Why Stillness Feels Dangerous After Divorcing a Narcissist

We have been talking a lot this month about the inward season and what January invites us to do. After the chaos of December and the pressure of navigating family court with a narcissist, many survivors feel the pull to slow down, reflect, and turn inward. In theory that sounds peaceful. In reality, inward does not always feel safe. Stillness can feel unsettling when your life has required constant motion just to survive.

Stillness is supposed to be calming. People romanticize silence, slow mornings, and deep breaths. Yet survivors who are divorcing a narcissist or co parenting with a narcissist know that quiet can feel louder than chaos. Slowing down can feel like stepping into a room where everything you pushed down begins to rise at once. Motion feels protective. Stillness feels risky.

In a recent blog, I talked about being “trauma busy.” It is real. Many of us move fast because slowing down feels unsafe. I used to call it a strong work ethic. Extraordinary. Five stars. My therapist gently informed me it was not a personality trait. It was survival. While it served me through much of my life, it is not a sustainable place for my body to operate.

My life has been filled with trauma since I was an infant. My mom went to a mental institution when I was only six months old. My dad was nineteen when he received custody of me, and truthfully, we grew up together. He did the best he could, but he was not equipped to be a parent at that age. Our home life carried the weight of that reality.

My dad struggled with alcohol addiction. I am grateful that he spent the last twenty five years of his life sober, but the early years took a toll on me. My dad was my hero and he worked through everything. He would go to work with a 104 degree fever because missing a shift was not an option for a single parent. Sitting still was not an option in our home. He was always moving, fixing something, building something, solving something. I grew up believing that constant motion was something to aspire to.

Lazy was not an option. Resting felt like weakness. The older I got, the more I understood that it was not that he loved pushing himself to the edge. It was that he had no choice. Survival required movement.

So when I entered my own custody battle with a narcissist and had to represent myself because of financial abuse, I did what I had been taught. I upped my coffee intake (quad shot plus one, please), put my head down, and rolled up my sleeves. At one point I was a single parent working three jobs while trying to survive a high conflict custody battle. My dad’s voice echoed in my head: “It is what we do.” It was familiar. It was safe.

Stillness was not.

To say I struggled with slowing down is a great understatement. Stillness felt like a loss of control. The moment I stopped moving, everything I worked so hard to outrun rushed in at once. Silence created space, and space revealed memories and fears I had spent years managing through motion.

When you live through trauma, chaos becomes familiar. Constant motion feels safe because it keeps the harder truths at bay. Stillness feels threatening because it removes that buffer. This is especially true when you are divorcing a narcissist or recovering from post separation abuse. Chaos is predictable. Quiet is not. Quiet asks you to face what survival required you to bury.

January brings an uncomfortable kind of quiet. The court slows down. The holidays end. The crisis moments pause. Suddenly there is space, and that space can feel alarming. Many survivors become anxious when things are quiet. Silence does not feel like rest. Silence feels like plotting. We become conditioned to expect an attack or a filing the moment things calm down. Hyper awareness becomes a survival skill, even when it exhausts us.

This discomfort does not mean something is wrong with you. It means your body has been trained to scan for danger because danger has been real. Part of the inward season is gently retraining your mind to recognize what is in your control and what is not. Noticing the fear without letting it lead. Acknowledging your vigilance without living inside it.

Stillness invites truth to rise, not to harm you but to support healing. It can feel like walking into a dark room without knowing where the light switch is. Not everyone likes the inward season. I certainly did not. Yet winter teaches what motion cannot. Stillness reveals what has been ignored. Stillness brings clarity. Stillness reconnects you with the parts of yourself that have been forgotten.

You do not need to love stillness. You do not need to become a calm, reflective person overnight. You simply need to notice what rises when everything else stops and meet yourself with compassion. Healing after divorcing a narcissist is not found in rushing. It is found in presence.

Stillness is not a threat. It is an invitation.

The fine print:

I am not an attorney and I am not qualified to provide legal advice. Everything I share is based on personal experience and over a decade of work supporting others through high conflict custody battles. It is essential to consult with your attorney before making any legal decisions or implementing strategies discussed here. Your attorney is your legal voice and your advocate in the courtroom. They can help you understand the law in your jurisdiction, evaluate potential risks, and determine the best approach for your unique situation.

About me:

My name is Tina Swithin. I am a survivor, a mom, and someone who understands this battle firsthand. I acted as my own attorney and successfully protected my children in a system that I can only describe as inhumane. I am also a blogger, a certified divorce coach, a best selling author, and a fierce advocate for reform in the family court system. I divorced a narcissist and I prevailed. You can read more about me here. If you'd like to know my full story, you can read: Divorcing a Narcissist: One Mom’s Battle.