I’m having one of those days.

You know the days I mean.

When you wake up in the morning and it already feels like a week has passed. Where you’re exhausted from blinking the sleep out of your eyes. Where nothing gives you any motivation, and every step feels like walking through thick soup. Only the soup isn’t warm, and inviting, and there doesn’t seem to be an end to it.

I used to push through those days. I would feel guilty for not getting anything done. Or the things that did get done were sup-bar, tasks completed with the energy of a slug in a puddle.

As the years have passed, I’ve come to realize something about those days.

First and foremost, there’s no stopping them. They arrive when you least expect them. No warning, no email or SMS to give you a heads up. You’re thrown into it, like a small child into a swimming pool to rid them of their fear of water.

At least they have armbands.

You don’t get to have armbands when you’re older. You’re supposed to have your shit all figured out. Armbands are for youth, the uninitiated, those who have yet to jump onto the adult train. Not that we got any warning for that either, mind.

We were all so desperate to be adults, we ran into it blind. Ignoring the warnings of our parents, we knew better. We were going to do better, change the world, fix all the wrongs, and have all the freedoms that had been kept from us in our shackled teens.

We didn’t need advice or guidance from those old fogeys holding us back.

But now, I’m the old fogey. Well, OK. Not that old, but still.

And these days creep up on me like a sprawling mist across a grassy moor.

At least now, I can be honest with myself. Because I think you need to be. Before, I would have pretended I wasn’t trudging through thick soup. I would have battled on like any other day. Right to the bitter end, where I couldn’t wait to get into bed so tomorrow would come.

I rarely have two days like this in a row.

Thank God!

The worst of it?

Nothing makes it feel any better. Not chocolate, not alcohol, not a walk in the park or a ride out in the car. This heaviness wraps itself around you like a wet woolen coat, and absolutely everything you do is a huge effort. Mentally and physically.

But I’ve grown to see them for what they are.

These are the days I have to be the most compassionate with myself. To tell myself that it’s OK to do a shitty job today because tomorrow will be better.

The brain fog will be gone. The lethargy will have left the building. The low mood will have lifted. The desire to crawl back to bed and hide under the covers will have dissipated.

Still, I have to get through the day. And that’s the rub, isn’t it? How do we get through days like this? Most of us can’t just crawl back into bed. We have jobs, responsibilities, families to care for.

So, what do we do?

I’ll tell you what I do.

I don’t push. That’s it. When I have to do something, I do it to the best of my ability in the moment. Other than that, I rest. The dishes will wait until tomorrow, or at least, later. Put together an easy dinner. Anything you can put off, put off.

I can hear you now.

You’re telling me that’s easy for me to say, but I don’t know what you’re going through. You’re right, I don’t. But I was a divorced mother of four children with no help at all from their father. So, I do have some idea of how hectic life can be.

And, after all that parenting, and all that working, and all that running around, I can tell you with crystal clarity, that none of it is the end of the world.

Tomorrow will come, whether you rest or you don’t.

So, I implore you. On those days when you can’t begin to explain how you feel. Be compassionate and rest.

People-pleasing is a survival mechanism that develops in us as children, especially for those of us who grew up in toxic, narcissistic environments.

Our parent/s demanded constant attention, admiration, and compliance. There’s either rewards or punishment involved. This left us with little emotional room to assert our own needs.

I don’t know about you, but in our house, I and my brother and sister quickly learned that love, attention, and safety came at a price.

Here’s one of many recollections that formed the framework for me becoming a people-pleaser.

Myself and my siblings came home from school one day. All three of us thundered up the stairs to put our stuff away, as kids do after school.

Apparently, Mum had called us into the kitchen, but we hadn’t heard her.

She was really angry, thinking we’d ignored her. As usual, she threw the usual threat at us.

“Just wait until your father comes home.”

Now, we were terrified. We stayed quiet. We hoped she would forget. But she didn’t.

When Dad got home, all three of us were ordered downstairs. He had this tatty brown high-winged back chair situated in the corner of the living room. It gave him the full view of everything. I used to call it his throne. Mainly because he saw himself as the king, the almighty, the ruler of the house.

So, there we were, all lined up in front of him.

