A Somatic Look at Betrayal Blindness After Narcissistic Abuse

There’s a particular kind of ache that comes from being betrayed by someone you trusted.
Not just anyone—but the one who promised closeness.
The one who seemed to see you.
The one who said all the right things.

Who maybe looked like safety,
spoke like love,
and felt like home...
until they didn’t.

This is where betrayal blindness quietly takes root.

Betrayal blindness isn’t a flaw.
It’s not denial. It’s not weakness.

It’s a kind of protective fog that the body and mind create to preserve connection—especially when the loss of that connection might feel like too much to bear.

The term betrayal blindness was first coined by psychologist Jennifer Freyd. It describes the unconscious survival strategy of not seeing, knowing, or remembering abuse or betrayal—particularly when that betrayal is coming from someone we depend on for love, care, or security.

In her research, Freyd explains:

“Betrayal blindness is the unawareness, not-knowing, and forgetting exhibited by people towards betrayal.”
It often develops when acknowledging the betrayal would threaten a critical relationship—like with a parent, partner, or someone in a position of authority or care (Freyd, 1996).

Betrayal blindness is a product of our attachment system.
We learn love in a power dynamic.

As children, we are small, dependent, soft-skinned.
We reach out with open hands and nervous systems that rely on the ones we bond with to regulate, to reflect us back, to keep us safe.

And when those same hands that hold us also cause harm—or distort the truth—we adapt.

We fold our instincts into silence.
We disconnect from what we know, just to stay close.
We become attuned to the needs of the other, and gradually forget our own.

This pattern doesn’t disappear just because we grow up.

When we’re romantically involved with a narcissist, this same attachment dynamic often resurfaces.

The body may sense red flags—lies, secrecy, shifting stories—but the mind works hard to protect the relationship. You may catch signs of infidelity, sense emotional withdrawal, or notice direct dishonesty, yet explain it away to avoid the pain of seeing clearly. The nervous system prioritizes survival, not truth, and staying connected can feel safer than facing betrayal. So your instincts go quiet, and the signs blur—not because you were weak, but because your system was trying to keep you safe.

And even now, you might feel torn—longing for truth, but also afraid of what seeing it might mean.

There’s no shame in that.
Your body is wise.

This isn’t about blaming yourself.
This is about beginning to see—with compassion.
To honor how deeply your body has protected you…
and how gently it may now want to let go.

EMDR for Narcissistic Abuse Recovery

If you’re beginning to see what was once hidden—if the fog is lifting and your body is remembering—know that you don’t have to do this alone.

EMDR therapy offers a safe, structured way to gently process what happened… without having to relive it.

It honors your nervous system.
It respects your pace.
It helps you reclaim clarity, restore self-trust, and feel safe in your own body again.

You may begin to feel more grounded.
You may notice the confusion loosening.
You may finally come home to yourself.

If your body is whispering that it’s time…
I’m here when you’re ready.