How I’m Letting Myself Mourn a Lifetime of Narcissistic Abuse

Advice from multiple abuse experts helps me move through waves of pain.

On a long country drive with my narcissistic family member, I opened up about some shameful secrets. I slowly spoke words of my ongoing depression, sexual abuse from older men, and how I almost killed myself. Holding my breath, I looked toward the driver’s seat, hoping for acceptance, love. But when they seemed distant, I felt embarrassed, blaming myself. That was a lot to share. I should’ve done that better.

For another four years, I carried those burdens before sharing again, releasing the self-blame, judgment, and toxic shame.

“I’m intellectually ready to move on from what happened, but I’m still getting choked up on, ‘I wasn’t enough to earn my family’s love,’” I told my therapist on a recent Zoom call. She replied solemnly, “That’s a really key insight.”

My therapist helped me identify two narcissists in my close family (one covert, one overt) last summer. Childhood abuse led to multiple unhealthy adult relationships, including an especially toxic narcissist ex-boyfriend. For the past nine months, I’ve been unraveling 26 years of abuse.

Discovering a narcissist in your family feels like a whacked-out death; most people who knew them will act as nothing happened. But you know the truth: the person you loved never existed. Instead, a mean abuser who doesn’t experience empathy or remorse destroyed your self-worth.

We’ve experienced an enormous loss. We poured into a one-sided relationship. The narcissist will never be the brother, sister, father, mother, partner, or friend we needed.

“As an adult child, you grieve the loss of the loving parent you never had, the healthy family and childhood you missed, and, most fundamentally, the person you might have been with more support,” says Julie L Hall, a narcissist abuse recovery coach.

Our culture ridiculously under-validates emotional trauma. Pathology experts estimate narcissist abuse impacts between 60 and 150 million people in the U.S. alone. Yet without first-hand experience, people struggle to understand the depth of confusion, shame, and embarrassment victims live with daily. We deserve time, space, and compassion to mourn our losses.

Release self-blame, judgment, and toxic shame

For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like something was wrong with me. I often assume things are my fault, checking details when things go wrong for ways I might improve. I carry high self-judgment, according to my self-compassion quiz results.

During dark moments we wonder how we might have caused the abuse. We’d much rather blame ourselves. I just wasn’t good enough to earn their love.

Excessive judgment, self-blame, and toxic shame are common symptoms of narcissistic abuse. The abuse creates negative programming in our minds; the negativity is not who we really are.

Victims are never responsible for an abuser’s actions. The common myth, “it takes two to tango,” does not apply. Perpetrators are fully accountable for their actions along with the trauma they cause. As we heal, we can own our agency without taking responsibility for the abuse.

Through increasing mindfulness, I’m beginning to notice and talk back to the negative voices. I’m not “lazy”; I’m kind by giving myself time to mourn.

We have to see self-blame, judgment, and toxic shame for what they are: trauma-related symptoms. We can stop judging our judgment and shame. It was never our fault. Instead, we can take small, gentle steps toward self-compassion every day.

Process abuse intellectually and emotionally

Reading books, analyzing my childhood, and doing talk therapy seem much simpler than feeling the pain in my body. Sometimes I fear there’s a never-ending well of damage to heal.

Despite all my focused research, my first reaction is to defend the abusers’ unhealthy behavior. But they did make an effort to repair our relationship. I can understand what they’re feeling. When my therapist asked why I paused thoughtfully before responding: “It’s easier to feel like I did something wrong than to accept that my family doesn’t love me. Then I’d be able to fix it.”

My heart breaks as I write this. I imagine many people feel this way, especially adult children of narcissistic families. But through somatic processing*, it’s clear that my body remembers everything.

Over 26 years, I internalized the judging comments, name-calling, criticisms, and emotional neglect. I assumed it was somehow my fault.

“The rational brain cannot abolish our feelings. Understanding why you feel a certain way doesn’t change how you feel,” says Bessel van der Kolk, author of “The Body Keeps Score.”