He demanded to know why we hadn’t come downstairs when Mum had called. All three of us said the same thing.

We hadn’t heard her.

Now, as I look back at this circumstance, I see it for how ridiculous it was. I mean, we had committed no heinous crime. But that was our whole life. Everything was blown out of proportion. The punishment never fitted the crime.

Dad sent us back to our rooms for an hour. And then, we were called back downstairs again.

This time, he had the telephone sat on the table beside him. He proceeded to telephone an orphanage. Or, so we thought. He had a full-on conversation with three different orphanages right there in front of us.

The conversation consisted of him telling the person on the other end of the line that he would be bringing his children to them in the next three days.

I was eight years old, by the way. Eight. My sister was six!

The three of us were now terrified. Not only where we going to be sent away, we were also going to be separated. We would never see each other, or Mum and Dad again. Or so Dad said.

Dad kept this up for three whole days.

We were told to pack a small bag to take with us. We were actually forced to pack a bag. At eight and six years old. We were told that we wouldn’t be going to school on Monday.

Instead, we would be taken to the orphanage.

Over those three days, Mum kept saying, “If you’re really good. If you don’t upset your dad. If you behave really well, maybe he’ll change his mind.”

People-pleasing? I had a degree in it by the time I was ten.

Of course, at the time, we couldn’t have known that the telephone line wasn’t plugged into the wall. That there was no one on the end of the line. He was so serious. He was always serious.

But he was angry. And he was determined to punish us.

As you can imagine, I couldn’t wait to leave home. Desperate to get out from under my father’s control.

But, low and behold, even when we escape, we find out that we’ve taken all those learned behaviors with us.

We’re still looking for that validation, and people-pleasing is a way to get it. Add to that, the fear of disapproval, and the need to feel secure. We also carry with us, a deep-seated guilt or anxiety if we even think about prioritizing our own needs.

Everyone else is more important than us. But the pressure to please can be immense. We get caught up in a cycle that perpetuates emotional exhaustion, loss of identity, and a sense of being unappreciated.

We’ve all been there, right? Saying “yes” when we want to say no.

So, what are we supposed to do about it?

It’s simple, and not simple.

We have to learn to say no. Which, to those who have been raised in a healthy household, might be a breeze. Not so much for the rest of us. But, like anything that’s worth doing, it’s going to take effort and practice.

So, here goes.

Start with a Clear and Simple “No”

One of the easiest ways to decline a request is simply by saying, “No, thank you.” No explanations needed. The key is to remain firm and avoid the urge to justify your decision.

For Example: “I can’t commit to that right now, but thank you for thinking of me.”

Offer an Alternative (When Appropriate)

If you still want to be helpful, but don’t have the time or energy to fully commit, you can offer a limited alternative. This allows you to set a boundary while still showing consideration for the other person’s request.

For Example: “I can’t help with that task, but I could recommend someone else who might be able to.”

Use the “Broken Record” Technique

If the other person persists, calmly repeat your original response. You don’t owe them an explanation or justification. This helps reinforce your boundary without engaging in a back-and-forth.

For Example: “I’ve already said no, and that’s my decision. Thank you for understanding.”

Practice Self-Affirmation

After setting a boundary, it’s helpful to practice self-affirmation to counter any guilt or negative thoughts that arise. Remind yourself that you have the right to prioritize your needs and well-being.

For Example: “I deserve to take care of myself, and it’s okay to say no.”

Is it easy? No, it’s not.

It’s going to take some practice. But the more you do it, the easier it becomes. More importantly, you’ll begin to feel that self-empowerment that you so rightly deserve.

You’re reclaiming your life, your energy, and your self-worth.

Reduced Stress and Burnout

When you stop overcommitting and start saying “no,” you reduce the mental and physical exhaustion that comes from constantly trying to meet everyone else’s needs.

Better Self-Esteem

Setting boundaries builds self-respect and strengthens your sense of self-worth. You’ll feel more empowered and confident when you trust yourself to make decisions that serve your best interests.

Healthier Relationships

When you prioritize your own needs, you attract people who value and respect you. Healthy relationships are built on mutual respect, not on one-sided sacrifices.

