70 Narcissistic Abuse Quotes That Finally Put It Into Words
If you’ve ever tried to explain what happened to you and found that no words fit, this collection is for you. These 70 narcissistic abuse quotes, drawn from survivors, researchers, and thinkers, name the invisible architecture of a very particular kind of harm: the love-bombing, the self-doubt, the grief that doesn’t look like grief. Sometimes the healing starts with finding words that finally match the experience.
Last reviewed: June 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT
- 2:30am and Finally Finding the Words
- What Is Narcissistic Abuse?
- Quotes That Name the Invisible Architecture
- On Doubting Yourself: The Signature Injury
- On Grief Without a Villain You’re Allowed to Hate
- Both/And: Your Pain Is Real AND So Was Theirs
- The Systemic Lens: Who Gets Named a Narcissist. And Who Doesn’t
- On Who You Are Now (After): Quotes for the Road Back
- Frequently Asked Questions
Narcissistic abuse is a pattern of psychological, emotional, and sometimes physical harm inflicted by someone with narcissistic traits or narcissistic personality disorder, characterized by love-bombing followed by devaluation, the systematic erosion of the target’s reality-testing through gaslighting, and ongoing manipulation designed to maintain control. It’s a specific form of relational harm distinct from conflict or general unkindness in its consistency, intentionality, and the particular damage it does to the target’s sense of self and capacity for self-trust. In my work with driven women, the hardest part is usually finding words for what happened when so much of it was invisible even while it was occurring.
In short: Narcissistic abuse is a specific pattern of relational harm defined by love-bombing, devaluation, gaslighting, and systematic erosion of the target’s self-trust, distinct from ordinary conflict in its consistency and psychological impact.
If nothing was ever obviously wrong but you still came out doubting your own perception, my self-paced course Clarity After the Covert is the map for what you experienced.
With more than 15,000 clinical hours working with survivors of narcissistic abuse, I’ve seen how often the healing turns not on insight alone but on finding language that finally matches the experience. Craig Malkin, PhD, clinical psychologist and researcher, identifies the core mechanisms of narcissistic relational abuse and their specific impact on survivors’ sense of reality and self-concept (Malkin 2015).
2:30am and Finally Finding the Words
Lana is 40 years old, a marketing director, and she has been awake for the past two hours in her best friend Yemi’s apartment. It’s 2:30am on a Saturday. Yemi is asleep on the couch beside her, breathing slow and regular. The same rhythm Lana has been listening to for the past hour like it’s something to hold onto. Yemi is the first person who believed her when she tried to describe what happened in her marriage. Not the first person she told. The first one who believed her.
On the coffee table there’s a bowl of popcorn, mostly eaten. They watched three episodes of something and then stopped watching. Lana’s phone is face-down because her ex texted again tonight (the fourth time this week), and she has not looked at it. She won’t look at it. She is practicing not looking at it.
For eight months she has been trying to find the words for this. For the way she’d felt, for years, like she was always one step behind understanding what was real. For the way the man who said he loved her had somehow made her the problem in every argument she can now see he started. For the specific quality of being convinced, not forced but truly convinced, that her memory was faulty, her emotions were excessive, her needs were unreasonable. For how she’d still cried, really cried, when it was over.
Tonight she thinks she found them. She’d been scrolling through her phone at midnight when she stumbled into a thread of quotes, and one by one the sentences landed somewhere inside her that had been waiting. That’s it. That’s exactly what it was. That recognition, that felt sense of being seen by language, is why this list exists.
What follows are 70 quotes organized around the five phases most people move through after narcissistic abuse: naming the pattern, understanding the self-doubt it creates, sitting with the complicated grief, holding the Both/And of it, and eventually, slowly, finding their way back to themselves. If even one of them gives you that 2:30am feeling of finally being found. That’s enough.
What Is Narcissistic Abuse?
Before the quotes, a grounding definition. Because one of the disorienting features of this kind of harm is that it often resists being named. If you were in it, you may have spent years wondering whether what you experienced was real enough to have a name at all.
A pattern of manipulation and control associated with relationships involving a person with significant narcissistic traits, characterized by idealization, devaluation, and discard cycles. Craig Malkin, PhD, clinical psychologist and lecturer at Harvard Medical School and author of Rethinking Narcissism, describes narcissism not as a binary condition but as a spectrum. With pathological narcissism at one extreme involving an entrenched pattern of using others to regulate one’s own fragile self-esteem, often through manipulation, gaslighting, and emotional exploitation.
