As I have said in a previous episode, “Keep your receipts!” Receipts come in all shapes and sizes. Some look like damning letters or nasty texts, while others look like a harmless, thoughtful, sincere anniversary card. Looks are deceiving!

(as are those who sent it)

For those in the know, that Hallmark receipt is anything but harmless, thoughtful or sincere. It’s merely a security deposit for my narcissistic parents. They need to keep up appearances for all who ask. It’s important that they can answer, “We send anniversary cards every year. We do our best to stay in touch.”

Oh…the absolute irony!

In the past, picking up that envelope would have ruined my day, sent me down a rabbit hole and reduced me to tears. 

Not anymore! Now, it serves a purpose. Now, I see it for what it really is…validation.

It reminds me that I’m not crazy…they are!

This love letter may sound different to any you have heard before and that’s okay. This is the only “Dear Daughter” letter I will ever receive, so I poured my whole heart into it.

I imagined myself having a raw, honest, heartfelt conversation with younger me…but…younger me will change, age and transform as the conversation continues. 

Once you have listened to my love letter, I encourage you to do the same. Pick up a pen and paper. Don’t erase. Don’t cross out. Just let the thoughts pour out and be as honest as you can. You don’t have to share it with anyone. That’s your choice. Sometimes, seeing your story in black and white reminds you what you’ve been through and, more importantly, how far you’ve come. 

Survival is exhausting. Trauma is debilitating. So, many of us don’t make time to have these heartfelt conversations with ourselves. I get it. This stuff is hard and ugly and painful. Do yourself a favour. Include all of the good stuff too…like your courage, your hope, your positivity, your good choices, your brave choices. 

You did the work. You’re doing the work. 

Be proud.

I see you. I see a daughter who dares.

In this episode, I discuss one of the biggest struggles of children raised by narcissists…the struggle for self-love. Although the struggle is real, it does not mean it is impossible or that we are incapable of loving ourselves. Quite the opposite is true. Narcissists do their best to control or manipulate everything, including our self-worth and self-confidence, but they don’t get to define who we are or who we become.

Remember, just like lists of side effects or symptoms of medications or conditions, the lists I provide are just that…suggested lists. You may relate to one, some, none or all.

No matter the number, we can safely say and agree that the struggle for self-love is REAL. In spite of that and in spite of them, we can choose to become happy, hopeful people who love the incredible human beings we have become.

So…if I told you that the title of this episode is, “There’s No Place Like Home,” would you close your eyes, click your heels together three times and hope for the best like Dorothy in the “Wizard of Oz”? I am quite fortunate. If I did that, I wouldn’t go anywhere. I am already home.

I can relate to Dorothy for many reasons. Here are some of them:

1. I survived a sh*t storm (or life tornado)

2. I ended up somewhere I never expected

3. I found and created a whole new family

4. I made it safely home

Actually, for the past 33 years, I could happily and proudly say, ‘I am home.’ Although I appreciate the four walls around me, home is much deeper than that. For me, home means…

     I am safe.

     I am loved.

     I belong.

There truly is no place like home.

Why have I chosen the saying, “We’re like chalk and cheese “ for this episode, you ask? Because it is the best way to describe the stark differences between a narcissistic parent and child. This is a British idiom used to describe two things or people that are COMPLETELY different despite perhaps looking similar. 

On the outside, we both look like humans. But, on the inside, we are chalk and cheese. Chalk is messy, so the narcissists are chalk in this case.

It’s a tricky one, I know. As narcissists can charm the socks off of anyone, many people are unable (or unwilling) to see their ‘chalky characteristics.’ Having said that, very few people would have known that I had been living with narcissistic parents unless I told them.

Suffice it to say, I have no problem seeing, identifying and pointing out the obvious differences. In this episode, I share many of them. Please don’t judge a book by its cover. The chalk is in there. Believe me. I know.

Unlike most people in the wild, children of narcissists aren’t just thinking/worrying about ONE snake or ONE bite. No such luck! We are wondering when the NEXT bite is coming. For a huge chunk of our lives, we had to live in the snake’s den. Moving out and/or away, however, doesn’t ensure a safe surrounding.

Join Erin and her guests, as they delve into what it means to be a child of a narcissistic parent.  Each fortnightly episode is crammed full of honesty, humour and hope.

We must learn to live with the ‘bites and poison,’ along with the scars that are left behind. At the same time, we can learn to focus on the healing. Yes, it’s hard and painful, but it is incredibly liberating as well.

Once you have identified the snake(s) in your life, you have choices to make. Try not to chase the snake. I had to learn that lesson the hard way. Focus on the healing. You deserve to live a happy and snake-free life.

One thing that has become perfectly clear to me is that narcissists are great performers. And, just like performers, they need an audience. Narcissistic parents only require an audience of ONE.

