The Gift of the Ick: When Self-Disgust Becomes the Doorway to Liberation
Most people think the "ick" is about the other person. But the real ick — the one that stays — is about you. It's the moment your body says:
"I'm watching myself betray my own standard... again."
This week, I had a session with Julie (name changed), and it changed both of us.
She came in hot, irritated by everything: rude customers at her restaurant job, drunk women talking down to her, kids blocking the walkway with zero parental correction. But underneath it all was something else: a mounting self-disgust. A quiet storm brewing behind every petty resentment. A recognition that the problem wasn’t them.
It was her.
She was over it. Over letting men like Brandon into her life who couldn't meet her with real containment. Over being the one who sets up her own failure. Over performing sexual or emotional availability in exchange for false security. She said it best:
"It feels like I'm just his entertainment... and he's just my place to binge and purge."
The Ick Is a Mirror
At one point, Julie recalled a moment when she purged in Brandon’s bathroom with the door open, crying loudly, hoping he'd say something — anything. He didn’t. And that’s when it landed:
"He lets me do whatever I want... even when it’s killing me."
That was the moment the ick took root.
The ick isn’t a vibe. It’s not him chewing weird or liking the wrong band. It’s a somatic protest from your body, saying:
"I hate who I become around this person."
Why It Hurts So Much
Julie wasn’t grieving Brandon. She was grieving who she let herself become to be tolerated by Brandon.
The same way a person hates themselves for relapsing, for ghosting a friend, or for giving in to someone they swore they were done with—Julie hated the way she’d stopped respecting herself.
"Why am I the one that has to enforce the boundary? Why do I need to explain to someone that watching me cry and purge in their toilet should make them uncomfortable?"
Because she finally saw it: a partner without boundaries isn’t a partner. It’s an accomplice.
The Gift of the Ick
The ick is the most honest thing your body will ever give you. And when it shows up, it’s not time to talk yourself down.
It’s time to wake up.
Julie is. She cut off contact. She stopped counting days and started reclaiming mornings. She realized she wasn’t tired from work. She was tired of being a woman who performed for weak men, just to avoid feeling alone.
"I'd rather be independent, take care of myself, and find someone who fills in everything I want... naturally."
That’s the gift of the ick. It shows you where your self-respect still lives—even if it's buried under years of starving for connection.
Let This Be Your Moment
If you feel the ick, don’t ignore it. It’s your soul protesting the cheap performance it’s been cast in.
It’s a revolt. It’s a receipt. It’s a door.
Walk through it.
Coming Tuesday on Narcissism Nation:
“There Is No Starvation in Gaza — How the IDF Turned Narcissistic Abuse Into Foreign Policy"
We break down how the same dynamics that keep women trapped in toxic relationships are being used to manipulate public perception on a global scale.
Stay tuned. This one’s going to be brutal.
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Enrique Arteaga - Chief Ick Officer - elevate.epo © 2025