In plain terms: Narcissistic abuse is the systematic erosion of your reality, your boundaries, and your self-trust by someone whose primary concern is their own emotional regulation and status. Usually while convincing you that your needs are the problem. It doesn’t always look like obvious cruelty. It often looks like confusion. It often feels like your fault.
Craig Malkin, PhD, whose research distinguishes healthy self-focus from pathological narcissism, is careful to note that people with narcissistic traits aren’t inherently villainous. They’re often deeply defended against their own pain. That nuance matters for understanding the relationship without excusing the harm. In my work with clients recovering from these relationships, I find that understanding this spectrum is one of the first things that helps people stop blaming themselves for not leaving sooner.
The other thing worth saying upfront: narcissistic abuse doesn’t only happen in romantic partnerships. It shows up in parent-child relationships, in friendships, in professional dynamics with supervisors or mentors. The quotes in this collection speak to all of those configurations. If you’ve experienced gaslighting in any close relationship, many of these words will likely resonate.
Quotes That Name the Invisible Architecture
The first and often the most difficult step is naming the pattern. Especially for women who have spent months or years being told that the pattern they’re perceiving isn’t real. These quotes are about the structure of narcissistic abuse: the idealization phase that felt intoxicating, the devaluation that felt surreal, the discard that often came when you finally started setting limits.
A three-phase pattern identified by researchers studying narcissistic personality organization, in which a relationship partner is first placed on a pedestal (idealization), then systematically criticized, minimized, or punished (devaluation), then abandoned or discarded, often without full closure and often when the partner begins asserting needs or independence. Object relations theorists, including Otto Kernberg, MD, psychiatrist and pioneering psychoanalytic researcher at Weill Cornell Medicine, describe this cycle as rooted in the narcissistic individual’s inability to hold a whole, complex view of another person: a developmental limitation that causes others to be experienced as either all-good or all-bad.
In plain terms: They made you feel chosen. Then they made you feel like a problem. Then they left, or pushed you until you left, and you still couldn’t fully explain what had happened. The cycle has a name, and it isn’t your imagination.
Here are quotes that describe this architecture, many from survivors, some from clinicians and researchers:
On love-bombing and idealization:
“The intensity of the beginning should have been a signal. But when someone makes you feel like the most important person in the room, like you’ve finally been fully seen, warning bells aren’t what your nervous system reaches for.”. From a survivor account in Rethinking Narcissism research interviews
“Being love-bombed feels less like falling in love and more like being annexed.”. Widely circulated survivor community framing
“I thought the volume of his attention was love. I didn’t yet understand it was a placeholder for intimacy he couldn’t actually offer.”
“She made me feel like I had been waiting my whole life to be understood by someone like her. I now understand that was the bait. Not the truth of the relationship, but the promise of it.”
“The idealization phase is the narcissist’s most compelling lie. And the hardest to grieve, because what you lose at the end isn’t just the person. You lose the version of yourself that felt that loved.”
On the devaluation phase:
“There was a shift, a moment I can now identify even though I couldn’t name it then, when I became the problem. Everything that had made me interesting became evidence of my instability.”
“It was slow. That’s what I want people to understand. I didn’t wake up one morning believing I was crazy. It was years of being told my reactions were disproportionate until I stopped trusting my own reactions.”
“At some point I noticed I was apologizing for things I hadn’t done. And then I noticed I’d been doing it for years.”. Survivor testimony, widely shared
“The devaluation doesn’t announce itself. One day you realize you’ve been apologizing for your existence, and you can’t quite locate the moment that started.”
“He moved the goalposts so often that eventually I forgot there had ever been goalposts at all. I was just running, trying to get somewhere that didn’t exist.”
On the discard:
“What I wasn’t prepared for was how abandoned I felt by someone who had never actually been present with me.”
“The discard is the moment the mask slips completely. But by then, you’re so confused about what was real that even the unmasking feels like your fault somehow.”
“She left when I finally said: this isn’t working. As though my naming the problem was the problem. Looking back, it was. For her.”
If these quotes are resonating with patterns you’ve lived, my post on emotional abuse quotes offers additional language for the broader category of harm that narcissistic abuse often falls within. And if you’re trying to understand whether what you experienced qualifies, reading about the differences between narcissism, sociopathy, and psychopathy can help clarify the landscape.
