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The Silence I Mistook as Strength: Healing from Narcissistic Abuse

  • Writer: Kim
    Kim
  • Sep 21
  • 3 min read

I didn’t realize I had lost my voice at first. That’s the thing about narcissistic abuse; it’s quiet, confusing, and it tricks you into believing that silence is peace. For a long time, I thought I was being strong by staying calm, swallowing my truth, and keeping the peace. My ex-husband often called me “weak,” yet deep down I knew I wasn’t. In hindsight, I can now see he was projecting his own insecurities onto me. But beneath all that silence, I was slowly vanishing. I look back at pictures of myself and there's ono glow, no sparkle, or shine-just dullness and sadness. Five years later, I am finally using my voice—not only for myself but also for the women who walked this same path of silence before me, including my mother, my very first bully.


Patterns Passed Down

I can 100% affirm that my mother was not a loving or nurturing parent. Affection was rare, kindness was limited, and saying “I love you” felt awkward between us and didn't occur until after my sons were born. Even hugs didn’t feel refreshing—they felt forced. When I discovered that my ex-husband was an undiagnosed narcissist, I had to stop and ask myself: “What drew me to him in the first place?" The answer was painful but freeing: both my ex-husband, mother, and father all had similar traits. I had unconsciously recreated the same dynamics I grew up with and made it my mission to end that cycle with my own children. How could my mother be the soft, affectionate caregiver I needed when she herself was enduring abuse, carrying her own unhealed childhood trauma, and trying to survive? This is the truth about generational trauma—it repeats until someone decides to break it. Today, I can extend compassion and empathy toward my mother, but I also protect myself with healthy boundaries. I’ve chosen not to be voluntarily hurt by anyone, regardless of the title they hold in my life. Healing is everyone's responsibility, but it is also a choice.

a woman who has lost her voice

Growing Up in Chaos

As a child, I became skilled at “reading the room.” It was my survival strategy in a household full of tension. My parents often provoked each other on purpose, creating constant conflict. My brother was forced into the role of referee between them; a responsibility that left him wounded too.

That chaos pushed him toward the streets in search of refuge, which only led to more trouble and eventually, alcoholism. That’s the ripple effect of trauma: it doesn’t just wound one person—it spreads like roots through a family tree, unless someone chooses to heal.


Reclaiming My Voice

I share this not for pity, but as a declaration: silence is not strength. True strength is speaking your truth, breaking the cycle, and choosing a different legacy. By reclaiming my voice, I honor not only myself but also every woman before me who stayed silent because she didn’t feel safe to speak. This is why I created Nurturing New Roots—a space where women healing from narcissistic abuse, family dysfunction, and generational trauma can find their voice, their strength, and their freedom. As I write, I am even healing my inner voice. I no longer have to "keep the peace" and have the freedom to speak my truth, even when it feels uncomfortable.


If you’re on this path, know this: You are not weak for setting boundaries. You are not broken for needing healing. You are not alone in this journey. Together, we can break the silence, nurture new roots, and grow into women who are rooted in healing, grown in love, and nurtured for change.



 
 
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