he wasn’t totally wrong. I do find that my dreams can sometimes have interesting and useful messages.

He was also fascinated by many areas of human development that overlap mine. Ironically, while he would consistently devalue my own focus on neuroscience, he often would end up reading about the topic himself, occasionally bringing up interesting and even useful tidbits. I ended up reading a couple of books based on his recommendations.

And so, as I heal, I find I have more room to allow some paradox here. I like the metaphor of a stopped clock being right twice a day, in that the ex doesn’t have to be wrong about every single thing. However — and here is part of the power of the metaphor — the clock may be right occasionally, but it’s not reliable. And neither is a narcissist.

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Previously Published on But Now I know Your Name

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