These narcissistic performers or, as described in this episode, puppeteers, need a WILLING assistant (puppet). It’s natural to want to place full blame on the puppeteer because it is traditionally their hand…their actions…their script…their voice that controls the puppet. 

I now understand that a narcissistic puppet show is a different act altogether. The WILLING puppet (parent) has choices and free will. No one has a hand up their back.

With that in mind, I can confirm that they are equally responsible, don’t get excuses, don’t deserve hall passes and haven’t earned forgiveness. 

The puppet’s OWN HAND is in all of it.

My birth family has never met me. 

I can hear you saying, “What do you mean? You talk about them on every episode.” Let me clarify.

My birth family have never met the REAL me.

I wasn’t playing roles, nor was I incognito. I have only ever been myself - living my truth and being authentic - but, for some inexplicable reason, they were(and are) unable to see me for who I really am.

I tried to belong. I desperately wanted to be a part of the family. I hung on for too many years, mainly due to the fear of losing my birth family. But, I have realised something that has completely changed my way of thinking.

I didn’t LOSE my family. I never HAD them.

I don’t know why my birth family sees/knows one version of me, whilst my chosen family sees/knows a very different version of me.

However, I DO know which one is the REAL me and that is all that matters.

Sometimes, I feel like I am sat in an eternal, never-ending waiting room on my own. I am anxiously awaiting my name to be called. I never know when it is going to happen or why. I can’t leave even though I am uncomfortable…so, I wait.

Sitting in that unique, imaginary waiting room evokes a mix of emotions…many of which are similar to our experiences of waiting in a Doctor’s Surgery.

Listen as I explore what sitting with ongoing trauma can look and feel like for children of narcissistic parents.

Dealing with narcissistic parents doesn’t come with a time line or specific treatment plan. There isn’t a pill, an ointment or a plaster big enough for the deep wounds.

It is one reason that the healing process is so unique.

The good news is that I can be sitting in the waiting room and still live a very happy, hopeful and fulfilling life. The reality is painful and unfair - for sure - but we can choose to be happy.  

Join Erin and her guests, as they delve into what it means to be a child of a narcissistic parent.  Each fortnightly episode is crammed full of honesty, humour and hope.

As children, we believe every word our parents say. Why doubt them? We don’t because what they say is the truth…or is it?

For far too long, I believed my narcissistic parents. Eventually, I had to make the conscious choice to NO LONGER BELIEVE. It didn’t happen overnight, but it happened. I now listen to my own voice. I believe my own truth. 

That one choice has changed my life. 

You can choose to do the same. 

Join Erin and her guests, as they delve into what it means to be a child of a narcissistic parent.  Each fortnightly episode is crammed full of honesty, humour and hope.

The price keeps increasing and the cost gets greater. It’s a gradual process, not happening all at once, like a simple bank transaction.

For me, the cost meant standing alone, which resulted in having no extended family for my children. I used to apologise for that, especially since it was a direct result of my hard choices. No more apologies! I now embrace ‘just us.’

I wouldn’t change it for the world because I have everything I need…EVERYONE I need!

It’s JUST US.

Join Erin and her guests, as they delve into what it means to be a child of a narcissistic parent.  Each fortnightly episode is crammed full of honesty, humour and hope.

You don’t have to be a parent yourself to ask the question, “Who is going to mother(parent) me?,” yet it is a familiar one asked by those raised by narcissists. We all know that being a child has no age limit. So, it’s not surprising to know that the longing to be mothered (parented) never goes away.

I have had to accept the fact that no one is going to parent me. Instead of allowing that truth to rob me of my happiness, I found healthy and hopeful ways to fill in that void.

EVERYONE NEEDS/DESERVES TO BE MOTHERED.
So, I mother anyone and everyone I meet.
It is a genuine ‘heart act’ and it makes me incredibly happy.

When I imagine myself as a Mama Bear, my mind is filled with animated, Disney-like characters, with a heart-warming soundtrack playing in the background.

However, if you asked my grown children for their versions of me as a Mama Bear, you would be transported to those infamous nature documentaries…the ones that should come with an 18 rating due to the copious amount of blood and guts splattered all over the place.

Don’t worry! I never resorted to intimidation by growling, sharpening my claws or attacking others until their blood was spilt.

As a Mama Bear, I couldn’t help myself. I would do and still do ANYTHING to protect my cubs…especially from the dangerous and unpredictable narcissists in the family.

How I protect them has changed over time, but something else hasn’t. Know that I will not apologise for being the Mama Bear that I am (Disney soundtrack optional).

I know many people who detest swearing. I’m not one of them. I don’t swear to intentionally offend, upset or embarrass someone. But, I believe there are far uglier, more offensive and degrading words than the ones in my pirate vocabulary.

