𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑.
I have to admit something upfront: most of the men I dated in my life were objectively attractive. The kind of men who made my friends go suspiciously quiet for a moment — you know, that silence where everyone pretends they’re not suddenly damp. Men who could cook, present themselves well in public, and look as if they’d just stepped out of a catalogue. Even my ex from Siberia — a man carved from ice and family values — was handsome, warm, and domestically talented. And yet, they all shared one common trait: relationship capability. Except for Dennis, whose undying love for his mother eventually became a third person in the relationship — and not even the fun kind — the rest were, in their own special ways, obsessively jealous. And here’s the joke: I’ve never cheated in my life. Not because I couldn’t. Because I simply can’t be bothered. Adultery requires logistics, timing, emotional bandwidth — all things I refuse to allocate. Still, these men insisted that their emotional abuse was justified because I “must have been cheating.” It’s fascinating how creative insecure men become when they need a narrative to excuse bad behaviour. So then, in a moment of cosmic boredom, I decided to date Darek. Later, I learned the term for this choice: Shrecking — dating someone so unattractive they resemble a Teletubby that has been pressed from above like a defective toy. And that’s how I met my narcissist. The deeper I researched narcissism — because my autistic brain absolutely demanded a full operational analysis of the disaster I had walked into — the more often I stumbled across the term Shrecking Dating. And unfortunately, my bank account seems to have gone through the same educational journey.
Because instead of learning from the Qur’an — as any respectable Muslim bank account should — mine apparently learned exclusively from social media trends. Which might explain why it is now involved in a toxic relationship with my medical bills and the inflation rate. When I first showed Darek’s photo to two of my friends, something remarkable happened:
absolutely nothing moved in their faces.
No raised eyebrow.
No polite nod.
Not even the kind of tight-lipped smile women use when they’re trying to be supportive while mentally screaming “Girl… why?” And honestly, I couldn’t blame them. My own facial muscles didn’t move either.
You look at a man like that and you genuinely wonder how women manage to sleep with someone they don’t find physically attractive. Men could never.
Or at least — most men couldn’t. Their egos would simply combust. But fine, I told myself, this was about inner values. God help me. Every time I hear that phrase, I have a very specific meme in my head — you know the one — that woman half-shouting in a Berlin accent:
“Es jeht um die innern Werte!!”
It echoes in my brain like a badly tuned church bell. I swear I should just make a Canva graphic of it and attach it to this article. It would save me paragraphs of explaining. I picked him — as I’ve said before — largely because of his job and what I thought came with it.
He was supposed to bring calm.
Provide stability.
Take the lead like an adult man who knows what he’s doing. Instead, I ended up with the emotional body of a three-year-old packaged inside a 55-year-old man with narcissistic tendencies.
A whole circus of broken-bone stories, constant shouting, disordered eating, and a list of health issues longer than a Warsaw pharmacy receipt. I’m the opposite. When I’m stressed, I forget to eat.
My friends from Israel kept warning me, “You would never survive a war.”
And I kept thinking, why not?
Unlike you lot, I don’t need food when I’m under pressure. I can function perfectly fine without eating — four, sometimes five days.
So honestly? A war might even work in my favour.
(Only joking. Mostly.) But of course, I’m safe. There is no war. Yet. Although every time I look at Polish politics, I do wonder how long that will last. But that’s a different article. So there I sat, doom-scrolling through Instagram, being told that a narcissist “only affects your psyche.”
And all I could think was: if only.
Your psyche is the least of your problems after a narcissist.
Your finances? Pocket change.
Your health? That’s where the real damage sits.
And because we love to avoid talking about it — or we’re simply ashamed — people forget this one truth:
Your health is the first thing to collapse after a narcissistic relationship.
We talked about the dental fallout last time. And since we’re already in the territory of body maintenance, let’s move to the face. The skin. The largest organ in human body or at least that’s what the biology textbooks claim. Although honestly, who still trusts biology textbooks? Once you hit 30, you wake up with body parts no textbook ever listed.😉
In my case, my skin went Sahara-dry.