More Time for What Truly Matters

Saying “no” opens up time and energy for the things that really matter to YOU.

Now, it’s time for you to take action!

I challenge you to say “no” to something that doesn’t align with your needs or priorities. Whether it’s turning down an invitation, declining an extra task at work, or simply refusing to engage in a conversation that drains you.

You might need to start small, but that’s OK. Something is better than nothing, right?

Saying “no” is not selfish. It’s a vital act of self-care that honors your worth. By embracing the power of “no,” you’ll begin to reclaim your life and create space for what truly matters to you.

Want more tips and tricks to deal with the lasting effects of narcissism? Why not check out our podcast. Find us on Spotify here.

Narcissism — The Huge Impact It Has On Children — Real Life Experiences

Being raised by a narcissist leaves you with a lot of baggage. And not that lovely Louis Vuitton gear, either.

My sister and I have recently started a podcast to try and help others break free from the grip of narcissism, whomever that person might have been in your life.

The podcast is called Breaking Free Together.

Here’s a snippet from a recent episode.

Karen: Learning and understanding that these are tactics is learning that this whole situation, and the narcissist’s behavior isn’t about you, it’s about them, and it’s about where it comes from in them. It’s not about anything that you’ve done. It’s not a reaction to anything that you’ve done. It’s about how they feel about themselves inside.

Pamela: There is that misconception that a narcissist loves themselves, that’s why they’re the way they are. But you hit that nail entirely on the head. It is from past trauma. Their behavior is based on actual self-loathing, that’s why they need control.

Because they hate themselves and who they are. A narcissist fills the hole of their desperation by controlling other people. We’ve spoken many times over the years about filling our emotional needs, and we can do that with things that aren’t healthy. So, in my formative years I would have tried to fill that hole with alcohol. You’ve filled that whole with other things.

Karen: Chocolate. I mean, chocolate’s a lot less dangerous than alcohol, let’s be honest. (She laughs.)

Pamela: Your liver’s not going to die from chocolate poisoning, is it? But yeah, people with eating disorders, people with addictions are often people who have not been able to self-gratify and make themselves whole without external tools.

If I have a need to feel loved, and instead of saying I’m enough, I can love myself, I reach for a bottle of vodka and say, “Well, you know, this will make me feel loved.” We all know it’s just going to make me forget that I’m unlovable and I’m not worthy and I’m not good enough. At least, for a little while.

The narcissist hasn’t looked for tools. Their fix is control over people. Their fix, depending on who the narcissist is, is the demeaning of other people or making other people appear lesser than the narcissist is.

Their behavior is totally about them. The problem is, if this has been behavior that has been a pattern and continuous and it’s beating you down so much, you don’t get that.

You don’t understand that from a different perspective. You don’t have that separation to be able to say, this is not about me, this is about them. You get to a point where you say, “I’m just a bad person. I’m awful,” or whatever.

Karen: I think it’s key to understand that there’s nothing you can do to make them act any differently. So, you think to yourself, right, if I just change.

Or us as children;

if we behave more,

if we’re quieter,

if we do exactly as we’re told,

if we do the dishes right,

if we’re busy when he comes in, if we do all our homework.

It wouldn’t matter if we were absolutely 100% the best children ever to have walked this earth.

It’s the same if you’re in a relationship with a narcissist and you think, if I just make sure that I do this or if I do that. But what they’ll tend to do is switch it up anyway, so no matter which way you go, you won’t know where you are because that’s, like you say, that’s where they get their gratification.

It doesn’t matter if you were thinner or fatter, if you have more makeup, less makeup. If you did things this way or did things that way, none of it will be right.

Because it is about them and they will not be happy with anything. So, it’s like what you said earlier. It usually comes from a trauma in their past and because they’re not able to look in on themselves and process it or like you said, use different healthy tools to heal, then what they do is outwardly.

So, it’s actually a huge, huge weakness, isn’t it? Being a narcissist. They act like they’re the powerful people, but they’re actually the weakest people because they get their strength from picking on others.

Pamela: Yes, because it goes back to control. Usually, the trauma they experienced involved the fact that their control was taken away, and thus, the only way they feel validated is if they are in control.