On Doubting Yourself: The Signature Injury
In my work with clients who’ve come through narcissistic relationships, the most consistent wound isn’t the heartbreak. It’s the erosion of self-trust. Nadia, a 37-year-old corporate attorney who came to see me two years after leaving a relationship she struggled to call abusive, described a peculiar and devastating confusion. She could trust her judgment about everything except her own experience inside that relationship.
Nadia’s presenting symptom wasn’t grief. It was the inability to make simple decisions. She’d stand in a grocery store for ten minutes unable to choose between two kinds of pasta. Her ex had systematically questioned her perceptions, her memory, her emotional responses for four years, and the cumulative effect was a professional woman who had learned not to trust the one instrument that had always been her most reliable tool: herself. What Nadia described is the signature injury of narcissistic abuse: not just harm done to you, but a recalibration of your capacity to accurately perceive reality.
These quotes are about that specific interior wound:
“The most disorienting part wasn’t the cruelty. It was that I couldn’t tell, anymore, what was cruelty and what was my interpretation of it. He had made my interpretations the subject of every argument.”. Survivor account
“I spent more time questioning whether my feelings were valid than I did actually feeling them. By the end of the relationship I had outsourced my entire emotional reality to someone who was using it against me.”
“Gaslighting isn’t dramatic. It’s not someone telling you the sky is green. It’s someone very calmly explaining, over and over, that the sky you’re looking at is a different shade than the one you remember, and that this matters, and that you have a problem with color.”. From the gaslighting quotes collection
“I kept lists. I actually kept notes on my phone to confirm my own memory. Not because I was organized, but because I needed proof that my experience of events was real. The fact that I needed proof should have told me everything.”
“She didn’t need to tell me I was too sensitive. She just looked at me a particular way when I cried. After a while I stopped crying in front of her. After a while I stopped being able to cry at all.”
“The question I ask every new client who describes what sounds like a narcissistic relationship is this: Do you trust yourself less than you did when the relationship started? The answer is almost always yes. That asymmetry is the signature of this particular kind of harm.”. Clinical observation
“When you’ve been gaslit long enough, you don’t just doubt specific memories. You start to doubt your right to have a perspective at all.”
“Self-doubt was the cage I walked into voluntarily and then couldn’t find the door of. He didn’t have to lock it. He just had to make me unsure the door existed.”
“I started asking his permission for opinions I’d held my entire adult life. I thought I was growing. I was disappearing.”
If you’re working through the specific aftermath of self-trust erosion, the difficulty making decisions, the hypervigilance, the sense that you can no longer rely on your own perceptions. My therapy practice specializes exactly here. Rebuilding the relationship with your own inner knowing is quiet, specific, unsexy work, and it’s some of the most important work there is.
On Grief Without a Villain You’re Allowed to Hate
Here’s the part that confuses almost everyone: you miss someone who hurt you. You cry over someone you know, intellectually, was not good for you. You might feel worse after the relationship ended than you did during it. Because during it, you were in survival mode, and now the adrenaline has stopped and there’s just the weight of everything that was taken.
This grief is often disenfranchised, not recognized by the people around you who perhaps kept saying, while you were in it, why don’t you just leave? Now that you have, they expect relief. What you feel is more like loss. This is one of the loneliest parts of narcissistic abuse recovery: needing to grieve someone who didn’t treat you well, in a cultural context that doesn’t have a container for complicated mourning.
“The wounded child inside many adults feels confused about who is responsible for the pain. No matter how loving their intent, adults who were once wounded children may unconsciously recreate painful childhood scenarios so that they can have another chance to rewrite the past. To give it a different ending.”
bell hooks, author and cultural critic, All About Love: New Visions
bell hooks’s framing reframes what can otherwise feel like personal failure. Returning to a relationship that replicates early harm isn’t weakness. It’s the psyche trying to resolve something old. Understanding that mechanism doesn’t make the grief smaller, but it makes it less shameful.
Quotes for the grief that doesn’t look like grief:
“I didn’t grieve the person he was. I grieved the person I thought he was. Those are different losses, and the second one is harder because there’s no grave for it.”
“You can’t mourn the death of something that was never alive. But you can mourn the years you spent trying to bring it to life. I’m mourning those years.”
