Very modern theme that – narcissism. Except for me. I dealt with it from the moment I was born, perhaps even before I was born. Yes, I’m talking about a very unpleasant theme – parental narcissistic abuse towards their children. It’s still something very rarely talked about. Most of the motivational speakers, therapists, teachers, healers, divorce lawyers actually talk about adult narcissistic abuse – between a couple in a relationship, or among colleagues. Some now talk about narcissistically inclined self-help industry gurus. Fair enough. But still – even though I read and studied the topic through books like Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers, Will I ever be good enough? etc. more than 20 years ago, surprisingly, there is very little talk about children survivors. So, I decided to talk. From my experience. I’m a survivor of a narcissistic abuse from my mother, every day, all the time, since I was born. And no, before you judge and accuse me of indulging in my story, this is not it. This is the first time I actually decided to come out. Why, oh why, can’t it be about me? Finally, finally, finally? This one time?

I was age 4 when I first time realised the adults around me are not going to help. Because the teachers in the pre-school didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe me that my mother won’t even look at the Mother’s day gift we crafted with our little hands They told me I was a liar. That all mothers love their children. Well, it’s simply not true, you know. It’s not.

Because, you see, for the children of narc mothers (and fathers likewise) it was always about the abuser. Never about the child! Isn’t it amazing how masterful narcs are at deleting their targeted child! So much so, that whenever I was looking for help to heal, the focus was always on my narc mother! In therapies, constellations, etc. they told me – oh, but your mother was hurting too, you know. Oh, what do you think made her act like she did. And on, and on, and on. Nobody, really nobody asked me – I see your little girl inside of you. I see your pain, it was so unbearable for a tiny little baby you were. What do you need now? Nobody. So, I learnt to carefully choose who deserves to hear my pain story. It turned out, very, very few people.

Until I asked it myself. What about me? Heeeey, heeeey, little baby in me, I see you! I see your pain, it was real, your suffering. Your lifetime of overtaxed nervous system which was always on a lookout for the next danger. The nervous system which needed so much care! A nervous system which couldn’t be healed by reciting a mantra for 40 days. And indeed, I was even blamed for that – I was blamed for blaming the mantra for not working for me! My trauma and pain which surfaced from the subconscious and needed to be seen and healed was interpreted by some yoga teachers as obnoxious behaviour of a beginner student… I couldn’t believe such ignorance! So, here you go – careful where you look for help. More often than not people don’t want to see your pain, even people who are working as therapists, teachers, healers. And especially people who hurt you. Because they have not seen their own pain, and have not done the work of healing themselves. It happens more often than not.

Sometimes somebody asked – Laura, but what happened? Well, survivors don’t owe their stories to curious, nosy and immature fellow humans… And equally important is to ask – what didn’t happen? The care, love, acknowledgment, conversations, trust, warmth – none of that human interaction happened. None of it. So here it is: my mother, my parents actually, never took me in their hands, on their lap, never gave me a hug or a kind smile. My mother never talked to me, the only communication was shouting out orders, or calling me monkeyface or burden on her neck. My mother never said good morning to me, I always saw an angry face ready to attack and rage at me. And oh, she did exactly that. Half of the time. The other half of the time? Silent treatment. Giving me clear signals – you don’t exist, you’re not worthy, I hate you for existing. And noooo, shut your mind dear reader, it was not my fault. None of it. Is a small little baby guilty of something? For my mother, I was guilty that I existed. Psychotherapists say that it’s actually one of the worst kinds of abuse we can experience – because when you’re deleted from your caretakers, you simply die as a baby. And that’s what I wanted to do – I wanted to die. Several times. Because the message I got every day was – you’re not worthy of living, not worthy of your life.

And please try not to go with your mind into explanations now about why she did what she did, or didn’t do what she didn’t do. And even – why my father played along with that. There are explanations, of course. But guess what? They’re nothing to do with me! The behaviour of perpetrators is nothing to do with the survivors! And please stop with that co-dependent relationship thingy – what options do you have as a child? Fight or flight? I’m roaring with laughter now – let’s be honest, when you’re a baby, can you fight for yourself? Can you run away? Of course not. You can only freeze, all of your parts, your joy, your pain, your heart, everything. And to survive – you start to please. To please the narc whose inner black hole is very leaky and will never be filled with any pleasing you do; you think you will please them by erasing your own needs. But the truth is – you won’t. I understood it as a young child, at age 4. My father, an adamant pleaser of my mother and an adamant blamer of me, still struggles to understand this at age 70. That no amount of pleasing, guessing moods, staying so alert with your nervous system that you never learn to relax, walking on eggshells would ever fill anyone’s inner black hole. So, let’s pause here, take a deep breath in and out if you read this far (thank you for that already). And honour here the little neglected baby, mine, as well as all little neglected babies, and even the little hurt baby part in yourself which you might have actually hidden so deeply in your heart, behind thick walls of survival and positive thinking, or judging others, or blaming others. Behind all these walls, there might be just one little hurt baby wanting to be seen…

