How Being the Daughter of a Narcissistic Mother Has Affected Me as an Adult

Note & Trigger Warning: This is my story on going through narcissistic abuse, and there is mention of abuse, suicidal talk, and eating disorders. 

The term “narcissist” has been thrown around a lot, with it really gaining traction in the last few years.

What exactly is a narcissist?

Narcissism is still being broadly studied, but a narcissist is essentially someone who has an obsessive regard for themselves, and a disregard towards other’s emotions. They like to play the victim role a lot and spin everything around to make it all about them.

There is a difference between someone who has narcissistic traits and a true narcissist. Just because someone may have done something that is considered narcissistic does not mean that they are a complete narcissist.

However, the most common trait of the true narcissist is lack of empathy, and they struggle to understand the impact of their behavior onto others. As much as we want to believe that narcissists know what they are doing, they are actually unaware of their own detriment because it has been completely clouded by shame, and that shame justifies their actions in their mind. This is why they won’t take accountability because they truly don’t believe that they have done anything wrong. Even if they do take accountability, it’s usually pretty half-assed or they only did it so they can use it to their advantage against you later.

It is also a misconception that narcissists can not change, anyone can change for the better. However, you can not “love” or force a narcissist into changing, the narcissistic has to do it themselves.

With my experience of being the daughter to a narcissistic mother, I feel that this certain narcissistic dynamic has an undeniable affect on a woman in a way that maybe only a woman with a narcissistic mother could understand.

Personal Story

I didn’t know that I was under a “narcissistic spell” until I was 26 years old and started therapy.

My heart would drop and a bat-eating pit would form in my stomach every time I saw the name “Mother” pop up on my phone.

My mother and I have always had a very rocky relationship (basically since I was born). We never agreed on anything, and I was always casted out to be the “problem child” or the scapegoat that would be blamed for nearly everything, especially for my older brother’s actions. I was that middle child (middle children will understand what I mean).

Growing up, I was terrified of my mother. But I also glorified her at the same time.

Her moods could switch instantly, and I felt that I had to be very careful not to set them off. My mother also had complete control over my emotions. If she was happy, I was elated. It almost felt euphoric when she was happy, like life was amazing and all was right in the world.

But when she became angry, I was instantly in complete panic mode. Doom and intense anxiety would wash over me, mixed in with strong feelings of guilt. Okay she’s mad again for some reason, what did I do? Okay, I think I deserve this punishment and screaming even though I am unsure what happened. When is it over now? Can’t I just say sorry and move on? Oh? That’s not how this works? Okay.

 I would be blamed for her explosive reactions or her sudden mood switch. “I wouldn’t have yelled if you just learned how to listen.” 

But then she’d appear to be happy again, and there was hope restored in the world. it was a continuous roller coaster of unpredictability and trying hard to keep her happy, because my survival depended on her being happy, and that’s also where my shame and guilt became reinforced and rooted.

If I can’t make her happy, then what’s wrong with me? 

She’s angry again. What did I do?

My brother was also very abusive to me growing up, and I would be blamed for the abuse.

“What did you do to make him choke you?” “He may have done that, but if you knew why didn’t you tell me sooner then?” “You shouldn’t have talked back to him if you didn’t want to get hurt.”

Anything that he said was true in her eyes, no matter the evidence presented. Any abuse towards me was justified. He was the Golden Child. Nothing I said mattered. I felt trapped. My own voice didn’t feel like mine. 

I developed a deep rooted belief that there was something inherently wrong with me at my core.

I’m being too loud, I’m being too annoying, why can’t I just fucking get it right? Why am I so bad? Why can’t I stay good? Life would be so much easier if I was just a good girl. Mom would be so happy if I just got my shit together. 

I internalized every action, reaction, emotion, or words that were presented to me. I took it as it’s my fault these things are happening to me. I became riddled with shame and anger, and took the blame for other’s behavior and actions towards me. Or if I didn’t agree with the behavior towards me, I felt trapped that I couldn’t do anything about it because I’d either get in trouble or physically abused, I couldn’t defend myself. It also didn’t help that I grew up in a shame-based catholic culture in a small, conservative Texas town.

My mom actually sent me to a catholic camp when I was 14 in hopes of “fixing” me.

