How to Find a Therapist or Coach Who Actually Specializes in Narcissistic Abuse Recovery

NARCISSISTIC & TOXIC RELATIONSHIP DYNAMICS • April 12, 2026

The Consultation That Made Her Doubt Herself All Over Again

It’s a Wednesday afternoon in March, and Sarah is sitting in a therapist’s waiting room in downtown Portland, clutching a notebook she’s brought to her first consultation. She’s written a list of things she wants to say — a careful, annotated account of the seven years she spent married to a man who systematically dismantled her sense of reality. She’s organized it chronologically. She’s included specific examples. She’s even noted which patterns she’s identified as gaslighting, which as intermittent reinforcement, which as isolation tactics. She’s done her research. She’s ready.

The therapist is kind. The therapist listens. The therapist nods. And then the therapist says the sentence that will send Sarah spiraling for three weeks: “It sounds like there were communication breakdowns on both sides. Have you considered that he might have been dealing with his own unresolved trauma?”

Sarah doesn’t cry in the session. She doesn’t argue. She thanks the therapist, schedules a follow-up she’ll later cancel, walks to her car, and sits in the parking garage for forty-five minutes staring at the steering wheel. The therapist’s words have landed exactly where her ex-husband’s words used to land — in the part of her that wonders if she’s making the whole thing up. If she’s the problem. If she’s being unfair to a man who was just “struggling.”

Sarah is a pediatric nurse practitioner. She manages a clinic. She makes complex diagnostic decisions daily. And she’s just been re-traumatized by the very system that was supposed to help her heal.

If this sounds familiar — if you’ve had a therapy experience that left you feeling worse, not better, or if you’ve been told to “see your partner’s side” by a well-meaning clinician who didn’t understand what they were asking you to do — you’re not alone. And the problem isn’t you. The problem is that the mental health system, as currently structured, is not consistently equipped to treat narcissistic abuse. Finding the right therapist requires knowing what to look for, what to avoid, and what questions to ask — and that’s exactly what this post will help you do.

This is different from the guide I wrote about podcasts for narcissistic abuse recovery. Podcasts are valuable for education and validation. But they’re not therapy. Today, we’re talking about how to find the human being who will sit across from you and help you rebuild the self that was taken from you — and how to avoid the human beings who, however well-intentioned, will set that rebuilding back months or years.

What Is Narcissistic Abuse Recovery — and Why Does It Require Specialized Treatment?

Narcissistic abuse recovery isn’t just “getting over a bad relationship.” It’s a specific clinical process that addresses a specific set of psychological injuries that standard relationship therapy isn’t designed to treat.

What makes narcissistic abuse categorically different from other relationship trauma is the intent. In a difficult relationship between two imperfect people, harm occurs as a byproduct of unresolved issues, poor communication, or incompatibility. In a narcissistic relationship, harm is the mechanism by which the narcissistic partner maintains control. The gaslighting, the intermittent reinforcement, the identity erosion — these aren’t accidental. They’re functional. They serve the narcissist’s need for dominance, supply, and control.

This distinction is why generic therapy can be harmful. A therapist trained in standard couples dynamics will naturally look for patterns of mutual contribution. “What was your role in the conflict?” “How might you have communicated differently?” “Can you see his perspective?” These questions are appropriate in most relational contexts. In the context of narcissistic abuse, they’re devastating — because they replicate the exact dynamic the survivor just escaped: the perpetual implication that if she had just done something differently, the abuse wouldn’t have happened.

In my clinical work, I’ve seen this play out dozens of times. A woman leaves a narcissistic relationship, musters the courage to seek therapy, encounters a well-meaning but unspecialized therapist, and either drops out of treatment (concluding that therapy “doesn’t work for her”) or stays in treatment that inadvertently reinforces the self-blame the narcissist installed. Both outcomes are preventable — if the woman knows how to find the right therapist from the start.

The Neurobiology of Why Wrong Therapy Hurts: What Your Brain Needs After Narcissistic Abuse

To understand why the wrong therapist can be actively harmful — and what the right therapist needs to do differently — we need to understand what narcissistic abuse does to the brain.

Jennifer Freyd, PhD, professor of psychology at the University of Oregon and pioneering researcher on betrayal trauma, demonstrated that when abuse occurs within an attachment relationship, the survivor’s brain faces an impossible dilemma: acknowledge the betrayal (and risk losing the attachment bond) or suppress the acknowledgment (and maintain the bond at the cost of reality). The brain, prioritizing survival over accuracy, chooses suppression. This is why so many women describe a sudden “lifting of the fog” after leaving a narcissistic relationship — the betrayal blindness begins to resolve once the attachment dependency is no longer active.