A lot of trauma is based on lack of control. If control was taken away, you go on to either find healthy mechanisms to understand that — that control was taken away from you and that doesn’t make you a lesser person. Or you go on to try and control others to sort of drag back the control you lost, which is impossible.

But someone who is that full on narcissist, they know exactly what they’re doing. They have no empathy. They’ll never apologize and say that they’re in the wrong.

And if they do, it’s only another tactic to manipulate you.

It’s not a genuine apology. And it’s certainly not genuine remorse. You can’t express remorse if you can’t experience empathy.

Karen: I think the tactic that everybody knows because they’ve heard it especially in recent years spoke about a lot is gaslighting.

Where they manipulate you so much, you begin to doubt your own reality. They say things like, “No. What are you talking about? You never told me that. No, no, that never happened. You’re going mad.”

Pamela: And the whole point of that is to break their spirit. You then have somebody who doesn’t know whether they’re up, down, backward or forward. And a confused person is so much easier to control than a person who knows what the hell is going on.

Karen: Sometimes it can be a slippery slope, can’t it? Where maybe it just happens a little bit at a time. Then before you know it, you almost feel like you must have said what they said you did. You’re quite confused. You can’t think straight. You do start to believe somebody that says that constantly to you.

Maybe I’m over sensitive, or maybe I’m not remembering things correctly.

Our childhood was like that.

Pamela: For me, it was that constant feeling of unworthiness.

Karen: Yeah, we were never worthy.

Pamela: You were never good enough. You were never worthy. And I know that kind of slips into other tactics of a narcissist. But when I think of the relentlessness of that, and the fact that we were constantly told that we were not good enough.

The thing is, we’re all born good enough.

Your job as a parent is to raise your child, guide your child, allow your child to flourish, not continuously say, “What’s the matter with you? Are you stupid? Is there something wrong with you? Are you stupid? Is there something wrong with you?”

Because I swear to God, if I had a pound for every time I had heard that, I would never need to work another day in my life.

In fact, so pervasive was that word that it’s banned in my house. Nobody in this house calls each other stupid, and I raised my children with that word never being spoken as an attack.

I still say it to myself, even after all these years. I still catch myself going, “Oh that was a bit stupid.”

And you’re like, you slap yourself and go, hang on a minute. No, you’re not. That’s not your voice telling you’re stupid.

But then, we remember Dad’s philosophy.

Break the child’s spirit, and then, mold them into what you want them to become.

To me, that’s like gaslighting at it’s ultimate. That’s what the point of gaslighting is. To break someone’s spirit and make them more uncontrollable, which is exactly what he did to us. Day in, day out, day in, day out for 18 years.

Karen: I think my experience doesn’t come under the normal parameters of like the total definition of gaslighting. I remember one particular time, but this happened on a number of occasions. We were sent to the supermarket for laundry liquid this time. He gave us the money, and this was the laundry liquid we were supposed to get.

He gave us the name, the proper name of the laundry liquid.

I’d say to my kids, “Just get anything that’s like the bio powder, or whatever.” Whereas, we were given a specific name and so, I remember going, and the shop didn’t have it.

And I’m stuck there in panic because if you bring something else back then he’d say, “What did you bring that back for? I could have gone to another shop and got what we actually needed with the money. But you’ve spent the money now.”

But if you came back with none, he’d say, “Well we needed washing liquid. You should have just brought anything back.”

I didn’t know at that time that was my knowledge it was just the fear and the paralysis and the sheer panic of what do I do while stood in front of a shelf of washing powder for what felt like a lifetime trying to decide.

Now, looking back, I know that it was because I knew that no matter what I did, what decision I made, it was going to be wrong, because that’s what he did.

Whatever decision you ever made on your own was wrong. It was always wrong. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what I did.

It was wrong.

So, for me, and I know that’s not like the traditional term of gaslighting, but for me, that’s the gaslighting that you can’t make the decision on your own.

If you make the decision. You’re wrong. If you don’t make the decision. You’re wrong.

“You should have just made a decision. What the hell were you playing at?”

And for me, it was gaslighting because I knew that if I had made the opposite decision, he’d have told me off for that.

But he was acting like he wouldn’t have told me off for that.