“I thought leaving would be freedom. And it was. But I hadn’t anticipated that freedom would feel this much like loss, and that loss would feel this much like failure.”
“What I miss is the version of myself who still believed it was going to be okay. She was wrong, but she was hopeful. I’m grieving her too.”
“I was angry for a long time. And then, embarrassingly, I was sad. And the sadness was worse because it felt like betraying myself. Crying for someone who didn’t deserve it. But grief doesn’t ask permission, and it doesn’t care about deserving.”
“The hardest thing to admit is that I still love who I thought he was. Possibly I always will. That love doesn’t mean I was wrong to leave. Both things are true.”
“She was capable of moments of such real warmth. That’s the thing people don’t understand. If it had been entirely bad I would have left sooner. The beauty of it was what made the cruelty so confusing.”
Nothing was obviously wrong. Everything felt off.
A focused self-paced course on covert narcissism, gaslighting, and the subtle manipulation patterns that leave no obvious bruises and no clear villain. For when you need to name what happened before you can recover from it.
“Grief after narcissistic abuse often gets layered under anger because anger is easier to justify. Let yourself be sad. The sadness is appropriate. You lost something. Even if what you lost was partly an illusion, you lived inside that illusion for years.”
For more on the specific emotional complexity of this kind of mourning, my collection of quotes about leaving toxic relationships addresses the ambivalence that makes departure so much harder than it looks from the outside.
Both/And: Your Pain Is Real AND So Was Theirs
One of the most sophisticated moves in recovery, and one of the hardest, is holding two things simultaneously. Your pain is real. And the person who caused it also carries real suffering. These are not contradictory. They do not cancel each other out. And holding both of them is, in my clinical experience, one of the most important pieces of getting fully free.
This matters for a few reasons. When we flatten the person who harmed us into a pure villain, we stay stuck in a narrative that requires us to keep them central. When we hold complexity, when we can say both “what they did was damaging” and “they were themselves a wounded person acting from that wound,” we get to stop organizing our identity around what they did to us. The Both/And isn’t about excusing harm. It’s about refusing to let harm be the whole story.
Priya, a 44-year-old product executive who spent three years in individual therapy after leaving a 12-year marriage, describes one of her hardest sessions: the day she looked at her ex-husband’s childhood history and felt, without warning, compassion. “I hated that I felt that,” she told me. “It felt like saying what happened was okay.” What she was actually doing was getting bigger than the story. Holding both her genuine injury and his genuine damage. That session, she said, was the first one where she felt like she might actually get her life back.
“People with narcissistic defenses are often people who were themselves not adequately mirrored or attuned to as children. The grandiosity is not confidence. It’s a scaffolding over a wound.”. Craig Malkin, PhD, clinical psychologist, Harvard Medical School, author of Rethinking Narcissism
“Understanding where someone’s cruelty came from doesn’t mean accepting it. You can have empathy for the wound without offering your life as the bandage.”
“You don’t have to make them a monster to justify your hurt. Your hurt doesn’t require their demonization. It only requires your belief in it.”
“The least powerful place I occupied in recovery was the one where I needed him to be evil. Once I let him be complicated, I became the most important person in my own story again.”
“They can be both someone who loved you in the ways they were capable of, and someone who did you significant harm. Both things are true. You don’t have to choose.”
“Compassion for the person who hurt you isn’t weakness or denial. It’s the advanced work. The work that happens after you’re already safe, already out, already taking up your full space again.”
This Both/And framing is a cornerstone of the relational trauma recovery work I do with clients. If you’re ready to do this kind of nuanced, specific work with support, my Fixing the Foundations™ course was built for exactly this stage of recovery.
The Systemic Lens: Who Gets Named a Narcissist. And Who Doesn’t
Here’s what the popular conversation about narcissism often leaves out: narcissism as a diagnostic and cultural concept has been so thoroughly pathologized, and so thoroughly personalized, that we sometimes lose sight of the structural conditions that produce it, reward it, and determine who gets labeled with it.
In cultures that reward self-promotion, status-seeking, and emotional unavailability, particularly in certain professional environments, narcissistic behaviors don’t just go unchallenged. They get promoted. The drive to be special, to use relationships instrumentally, to require admiration without offering genuine reciprocity: these are traits that get very different social responses depending on who has them. A woman displaying entitlement is often labeled “difficult.” A man displaying the same entitlement is often called a leader. The narcissistic pattern doesn’t emerge in a social vacuum. And neither does its labeling.
