The Breaking Point
I’ll never forget that night. I was about 29 years old and completely adrenalized with overwhelm and panic. Ever since I’d had my baby girl, I’d started waking up from panic attacks, flooded with emotion and memories from childhood. The only way to stop them would be to sit with my daughter. She was tiny—only a few months old in her little yellow onesie. She was my beacon of hope. I’d watch her breathe little breaths. Her arms stretched upward, so open and vulnerable, her face turned away toward the wall. I felt gutted with gratitude, feeling so incredibly lucky to know her and to have the privilege of loving her. To feel this deeply for another human being gave my life a new sense of purpose, yet also put into stark contrast everything else in my life.
Leaning against the crib rail, I felt the grief of all of my childhood overcome me. Looking at my little baby, I understood for the first time how impossible it would be for me to want to hurt my own daughter. Not only could I not hurt her, I would give my life, my body, my soul to protect her from anyone who wanted to do her harm. After a lifetime of minimizing, justifying and normalizing my parents, the truth was lying in a crib in front of me. In that profound moment, I realized... what my parents did to me, was never love.
My Love for My Daughter Was My Guide
Going back to that night, standing next to my daughter’s crib, I could no longer minimize the gravity of my parent’s abuse. I could no longer make excuses for them. I was focused on physical abuse. It took me years to realize that although violence is harrowing and traumatizing, there was a much larger, more toxic, and more vicious legacy to my childhood.
At that point, I didn’t know about narcissistic abuse. I didn’t understand the depth of that type of emotional abuse, nor did I realize that I had been unwittingly falling into the same pattern throughout my life.
The Symptoms of Narcissistic Abuse
However… at the time, there were signs and symptoms that I was aware of—I just didn’t understand the core issues. I knew I was deeply unhappy in marriage and that I didn’t trust my husband. At the same time, I was also irrationally terrified to leave him. I knew that my parents had been physically violent and abusive, but I was frozen with grief after my mom died, and compulsively driven to try to gain my father’s approval. I knew inwardly that I felt unwanted, broken, not enough–and outwardly did my best to maintain the appearance of being put together, confident, and optimistic. I knew that if someone was kind to me, I felt burdened and indebted to them. And if someone wasn’t kind to me, I felt this pressure to perform, to people please, to dance, to hustle… to do anything to try to gain their favor. I knew that my strategy in every relationship was to try to need nothing, want nothing, and do everything myself. But I didn’t realize how detrimental this was.
After that night in my daughter’s room, it was like I’d been jolted awake with love. Like up until that moment in my life, I realized that I had never experienced being loved, nor had I truly loved anyone else. It was like a bolt of lightning that broke my heart open. And once I started feeling, remembering, and waking up… I couldn’t avoid myself anymore. It was my love for my daughter and my fierce need to protect her that eventually became the catalyst for leaving.
The painful end of my marriage was both an ending and a beginning. As I navigated single parenthood, every decision was haunted by my past. Parenting my daughter, however, became my compass. Her innocence contrasted starkly with my traumatic past. The way I felt about her, the protective instinct that surged within me, made me question the love I had received. Each of these relationships, the friends who came and went, the love that promised safety but delivered pain, and the pure love I felt for my daughter, unveiled patterns, asked hard questions, and propelled me toward a path of introspection and recovery.
Domino Effect—A Series of Turning Points
I wish divorce had been the thing that woke me up to the pattern… but it wasn’t. For me, there wasn’t one big turning point. It was more like a domino effect—where I continued to date narcissists, befriend them, hire them—all while still having a massive blind spot. I was able to start spotting the grandiose malignant narcissists around me. Those larger-than life-extroverted need-to-be-the center of attention type narcissists. But I didn’t even know about covert narcissism, also called vulnerable narcissism—nor did I understand this insidious form of narcissism. But in many of my relationships, I kept hitting a point where I realized the relationship was toxic, or that I felt trapped, or that I felt stuck and didn’t know how to get away. And sometimes, there was something that was so strikingly unforgivable or bizarre that it helped to clarify the issue.
