My Narcissistic Mother Destroyed Me & Why I’m So Glad She Did!

If you told me ten years ago I’d be grateful for the woman who called me “ugly, loser, dumb, ungrateful” while growing up, I would’ve laughed in your face and handed you a therapist’s number.

But here I am, decades later, and I finally get it.

My narcissistic mother didn’t raise me. She trained me.

Trained me to survive, to solve, to outthink, and most importantly… to feel the truth in a room before anyone says a damn word.

And get this: I’m not the only one.

My cousin? Same story.

Her narcissistic father (aka my mother’s younger brother, yeah, the family’s real cute like that) played the same emotional mind games on her.

Guess what? We both turned out just fine. Actually, it’s better than fine. We bloody thrived.

I Was The Kid Left Alone, So I Learned How to Run Sh*t

While other kids had helicopter parents packing their lunches and tying their shoes, I was left alone most of the time and had more rules than hugs.

But here’s what happened: We became independent fast. We learned to make decisions, solve problems, and pick ourselves up because no one else was coming.

Painful? Yeah.

But also powerful as hell.

No Victim Mindset. Just Grit.

Here’s what no one tells you about being raised by narcissists: You either break… or you build.

We chose to build.

We didn’t marinate in “why me?”

We used our pain like jet fuel and said, “Okay, now watch me.”

We bet on our brains, not our looks.

We learned how to read people, not please them.

And most of all, we learned that loyalty and truth are worth more than any family photo pretending everything’s fine.

The Emotional Scars Are Real, But So Is the Strength

Listen, I’m not saying that narcissistic parents are a blessing wrapped in toxic perfume.

I wouldn’t wish that childhood on anyone.

But what I am saying is this: The way my cousin and I turned out? That happened because we saw the BS early and decided it wasn’t going to define us.

We stopped looking for love from broken people.

We started becoming the kind of women we needed as kids.

This Isn’t About Forgiveness or Toxic Positivity

I’m not here to tell you to “find the silver lining” or “be thankful for the pain.”

Screwed that.

But I am here to say this: You can hate what happened to you and still love who you became because of it. And if you’re sitting in that uncomfortable space, half grieving, half rising, I get it.

That space is the reason I built The Next Chapter because surviving narcissistic abuse is only step one.

Creating a life that feels free? That’s the work.

And it’s the part that’s actually worth it.

If you’ve ever thought your pain might secretly be your power… this one’s for you.

Let’s go.