There's a particular danger that doesn't get talked about enough in this space. You go to couples therapy. You tell the therapist—or imply it, because saying it out loud in the room feels dangerous—that something here is hurting you.
And then he makes her laugh. And she suggests you try to meet him halfway. And somehow, at the end of the session, the advice you leave with is something you have to do differently.
This is not hypothetical. It happens. Even with therapists who are trauma-informed. Even with therapists who understand narcissistic dynamics. Because he is charming in exactly the settings that matter most. Because the harm happens in private. Because she has seen you for six weeks and does not know what's in your body.
The specific story.
She had been sexually coerced in her marriage—not by force, but by the specific, ongoing pressure of guilt-tripping, sulking, and making her feel that her no was a failure of the marriage. She went to her couples therapist—narcissism-aware, trauma-informed—and explained she hadn't wanted to kiss him that day.
The therapist asked whether it hurt the marriage when she refused. Pressed further: how do you think that made him feel? And ultimately suggested that sometimes she didn't want to hold her own partner's hand—but she did it anyway.
Explain to me why I need to experience violation and discomfort so that he feels better, in service of the marriage. Isn't that what all self-abandoning people do? They sacrifice what they want and need so that somebody else can feel safe and loved and comfortable.
She rejected the advice. Out loud. To the therapist's face. Six hours later, she asked him if he wanted to hold her hand on the way to dinner—because she wanted to. Because her no had been real, so the yes could be real too.
The call to authority is strong.
Professionals carry weight. They have training you don't have. The credibility of their credentials. When a therapist tells you something, you want to trust it—because trusting an external authority is what you've been trained to do when your own sense of what's right feels unreliable.
But a therapist who has seen you for six weeks does not know what's in your body. She has not been in the room. She has not felt what it costs you to override what you feel in small, defined-by-whom moments. She's meeting you right now, in this new version. She didn't see what happened when you abandoned yourself in exactly the small ways she's now suggesting.
Every piece of advice is a seed.
You get to choose which seeds you plant. Not every piece of advice from a professional or a support group deserves to take root. Some of it is useful. Some of it—like 'just kiss him hello, it's good for the marriage'—is actively harmful, because it asks you to override the signal your body has been trying to send you for years.
The call to override what you feel in your body, to make yourself smaller in service of someone else's comfort—that call has a long history in your life. You know how it ends.
If it doesn't feel good, don't do it. No matter who tells you you should. Your discomfort is information. No credential overrides it.
You are the final authority.
Not him. Not your therapist. Not the support group. Not this post. You were in the room. You live inside your body. You know what your no costs you when you don't hold it. Trust that. Especially when someone else—even someone well-meaning—is telling you not to.
Do not outsource your authority. You are your authority.