And then I did my soul initiation journey – it took years, hard work, considerable time and money investments, too. And I made that choice for me. You may say – I got the luxury to do that, but actually how much help do you think I got from my birth family ever? Exactly – none. So, everything I have in my life, I’ve built it myself, from scratch.

So why did I write all this? Because it’s been very very lonely to carry so much pain and because most people have not been willing to see that, especially the perpetrators. If you’re made invisible at such an early age that your instincts and intuition are severely cut off, you don’t even believe there’s any help available out there for you, the kind of help you need. You’re only familiar with the perpetual blame and shame you know so well to your very bones. If you’re the scapegoated child in the narc family system, your pain goes forever unseen. Everyone plays along with the narc, because they’re just so afraid to be the next target. And do you think anyone of my birth family calls me on my birthday? No, they don’t. Because they’re so busy keeping up the old system in which I don’t deserve to exist. Even though my mother died more than 2 years ago, the rest of the family were quickly to take up the roles she played as my abuser. Let them be, my husband says. Alright, I say. I’m grateful my husband loves me. The first person to love me in my life. It was not my mother, you know, you might have noticed that by now.

And then I met people and ways to heal which were helpful to me. There were people seeing me in my totality. People who were not refocusing attention back to the perpetrator, or devaluating or dismissing my experience. Or judging me for identifying with my story. Because to stop identifying with your story, you better heal it first… But wait, most probably the judgers simply don’t have a clue how to help you heal, that’s why it’s easier to judge (it’s called bypassing). And I learnt that I only needed a witness… A witness to my pain. And it could take as little as 5 minutes of non-judgemental presence of a fellow human, and off I went – back on track of healing myself. Back on track of self-compassion and holding a witness to myself. I don’t think that’s too much to ask, in any setting, by the way. When my core wound was revealed to me in my consciousness, it didn’t seem like the right moment at the time. But it also didn’t feel like a wrong moment. It was a divine moment. And my fellow human witness was, guess what, not a therapist, a yoga teacher, a healer, or a coach. I think the lady didn’t even realise what was happening, I simply asked if she can just sit with me for 5 minutes first, that I was going through something intense, and then we would return to the task at hand. And so she did. She’s a lawyer, by the way. Not a self-help guru, I think you know who you are.

I received the most beautiful gift from my daughter, she was 8 years old at the time. She told me – mama, your greatest achievement in your life is that you love us and that you are such a good mama. I melted in my tears. She knew her grandma was not an easy person, but I have not burdened my children with details of my suffering. I’m so proud of giving love to my children I have never received myself. And that’s my biggest diploma. That’s something I cannot brag about on social media posts, make photos of, track progress of, I cannot wear it as a Channel bag, botoxxed lips or a bmw car. I hold it in my heart.

I wrote this for you, my fellow narc abuse survivor. Too little talk out there is about our courage, our pain, our victories, our strength, our empathy and compassion. Because when somebody wants to deny me my story, they also want to deny me my healing. My strength, my courage, my joy – everything which makes me – me.

Hold the space for yourself. Open up your heart to yourself. I see you. You are not alone. I love you, and I love the little baby within. And I love myself, and the little baby within me. Because now I know how. I walked a long way to meet her. And I’m here not without help of other kind and warm souls, my husband and my children, my friends, healers, teachers, yogis, therapists, women, mothers, men – you all know who you are. It was a dear friend who recently told me – Laura, it’s time to refocus from working so hard on yourself to being gentle and soft about yourself. How about that? I’m on my path, and now I know how…

Blessings,

Laura

P.S. I can support you in your healing journey. I can be your witness. My heart healing coaching conversations (online as well) will be back after Easter break, end of April. Meanwhile, feel free to write to me and share your story, if you’d like! I also teach kundalini yoga in Tervuren, Belgium, putting focus on healing mediations in the classes. To further support gentle, soft kindness to yourself and self-compassion, I offer cacao ceremonies 4-6 times a year in Tervuren, Belgium.

Author: Laura