One of the nastiest words - in my opinion - isn’t even a four letter word. It has five letters.

SHAME.

I carried that word and everything that goes with it, like a rucksack filled with rocks, for the majority of my life. That load was HEAVY!

The good news is that I don’t carry it anymore. When I realised (and believed) that all of that stuff happened TO me…not BECAUSE of me…I could finally take off the rucksack of shame. My rejoicing doesn’t end there. I have gone one giant leap further. I decided to flip it! I now say, out loud and with conviction, 

“SHAME ON YOU!”

Go on! Say it! Place the blame and shame where it rightfully belongs. They aren’t yours to carry. 

Narcissistic parents often choose to cross, ignore or erase one boundary…the EMOTIONAL boundary…and that is one too many. They do everything in their power to engage in emotional warfare. As the parent, they know their child’s weaknesses all too well, so will be sure to choose their words carefully…pushing as many buttons and pulling as many heartstrings as possible.

My mind was the first boundary that was non-existent for my mom. But, she didn’t stop there. She didn’t acknowledge boundaries AT ALL, becoming what I call a ‘free range parent.’

In her sick and twisted brain, my mind AND body were her property. For me and me alone, nowhere was safe.

Crossing emotional boundaries was/is bad enough. But, choosing to cross, ignore and erase all boundaries has left me with more scars than I can count. 

In this episode, I am going to explore why a certain two letter word used to get stuck in my throat.

As a child of narcissistic parents, NO really wasn’t an option. In my mind, that would lead to more rejection, more arguments and more alienation. However, once I realised that I was on this emotional rollercoaster ride ALONE, I knew that I had to speak up and stand up for myself. I had to have my own back.

I can’t put a finger on exactly when there was a HUGE shift in my thinking. It was gradual and took many years…which included many tears, much heartache, endless conversations, serious disappointment and TONS OF LOSS.

I can now say - wholeheartedly - that NO is a complete sentence. I hope you can come to the same conclusion…in your own time…in your own way.

Learn to say NO. Full stop.

Can you believe it? We are celebrating 50 episodes of Daughters Who Dare!

In this episode, I am sharing a short story I felt compelled to write. I listened to my heart and put the words down on paper. 

Have a listen.

I hope it helps to demonstrate how it felt and continues to feel to be a daughter of narcissistic parents. The short story ends, but my story doesn’t end there. It happens again…and again…and again.

Due to the endless ‘heart invasions’ I have experienced, I knew one thing for sure. If I was blessed to have children, I would choose to love them fiercely. 

I was blessed. I am blessed.

I chose AND choose to love my children fiercely…NO MATTER WHAT!

We spend our lifetime ‘building ourselves’ …who we are - what we believe - what we think - who and what we love…and so on. If we step back a moment and look at what we’ve built - or should I say - who we built, we can be proud of the person we built…the person we have become. Whether we do that at 18, 25, 30, 40 or 60, the bubble of pride can be popped instantly. In this episode, the pin holder is the narcissist parent (no surprise there!)

Like a human wrecking ball, they can reduce our self-worth to a pile of rubble. They can cause total destruction or knock us off balance. Either way, we are left to rebuild…piece by piece. And, to make things worse, we never know when it is going to happen.

It could be a social media post, a letter, a phone call, a text message, a song or nothing out of the ordinary. Others may find any of these insignificant. I am not others.

I am not going to apologise for my reaction. I will not be ashamed of the way it makes me feel. I will, however, give myself permission to feel ALL of the feels. 

For the purpose of this episode, I want you to imagine me stood on my soapbox. 

I am about to preach!

I say these things to all of us…including me.

Having reached the ripe old age of 60, I have come to many conclusions. Today, I present you with 10 of them. I encourage you to listen and - if you want - take notes. 

Once the episode is finished, I challenge you to do the same. You may not feel confident to go public. That’s okay. Instead, stand in front of your bathroom mirror and preach your truths.

Create your own soapbox moment. Sometimes, we all need to hear our own voice.

In this episode, I am discussing the biggest decision I ever had to make and, the crazy thing is, I had to make it on four separate occasions. 

No one can tell you if, how or when to do it.

I am going to walk you through each decision…all 4 of them…because they all happened at different stages of my life and each one was unique. 

How did I come to my decision to go No Contact with my narcissistic parents? You’ll have to listen to find out. Remember, I had no example to follow. I had no one cheering for me on the sidelines and I had no podcast to listen to. Haha. With each decision came some BIG FEELS. Some of mine may surprise you. The bottom line is I am proud that I made those choices. 

However, I am still learning how to live with my choices.

This will come as no surprise!