The camp was… so much fun actually. I loved it. It really felt life changing to me at that time, maybe because for a week out of my entire life, I felt free. No one to criticize or judge me, no one to physically abuse me if I said anything that they didn’t like, no one to control me.
Like wow, I can’t wait to go back home and show mom how much I have changed and how good I am now. She’ll be so proud.

When I got back, I was being as nice and as good as possible. Cinderella had nothing on 14-year-old-just-got-resurrected-at-catholic-camp Courtney.

My mom had already pre-emptively placed the expectation onto me that I was changed now, I am a good girl who listens and does what she’s told. 

And within literally two days of being back, I had already disappointed myself by not meeting my mom’s expectations of the “new” me. 

I was doing all of my chores and then some, going above and beyond with my kindness and being nice, and my mom was STILL unhappy with me. There were other tiny events that led up to my breakdown when I got back, but I remember I was in the laundry room being absolutely criticized by my mother about how I was separating the laundry, and this is where I broke.

“Mom! I am trying SO HARD HERE, what am I doing wrong still?!?!!!”

This moment was pivotal for me, because that’s when I started to break through the veil of something being wrong with me, and that I really just had such a difficult mother to please. Nothing I would do or say was going to be good enough for her. 

She would gaslight me to the point that I thought I was crazy. I could say that the sky is blue, and she could whole heartedly convince me that it wasn’t, even if I clearly saw that it was blue. I remember always having head lice when I was younger and she would get mad at me for bringing it up, so I just had to deal with it and try to figure out how to get rid of it on my own. 
I would get sat down by some family members and they would question me on my own sanity and why would I do things because my mom would call them and gossip about how “bad” or absolutely insane she thought I was being. My entire existence felt like it was entirely made up of criticism, and I felt the judgements and projections from everyone that my mom gossiped to onto me, I felt like a walking target. My body and physical appearance was constantly critiqued and degraded, causing me to develop several eating disorders by the time I was 13. 

I was extremely insecure about every aspect of myself; How smart I was, how skinny I was, how big I thought my thighs were, even being insecure about the tiniest eyebrow hair being out of place. I would rehearse how to speak to people to see how to (unconsciously) manipulate them into being friends with me because I had no fucking clue how to be comfortable in just being me. I had to appear “perfect,” and if I didn’t meet these unrealistic expectations that I put onto myself or if someone critiqued me in the slightest way, I would spiral into a deep, endless, hole of of unworthiness and depression.

I felt like I was never going to be enough. Actually, I didn’t even know what being enough felt like.

Anyone who has ever dealt with a narcissist or grew up with one can relate to the absolute mindfuck that you are put through.

I wasn’t allowed to go out or have any friends over or go over to their house, being gay and any form of sex was an absolute do not discuss ever, and if you even think about it you are a lustful and sinful person who is going to hell. No technology, no phones, I felt like I had no freedom.

But I was told that I should be thankful because at least I have somewhere to sleep and food in my stomach, right? Even though I was mentally losing my fucking mind and wanted to exit this Earth.

Control, shame and fear were the main themes.

I got kicked out of the house when I was 16 and went to live with my dad. I told my mom that I was depressed, and just wanted to “unalive” myself as she was absolutely degrading me and yelling at me. She told me I was “fucking crazy” and threatened to take me to a mental hospital. You would think that I would have felt relief being away from my mom, but I still felt like I was completely under her control. 

My mom still ironically had my aunt watching everything that I post on Facebook just so she could report it to my mom. My cousin reached out to me and told me to be careful of what I post because I am being watched.

I felt like I was constantly under her control, even if I didn’t live with her anymore.

I was constantly paranoid that she was going to call me and tell me how much trouble I am in about something. I don’t even know what about, but I knew she could find something.
I was paranoid that she found something so unforgivable out about me and now the whole family knows. I was in a constant state of paranoia, guilt and anxiety. 

I began slowly taking control over my autonomy when I went to college. I was finally fighting back. I was relaying how I truly felt. I was tired of feeling like I am not my own person. I took her shame-based tactics on how I never see her less seriously. But this was just the beginning of taking back my power.

Fast forward to when I first started therapy right before I turned 26, I was able to finally let out how I truly felt about my mom in a safe space and begin processing everything that I had went through. I remember looking through the r/raisedbynarcissists subreddit and figuring out that my mom was in fact a narcissist. I even wrote a Reddit post about it when I realized it because I had always heard my friends and other people talk about their parents being narcs, but holy shit, my own mother was one, and I am just now finding it out?!

