How Writing About Narcissistic Abuse Freed Me From Shame
I use creativity to process trauma; it’s working.
Over the past year, I’ve published a few dozen articles on repeated emotional, sexual, and physical abuse. With writing skills and creative courage, I detailed my most painful memories and embarrassing secrets in a way that felt freeing and empowering.
Though hitting “publish” often feels scary as hell, after decades of people-pleasing, I refuse to remain silent; it’s working.
With each article, I decide that my truth matters more than making people feel comfortable or protecting abusers. I validate my right to take up space in the world.
By sharing painful stories, I get to write a brave new ending. I am not a victim; I am a success story. With each painful truth, I’m beginning to accept the sad realities of abuse and know that it wasn’t my fault.
“Nothing silences us more effectively than shame. It needs three things to grow exponentially: secrecy, silence, and judgment. But if you douse it with empathy, it cannot survive,” — Brene Brown.
Through courageous vulnerability, we find love and connection.
Creativity heals.
Soon after I started depth therapy, I stumbled onto “The Artist’s Way” book by Julia Cameron, a program that slowly renewed my creativity. Nearly one year later, I’ve published over 50 authentic articles.
Using creativity brings us closer to love, intuition, and our most whole selves. As I listened to what I needed to express, I felt a strong need to talk about past trauma.
Growing up in a narcissistic family, children learn vulnerability is dangerous, acceptance is conditional, and feelings are wrong, wrote Julie L. Hall, a recovery coach. Getting into the gory details of abuse seemed like the perfect antidote to decades of invalidation and people-pleasing.
Understanding how childhood trauma hurts us enables us to release core shame and ongoing loneliness; then, we finally experience a sense of peace and self-love, describes Ross Rosenburg, an abuse expert.
Throughout my creative writing journey, I’ve gradually felt:
- Greater self-acceptance: I’m never alone in my feelings.
- More self-trust: I listen to and care for my needs more consistently.
- Stronger boundaries: It’s much easier to assert my needs when I need to.
- Powerful self-awareness: My sensitivity is a strength.
- Increased self-worth: By releasing shame and embracing creativity, I feel more lovable.
Knowing my stories help others feel connected, validated, and empowered fuels my writing even more.
I addressed my fears about publishing.
As I got to more cringeworthy personal and family stories, I started worrying. Won’t people judge me? What if family members read this? Will they retaliate somehow?
Mostly I felt scared I wasn’t good enough, that I would never be good enough, and if I talked about my mistakes and pain, people would find out.
“True courage comes when we decide to take a risk without knowing the outcome. It means showing up and letting yourself be seen, despite the risk. When you show up in this way, you open yourself up to joy and connection, but you can only do it by accepting that there may be pain,” says Brene Brown.
Brown taught me the people who experience the most love and belonging are the ones who simply believe they are worthy. By expressing my truth, I assert that I am worthy of love.
Sharing intimate information online in a “safe” way:
Personally, I like to weigh the benefits versus potential harm and consider long-term impact. What if manipulative people use my flaws against me? What if future employers judge me? Will I get a “vulnerability hangover”?
A few years ago, I thought modeling would be fun to make some extra money and posted several lingerie photos online. I felt similar concerns, especially given my religious background. Years later, though I did take some images down, I’m proud of myself for being bold.
As for professionalism, I feel anyone who judges me for authenticity isn’t someone I want to work for. If anything, I assume my creative expression shows character and makes me more interesting.
In terms of attracting other narcissists, that actually happened a few months ago. But by listening to my body, using my topic knowledge, and narcissist nightmare tools, I ended the relationship in record time. Ultimately, the experience built confidence in my intuition and boundary setting.
Talking about specific people in a way that feels ethical:
Choosing the right wording feels a bit like walking on a balance beam. I want to share enough detail to convey the full impact, but I don’t want to share personally identifiable information unnecessarily.
In several articles, I use the phrase “two close family members” because abuse from extended family would be very different from those you lived with. Yes, anyone who knows my family will likely guess the specific people. But I’m done walking on eggshells to protect people who abused me — validating my experience matters more.
If anyone does retaliate, I will quickly learn who does and doesn’t have my best interest at heart. Despite being painful, victim shaming is a quick way to determine who doesn’t deserve my time and energy.
Here are my favorite strategies for sharing.
Whether you want to share creative work publicly or in private groups, here are a few approaches that empowered me in my journey.
- Build vulnerability slowly: Some moments felt like a leap, but mostly I take lots of small steps towards greater courage. Since my earlier articles, I slowly progressed to adding more personal and uncomfortable details at a pace that felt natural.
- Share abuse stories with other survivors: Support groups have been a critical part of my journey for processing trauma and feeling confident in my experiences. I constantly see this recommendation in abuse research.
- Process criticism directly: Criticism blocked my creativity in the past but using Cameron’s guidance, I feel the pain all the way through, nurture myself, and keep creating. This approach helped me to continue writing after a family friend publicly criticized and dismissed my work.
- Have a plan for anxiety: Especially as an abuse survivor, I get stuck in my head a lot. If I feel anxious, I use guided meditations, soothing techniques, or contact people I trust to re-orient myself.
- Create a joyful process: Things like creative rituals, a beautiful workspace, a spiritual altar, regular artist dates, and daily walks give me relaxed energy. By living in the moment and validating myself, I’m more resilient to others’ judgment.
- Always find the opportunity: Even with my most horrific stories, I focused on hopeful endings and lessons that may encourage others. I believe pain carries valuable wisdom, so I get curious.
- Make time for play: Being creative means reconnecting to my inner child, so I give myself time to be unproductive and embrace pleasure.
Brave vulnerability is contagious.
Hearing other artists describe their fears, embarrassment, and losses inspires me. As my therapist said, when you start talking about something hard, you make it okay for others to share too.
Though I still worry and fear criticism sometimes, I know sharing uncomfortable truths empowers and inspires others.
Over the past year, numerous strangers and friends shared deeply personal stories with me, sometimes it was the first time they’d told someone. Each time I feel reminded that I am moving in the right direction.
When I wrote “I Almost Killed Myself 4 Years Ago; Now I Understand Narcissist Abuse,” thousands read the story and many related similar experiences. Sharing this emotionally raw piece changed everything for me; despite being so imperfect, I know I was never responsible for the abuse.
When we share our shame, it can’t survive.
“I want to be real. I want other people to see me doing that and feel like they can do that too. I want to talk about the stuff that makes us feel ashamed and take away its power. It’s okay to not be okay. If we all were a little less afraid to look silly or weak, the world might actually change,” wrote Shannon Ashley, a top writer focused on honesty.
Getting abuse stories off my chest after years of silence has been a powerful act of self-compassion.
When I started writing authentically, I had no intention of detailing my trauma. I never imagined I would write about verbal abuse in childhood, cutting myself in college, the sexual assault I never shared, or my long list of shadows. But I have never felt so proud.
“When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write a brave new ending,” — Brene Brown.
Choosing courage over comfort feels like living fully, and dealing with my inner critic, looming fears, and outside criticism seems well worth the price of admission.
With honest communication and empathy, I believe we can create a healthier, more connected, and loving culture—your voice matters.
Disclaimer: I view creativity as complementary, not a substitute, for trauma therapy. Though I encourage others to tell their stories in a way that feels authentic, factors like financial dependency or shared custody may make public sharing unsafe. Trust your intuition.
I write inspiring, uplifting, and empowering content on transformative topics. Join the Weekly Love News on my website to receive creative offerings each week (Tuesdays) in your email inbox.