No matter where we turn, there are countless injustices in the world. Whether we are walking down the high street in major cities, turning on the news or scrolling on our phone, we are bombarded with many examples of injustice.

All of the scenarios I mentioned are injustices that are happening around us. They are external. We do have the luxury of closing our eyes, burying our head in the sand or living in a bubble if we want.

But, what if the injustices take up space in our mind - our heart - and our body? What if we aren’t given the luxury of escape? What if the injustices aren’t things we have seen, read or heard, but have experienced for a lifetime? What if those injustices were committed by those who should be protecting us? What if we are the children of those who inflict those many injustices?

We have no choice but to learn to live with it. Where is the justice in that?

Well, I will tell you.

My justice is my life.

My justice is the woman I have become and continue to become.

I win!

One of my favourite childhood books was written by Dr Seuss. I remember it being both endearing and hilarious. A baby bird falls out of the nest and begins a quest for his mother. Along the way, he asks a kitten, a cow, a plane, a tugboat and a digger. As he confronts each one, he asks, ‘Are you my mother?’

I didn’t fall out of a nest, but I did go on a quest of my own. However, the question I asked sounded a bit different. I would look at my mom and say, ‘How could you be my mother?’

I knew what kind of mother I imagined and mine was nothing like her. That reality and the utter disappointment that came with it didn’t prevent me from pursuing and fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a mother. For the past 30 years, I have been living my dream and have completed my quest. I couldn’t (and can’t) change the mother I have, but I chose to become the mother I had always imagined. 

When I think about my grandparents, I am amazed at their choices…their actions…their words…and their gift of being truth seers.

What I love about those who dare, including my grandparents, is that there isn’t one script, one method or one set of rules. Those who DARE can look very different and sound very different.

The way my grandparents DARED looked very different to mine. But, because they did, I had bucketloads of HOPE. As I have said before, “Where there is love, there is hope.”
I may be a daughter who dares to speak my mind, who is prepared to confront my narcissistic parents, and who isn’t willing to sacrifice who I am and what I believe.

That may not be how you choose to dare.

That’s ok. 

You do you.

I can’t imagine that I am the only child who spent hours constructing the ‘perfect’ house of cards. It took patience, concentration and skill. Every time I found myself staring at a huge puddle of playing cards, I would become even more determined to make the next one stronger and more robust.

The more houses I built, the better my construction would become. It all boiled down to one thing…the foundation. In a very real way, these card houses remind me of a child’s foundation years. Parents have choices in the ‘building’ of their child’s foundation. I bet you can guess what mine looked like. But, it didn’t have to be a life sentence of gloom and doom. 

Throughout life, people have found me, our paths crossed, relationships formed and love was given/received. Each time that happened, the love began to fill in the cracks…making my foundation stronger and more resilient…making me who I am today.

I need to have a serious conversation with my body - especially my heart. We have had different agendas for most of my life. I have only ever wanted to live a happy, peaceful, fun-filled life. My heart, on the other hand, decided to turn things into a life-long game of cat and mouse…without a reason to run. Somehow, my heart has convinced me that I am a fugitive on the run. Why? I haven’t committed a crime!

For many trauma survivors, this battle is REAL. I have lived with this struggle all my life without understanding what it was and why my body was behaving that way. 

Sit back and learn what I discovered. 

Maybe you can stop running too.

One word that has been with me…every step of the way…is BELIEVE. It isn’t  just  about others believing me or believing in me, but is also about my journey of self-belief. I learned, early on, that trying to convince narcissistic parents to see the real me and recognise my truth was a hopeless cause. I had to look outside my given family to find those willing to listen. When people responded with doubt, needed proof or offered patronising solutions, I shut down. Eventually, I found those trusted souls who listened, accepted and believed.

Be that person.

Be the one who believes.

We all have a story to tell. 

But, that doesn’t mean we HAVE to tell it.

Some stories have been written and never told…ever. Some have been told to a few trusted souls. And, some have been shared publicly, having been documented in print and/or on the screen.
There was a HUGE shift in my life when I realised that I get to choose my own narrative…when I acknowledged and believed that it is MY story to tell and only I get to hold the pen. Some of you may be thinking, “Isn’t that obvious? Of course it’s yours!” I hear you. I understand your confusion.
In my defense, my life story didn’t always feel like mine. At times, others took the pen right out of my hand, created their own plots, fabricated their own version of events and sprinkled the pages with their lies.

Not any more.

I am the one and only author of my story.

I believe everyone has one.

I say one, but, make no mistake. That one can encompass a minefield of things.

They can be played…and, goodness me…are they played! But, the many facets of who, why and when they are laid on the table can make all the difference.

Ironically, we don’t often see them. If we stood in a large circle in a room full of friends and strangers - and threw them all into a huge pile - I would dare say we would struggle to match each one with its corresponding owner… whether we knew each other or not. 