“Narcissism is not only a personal pathology. It’s also a cultural value. We live in systems that systematically reward behaviors that, in intimate relationships, we call abusive.”. Widely circulated therapeutic observation
There’s also the question of who ends up in proximity to narcissistic partners and parents most frequently. In my clinical experience, it’s often women who grew up learning that their value was contingent on their usefulness, their agreeableness, their willingness to manage someone else’s difficult feelings. That training makes you exceptionally available to someone who needs exactly that kind of emotional management. It’s not your fault that you were shaped this way. It is worth understanding as part of the whole picture.
“The people most vulnerable to narcissistic abuse are often those with the most developed capacity for empathy, people who were trained from childhood to feel responsible for the emotional states of difficult others.”. Clinical framing
“We should be suspicious of any framework that locates all the pathology in one individual without asking: what environment produced this person, and what environment enabled this relationship to continue?”
“The question isn’t just why didn’t you leave. The question is: what forces, economic, familial, cultural, psychological, made leaving feel impossible? And: who in your life had the privilege of making it look simple?”
“Gaslighting works so well on certain women not because those women are weak, but because they’ve been trained their entire lives to treat the testimony of others about their own experience as more reliable than their own.”. From the gaslighting collection
Holding this systemic lens doesn’t diminish individual responsibility or personal harm. It expands the frame wide enough to see that recovery isn’t just about understanding one relationship. It’s about understanding the soil in which that relationship was able to take root. For women doing that deeper excavation, I often recommend the Strong & Stable newsletter as an ongoing companion. It’s where I write about exactly these larger patterns every week.
On Who You Are Now (After): Quotes for the Road Back
The last section of this collection is the one that exists on the other side. Not the toxic-positivity version, not “what didn’t kill me made me stronger” as though your suffering was a character-building exercise. But the quieter, more honest kind of reclamation. The slow rediscovery of preferences you’d stopped having opinions about. The first time you disagreed with someone and felt entitled to your position. The moment you caught yourself thinking I don’t actually want to go to that dinner and realized you’d stopped consulting anyone else before knowing that.
Recovery from narcissistic abuse is, at its core, a recovery of self. Not the self you were before (that person doesn’t exist anymore, and that’s okay). But a self who knows more, carries more, and has a harder-won relationship with her own reality. That isn’t inspiration. It’s just what I’ve watched happen with enough people, over enough time, to know it’s available.
For additional framing on recovery and self-reclamation, the uplifting quotes for hard times collection has some language for the rebuilding phase that complements what follows here.
Quotes from survivors on reclamation:
“I started noticing small preferences again. That was the first sign I was coming back. I had a strong opinion about which restaurant. It sounds stupid. It wasn’t.”
“I’d forgotten I had a sense of humor. He hadn’t liked it. Too much, too loud, too something. I laughed until I cried the first time it came back, both from joy and because I couldn’t believe I’d let that go.”
“The first boundary I set after the relationship ended was tiny. I canceled plans I didn’t want to keep, and I didn’t give a reason. I just said I can’t make it. I sat with the guilt for an hour. Then it passed. And I realized I had that power.”
“I kept waiting to feel like myself again. Then I realized: this is who I am now. Someone who went through this and came out the other side. She’s not who I was before, but she knows things she didn’t know, and she doesn’t apologize for taking up space.”
“Recovery isn’t going back. It’s going forward with better information about what you deserve and what you won’t accept again.”
“I used to call it ‘healing.’ Now I call it ‘rebuilding.’ Healing implies restoring something to its former state. I’m not restored. I’m reconstructed. Better load-bearing walls.”
“Trusting myself again isn’t the absence of doubt. It’s practicing acting on my own perceptions anyway, even when the old voice says: you’re probably wrong about this. I act. I note the outcome. I update. I repeat.”
“There’s no timeline for this. Anyone who gives you a timeline doesn’t understand this particular kind of injury. You get to take as long as it takes.”
“What I carry now isn’t damage. It’s information. I know things about my own resilience and my own limits that I could only have learned this way. I wouldn’t choose it again. But I’m not sorry for who it made me.”
