# Unmasking the Illusion: My Journey of Survival

Looking back, I can pinpoint the exact moment when Arletta's true nature became clear. It wasn't during one of our dramatic arguments or a moment of betrayal—it was in a text conversation where she finally dropped her mask completely. "I am not here to soothe you in any shape, way, or form," she declared, wrapping her emotional unavailability in pseudo-spiritual language about "vibrating higher." That conversation would become the catalyst for my understanding of how a covert narcissist with dismissive avoidant attachment operates—wielding spiritual concepts as weapons and using emotional distance as a form of control.

I didn't know then what I know now about the toxic combination of covert narcissism and dismissive avoidant attachment—how they create a perfect storm of emotional manipulation and neglect. Arletta was a master at presenting herself as enlightened and self-aware, while systematically dismantling any genuine connection or emotional intimacy.

The love-bombing phase was subtle but effective. She studied me like a textbook, learning my dreams, fears, and insecurities. But unlike typical narcissistic love-bombing, hers came with built-in distance—just enough attention to keep me hooked, but never enough to form a real connection. Every gesture was calculated, creating a push-pull dynamic that kept me constantly off-balance.

As the months passed, the subtle undermining began. She had a way of making her emotional unavailability seem like spiritual wisdom. "You want something from me that you can only find within," she would say, twisting self-help language into a weapon of abandonment. Each time I reached for connection, she would reframe it as neediness or dependency. Her dismissiveness was always wrapped in a veneer of spiritual growth, making it impossible to challenge without seeming "less evolved."

The gaslighting was particularly insidious because it played on my desire for growth and self-improvement. When I would point out her pattern of emotional abandonment, she would respond with phrases like "That's not true. You want something from me that you can only find within." She positioned herself as wise and enlightened, while painting my basic human need for connection as a spiritual failing.

Her carefully crafted image as a conscious, evolved person began to crack under the weight of contradictions. In one revealing exchange, she claimed to support "vibrating higher" while simultaneously admitting she had never encouraged or complemented any positive changes in my life. When confronted with this disconnect, she would either withdraw completely or respond with vague spiritual platitudes.

The turning point came during that final text conversation, where the pattern became crystal clear. Her words revealed the truth: "That contract/cycle has been broken." There had never been a contract of mutual support—she had been emotionally unavailable from the beginning, using spiritual bypassing to justify her inability to form genuine connections.

My healing began when I started documenting our interactions, particularly our text conversations. The patterns were undeniable: her consistent emotional withdrawal, the way she weaponized spiritual concepts, how she would reframe every request for basic human connection as neediness. "Humans get prioritized, make plans together, work together, listen to each other," I finally told her, naming the basic elements of connection she had never been able to provide.

Breaking free required recognizing that her behavior wasn't about spiritual evolution—it was about emotional unavailability masked as wisdom. The more I reclaimed my right to basic human connection, the more her mask slipped, revealing the fragility beneath her enlightened facade. Her final response—"RESPECTFULLY move around"—showed how quickly her spiritual persona crumbled when her avoidance tactics were named.

Recovery has been a journey of rediscovering what genuine connection looks like. I've learned to trust my instincts again, to recognize the difference between actual spiritual growth and spiritual bypassing used as a manipulation tactic. The experience taught me that strength isn't about denying our need for connection—it's about honoring it while maintaining healthy boundaries.

Today, I understand that Arletta's behavior wasn't about spiritual enlightenment—it was about her deep-seated fear of genuine intimacy, masked by narcissistic grandiosity and spiritual terminology. My desire for authentic connection, which she once framed as a weakness, has become my strength. It helps me form genuine relationships based on mutual respect and emotional availability.

The red flags I ignored are now glaring warning signs: the use of spiritual concepts to justify emotional unavailability, the consistent pattern of withdrawal, the reframing of basic human needs as character flaws, the inability to provide genuine support or celebration of others' growth. But more importantly, I've learned that seeking connection and support isn't neediness—it's a fundamental part of being human.

This isn't just a story of surviving a covert narcissist—it's a testament to reclaiming the right to authentic connection and emotional intimacy. While Arletta taught me the hardest lessons of my life through her absence and avoidance, she also inadvertently taught me the most valuable one: true spiritual growth enhances our capacity for connection, it doesn't diminish it.