Wired for War: The Dark Frequency of Narcissism

The holy return to your own voice

This essay was first shared in Uncaged. It’s about the dark frequency of narcissism, the grief of realizing what love never was, and the holy return to your own voice. If you’ve ever felt that quiet shift in the room — this is for you.

The war was never mine.

But the battlefield still lived in my body.

War doesn’t always end when medals are hung. Sometimes its echoes remain—not in the headlines, but in the quiet rooms, in the way love is given, and in the way safety is withheld.

I began to realize that the battles we inherit are not always fought on foreign soil. Some are fought in our homes, in our bodies, in the unspoken rules that shape how we are seen—and how we are silenced.

Shadows of Strength

Lately, I’ve been caring for a man I love deeply.

A man who once carried a rosary in one hand and a gun in the other.

A literal war hero. Strong. Revered. Unshakable.

But even strength casts shadows.

Dementia has its own distortion. It blurs memory, bends reality, and leaves you standing in front of someone who is here—but not fully.

What I saw in him began to echo in other places—in faces and rooms that had nothing to do with dementia, yet carried the same energetic shift.

The Mask of Narcissism

We hesitate to speak the word narcissism because it breaks the spell.

It pulls the mask from the performance and exposes the wound beneath.

But unspoken truths don’t heal—they fester. Speaking them is how we return to ourselves.

Sometimes what frightens us isn’t the loss. It’s the exposure.

Not just in an aging parent, but in the relationships that shaped us. The home that raised us. The history that formed us. The love that should have kept us safe.

The Body Always Knows

There’s a moment you don’t forget. Not because of what was said—but because of what changed.

The air turns cold. The room shifts. The face you knew distorts. A shadow passes over them, and for a split second you’re staring at something older, darker, more possessed by pain than guided by love. Even the voice changes—dropping into a register that doesn’t belong to the person you thought you knew.

And in that instant, your body knows—this is not who you thought you were speaking to.

You weren’t seeing anger. You were seeing a trauma protector take the wheel.

As Ruby Fremon reminds us, narcissism is not born of evil—it is born of pain.

In that moment, what rose wasn’t them. It was the version they built to survive.

Compassion Without Boundaries Is Self-Betrayal

Dr. Ramani Durvasula, author of It’s Not You, calls narcissism a survival strategy arrested in time, born of unhealed shame, emotional neglect, and the inability to self-regulate.

Even when born of pain, it can still cause harm. Real harm.

Here lies the paradox: narcissism isn’t born from malice. It’s born from disconnection. A child who learned that vulnerability was dangerous built armor—control, charm, dominance—to feel safe.

Knowing that may stir compassion. But compassion does not mean proximity.

You can honor the wound without offering yourself up to be wounded again.

Because compassion without boundaries is self-betrayal.

Yes, as Deepak Choprahttps://www.deepakchopra.com/ says: “The ego is not evil. It is simply unaware." But awareness does not erase impact.

Unconscious harm is still harm.

Returning to Your Voice

This is not about vilifying the narcissist.

It is about protecting the empath.

It’s about the holy space between discernment and judgment.

Awareness and reaction.

You don’t need a diagnosis to walk away.

You don’t need a label to trust yourself.

You don’t need proof to protect your peace.

Protecting yourself often begins with grieving what never truly existed. And that grief is not weakness—it is the gateway to your power.

Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. That clarity will cost you. But it will also set you free.

You stop explaining. You stop contorting. You stop betraying yourself for someone who was never listening.

And in that quiet, something rises—not rage, but return.

Return to your voice.

Return to your wholeness.

Return to the sovereign truth that was never lost—only silenced.

✦ A Soft Invitation

Where have you mistaken silence for safety?

Where have you confused control with care?

What would it mean today to trust the part of you that already knows?

✦ A Release Ritual

If you feel ready, try this tonight:

• Light a single candle. Let it be your witness.

• Write down one truth you have been afraid to speak.

• Place your hand over your heart and read it aloud. Whisper it if you must.

• Burn the page in a fire-safe bowl. Watch as the smoke rises and imagine the attachment lifting away.

Close with a blessing:

I release the war that was never mine.

I return to the voice that was always me.

I walk forward in clarity, in peace, in truth.

With love and light, always,

~ Regina

✦ Read Next

If this piece spoke to you, you may also find resonance in:

➡️ The Hidden Weight We Carry — a letter on the invisible burdens that live in the body and the truths silence leaves behind.

✨ This way:

Every story spoken becomes lighter for all of us.

If something in you stirred while reading, leave a note — your words might be the ones another reader needs today.

This essay first appeared in Uncaged, my Substack community. For companion pieces, reflections, and practices, subscribe here.