Bessel van der Kolk, MD, psychiatrist and trauma researcher at the Trauma Research Foundation and author of The Body Keeps the Score, has documented how chronic relational trauma — the kind that narcissistic abuse produces — creates specific neurological changes: a hyperactivated amygdala (perpetual threat detection), a suppressed prefrontal cortex (diminished capacity for reality-testing and decision-making), and a dysregulated autonomic nervous system (chronic oscillation between hyperarousal and collapse). (PMID: 9384857)

These neurological changes have direct implications for therapy. A survivor of narcissistic abuse enters the therapy room with a nervous system that is primed to detect threat, conditioned to appease authority figures, and impaired in its ability to assess whether the person across from her is safe. She is, neurobiologically, more vulnerable to re-traumatization in therapy than almost any other clinical population. And the re-traumatization doesn’t require a bad therapist. It just requires an uninformed one.

Consider what happens when a therapist, lacking specific training in narcissistic abuse dynamics, asks a standard therapeutic question: “What was your part in the conflict?” For most clients, this is a productive inquiry that promotes self-reflection. For a narcissistic abuse survivor, this question activates the exact same neural pathways her abuser activated — the pathways that say: it was your fault, you should have done better, you’re the problem. The therapist isn’t trying to gaslight her. But her nervous system can’t tell the difference between a therapist’s genuine curiosity and an abuser’s calculated manipulation — not because she’s fragile, but because the neural hardware has been specifically compromised.

This is why I’m so adamant — with my own clients and in my clinical practice — that narcissistic abuse survivors need therapists who understand trauma neurobiology, who recognize the specific neural signature of narcissistic abuse, and who can modify their approach accordingly. The right therapy doesn’t just feel better. It produces different neurological outcomes.

How to Evaluate a Therapist: What Driven Women Should Look For

In my experience, finding the right therapist for narcissistic abuse recovery requires evaluating several dimensions that go beyond “are they nice?” and “do they take my insurance?” Here’s what I tell my clients to look for — and what I wish someone had told Sarah before that first, devastating consultation.

Credentials that matter. Start with licensure. You want a licensed mental health professional — an LMFT (Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist), LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker), LPC (Licensed Professional Counselor), PsyD (Doctor of Psychology), or PhD in clinical or counseling psychology. Licensure means the person has completed graduate training, supervised clinical hours, and passed a standardized examination. It doesn’t guarantee competence in narcissistic abuse — but it establishes a baseline of training and ethical accountability.

Beyond licensure, look for specific training in trauma. Certifications like EMDR-certified, Somatic Experiencing Practitioner (SEP), or training in Internal Family Systems (IFS) indicate a therapist who works with the nervous system, not just cognition. These modalities are particularly effective for narcissistic abuse because they address the body-based, implicit memory-driven aspects of the trauma that talk therapy alone can’t reach.

Experience that matters. Training and experience are different. A therapist may have a trauma certification but no experience working specifically with narcissistic abuse survivors. This distinction matters because narcissistic abuse has a unique relational signature — the gaslighting, the trauma bonding, the identity confusion — that general trauma training doesn’t always cover. When evaluating a therapist, ask directly: “How many clients have you worked with who are recovering from narcissistic or sociopathic relationships?” You want a number, not a vague affirmation.

Theoretical orientation that matters. Not every therapeutic approach is equally suited to narcissistic abuse recovery. Here’s what I’ve found works and what doesn’t:

Effective modalities: EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) is one of the most effective treatments for narcissistic abuse because it directly addresses the traumatic memories and associated beliefs that anchor the trauma bond. Somatic Experiencing works with the nervous system dysregulation that narcissistic abuse creates. Internal Family Systems helps survivors access and heal the “parts” of themselves that were co-opted by the narcissistic dynamic — the people-pleasing part, the self-blaming part, the part that still defends the abuser. Schema therapy, developed by Jeffrey Young, PhD, clinical psychologist and founding director of the Schema Therapy Institute, specifically addresses the early maladaptive schemas — deep, entrenched patterns of thought and feeling — that often predispose someone to narcissistic relationships and are reinforced by them.

Modalities to approach with caution: Standard Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), while valuable for many conditions, can be insufficient for narcissistic abuse because it focuses on identifying and changing cognitive distortions — and the “distortions” in a narcissistic abuse survivor aren’t distortions at all. They’re accurate perceptions that the abuser taught her to doubt. A CBT therapist who doesn’t understand this distinction may inadvertently reinforce the gaslighting by treating the survivor’s beliefs as “automatic negative thoughts” when they’re actually symptoms of narcissistic abuse syndrome.

Modalities to avoid: Traditional couples therapy with the narcissistic partner is widely contraindicated. If a therapist suggests bringing your narcissistic or recently-departed narcissistic ex into the room “to get both sides,” this is a significant red flag. The narcissistic partner will weaponize the therapeutic setting, and the therapist’s well-meaning attempts at “fairness” will be exploited.