What am I talking about?

You’ll just have to listen to find out. 

We all have a mountain to climb.

I feel like I am on the top of the mountain-the same mountain I have been climbing all my life. I look down and see many more climbers - all doing their best to overcome obstacles, face their demons and beat the odds, while demonstrating resilience and determination. I find myself shouting words of encouragement and affirmation - wanting each climber to believe…to hope…and dig deeper when they feel discouraged. I wish I could just throw them a rope - a lifeline of sorts - and pull them up with me…saving them the pain, frustration and heartache…but, I can’t.

We all have a mountain to climb.

We can do it! We’ve got this!

Look at us now!

Ever since I can remember, I have been an inquisitive person. Call me Nancy Drew. (just like the fictional character in those books written by Carolyn Keene and others)

When I began to recognise how different my mom was and, more importantly how different she was treating me, I wanted to know WHY. But, unlike Nancy’s, my investigation couldn’t be solved. Instead of clarity and clues, I ended up collecting more confusion. The biggest problem was, I didn’t know what I was looking for. Most children would have asked their parents for help. That wasn’t an option. 

One thing was for sure, my mother’s narcissistic traits were only one spoke of her wheel of maternal madness. I had to identify, decipher, cope with and attempt to understand all of her spokes at once. I couldn’t just pick one.

What would Nancy do?

When most people think of their childhood fears, many lists would include monsters, ghosts, spiders and being in the dark. But, depending on anyone’s particular childhood experience, there may be a specific item that does not appear on anyone else’s list.

I have one such item.

For most of my life, I kept my greatest fear to myself, hoping and praying that it would never come true. 

It all stemmed from one question, “Who is going to believe me, anyway?” It is only when I found someone who believed me…truly believed me AND in me…that I could erase that fear from my list. Next item-frogs.

Most often, when we attend a wedding, we have no say in the seating arrangements. As a result, many of us have spent entire days making small talk and experiencing awkward gaps in conversations. Weddings only last a day. Phew!
Life can be cruel. For nearly half of my life, the people who sat at my table were GIVEN to me. If I was surrounded by strangers, the alienation and loneliness would have made sense. I always showed up - whatever the event - and I was showing up alone. In order for things to change, I had to take ownership of my table. Name cards were removed. Each new card was written by me as each guest was CHOSEN by me. Now, when I come to the table, I see those I chose to be with. I no longer allow life to make the seating arrangements. I hold the pen.

Can we talk about voices?

How often do we stop and think about how much voices matter in our lives? It would be safe to say we all have certain voices we long to hear, while others we dread hearing…even for a moment. Whether those voices are heard - literally - or can only be heard in our minds, they can turn our world upside down. Sadly, for children of narcissistic parents, time nor distance can MUTE the undesired, uninvited, hurtful voices. However, there is one, HUGE, silver lining. The words will be heard but don’t have to be believed.  I still hear my parents’ voices - inside and out - but I don’t believe a word they say. 

Winning Tug of War is dependent on several factors, such as:  an equal distribution of strength, the readiness of both parties and pre-existing wounds or scars. As a child of narcissistic parents, there isn’t a referee handy to check and monitor the equality, readiness or limitations of both parties, which creates an emotional imbalance from the start.

So much of this emotional tug of war just doesn’t make sense. Throughout the years, I have learned how to let go of the rope - to disengage - giving me time to reflect, change perspectives and to heal. It has made such a difference. Perhaps it is time for you to put down the rope and step away. I mean…we never asked to participate in this crazy game. 

FACT:  Some things in life DO get easier. Being a child of narcissistic parents isn’t one of them. Sorry. 

Time, experience, learned wisdom and repetition can make learning a skill, raising a child or facing a tech demon not only bearable but - dare I say - easy. The same can not be said for these unique family relationships. This doesn’t get easier.  You get stronger. In spite of it all, you can choose positivity, hope and happiness. You can engage with the world wide community, hearing other stories, collecting strategies and sound advice, all while being reminded that you are not alone. While I had to muddle alone, this generation has the internet at their fingertips. Seek, share, listen and learn.

Together we can change this from mission impossible to mission possible.

Life sends us ‘warning lights’ from time to time. Their intended purpose is to give us a gentle nudge, reminding us that something may need a bit of attention, a tweak, a ‘topping up,’ or a few new questions answered. I try not to panic each time one appears, but I often do. When they light up on my dashboard, I speed dial the garage. However, when my heart acts as a dashboard, I ‘pull over,’ immediately addressing the doubts, the questions, the what ifs, the choices I made, the person I’ve become. 

Most days, I coast along. But, as I am a mere human, there will still be panic moments. I must remind myself that it is just a warning light. I’ve got this. 

