15/04/2025
đ this is some of the hardest work you will ever do. But you are allowed to do it. And healing is possible.
Childhood under a narcissistic mother is a paradox no child should faceâloving the hand that hits you, depending on the person who destabilizes you, and finding âsafetyâ in the eye of a storm. If this was your realityâif you were forced to navigate a caregiver who harmed as much as they âprovidedââknow this:
Your survival was a masterpiece of resilience.
You learned to split yourself in two:
The child who needed love.
And the strategist who learned to predict her moods, soothe her outbursts, and shrink your needs into silence.
You became fluent in contradictionsâcraving her approval while dodging her contempt, memorizing her triggers while burying your own. Every meal she cooked, every need she met, came with invisible strings that tightened around your throat.
This is the cruelest betrayal:
Being taught that love is transactional, safety is conditional, and your worth depends on how well you manage her chaos.
The child who should have been protected became the parent, the peacekeeper, the emotional custodian of a woman who saw you as an extension of her ego.
If this resonates with youâyour pain is valid. Your exhaustion is justified.
The grief of mourning a mother who was there but never truly present is a burden no one should carry.
You deserved a soft childhood.
You deserved to be loved without earning it.
You deserved to feel safe in your own home.
Healing begins when we stop gaslighting ourselves:
âIt wasnât that bad.â
âOthers had it worse.â
Your trauma isnât a competitionâitâs a lived reality etched into your nervous system.
Those survival skillsâhypervigilance, people-pleasing, emotional camouflageâwerenât flaws. They were lifelines.
You can unlearn the lies she embedded.
You can find relationships where care isnât weaponized, where love doesnât demand silence, where your needs arenât negotiable.
You can parent yourself now with the tenderness she withheld.
You can teach your body that danger isnât the default.
To your inner child:
I see you. I honor you.
And to the adult youâve become:
Iâm sending you oceans of compassion, forests of peace, and the unwavering reminder that your resilience is greater than her harm.
Keep going.