It itched like hell. It took two full weeks after blocking my ex — everywhere, digitally and spiritually — for my skin to finally understand that we were no longer in danger. Still, one half of my face is fighting for its life, clinging to dryness as if it’s some sort of identity. And since December is my annual “full system check” month, I thought: fine, this year I’m going to a dermatologist. The woman was lovely, extremely kind, very professional. She took one look at my skin and immediately prescribed blood tests. And me in peak hyper-motivated mode encouraged her to add “just two more things” to the list. So I walked out with half an A4 page in microscopic font, detailing everything that apparently needs to be analysed to figure out why half my face has decided to turn red for sport. On top of that I got a cream, a “just in case” hair treatment, and the classic line every dermatologist seems trained to recite:
“It will sting a bit at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
Right. The same sentence you hear after leaving a toxic relationship. It stings at first, but you’ll get used to it. Because humans adapt to anything — at least that’s what the older generation in Poland loves to say while changing absolutely nothing about the state of the country. Anyway — that was my case.
Of course, she asked about my diet. I explained – quite proudly, actually – that I take B12 because I’m vegan or vegetarian, depending on the week. I take prenatal multivitamins too, because frankly they work best after long periods of stress or when I’m crawling out of a depressive slump. I take Vitamin D in the afternoon, as recommended, preferably with something containing fat. And in the evening I take magnesium citrate so I can sleep without negotiating with my own nervous system. She looked at me, smiled, and said, “Hmm, that’s interesting.”
And I thought, Here we go.
“What’s interesting?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, “your skin is very clear. Most people don’t tolerate B12 that well, especially in the morning. They tend to break out.” I stared at her. As if that was supposed to be common knowledge. I’d always assumed skin problems were more of a deficiency thing. Apparently not. So yes, I’d clearly miscalculated. And for whatever bizarre reason, whenever someone mentions spots or B12, my brain drifts off into some old, half-remembered medical trivia. Don’t ask me why – it doesn’t add value and isn’t helpful, so we’ll park it and move on.
Obviously, I’m not the only one whose skin collapsed under continuous emotional fire. We love talking about Cortisol Face online, as if the internet has run out of better illusions to sell. But what actually is Cortisol Face? Where does this nonsense come from? And why does it always seem to hit women who’ve already been through enough? Ah, Cortisol Face — Instagram made me do it. Seriously, the first time I ever heard of it was scrolling through endless “skin glow” tutorials while someone’s ex was texting them for the 50th time that week. Social media, in its infinite wisdom, decided to name the emotional fallout of dating a narcissist something aesthetic, something visually punishable: Cortisol Face. Which, in case you’re wondering, isn’t taught in schools. Biology class never said: “Beware, your toxic ex might give you a red patch on your cheek that screams regret.”
So what actually is Cortisol Face? Cortisol itself is a hormone produced by the adrenal glands — those little powerhouses perched like tiny crowns on top of your kidneys. Its job? Keep you alive. Alert you. Fuel your energy reserves. Basically, it’s the internal alarm system. When everything is fine, it spikes in the morning and during actual emergencies, giving you the caffeine-level energy your body needs to survive. But date a narcissist, live under constant stress, and suddenly your internal alarm system is stuck on panic, leaving your skin looking like it’s auditioning for a “stress map of Europe.”
Cortisol is not a nutrition problem — at least not primarily. It doesn’t care about kale, vitamin D, or organic green smoothies. It’s a stress response. Your body thinks it’s fighting a fire, a war, an apocalypse. What does your skin do? It rebels. Redness, inflammation, dryness, breakouts, under-eye darkness — it’s all the body’s way of showing: “Nope, I am not okay, and you should probably reconsider your life choices.” And yes, this is why it looks aesthetically unappealing. It’s nature’s version of a strongly worded Instagram DM from your own biology.
Some people call it “Pillow Face,” others “Mouth Face,” depending on where the inflammation and fluid retention accumulate. Same root cause, different manifestation. Chronic stress, poor sleep, hormonal imbalance, and yes, sometimes diet can exacerbate it — but the star of the show is always cortisol. The more your body is under prolonged emotional attack, the more it will express itself on the skin. That’s why your half-dried, angry-looking cheeks are basically screaming: “Thanks for the narcissist, mate.” And why do we only learn about it on social media? Because apparently, schools are too busy teaching us trigonometry instead of giving practical advice like: “If your partner gaslights you for months, your skin might hate you.” Instagram called it a trend; I call it reality, science, and a little bit of poetic justice. I keep wondering: is Moon-Face really the same as Pillow-Face, or is it just another way cortisol has decided to play dress-up on your cheeks for social media? Because, honestly, Instagram loves giving your endocrine system an identity crisis. Let’s unpack this, shall we.