Like me, reaching for your favorite numbing vices probably feels easier. But to move forward, we have to let our bodies experience the repressed trauma.

*Somatic therapy prioritizes the mind-body connection in treatment to help address physical and psychological symptoms of mental health concerns, i.e., trauma and anxiety. The “pain pattern completion” exercise John Purkiss describes in “The Power of Letting Go” resonated for me. I encourage you to explore multiple somatic approaches to find what works for you.

Experience natural emotions, including anger

I’m having a mid-life crisis early; let’s call it a quarter-life crisis. Heaps of negative emotions I’d repressed over a lifetime began rising to the surface. Once I started therapy, I felt angry all the time. I had no idea I’d been stuffing away so many grouchy feelings or that they’d come out one day.

We’re nice people who don’t get angry, right? Counter to what we often hear, feeling anger is essential to mental health. “Anger is often a sign that we need a change,” says Melody Beattie.

“Natural emotions like anger have to be honored and processed when it comes to trauma. Premature forgiveness can lead to a delay in healing,” says Shahida Arabi.

Growing up in a narcissistic family, we often live with many unspoken rules. In addition to neglect, mixed messages, lack of boundaries, and judgment, we may learn:

• Acceptance is conditional; differences are rejected
• Submission is required
• Vulnerability is dangerous
• There’s never enough love and respect to go around
• Feelings are wrong
• Appearances are more important than substance
• There is no safety

Rewriting this unhelpful conditioning has been a critical part of my healing. My older brother used to call me a “cry baby,” “tattletale,” or say I was “lame” when I expressed my hurt feelings. I learned to equate “emotional” with “weak,” a false belief I carried for most of my life.

Now, instead of burying my anger, I let myself feel it. I metabolize the energy into making healthy changes for myself, honoring my needs, and rebuilding my self-worth.

Anyone who does not respect our needs and emotions does not genuinely love us.

Keep validating the pain

In my early days of narcissist discovery, the lack of validation seemed like one of the heaviest burdens. I looked healthy; no one could see my gaping inner wounds. I yearned to share what was happening but felt scared of being judged, seeming pathetic, or feeling victim-shame.

After hearing others’ stories and meeting many narcissist abuse survivors, it’s clear that we need much more validation for the pain we’ve suffered. Several describe narcissist abuse as “soul rape,” repeatedly happening for years. Research shows emotional abuse impacts are often worse than physical abuse, damaging our self-esteem and long-term mental health (Guy Winch, psychologist).

At a minimum, narcissists significantly damaged our mental well-being. “Being able to feel safe with other people is probably the single most important aspect of mental health; safe connections are fundamental to meaningful and satisfying lives,” says Kolk.

When I don’t feel safe, I notice myself acting awkward, speaking quietly, and generally trying to minimize myself. Yet my more authentic self is expressive, funny, bold, creative, and highly curious.

We lost our authentic selves to cope with narcissistic abuse, and that’s a tragedy.

Abusers will never validate the reality of the abuse. We have to validate and seek closure for ourselves.

Final Words

“Trust that still, small voice that says, ‘This might work, and I’ll try it.’” — Diane Mariechild.

Losing our sense of agency is another key symptom of narcissistic abuse. They convinced us that we’re worthless because that’s how they feel beneath their charming personas. As Debbie Mirza describes, we are loving, empathetic, strong, intelligent, capable, beautiful, and passionate beings.

We are well-resourced to move forward.

Healing takes time and consistent action. Keep reading about narcissistic abuse, sharing your story, expressing your emotions, letting yourself mourn, prioritizing self-care, trusting your intuition, and expanding your life outside of the narcissist. Our bodies know what we need. We deserve much better; healthy relationships are our birthright.

After decades of overachieving, people-pleasing, and perfectionism, my well-being is my priority. I will continue to set boundaries that honor my self-worth. I will be gentle with myself as I move through phases of mourning, anger, and releasing self-judgment—my crisis fuels transformation.

“There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself.” — Hannah Gadsby.

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