Healing from Narcissistic Abuse - Part Three

The Freedom I Fought For

This is the part of my story where I began rebuilding the life I was always meant to live. I’ve always been a fighter — someone who sees possibilities, who loves life, who tries everything she’s ever longed to pursue. I don’t carry regrets. I carry lessons, clarity, and a deep appreciation for the woman I’ve become.

When my daughter left for college, I wanted her to step fully into her life — not stay tethered to mine. I didn’t hover, I didn’t call constantly, and I didn’t show up to do her laundry. I let her discover who she was becoming. I waited for her to call first, even though I missed her deeply. I had protected her her entire life, but now it was time for both of us to begin our own journeys.

I’ve never understood parents who stay overly involved in their adult children’s lives. To me, that’s just another form of control. I don’t live my life through my daughter — that wouldn’t be fair to either of us. And while I respect her relationship with her dad, I also know he put her in an awful position and pitted her against me. I can’t control that. I didn’t know anything about narcissism back then, so I didn’t know I needed to protect her from it or teach her about it. I did the best I could with what I knew.

What I’ve learned is that I’m here to show others how to live their best life by being true to themselves.

Before I even realized I was about to heal, I had a complete epiphany and emotional breakdown in my kitchen. I realized, all at once, that my mother, my sister, my ex‑husband, and even my most recent boyfriend knew what they were doing. They were intentionally hurting me.

The pain of that realization was unbearable. I screamed in my kitchen — a sound I’ll never forget. But it was also a miracle. It was the moment I finally saw the truth.

And that truth became even clearer during my last visit to see my mom and sister. I went there longing for something I had wanted my entire life — the three of us together, loving each other, finally feeling like a family. I thought maybe this time would be different.

But on my last night, the attack came — this time from my sister.She looked at me and said, “At least I have a good relationship with my children.”

She knew I was in dire straits with my daughter. She knew exactly where to aim. Those words exceeded hurt. They were designed to cut. And that was the moment I knew: I will never allow her to speak to me that way again.

From childhood insults about my weight and acne to adulthood jabs meant to break me — there has never been an apology. That’s how I grew up. Take the criticism and shut up.Not anymore.

And before that visit, I had returned home for my stepdad’s funeral. My mom told me that children don’t speak at their parents’ funerals — yet my stepbrother was allowed to speak. The night before the service, we sat together watching the “life in pictures” video that would play at the funeral. As we watched, I quietly asked my stepbrother if I could hold his hand when he went on stage so I could feel included in honoring the man who helped raise me. He said absolutely.

Then my mom walked by and said, “What are you conniving?”

I told her nothing — that I was simply going up with him. And that’s when the attack started. I went to my room to gather my things and get a hotel. My mom followed. Then my sister. I told my sister it had nothing to do with her. My mom said, “She protects me.”

Protects her from what?

From me wanting to honor the man who raised me?

When I told my sister to leave again, she shoved me against the wall. Then she left. I gathered my bags and headed for the door — and that’s when the shift happened.“Oh, we didn’t mean it. Please stay.”

It was pure torture.

That was my reality my entire life.

But not anymore.

From there, my healing became deeper, sharper, more intentional. I had to learn how to escape the familiarity of narcissistic abuse. I had to learn how to truly love myself — not because I didn’t already love who I was, but because I needed to unlearn the way I had been taught to exist in relationships. That was the real healing.

And healing wasn’t just about boundaries or clarity — it was about the small, everyday things too.Like learning to accept compliments after a lifetime of being mentally crushed.

Like realizing I fuck up every day — and it’s okay.

Like understanding that I can’t control rumors or the people who choose to spread them. Let them talk. I don’t worry about it.

Like finally understanding that no one else can make you happy. Happiness isn’t constant — it rises and falls. What matters is how I handle and understand each moment.

I’ve never wished I was someone else. I’ve never obsessed over other people’s lives. It’s my life to figure out. You can’t control anyone else — and you can’t change them either. I thought I could change my ex by helping him get a college degree. He got one, with my help, but it didn’t change who he was. It wasn’t in his DNA.

The secret to life is discovering who you are and what path you’re meant to take.

My path revealed itself after repeated awful events at work. I finally heard the message:

If terrible things keep happening, it’s time to move on.

So I listened.

I reflected on the times I felt most alive, most aligned, most joyful — and that led me here, to life coaching. I don’t take it lightly. This is my calling.

And in a world obsessed with social media, I’ve learned to protect my peace. The ads are designed to keep you addicted, comparing, scrolling, wasting your life watching someone else live theirs. Why would I want to observe someone else’s highlight reel when I have my own life to live?

I deleted and blocked people who didn’t serve my best interest — even family. Not out of anger, but out of protection. Unfriending someone on social media has nothing to do with not liking or loving them. It has everything to do with boundaries. Why have 2,000 “friends” who don’t interact with you? Why let people keep tabs on you? Healing requires boundaries, and I honor mine fiercely.

What moves me forward now is simple:

• trusting my intuition

• waking up and thinking about my life, not someone else’s

• trying new things

• going places alone

• refusing to wait for someone else to make my life meaningful

• giving myself grace

• honoring my body, heart, and soul

• keeping compassion at the center of everything

You can’t change people.

But you can absolutely change yourself.

I’ve had the time of my life figuring out who I am. And I’m not done.

We aren’t here for long.

Don’t wait until you’re eighty to confront your past.

Don’t wait until retirement to start living.

Don’t wait for permission to become who you were meant to be.

Start now.

Start for you.

Closing Reflection

When I look back at the girl I was, the woman I became, and the life I rebuilt, I don’t feel regret — I feel reverence. Every painful truth, every awakening, every boundary I had to learn the hard way brought me here. Healing from narcissistic abuse wasn’t just about leaving people behind; it was about returning to myself. It was about unlearning the familiar, choosing my own path, and refusing to live a life shaped by someone else’s wounds.

Freedom didn’t arrive in one moment. It arrived in hundreds of small choices — choosing truth, choosing boundaries, choosing myself. It arrived the day I realized I didn’t need permission to live fully. It arrived when I stopped shrinking to make others comfortable.

I’ve learned that healing isn’t about becoming someone new.

It’s about remembering who you were before the world tried to convince you otherwise.

And now, I live with intention. I protect my peace. I honor my intuition. I surround myself with people who love without conditions. I try new things, go new places, and refuse to wait for someone else to make my life meaningful. I live boldly because I finally understand that this is my one life — and I get to decide how it unfolds.

If you’re reading this and you’re somewhere in your own story — whether you’re still in the confusion, the unraveling, or the rebuilding — know this: you are not broken. You are becoming. You are allowed to choose yourself. You are allowed to walk away. You are allowed to start over at any age, at any stage, in any season.

Don’t wait for the perfect moment.

Don’t wait for permission.

Don’t wait until you’re eighty to confront your past.

Start living for you.

Start now.

Start today.

Sande