Let me tell you about Sarah’s second attempt at finding a therapist.

After the devastating first consultation, Sarah spent two months not seeking help at all. She listened to podcasts about narcissistic abuse, which provided validation but not the deep, relational healing she needed. Eventually, a colleague who’d gone through her own narcissistic divorce recommended a therapist — a licensed clinical social worker with twelve years of experience working specifically with women recovering from narcissistic and sociopathic relationships, certified in EMDR and trained in IFS.

Sarah’s consultation with this therapist was different from the first in one critical way: when Sarah described the seven years of gaslighting, the therapist didn’t ask, “What was your part in it?” She said, “It sounds like you’ve been carrying the full weight of a relationship that was designed to make you think you were the problem. You weren’t the problem.” Sarah cried for twenty minutes straight. Not because the words were revolutionary — she’d read the same sentiment in a dozen books. But because a licensed professional, a person with authority in the room, had looked at her experience and named it without equivocation. In a nervous system that had been trained to doubt its own perception, that unambiguous validation was medicine.

“The difference,” Sarah told me later, “wasn’t just what she said. It was what she didn’t say. She didn’t suggest I see his side. She didn’t imply there were communication breakdowns. She didn’t recommend couples therapy. She just believed me. And I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone with clinical authority to believe me until it happened.”

Red Flags in Therapists: When the “Help” Is Harmful

Because I’ve heard too many stories like Sarah’s initial experience, I want to be explicit about the red flags that should prompt you to end a consultation and look elsewhere. These aren’t signs that a therapist is a bad person. They’re signs that a therapist lacks the specific training needed for your specific situation — and in your specific situation, the wrong training can cause real harm.

Red flag: They suggest couples therapy with your abuser. This is the single most dangerous recommendation an uninformed therapist can make. Narcissistic and sociopathic partners are extraordinarily skilled at manipulating therapeutic settings. They will present as the reasonable one. They will weaponize therapy language. They will use the therapist as a tool of control. Any therapist who suggests bringing your narcissistic partner into the room either doesn’t understand narcissistic dynamics or is prioritizing relational ideology over your safety.

Red flag: They “both sides” the abuse. “Every relationship has two sides.” “What do you think your contribution was?” “He must have had reasons for his behavior.” These statements, however diplomatic they sound, are functionally equivalent to the gaslighting you experienced in the relationship. They relocate responsibility from the person who caused the harm to the person who received it. A therapist who specializes in narcissistic abuse will never “both sides” the abuse. They may, later in treatment, help you explore your own patterns and vulnerabilities — but only after establishing, clearly and without qualification, that the abuse was the abuser’s responsibility.

Red flag: They pathologize your trauma responses. If a therapist treats your hypervigilance, your difficulty trusting, your emotional reactivity, or your people-pleasing as “your issues” without connecting them to the narcissistic relationship that caused them, they’re treating symptoms without understanding the disease. Your trauma responses aren’t character flaws. They’re neurological adaptations to an environment of sustained psychological assault. A good therapist will name them as such.

Red flag: They express sympathy for the abuser. “He was probably abused himself.” “Narcissism is a disorder — he couldn’t help it.” “He must be in a lot of pain.” These statements may be factually accurate. They are therapeutically inappropriate when offered to a survivor who is still in the process of establishing that the abuse was real. A specialized therapist understands the difference between explaining a narcissist’s behavior (which has a place, later, in psychoeducation) and excusing it (which has no place at any point in treatment).

Red flag: They move too fast toward “forgiveness.” Forgiveness may be part of some survivors’ healing journeys. It is never a therapeutic requirement, and pushing it prematurely can function as another form of silencing. If a therapist introduces forgiveness before you’ve fully processed your anger, your grief, and your outrage, they’re prioritizing their own discomfort with your pain over your actual healing. Anger at a narcissistic abuser isn’t something to be transcended. It’s something to be honored — it’s your psyche’s belated recognition that what happened to you was wrong.

Red flag: They don’t know the terminology. If you say “trauma bond” and they ask what you mean; if you mention “supply” and they look confused; if you reference “hoovering” and they’ve never heard the term — they aren’t specialized in narcissistic abuse. This isn’t a judgment of their clinical skill in other areas. It’s a data point about whether they have the specific expertise your situation requires.

Angelou’s defiance is the voice that narcissistic abuse tries to silence — and the voice that the right therapist will help you recover. The wrong therapist, however inadvertently, joins the silencing. The right one amplifies the rising.

Both/And: You Can Need Help and Be Your Own Best Advocate

One of the paradoxes of seeking therapy for narcissistic abuse is that you’re asking a system for help while also needing to protect yourself within that system. You’re vulnerable and you’re your own best screener. Both things are true simultaneously, and neither cancels the other.