I realized her guilt tactics through her victim language (i.e “I’m going to die one day, and you’re going to regret it”), her complete inability to take any form of criticism, her lack of empathy towards me and how she would minimize my entire experience and flip it around to make it all about her. The way she would assert control by instilling fear and shame into me, even if she was unconsciously doing it. The gaslighting and the constant criticism and control over me. The way I was blamed if she or my brother was in a bad mood. How she could appear like the most kindest person to everyone else, so nobody really took my concerns seriously. Her chronic disappointment in me and always trying to talk badly about my father even when I asked her to stop, or constantly gossiping about anyone really. I was so immune to this dynamic that I didn’t realize how in control she was of my emotions and nearly my entire identity my whole life.

After this realization, I knew that it was my turn to take back the control. 

The final straw on allowing my mother to control my emotional state was when I was at work and she randomly called to tell me how I am just a “confused liberal” who doesn’t know what she wants. That I should be ashamed of myself for even speaking about how I also like girls around my little sisters. She was talking about me being bisexual at that time.

I was livid. I was crying from being so fucking frustrated.

I was fucking finished with this shit. Why do I feel like I am still in trouble at 26 years old?! No fucking more.

I curated a long, assertive, yet well spoken email on how I felt, my boundaries, and how I will never be spoken to like that ever again, or else you will never see or hear from me again. Point. Blank. PERIOD.

I drafted this email with my therapist for a few months before I even sent it, making sure that I was not using attacking language or shaming my mom, and my mom couldn’t try to spin it to her advantage. My actual intention of the letter was to try and re-asses our relationship under more positive circumstances, and in order to do that, boundaries needed to be put into place. I relayed how past actions have truly affected me and how they have made me feel, and how I will no longer tolerate any form of disrespect anymore. 

Of course she did not take it well initially, and I was prepared for that. I didn’t speak to her for nearly two years, and I was okay with this.

After that two years of processing my email and my absence, we are just now starting to see and speak to each other again. But this time, it’s on my terms. 

She has chosen to learn how to respect my boundaries and respect me, because she has no choice to now if she wants any sort of contact with me. I do still have little sisters living with her that I love with my whole heart, and I am willing to be cordial with my mother now as long as she is willing to respect me and my boundaries. I accept that our relationship may never be deeper than surface level for now. 

Though I felt empowered standing my ground, the aftermath of growing up with a narcissistic parent has been a whole other journey on its own, and has revealed itself the most when in relationships.

Even in relationships, I didn’t even realize that I was taken under this narcissistic spell either.

I have been verbally degraded and gaslit. I stayed with men who were expected to be praised for the most basic of human decency. I was okay with breadcrumbs of respect, and I became okay with settling for people and situations that I knew were not good for me. I couldn’t separate between what was toxic and what is considered healthy. I have also been with someone who was replaying the role of my mother to my subconscious mind, where I felt like I had to walk on eggshells around her to not set off a reaction.

I was easily persuaded by the “charmer,” and then found myself being their therapist once I was with them.
This is because they saw me as nice and shiny accessory for them. Whether it was for my looks or my energy (humble brag), I complimented them and their image, which is why they “fought” to be with me. I now realize that they wanted me for their own gain, not because they genuinely just loved me and wanted an actual healthy relationship with me. I was taken advantage of. Even when I was aware of their narcissism and they would be too, I still chose to stay, because I thought they could get better while I was there (cough cough, they don’t).

As a child, I had to “prove” my love to my mom, I had to prove that I was worth it, and I needed her approval for that. I developed a core belief that I only feel worthy if others find me worthy first. I was naive about what true respect and love really is. 

Before I started therapy, I was also on the other end of the spectrum on this, where I was the reactive one in the relationship. I would go into a blind rage when I felt triggered, and it took me hours to calm down. I would say hurtful things to my partner at the time when triggered, and then feel absolutely ashamed. Why the fuck did I do that? I needed help, and had to break up with him so I could really focus on healing and quit hurting others with my lack of awareness.

The aftermath of being raised by a narcissist is also shown through the immense amount of shame and guilt that was present in so many situations and decisions in my life outside of relationships as well. 