Moon-Face is what happens when prolonged stress and high cortisol levels cause fat redistribution around your cheeks and jawline. Your face can literally look puffier, more rounded, sometimes almost ballooned — like the physical embodiment of anxiety lounging on your face. It’s the classic cortisol effect, nothing fancy, just biology with a flair for drama.
Pillow-Face, on the other hand, has been hijacked by social media culture to describe a very specific phenomenon. This term originally referred to women over-injecting dermal fillers — think excessive hyaluronic acid or whatever the latest lip-and-cheek filler craze is — to the point where the natural contours of the face are lost. Basically, the face becomes static, swollen, almost toy-like, and yes, the person can barely move their lips properly. So no, it’s not the same as Moon-Face; it’s artificial, cosmetic, and entirely avoidable — unlike cortisol’s own chaotic makeover.
And while we’re here, let’s talk skin barrier. Chronic stress doesn’t just puff up your cheeks; it weakens your skin’s natural defenses. That means your epidermis, normally a resilient shield against bacteria and inflammation, starts to crack. Redness, rashes, acne — all first-line warnings. But stress can also cause color shifts over time: hyperpigmentation shows up as darker spots, persistent redness, or sometimes paler, almost translucent patches. Your skin may thin, lose elasticity, and the uniformity you took for granted slowly disappears. Hair isn’t innocent either. Stress can trigger excessive shedding, thinning, or even brittle, lifeless strands. Between hair fallout, patchy skin, and facial puffing, your body is basically waving a neon sign that says: “You’ve been running in high alert for far too long.” So yes, Moon-Face, Pillow-Face, acne, redness, thinning hair, hyperpigmentation — these are all messages, not Instagram aesthetics. Ignore them at your own peril, but do remember: unlike social media trends, your body doesn’t lie.
𝚂𝚘, 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢:
First of all, your skin needs time. Lots of it. Don’t expect miracles overnight. Give it patience, love, and a little forgiveness for all the nonsense it has endured.
𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗, 𝚙𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕. 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙶𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍. 𝙴𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.
Back to what I actually learned today: every treatment, every effort to bring your skin and body back to health takes time. Passion helps. Scalp massages, hair-ball massages — they’re actually useful. But never forget: healthy food is non-negotiable. You can’t just take a hundred supplements and then eat nothing but plain meat with tomatoes. No salt, no pepper, no herbs. Sure, you’ll survive. But your skin? Not so much. Funny thing when you switch to real, healthy food, your body might throw a tantrum at first. That’s normal. It doesn’t know better yet. Take baby steps. Slowly add fruits, vegetables, healthy fats. Your skin and your body will thank you. And yes, for those curious: coconut water? Fine. Hydrating, refreshing, and it seems to calm skin a little. Herbs like chamomile or nettle tea can help reduce inflammation and stress reactions. That’s optional, but pleasant. I’m not writing a beauty blog, but if you want, I can share my post-stress skin routine in the comments. Not because I want to look younger — heaven forbid — but because I care that my skin and body keep working for a long time. Finally, queens, remember this: you will always stay with yourself. Maybe you die lucky, maybe not. Men come and go. You are forever. Treat yourself like the queen you are. Take care of yourself first — like the flight attendants always say: secure your own oxygen mask before helping others. It’s not selfish. It’s adulting. And yes, your man will survive a couple of days without you. Promise. So, relax in bed. Take a bath, a mask, a nap. Drink your coconut water or your favourite matcha Latte . Treat yourself like the absolute royalty you are. Because in this house, you are the queen. And that’s non-negotiable.
P.S. I know, I’ve gone on about health and nutrition a lot in this article — yes, I might have repeated myself. But I just can’t stress enough how crucial it is to eat well and take care of your body. And yes, coconut water or herbal teas aren’t miracle cures, but they do help and are definitely worth including. Oh, and for clarity: Pillow-Face? Not stress-related. Totally cosmetic, totally avoidable — very different story from Moon-Face or Cortisol Face.
Read more ->
https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/symptoms/moon-face
https://www.ucihealth.org/blog/2024/08/cortisol-face
https://health.osu.edu/health/skin-and-body/is-cortisol-face-real