From now on, I promise to give myself grace.

No matter how little my grandparents had in their childhood (more than 100 years ago), there was one thing they definitely DID HAVE - a sense of right and wrong.

As discussed in previous episodes, one element of narcissistic parenting that will NEVER be understood is their ability to cheat morality…even though it has been around since the beginning of time.

The conclusion I have drawn is not only were they absent the day it was taught, but, while playing hooky, they wrote their own ‘moral code.’

When I look at my notes, I am reminded that if I do it once, it is a mistake. If I do it more than once, it is a choice. Their notes, however, make no sense at all.

I am left with many questions, but at least I know the difference between right and wrong. They don’t. Those poor, unfortunate souls.

Unless you grew up under a rock, every holiday comes with a huge bubble of expectations…like one of those massive balloons filled with confetti. But, as a child of narcissistic parents, the mere mention of holidays can cause anxiety, fear, stress, worry or dread…all of that just in the lead up to the big day…in the ‘sleeps’ before it’s finally here.

Most of the holidays are like speed bumps. We are expected to slow down, acknowledge that they are here and get over them without much effort. But, Christmas is definitely in a league of its own. For many, it becomes a survival game rather than a reason to celebrate.

All I want for Christmas is for you to hope, believe and celebrate. I want you to know the magic that you deserve.

The bottom line is… I could have become bitter. (I suppose there’s still time. ha ha) Instead, I chose to become better…a choice I have made over and over again. How? I have acquired ‘super powers.’ Okay. I’m not invisible, nor can I fly, but I can detect a lie from miles away. BAM! And, I am fearless in the presence of my enemies. KA-POW!

Although I have plenty of reasons to become bitter, I used my homegrown ‘super powers’ to focus on the things and people I do have and chose to develop the goodness within. Was it easy? Hell no! Was it worth it? 100%.

How did you escape the bitter bullet?

Instead of acknowledging and respecting boundaries, narcissistic parents move them, swap them, erase them, ignore them or create something new in their place…all to suit their plans…their strategies…their needs.

Boundaries aren’t invisible lines. They help us establish respect and trust, as well as create a safe space. So, when lines are crossed - emotionally and physically - trust can diminish or disappear altogether. As a result, nothing is sacred and nowhere is safe. That’s why I’m convinced that, as a child of narcissistic parents, my boundaries must have been drawn with invisible ink. How else could I explain why they didn’t see them?

This episode is about daring…daring you to make hard and unpopular choices. Keep an open mind. I want to encourage you to go ONE STEP FURTHER. As I am not walking your journey, I don’t know what your one step further looks like. Take a moment to look at your current situation. Is there one thing you have been wanting to ask, say or share? What has been holding you back?

In my mind, there are various ‘levels of dare.’ Each one takes courage and each one can be considered its own win. When we are ready and able to conquer all three levels - see it, prepare it and do it - we make a BIG SPLASH!

Come on! Let’s make a big splash together!

For most of my life - if not all of it - I felt like I was begging to belong to my own birth family. Sounds crazy…I know. Whilst begging, I was searching for answers. “What was wrong with me? Why was I difficult to like? Why was I impossible to love?” Instead of answers, I got sarcastic remarks, humiliating scenarios and more reasons to ask those questions.

Over time, I learned to deal with my own rejection, but nothing could have prepared me for the transfer of negativity to my children. They were treated differently purely as a by-product of being related to me. It demonstrates just how much power narcissistic parents have.

Am I still begging? NO. Why? Because I do belong. I belong to my own tribe of 5+3. My begging days are over.

At times, I feel like 5 year old me, standing at the start line of the Egg and Spoon Race. The difference is, I am no longer carrying a raw egg, but rather my trauma, which often makes me feel fragile, vulnerable and easy to break. I carry it with due care. I must carry it alone. I mustn’t drop it until the finish line. So far, my race has lasted nearly 60 years. Unlike 5 year old me, I can step back and see the bigger picture. When I am given the luxury of time, head space and the room to process, I can eventually see the humour where it is acceptable.

As a confident, articulate child of narcissistic parents, I open the door - wide open - during conversations about family relationships. The question I am asked the most is, “Will you feel guilty if/when your parents become ill or when they die?” My answer is always the same. “There will be no room for guilt.” Will there be tears? Most definitely…for all that could have been…under different circumstances. Instead of guilt, I will experience peace (as I already do), knowing that I did everything I could.