• I would internalize anything that anyone would say to me.
• I minimized myself, my emotions, and my trauma as I thought I was just over exaggerating, or being “too much.” Or was made to feel like I was just making it all up. 
• I masked my authentic self in an attempt to please others, or manipulate them into liking me while abandoning myself in the process. 
• I blamed myself for how other’s behaved and their reactions towards me. 
• I felt like people were constantly watching me with the intention of criticizing my every move or physical appearance.
• I was riddled with internal shame and guilt. 
• I was constantly paranoid or anxious of something “bad” happening to me if I didn’t feel like I was perfect enough.
• I was constantly criticizing myself and others.
• My worth was completely tied to my external appearance and job status.
• I constantly doubted myself and lacked confidence in any situation from the continuous gaslighting, and was easily manipulated or persuaded.
• I attached to and would make an identity out of anything that I felt would give me some sense of “purpose” due to my complete lack of self. 
• I was extreme with my emotions and reactions. I had black and white thinking of its “all good” or “all bad.”

Even though I was able to finally stand my ground against my mother, the narcissism was still in my energy field and continued to followed me around until I became aware of it to start healing it. 

However, there was one thing that me and my mother had in common: shame.

My mother had inherent shame, and lacked empathy.
I had inherent shame, and was very empathetic.

This is the typical “empath” and “narcissist” dynamic.

Contrary to popular belief, the empath and the narcissist are both manipulative.

Let me explain before you leave a hate comment.

Spiritual Youtuber, Aaron Doughty, explains this perfectly.  

The empath can feel other people’s energy, and they tune to how others are feeling in order to get their needs met.

The narcissist doesn’t feel other people’s energy, but will use others as a supply to receive validation in order to get their needs met.

These are both forms of manipulation, one is just giving to others to get their needs met while the other is taking from others to get their needs met.

This is typically why empaths love to try and “fix” people, because they are getting a sense of worthiness or value from their giving, while abandoning themselves in the process (sighs, guilty as charged).

This is why empaths and narcissists attract each other.

Both the empath and narcissist have the same core wound, and come from a place of unworthiness and shame about their inherent core or sense of self. They feel shame about their authentic selves.

And if you want to heal from narcissistic abuse, it’s important to understand that shadow side of being an empath as well, so you can stop unconsciously attracting the narcissist.

It has taken me a lot of fucking up, recognition, awareness, self love, and years of therapy to finally feel peace within myself.

But there is one thing that I do know for a fact: You can heal. You can find inner peace. You can truly love yourself at your core. You can fucking love life. I am proof of this.

I blamed my mom for a lot of my struggles for a really long time:

My inability to be in a healthy relationship, my distant relationships with my siblings, my low confidence and low self-esteem, my unworthiness wound, my hypervigilance and constant fear, and the list could fucking go on.

But now I find myself thanking her instead.

Thanking her for being able to learn how to do all of these things myself. 

• Teaching myself how to communicate and formulate healthier relationships. 
• Learning how to trust my intuition.
• Expanding my consciousness through the healing of core wounds and shadow work.
• Learning how to build true internal confidence. 
• Learning how to emotionally self regulate.
• Building resilience by truly facing my fears. 
• Learning how to truly love who I am at my core.
• I have learned to set boundaries and stand in my power. 

and the list could fucking go on. 

Sure, I still have my moments where I ask what the actual fuck am I doing with my life and feel like a complete imposter and am still learning to overcome self doubt, but I will never allow it to overtake me again. 

I perceive that my soul chose my mother on this Earth to show me how to love my true nature, how to forgive her, and stand in my power. She wanted to control me as a way of feeling out of control in her own life, and projected her own perception of how she thought I should live my own life. 

Although it took me a long time to understand this and actually believe it, my mom was trying her best with the awareness and consciousness that she did have, and that is a fact. She was raised in a narcissistic household herself, and even though this does not justify or excuse her actions, it helps me to understand them. To understand her. 

No matter how you choose to go about your narcissistic mother or parent, it is valid. It’s valid to set boundaries and go no contact if needed to find your peace. It’s valid to feel like you want to forgive her. It’s valid to feel anger and resentment if needed, just don’t hold on to the anger and resentment and make an identity around it. Work on healing yourself for the time being, focus on you.

Whatever you choose or how you feel, you are not alone friend. I hope my story brought you some sort of clarity or inspiration, or maybe just some resonation with it.