Pamela: But the fact that he made such a drama. He made such a drama out of such a ridiculous decision.

Karen: Yes. And the thing is, because of that, I mean, that was a regular thing. Because of that, I know, even now, I’m nearly 50 years old, I still struggle to make decisions. I’m such an indecisive person.

Because I’m terrified to get it wrong. Yeah. What if I get it wrong? So what? and I’ll get it wrong and the consequence will be this and that’s it and I’ll know next time to make a different choice. Or maybe there won’t be a different decision to make. But it’s like my whole life hangs in the balance of making this decision.

I’ve even said to my partner that I can’t decide. He’ll say to me, “Where do you want to go for a meal?” I’m terrified of making the decision because I’m like, “What if I choose this place and the food isn’t nice?” Like that’s my responsibility. Or “What if I choose this place and it’s too expensive?”

For me, it’s like rabbit in the headlight’s moment, even now, so it definitely does have an effect on your reality.

If you want to learn how to get out from under the control of a narcissist, maybe our podcast can help.

Come and join our community on Spotify here. Or You tube here.

It’s a new year. 2025.

A year my mum will never see, well, not physically anyway.

On Tuesday 17th of September 2024, I returned home from a walk to be met by my frantic daughter telling me that my dad was trying to get in touch with me. He doesn’t have my number. Weird, I know, but I’ll tell you about that later.

Dad had rung my sister, who lives 200 miles away, to try and get in touch with me. When I walked through the front door, my sister had contacted my daughter who breathlessly tells me that Mum has collapsed outside of a local supermarket.

Hurriedly, I gathered my stuff together, kissed my husband goodbye, and jumped into the car to make the ten-minute journey.

My mum had her health issues, asthma, angina, arthritis, etc. and this was not the first time she’d fallen ill. She was 76 years old. So, as I’m driving down the road, my mind is thinking about what’s going to happen.

The ambulance is going to take her to the hospital. I’ll follow behind. They’ll probably keep her in overnight for observations, so I’ll go back to Mum and Dad’s house and get her a night bag and things she’ll need.

There was no panic in my mind. No thoughts of anything other than, I would see Mum shortly and be there to reassure her.

Driving into the supermarket carpark, I clocked the ambulance, and then quickly parked the car. I mean, I actually backed it into the car parking space, that’s how calm I was.

I got out of the car and walked across the car park. They had the area kind of cordoned off, I assumed, for Mum’s privacy. As I approached, there was a man to my right in uniform. My mind concluded that he was a paramedic.

He was on the phone, but when he saw me walking directly towards the area, he said, “Could you go around please, Madam?”

Pointing to the drama only a few feet away, I replied, “This is my mum.”

I didn’t pick up the shock on his face, or the fact that he ended the phone call immediately. I just kept on walking. But as I stepped onto the pavement and walked towards all the activity, I stopped dead in my tracks.

I was expecting Mum to be sitting in a chair, or packed into the back of the ambulance.

What I wasn’t expecting was to see my mother’s body, her lying flat on her back, with a white ambulance blanket pulled over her body and face, a gray tuft of her hair peeking out and blowing in the soft breeze.

Air entered my lungs at great speed as I sucked in a breath, my hand flew to my mouth, and utter disbelief rushed around every cell I possess.

Then a few tears escaped as I just stared, trying to comprehend, trying to understand, trying to reconcile the fact that my mum was lying dead on the pavement.

There were people watching me, sadness across their faces. Later, I found out they were management from the supermarket. One of whom had tried to revive Mum before the ambulance came.

Then came the shaking, and the hyperventilating. The policeman I had spoken to only seconds before, the guy I thought was a paramedic, was at my right, and a paramedic was at my left.

“Do you need to sit down? Sit on the car. Take some slow breaths.”

I remember repeating over and over that I was all right. I mean, what else are you supposed to say, right? Clearly, I was attempting to soothe myself because no one else believed that I was all right.

And then after that, it was all a bit crazy, between the police needing to know Mum’s medical history, and talk of funeral directors and a post mortem, and the paramedics telling me what had happened in the last minutes of her life.

So, yes. My mum died on the pavement.

I’m glad it was me who found her. I’m glad it wasn’t my sister. I’m not sure she would ever get over it. I sure as hell haven’t.