Why has the image of ‘the black sheep’ lasted so long? It is easier to identify that family member as the one who ‘doesn’t fit in’ or ‘doesn’t quite belong.’ Separation is the key. Other family members would rather let the black sheep get on with their own life than jeopardise their designated place in the flock. Having said that, it is possible to be an ally to the target child in the family. Some ways require little or no effort, while others take tremendous bravery and courage. The target child doesn’t make anyone choose. There are no ultimatums on the table. So, it is up to the ally to define their involvement. A shout out to all those who have chosen to be an ally. It takes someone special…someone with courage…to stand with the target child of the narcissist.

Trauma isn’t just what happened to us, but also what doesn’t happen to us, including missed opportunities, especially in childhood. There won’t always be triggers as reminders as so much of that trauma already lives within us.

Our bodies respond to trauma in many ways. Some are obvious, however, many become invaluable, built-in ways to keep us alert and keep us safe. These responses are not excuses, nor are they choices…most of the time. Rather than waiting for triggers, we must learn to listen to our bodies as they store, manifest, process and release the trauma that has become an undeniable part of who we are. We must be ready at all times. I’m ready!

I hold the key to my haunted fun house and there isn’t a clown in sight.

I am incredibly curious. How do some people manage not just to survive but to thrive? What tools do they have in their tool box? That is one HUGE philosophical question. When I take a peek into my tool box, I see the ones I have collected throughout my lifetime. Each tool comes with memories, emotions and names of those who helped me to collect them. I wouldn’t be here without them.

But, my tool box does not protect me from other options, other choices or other habits that may feel easier or quicker in the moment. At any point in my life, addictions could have replaced any or all of those tools. The struggle is real. How did I survive and thrive? I carry my tool box with me wherever I go. I am proud of the tools I have collected but I have plenty of room for more.

Hindsight can be a lovely thing…or not. When I look back on my journey, on the mountain I have climbed, the one that involved navigating relationships with narcissistic parents, I can SEE the same view but FEEL completely different emotions. The mountain I climbed hasn’t changed. I have. When I listen to other voices, I hear them say, “Well, you did that! You made that happen!

It’s all on you!” Some days, those words become fuel for my fire of doubt. But, on other days, those words become reminders of all I have achieved and all I have become. When I listen to my own voice, I hear myself ask, “Would I do it all again?” And, without hesitation, I answer, “YES!” What have I done? I have dared to live a life filled with honesty, humour and hope. That’s what I’ve done.

NO CONTACT must be one of the most complex topics, especially when referring to parental relationships. When I made the decision to go NO CONTACT, it was the first time in my life that I was telling my mother how things were going to be. I was the one dictating what our relationship would look like…non-existent.

That worked for me. But, did it work for her?

Well, the best way I can answer that is things got messy. It wasn’t just about the two of us. The decision would impact the entire family. I am still facing the consequences and counting the cost . . . but, my decision still stands.

Now, two episodes later, can you see why I say it isn’t for the faint of heart?

As the Queen of Analogies, I offer two more scenarios that relate to the experience of being a child of a narcissistic parent: sailing solo around the world and climbing Mount Everest. Unlike the trained sailor, I was ‘put’ in my boat to sail alone without any skills, instructor, compass or even oars for that matter. And, like the skilled climber, I was left to face so many elements, most of them out of my control.

Why those examples, you ask? It refers to my decision to go NO CONTACT. This episode isn’t about defining that term, but rather exploring what it means, uncovering its many layers and processing all that it uncovers. Everyone’s experience of NO CONTACT will look different. That’s okay. It is such a complex topic and a HUGE decision. Let’s sail this ship and climb this mountain together.

Why is it that, in the English language, there aren’t more words for grief, especially since there are so many different kinds?

As a child of a narcissist, I refer to the most difficult, confusing, inexplicable grief as missed moments. That grief stings the most because a) the other person is still alive b) the other person is cognitively aware of their actions and c) I had to watch my parent create memories with other people…three of whom were my siblings.

Knowing and accepting the fact that I was stuck with my narcissistic parent was my first real experience of grief…a grief I have carried with me all my life. How I wish there was a word big enough to describe and explain that type of grief.

Join Erin and her guests, as they delve into what it means to be a child of a narcissistic parent.  Each fortnightly episode is crammed full of honesty, humour and hope.

Cliches have a lot to answer for. Although they usually come from a good place and are well-intentioned, they aren’t often received in the same way.

When I tell someone that I no longer have a relationship with a family member, I brace myself and wait for them to say, “Life is too short.” I want to scream, “Too short for what?” but, instead I calmly reply, “It was a last resort. I have tried everything…absolutely everything.” Believe me.

One of the reasons I started a Book Club over 20 years ago is because I love the diversity of perceptions and opinions. I find it incredibly fascinating that six people can read the same book and yet it often feels as though we met different characters and read different plots.

And, just like that, four children lived in the same house, raised by the same parents and yet, somehow, my story reads so differently to theirs. My siblings didn’t write a different story for me…my narcissistic parents did. As a result, I often look at my siblings and want to ask, “Did we really grow up in the same house?”