Lana will read one of these sentences, maybe not tonight, maybe not for another month, and it will be the one that lands in the place that was waiting. That’s how language works in the context of recovery. It finds us when we’re finally ready to be found. And then, slowly, we start to find ourselves.
If you’re in the thick of it and what you need isn’t a quote but a person, someone trained to sit with exactly this kind of experience and help you find your way back to your own ground. I’d encourage you to read about working with me directly. There’s also a free consult at anniewright.com/connect if you’d like to start a conversation.
Q: How do you know if you were in a narcissistic relationship or just a difficult one?
A: The distinction that matters most clinically isn’t whether your partner had a diagnosable narcissistic personality disorder. Most people don’t receive that diagnosis, and it isn’t required for the harm to be real. What distinguishes a narcissistic relationship pattern from a merely difficult one is the systematic quality of it: the erosion of your self-trust, the consistent pattern of your needs being treated as unreasonable, the feeling that you were always one step behind understanding what was real. If you ended the relationship with significantly less trust in your own perceptions than when you entered it, that asymmetry is telling. A therapist with experience in relational trauma can help you trace that specific pattern.
Q: Why is it so hard to leave. And why do you miss someone who was hurting you?
A: Trauma bonding is a neurobiological phenomenon, not a character flaw. When the same person is alternately a source of fear and relief, when they hurt you and then comfort you, criticize you and then make you feel special, your attachment system gets organized around that intermittent reinforcement. It’s a more powerful binding agent than consistent kindness. Missing someone who hurt you isn’t weakness or stupidity. It’s your nervous system responding to a real bond, even a harmful one. Recovery involves both processing the grief of that loss and understanding the mechanism that made leaving so hard, not to shame yourself, but to have compassion for the part of you that was trying to make the relationship work.
Q: What is the no-contact rule, and is it always necessary?
A: No-contact is the practice of entirely ceasing communication with a former partner, and it is often recommended in narcissistic abuse recovery, and for many people it’s the only thing that finally allows genuine healing to begin. The reason is practical: ongoing contact keeps your nervous system in a low-grade state of vigilance, making it very difficult to do the internal work of recovery. That said, no-contact isn’t always possible. Co-parenting situations, shared workplaces, or family contexts can make strict no-contact unworkable. In those cases, “gray rock” (offering minimal emotional response and information) or mediated contact through lawyers or coordinators can create the necessary buffer. What matters is protecting the conditions under which you can actually heal.
Q: How long does it take to recover from narcissistic abuse?
A: There is no honest, universal answer to this question, and anyone who gives you one is oversimplifying. What I can say from clinical experience is that recovery tends to unfold in phases. And the timeline depends significantly on the duration and intensity of the relationship, your support system, whether you have a trauma-informed therapist, and whether there are earlier relational wounds the relationship activated. Some people experience significant relief within a year of leaving. Others do several years of sustained work and still encounter unexpected triggers. The more useful question isn’t “when will I be over this” but “what do I need right now to keep moving?” Take the timeline pressure off. It doesn’t serve you.
Q: Is therapy specifically helpful for narcissistic abuse recovery, or do I need a specialized approach?
A: Therapy is genuinely helpful, and the most important qualifier is that your therapist understands relational trauma and specifically the dynamics of narcissistic relationships. A general therapist who hasn’t worked with this population may inadvertently replicate dynamics that feel familiar. Asking you to see the other person’s perspective before you’ve had a chance to fully process your own, for example. Trauma-informed modalities including EMDR, somatic therapies, and attachment-based relational work are particularly useful for the self-trust erosion that’s often the core injury. If you’re looking for this kind of specialized support, my practice focuses exactly here.
Related Reading
Malkin, Craig. Rethinking Narcissism: The Bad and Surprising Good About Feeling Special. New York: HarperCollins, 2015.
hooks, bell. All About Love: New Visions. New York: William Morrow, 2000.
Kernberg, Otto F. Borderline Conditions and Pathological Narcissism. New York: Jason Aronson, 1975.
Herman, Judith. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence. From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Basic Books, 1992.
Walker, Pete. Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving. Azure Coyote Publishing, 2013.
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Annie Wright, LMFT
LMFT · Relational Trauma Specialist · W.W. Norton Author
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Annie Wright is a licensed psychotherapist (LMFT #95719) and trauma-informed executive coach with over 15,000 clinical hours. She works with driven women, including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs, in repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in USA Today, Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.
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