Why the Empath and the Narcissist Were Best Friends
(Emphasis on “were”)— A post Venus Retrograde Reflection.
When Light Meets Shadow
I’ve always been someone who looks for the silver lining. And not just in a surface-level kind of way—I really do believe that life is always offering us something, even in the thick of pain. But what I’ve become more aware of, especially after navigating the heartbreak of losing a friendship I once thought would last forever, is that not everyone is ready—or even wants—to hear about silver linings when they’re sitting in the dark.
And to be honest, I haven’t wanted to hear it either.
The Pattern Finds Me Again
This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself caught up in what you might call a narcissistic entanglement, and this one hit hard. Maybe because it was a “best friend”. Maybe because I loved her like a sister. Or maybe because, deep down, I was still carrying an old wound that made me think it was my job to hold space for both of us.
I Vanished Again
I’ve called myself an empath for a long time. And while it’s something I’ve often worn as a badge of honour, lately I’ve been unpacking what that really means (for me). Being an empath isn’t just about feeling deeply—it can also mean losing yourself entirely in someone else’s experience. It can mean forgetting your own needs. It can mean being so tuned into the feelings of others that you forget you’re even allowed to have boundaries.
The Mirror of Trauma
So, the dynamic between me and my ex-best friend? It makes so much sense now.
I read something recently that stopped me in my tracks. It said that empaths and narcissists often come from the same root trauma. (I’m paraphrasing). The difference is in how we respond to it.
The narcissist copes by completely disconnecting. They cut off from their emotions, from vulnerability, from being truly seen. That dissociation becomes their safety.
The empath, on the other hand, does the exact opposite. We fuse. We over-feel. We get so close to others’ emotional landscapes that we forget we have our own. Our own sense of self never really gets built, because we’re too busy absorbing and adapting.
She Wasn’t the Villain— And I Wasn’t the Savior
Reading that, something clicked. Something deep. I saw myself clearly, and I saw her too—not as the villain in my story anymore, but as someone who, just like me, was doing her best to survive in the only way she knew how.
Now, that doesn’t mean what happened didn’t hurt. It did. It still does.
And, I am definitely not advocating for narcissists, just to be clear.
It’s just that the healing only really began when I finally started placing all my love and focus back onto myself.
It left me broken-hearted in a way I didn’t expect. Not because she left—because honestly, that was always a possibility—but because I had invested so much of my energy, my love, my self into someone who, in the end, just walked away. No closure. No real conversation. Just cut. Discarded.
Although I’ve spent months (maybe years, if I’m being real) trying to understand it, trying to “heal” from it, trying to do the work and grow and trust the process… it still stings. It still hurts sometimes, that she could and continues to let go so easily.
But what did I expect? That’s what she’s good at.
And I? I’m good at feeling things for insurmountable, sometimes inconveniently long, periods of time.
Healing Doesn’t Wear a Watch
I sit in it. I spiral through it. I reflect and re-reflect and reframe until my brain and my heart catch up with each other.
I used to think that made me weak. I used to wish I could just let things go like she did.
But not anymore.
The Medicine in Feeling
As painful as it’s been, I wouldn’t trade this heartbreak.
Not for anything.
Because in losing that friendship, I found pieces of myself I didn’t know were missing.
I saw the parts of me that had never learned to say no. The parts that were scared to take up space. The parts that thought love meant overextending, over-explaining, over-feeling.
And I started learning a new way.
So yeah, the empath and the narcissist were best friends.
Were.
I’ve grieved that. I’ve raged at that. I’ve tried to fix it. I’ve tried to forget it.
But now? I’m finally just learning to let it be what it was.
Because between the one who disconnects to survive and the one who feels to survive, I know which one I’d rather be.
Even when it hurts.
Even when it lingers.
Because the ability to feel—even when it breaks me open—is the very thing that’s helping me rebuild.
And that, right there, is the silver lining I never expected.
Love & Light,
Natasha Xx
About the Author
Natasha Williamson is a multidisciplinary mystic, intuitive guide, astrologer, tarot reader, and founder of Soul Stellar—a soul-centred space rooted in the belief that we are all stellar souls living this human experience, and that there is invaluable wisdom in remembering who we truly are. With a lifelong passion for the mystical, she weaves together ancient wisdoms and diverse modalities to inspire deeper self-love, acceptance, soul resonance, and connection while navigating the complexities of being human.