A few moments stand out… my ex-husband fought tooth and nail to prevent our daughter from getting the therapy she so desperately needed. It made absolutely no sense to me. I remember feeling confused and stunned, wondering why someone who supposedly loves her would rather go to court than to allow her to get help. I couldn’t find an answer to that question.
Then came another piece of the puzzle: my own father's alarming threat towards me and my daughter when I refused to give him my kidney. He wasn't asking for a favor; he was demanding a piece of my body as if he had a right to it. I couldn’t fathom the idea of asking my daughter to make that sacrifice. I remember thinking that I’d give her my kidney in a heartbeat, but I could never take hers. I could never threaten her health and wellbeing for my own gain.
Another piece: a guy I’d been dating, asked me for money saying he couldn’t provide for his kids. He had quit his job, wasn’t looking for work, and called me selfish and greedy for not providing for them. I felt guilty—I really loved his kids. But it came to a point where I had to choose to care for me and my daughter, or keep funneling guilt money to bail him out. I couldn’t understand how someone could just keep asking for money without at least trying to get a job. I couldn’t fathom being in a position of refusing to provide for my daughter.
In all three of these cases, it was my love for my daughter that helped me see the problem. The more I opened my eyes, the more I realized that I was surrounded by people who were more than willing to harm me and my daughter, to use us, abuse us. This is why narcissistic abuse is so devastating. Because it isn’t even about the first narcissist. Or the second or third one. It’s about how we’ve been trained to behave and become the perfect counterpart to them. So that, eventually, everywhere we look, we are surrounded by them.
And that was my real turning point… when I realized that this wasn’t about the toxic relationships, the abuse or the abusers. It was about me and what I was doing to attract, allow and enable this pattern.
First Step to Healing: Money
My first step toward healing, believe it or not, was by working on my relationship with money. I filed for divorce in 2009 at the height of the real estate crisis. As a newly single mom, I was a half million dollars in debt, I had to liquidate my assets and try to pay off my loans, and had enormous shame and guilt about money. I had a lot of baggage left over from my marriage and my childhood—these were chains I had to break. I had to reclaim my power, especially now as a protector and provider for my daughter. If you’ve been following my work for a long time, you might remember that this is where I started teaching, coaching, and writing about how our relationship with money reflects our innermost beliefs about life itself. To this day, these tools are still fundamental in my coaching and teaching.
Second Step to Healing: Boundaries
Step two was a very wobbly approach at learning boundaries. Of course I was terrible at them. First attempts were either way too harsh, or way too lenient. I had thought that boundaries were about rules and consequences—I now understand and teach how boundaries are really about defining a sense of self. They are about honoring feelings (easier said than done), telling the truth (also easier said than done), and about protecting your resources.
Third Step to Healing: Elevate Self-Worth
To heal from narcissistic abuse, to end my involvement in the pattern, and to not only avoid narcissists but to actually aggressively repel them, I had to build a strong and abiding sense of self-worth. That meant that I had to stop people pleasing. I had to strengthen and refine my boundaries through honoring my emotions and defining my sense of self. And then, I worked hard to elevate my value. This tied back to my original money work—working a basic supply and demand approach that I developed into the tools that have become the self-worth work that you hear me teach.
I live, breathe, and teach these tools. And that doesn’t mean that it’s not hard or painful for me. It took a long time for me to heal—and to be honest I don’t know that “heal” is the right word. This work is difficult and the wounds run deep. So, it’s not like I’ve gotten to a forever place where narcissistic abuse can’t affect me. It’s more that I recognize it now and understand what I’m dealing with. I'm way better at spotting narcissists (covert or overt) and I consciously and intentionally repel them and avoid them. I no longer feel unworthy, unlovable, and unwanted. I no longer live in a constant state of guilt and resentment. I have emptied my life of toxic relationships and filled my life with meaningful and loving connections. I feel strong, solid, purposeful, and loved. I will tell you that it is hard work, it might just be the work of your life, but things can and will get better.
I'd love to hear from you. If you have any questions or would like to share your story—please leave a comment below.