Welcome to “Divorcing a Delulu”

A Satirical Survival Guide to Narcissist Nonsense

So... you’ve found yourself here.
Which means one of two things:

1. You’ve survived a relationship with a narcissist and you’re still standing (barely—but fabulously), or

2. You’re Googling “what’s the psychological diagnosis for a man who calls himself a ‘high-value alpha’ but Venmos you $3.72 for child support and calls it generous” — while eating ice cream straight from the tub with a salad fork.

Either way, welcome. You’re home now.

I’m your host, Anna—business coach by day, sarcastic truth-teller by necessity, and full-time target of one man's lifelong fantasy to win a gaslight Olympics.

This blog is NOT legal advice.
It’s not therapy.
It’s not even “self-help” unless your version of help is laughing so hard you almost forget you once shared a toothbrush drawer with a man who believed the fridge was enough financial support for your child.

This blog is a pressure valve release.
A place for those of us who have stared dead in the eyes of delusion, been accused of “emotional instability” while holding screenshots, receipts, and a signed notarized document... and lived to tell the tale.

Who Is This For?

• Anyone co-parenting with a narcissist and wondering if you’re the crazy one (spoiler alert: you’re not).

• Women rebuilding after psychological warfare disguised as “just a breakup.”

• People who understand the term “coercive control” because they’ve lived it—and are DONE being polite about it.

• And yes, those who need to laugh, rage, and reclaim their stories one wildly accurate satirical post at a time.

What You’ll Find Here:

• Fake Emails to My Ex I’ll Never Send: Therapy, but make it petty.

• Courtroom Chronicles: That Time We Took the Circus to Court
  (Spoiler: The clown showed up in a suit and tried to gaslight the judge.)

• Healing Hijinks: Because reclaiming your power should come with a laugh track.

• Survival Lessons: Real talk on trauma, boundaries, and rebuilding your damn empire.

And Now, a Little Truth Serum...

I now realize I grew up with a narcissistic father too.
Explains a lot, doesn’t it?

But it ends here.
It ends with us.

My daughter is not going to see this as normal.
She will not grow up thinking love means confusion, control, and constantly walking on eggshells. Not on my watch.

I’ll be using fake names. And yes—some of what I share will sound fake.
But unfortunately… it’s not.

I’ve heard a lot of crazy ex stories.
Mine is in the top tier of unhinged. Think Netflix docuseries—but without the camera crew (yet).

My mom spent years crying, begging, “being a good girl.”
I only lasted seven years.
I was told I changed.
No, sweetheart—I didn’t change. I just stopped accepting crap. The fake giving. The slow-drip cruelty. The endless manipulation.

He’s someone else’s problem now.
She didn’t want to listen.
She’ll learn.
The hard way.

I was told by his kids I was #15.
There were 14 women who came before me after his divorce.
Fourteen.

I thought I was the lucky one.
So I know exactly what this new girlfriend thinks.

And to her I say:

You are amazing. I already see that. I’m sorry he caught you.
I hope you get out before you forget who you are.

So grab a snack, hide your phone from your ex’s spyware, and let’s do this.

Welcome to the club no one wanted to join.
Now let’s burn it down, one post at a time. 🔥