Growing up, I tried very hard to be “good enough.” I desperately wanted to feel whole—to be seen and heard. To know that I didn’t have to earn love.

Back then, I didn’t have a name for what I was experiencing. I didn’t realize that I can’t fix a problem I’m not creating. All I knew was that I felt different, defective, and damaged.

My early relationships reflected my mindset at that time. I was used to trying to “win” someone’s love. I was used to feeling like I was fundamentally flawed—that even though other people could have healthy relationships, the best I could do was find someone else who was broken and help them heal. Then, and only then, would I finally earn love.

 This left me vulnerable to highly narcissistic people—those who saw second chances as a pass to keep hurting me. Those who took advantage of my patience, manipulated my kindness, and ignored my needs.

 For over a decade, I had relationships with narcissists. I was betrayed, lied to, disregarded, and rejected. I was cheated on, smear campaigned against (still am), and called about every name you could think of. And I still have to interact with narcissists in various capacities.

 Realizing that I was experiencing narcissistic abuse was a process. I felt a lot of shame, guilt, and self-judgment for being in those relationships. For not seeing the signs sooner. For ignoring my intuition and abandoning myself.

 But as I healed, I learned to look at myself differently. I gave myself compassion for what I had been through. I gave myself grace for not knowing what I didn’t know. I allowed myself time and space to grieve and feel all the emotions from chronic betrayal trauma.

 And it’s through this process of intentionally building “me” that I found my life’s mission: helping people heal from narcissistic abuse.

 Today, my life looks very different than it used to. I set better boundaries, listen to my gut, and take care of myself. I trust my judgment, hold space for my feelings, and am married to a man whose kindness and selflessness stitches my broken pieces back together a little more each day.

 And yet, there are still days and moments when I feel “not enough.” When I question my worth, feel overcome with heaviness, overthink things I’ve said, and wonder if I’m doing enough. I struggle to slow down, take breaks, and give myself credit. And I’ve learned that those moments are part of healing. I no longer view triggers as a sign of weakness—but as validation of the pain I went through.

 I’m a work in progress—always will be. And that’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. Because everything I’ve been through and continue to experience gives me the motivation, courage, and fortitude to keep advocating for narcissistic abuse survivors. To keep speaking against narcissistic norms. To keep giving a voice to those who feel like they’ve lost theirs.

I’m not giving up on me—or you. And I hope my content, support, and resources give you the strength to not give up on you, either.

Growing up, I tried very hard to be “good enough.” I desperately wanted to feel whole—to be seen and heard. To know that I didn’t have to earn love.

Back then, I didn’t have a name for what I was experiencing. I didn’t realize that I can’t fix a problem I’m not creating. All I knew was that I felt different, defective, and damaged.

 My early relationships reflected my mindset at that time. I was used to trying to “win” someone’s love. I was used to feeling like I was fundamentally flawed—that even though other people could have healthy relationships, the best I could do was find someone else who was broken and help them heal. Then, and only then, would I finally earn love.

 This left me vulnerable to highly narcissistic people—those who saw second chances as a pass to keep hurting me. Those who took advantage of my patience, manipulated my kindness, and ignored my needs.

 For over a decade, I had relationships with narcissists. I was betrayed, lied to, disregarded, and rejected. I was cheated on, smear campaigned against (still am), and called about every name you could think of. And I still have to interact with narcissists in various capacities.

 Realizing that I was experiencing narcissistic abuse was a process. I felt a lot of shame, guilt, and self-judgment for being in those relationships. For not seeing the signs sooner. For ignoring my intuition and abandoning myself.

But as I healed, I learned to look at myself differently. I gave myself compassion for what I had been through. I gave myself grace for not knowing what I didn’t know. I allowed myself time and space to grieve and feel all the emotions from chronic betrayal trauma.

 And it’s through this process of intentionally building “me” that I found my life’s mission: helping people heal from narcissistic abuse.

 Today, my life looks very different than it used to. I set better boundaries, listen to my gut, and take care of myself. I trust my judgment, hold space for my feelings, and am married to a man whose kindness and selflessness stitches my broken pieces back together a little more each day.

And yet, there are still days and moments when I feel “not enough.” When I question my worth, feel overcome with heaviness, overthink things I’ve said, and wonder if I’m doing enough. I struggle to slow down, take breaks, and give myself credit. And I’ve learned that those moments are part of healing. I no longer view triggers as a sign of weakness—but as validation of the pain I went through.

I’m a work in progress—always will be. And that’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. Because everything I’ve been through and continue to experience gives me the motivation, courage, and fortitude to keep advocating for narcissistic abuse survivors. To keep speaking against narcissistic norms. To keep giving a voice to those who feel like they’ve lost theirs.

I’m not giving up on me—or you. And I hope my content, support, and resources give you the strength to not give up on you, either.