Some days, I wonder if I should have called this podcast “Daughters Who Are Terrified”rather than “Daughters Who Dare.” The fear is real…often too real. As a child of narcissistic parents, I have had to learn ways to face, jump, ride, manage and survive the waves, whether that was in tiny, trickling ones or waves that knocked me off my feet. Although I can disguise, delay and deny the fear…it doesn’t go away.

Let’s stand and face the waves together.

There are many types of love language, but my favourite language is words of affirmation. Words matter, am I right? I appreciate the words, but, sometimes, I appreciate the underlying message even more. A simple baseball reference like,

“Three strikes…you’re out!” may seem silly and insignificant to others. But, in my case, I heard, “I see you. I hear you. I believe you. You are loved.” Those words of affirmation were life changing. I will never forget them.

I am a child of not one narcissistic parent, but three (hence the baseball reference). I may have struck out in the mother department, but I haven’t lost the game.

When I told others that I was raised by a narcissist, they would often reply, ‘Well, at least you had two parents. At least the other parent was there for you.”

How I wish that were true!

How I still wish that was true!

One of the toughest pills I had to swallow was accepting the fact that both parents were equally responsible for their actions and choices. One parent will always be the narcissist. The other parent will never have my back.
A sad truth, yet my truth nonetheless.

How often do we take time to stop and reflect? It is not only important, but necessary to do just that. As the relationship between child and narcissistic parent lasts a lifetime (and beyond), those pauses can make all the difference. Every now and again, allow yourself the time.

Take a good look at who you are and just how far you have come. You did that! Be proud!

Forgiveness is hard to do, especially as the child of a narcissist. I was expected to forgive, yet the adult in the relationship could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair. So, I made the decision…a huge decision. I didn’t need to forgive them. Instead, I began to forgive myself.

I didn’t always use that word - narcissist. But, once I did, it stuck like a label on a pickle jar. For years, I would describe her in many words and give examples of her nasty behaviour and show the many scars I live with, but true clarity happened when I saw her for what she is. My eyes and ears were fully opened. Now, I can’t unsee it.

One of the favourite things a narcissistic parent does is try to make you think you’re crazy. It doesn’t stop there. They need to convince others too. So, keep your receipts. Holding onto the truth, no matter the format, enables you to preserve your sanity. It sounds dramatic, but those reminders can be game-changers. They are proof. You aren’t crazy. They are.

“Parents do their best.” I have heard that statement all of my life. I don’t agree. The truth is that some parents make good choices and make some mistakes, all with good intentions and a sincere heart. Other parents don’t.

Believing that statement, as a child of a narcissist, only made me full of blame, shame and guilt. It also relieved the parent of any responsibility or accountability because they were ‘doing their best’.

In this episode, I challenge that all too familiar phrase and set the story straight.

On my 1st birthday, I got my first doll baby. From that moment on, I wanted to be a Mom. I had it all planned out. I would get married and have four children and, as promised in all the fairy tales, live happily ever after. My role play looked nothing like real life. As I got older, the dream was mixed with fear. I wanted to be a mom, but not my mom. Could I separate the two?

In order to survive and thrive as a child of a narcissistic parent, you need to find tools and strategies that work for you. I wish I could hand out cliff notes or a cheat sheet that had all the answers. They don’t exist.

When you realise the truth, naming it and accepting it for what it is, you figure it out the best way you can. Our stories may be unique, but they share a common thread.

Growing up and dealing with a narcissistic parent can be challenging, exhausting and even soul-destroying. But, it doesn't have to hold you down or hold you back. When I was younger, I would have loved to find and connect with others who got it...who got me.

That acceptance, support and validation would have been life-changing. Although I didn't have it, I wanted to create it. Wherever you are in your journey, come and join us. We get it. We've got you.

If asked to define a narcissistic parent, we may use similar words, but our experiences make each definition unique. In this episode, we touch the tip of the narcissistic iceberg, knowing full well that there is much to explore beneath the surface. There isn't a dictionary big enough to contain all of our definitions, and our words may be limiting or not suffice, but we have made a start writing our own, knowing what they are matters.

You found us! Welcome to the Daughters Who Dare community. I like using the word community because many of us have felt alone as we learned how to survive and thrive as children of narcissistic parents.

We will be having honest and organic conversations about all aspects of this unique relationship. As well as speaking truth, we are bringing hope and humour to the table. Grab a coffee and get comfortable. We're glad you're here.

During this quick trailer, Erin explains more about the upcoming episodes.  

Daughters Who Dare releases on Sunday the 3rd of December.  Please use this app to Follow or Subscribe so you don't miss the upcoming episodes.