The thing is, even though my parents only live twenty minutes’ drive away, I hadn’t seen my Mum in over a year.

That surprises you, right?

Well, there’s a reason for that.

You see, my parents are Jehovah’s Witnesses. I was one too, for the longest time. But then, I went down my own path, got disfellowshipped, (think excommunicated) and thus have been shunned by my parents for the last fifteen years.

When I say, shunned, I mean, they chose their religion over me when it suited them.

So, when shit hit the fan, they called me for help. When Dad was taken to hospital and Mum needed lifts there and back, they called me. When the house needed cleaning for someone to come and stay, they called me. When anything went wrong and they needed help, they called me.

My siblings live over two hundred miles away, and so, I’m the nearest child. The pariah, but the nearest child all the same.

So, if being raised by a narcissist wasn’t enough, I was also raised in one of the most controlling religions in the world.

Anyway, as you can imagine, there was a flurry of activity after that. I stayed with Dad (he’s been ill for a long time with a list of medical ailments that would fill a blog post of its own) while funeral arrangements were made, and then the family came over, and the funeral happened. The funeral where half of the people in her congregation couldn’t be arsed showing up, but hey. Whatever.

Since her funeral, however, my father has suddenly needed me more than ever. Which really pisses me off. Not because I wouldn’t ordinarily drop everything anyway whenever my parents needed me. But now, these last four months, Dad has found more and more reason for me to be at the house.

I was clearing Mum’s room out a few weeks ago. It was a heavy process, both physically, emotionally, and psychologically. And as I painted the walls, something she would never let me do when she was alive, something hit me that has clung to me like a bad smell I can’t get rid of.

When Mum was alive, I wasn’t allowed near the house unless they needed me. Now she’s gone, Dad can suddenly have me up at the house whenever he feels he wants to.

For some context, my father made all the decisions, and my mother always deferred to him. He is and always was the narcissist, and she was always the absent parent.

But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. And I’ll tell you why.

I was robbed from having a relationship with my mum because of their religious beliefs. Hypocritically, however, now Dad needs attention, and I don’t mean urgent attention, I mean, manipulative attention, he now wants me at the house all the time.

He took the chance to have a relationship with my mum away from me. Now she’s dead, he’s decided to change the rules to suit him.

These last few months have been hell, not just because I’m trying to deal with the very unexpected and sudden loss of my mother. It’s the loss of what could have been. It’s also anger at the man who has caused me to attend more therapy than most.

On the positive side, also the man whose lifelong actions pushed me to train as a psychotherapist years ago.

I have made a decision. A decision to return back to what the status quo was before Mum’s death.

If she couldn’t have me in her life, then why should he?

It wasn’t just me they cut out. I have four children. Four children that were not disfellowshipped. Their grandchildren. Their grandchildren that they conveniently didn’t bother with because they had the perfect excuse.

At the funeral, my two youngest, (21) and (19) hardly showed any emotion at all. You know why? Because they didn’t know Mum. They had never been given a chance to know her. My parents had never bothered to have or build a relationship with them.

Sure, they had their illnesses, but those same illnesses never stopped them from going on trips to see my sister who lives 200 miles away. A trip that includes an 8-hour ferry journey, and another four-hour drive after that.

So, they could travel for an entire day to see my sister, but couldn’t make a twenty-minute journey to see their grandchildren. Do I sound angry? That’s because I am.

I’ve spent the last fifteen years bringing myself to a state of peace and acceptance. These last few months, my family have commented on a change in my behavior. That I’m a little snappier, and a lot less happy. And I’ll tell you, I’m a pretty happy person.

And thus, I am taking back control.

And I am smart enough to admit that my control has been slipping. I’ve let him get under my skin. Again. After all these years of working on myself, meditation, journaling, righting the false beliefs in my head, understanding that I’ve always been enough.

Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t plummeted back to what I was. But I can feel the slippery slope beneath my feet. I can feel the slight slip, inch by inch. I don’t want that to turn into feet by feet, and so, I need to think of me. To protect me and my own sanity and sense of self.

I’m bowing out, as much as I can now being his next of kin. I have to. I deserve better.