I didn’t realize how deep I was in until I was drowning.
For years, I made excuses. I told myself they love me, they just have a hard time showing it. I believed that if I could just be a little more patient, a little more understanding, they’d finally treat me the way I deserved.
But they never did.
Narcissistic people, whether they’re family, friends, or partners, don’t love in the way you want them to. Their love is conditional, manipulative, and exhausting. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve spent years bending over backward, trying to earn it.
Looking back, I can see the patterns that kept me stuck. I didn’t just tolerate their behavior; I enabled it without even realizing it.
If you’re still caught in the cycle, I hope this helps you see the truth a little clearer.
Table of Contents
1. I Lowered My Standards
I grew up believing that family is everything. No matter what, you stick together.
So when my mother would belittle me, or my sister would play mind games, I told myself, That’s just how they are. I convinced myself that at least they didn’t hit me, at least they didn’t abandon me, at least it could be worse.
I wish I could go back and shake myself.
Just because someone is family doesn’t mean they get unlimited chances to hurt you. Blood doesn’t justify cruelty.
And the moment I started holding them accountable, I realized just how much I had been tolerating in the name of “family loyalty.”
2. I Avoided The Reality Because It Hurts
There were times I knew something wasn’t right.
When my older sister would mock me for crying but then play the victim when she didn’t get her way.
When my mother would make a passive-aggressive comment about my physical appearance, then act offended when I called her out.
But instead of facing the truth, I told myself I was imagining things.
Because admitting that my own family was toxic? That felt too big, too painful, too impossible to accept.
So I ignored it. I kept playing my role. And all that did was keep me stuck in a situation that would never change.
3. I Put Their Needs First Almost Always!
I became the peacemaker, the fixer, the one who made sure everyone was okay, even when I was falling apart.
I didn’t express my feelings because they had bigger problems than me. I didn’t set boundaries because it wasn’t worth the fight.
And little by little, I disappeared.
When you grow up in a narcissistic family, you learn that your needs are secondary.
That their comfort matters more than your well-being. And if you dare to prioritize yourself? You’re selfish. You’re ungrateful. You’re the problem.
4. I Kept Seeking Their Validations
I spent my whole life trying to be “good enough” for them.
I got the grades, the achievements, the compliments from other people… yet somehow, it was never quite right. There was always something to criticize, some way I could have done better.
And the worst part? I kept trying.
Because on the rare occasion my mother would say “I’m proud of you” or my sister would be nice for once, it felt like a drug. For a moment, I believed that maybe this time, I had finally earned their love.
But that moment never lasted. Because the second I didn’t meet their expectations, they reminded me exactly where I stood.
5. I Apologized For Things That Weren’t My Fault
“Sorry” became my default response.
Sorry for having feelings.
Sorry for setting a boundary.
Sorry for existing in a way that annoyed them.
I learned to apologize for things that weren’t even my fault because it was easier than dealing with their anger, their guilt trips, and their silent treatment.
For a long time, I thought that if I just kept the peace, everything would be fine. But keeping the peace meant destroying myself in the process.
6. I Gaslit Myself Into Believing I Was the Problem
Every time I felt like something was wrong, I convinced myself I was just being too sensitive. Too dramatic. Too ungrateful.
My mother made me feel like I was lucky to have her. My sister twisted every argument until I was the villain. They didn’t even need to gaslight me, I was already doing it to myself.
I’d replay conversations in my head, wondering if I was overreacting. I’d second-guess my own feelings because they had convinced me I couldn’t trust them.
But my gut knew. It always knew. I just wasn’t ready to listen.
How I Finally See Through Their Bullsh*t
Leaving wasn’t just about physical distance; it was about unlearning everything I was taught to accept.
I had to stop making excuses for them. I had to stop prioritizing their comfort over my own sanity. I had to stop chasing their approval like it was something I could ever actually earn.
The hardest part? Letting go of the version of them I wished existed. The mother who would one day be proud of me. The sister who would finally treat me with kindness.
But that version wasn’t real.
If you’re still holding on, waiting for them to change, let me tell you what I wish someone had told me: You don’t have to keep suffering just because they’re family.
You are not unlovable. You are not broken. And you do not owe them your peace just because you share the same blood.
Walking away was the hardest thing I ever did. But it was also the best thing.
And if you choose yourself, for the first time, maybe ever, I promise, it’ll be the best thing for you too.