Let me tell you about Leila.

Leila is a thirty-nine-year-old corporate attorney who left a five-year relationship with a covert narcissist six months ago. She’d already seen two therapists before finding one who understood her experience. The first therapist, a licensed counselor with a lovely office and excellent online reviews, spent three sessions asking about Leila’s childhood without connecting it to the narcissistic relationship she’d come in to process. “She kept asking about my mother,” Leila told me. “And my mother is wonderful. My childhood was fine. The problem was the man I’d just spent five years with, and she kept looking for the wound in me instead of looking at the wound he inflicted.”

The second therapist was more attuned but practiced only standard CBT. He helped Leila create “thought records” to challenge her “negative cognitions” about the relationship. “He kept asking me to find the evidence for and against my beliefs,” Leila said. “My belief was that my ex had systematically gaslit me for five years. The evidence was my lived experience. But in the CBT framework, that looked like a ‘negative automatic thought’ rather than an accurate assessment of reality. I left every session feeling more confused, not less.”

The third therapist — the one who finally worked — was an LCSW with a certification in EMDR and eight years working specifically with women recovering from narcissistic and financially abusive relationships. In their first session, this therapist said something Leila had never heard before: “You don’t need to prove to me that the abuse happened. I believe you. Our work together is about healing from it — not relitigating it.”

Leila’s journey illustrates the both/and. She needed help desperately — she was experiencing insomnia, intrusive thoughts, and a pervasive sense of unreality that she couldn’t shake on her own. And she also needed to be her own advocate — screening therapists, assessing fit, and walking away from well-credentialed professionals who didn’t have the specific skills her situation required. These aren’t contradictory needs. They’re complementary ones.

The driven women I work with often struggle with this both/and because their narcissistic relationships taught them that needing help meant being weak, and that advocating for themselves meant being “difficult” or “demanding.” Recovery involves reclaiming both capacities: the ability to ask for help and the ability to insist that the help be competent. You don’t need to choose between vulnerability and discernment. You need both. And the right therapist will welcome both.

If you’re someone who has historically struggled with people-pleasing — and many narcissistic abuse survivors are — the act of evaluating and potentially rejecting therapists can feel almost impossibly uncomfortable. You may find yourself wanting to stay with an ill-fitting therapist because leaving would feel “rude.” You may minimize your concerns because “she’s the professional, she probably knows better.” I want to name this dynamic explicitly because recognizing it is part of the recovery: if your instinct is to defer to an authority figure who isn’t serving you well, that instinct was trained by the narcissistic relationship. Following it replicates the dynamic. Trusting your own assessment and seeking better care disrupts it.

The Systemic Lens: Why the Mental Health System Underserves Narcissistic Abuse Survivors

The difficulty of finding a good therapist for narcissistic abuse recovery isn’t just a matter of individual therapist competence. It’s a systemic failure — a structural gap in how mental health professionals are trained, how therapeutic approaches are marketed, and how insurance systems define “appropriate treatment.”

Let’s start with training. Most graduate programs in psychology, social work, and marriage and family therapy teach personality disorders as a diagnostic category but don’t specifically train students in how narcissistic and antisocial personality dynamics manifest in intimate relationships — or how to treat the partners who’ve been damaged by those dynamics. A newly licensed therapist might know the DSM criteria for NPD but have no clinical framework for understanding the difference between relational trauma and complex PTSD, why standard trauma protocols may be insufficient for narcissistic abuse, or how the therapeutic relationship itself can inadvertently reenact the dynamics of the abusive relationship.

This training gap means that narcissistic abuse expertise is, in most cases, self-selected. The therapists who are good at this work sought it out on their own — through post-licensure training, specialized supervision, personal experience, or simply the accumulation of clinical hours with this population. They’re not the majority. They’re a dedicated minority who recognized a need and developed the skills to meet it. Finding them requires knowing where to look and what to ask.

Then there’s the insurance problem. Many insurance panels don’t recognize “narcissistic abuse recovery” as a distinct treatment category. A therapist treating a narcissistic abuse survivor may code the diagnosis as PTSD, adjustment disorder, or major depressive episode — which is clinically accurate but therapeutically limiting, because the treatment plan associated with these diagnoses may not include the specialized interventions (EMDR, somatic work, psychoeducation about narcissistic dynamics) that narcissistic abuse recovery requires. Some of the best narcissistic abuse therapists work out-of-network precisely because they refuse to compromise their treatment approach to fit insurance-mandated session limits and approved intervention lists.

This creates an access problem that disproportionately affects women with fewer financial resources — women who may have been financially controlled by their narcissistic partner and are now trying to rebuild their lives with limited means. The cruel irony is not lost on me: the women who’ve been most systematically disempowered by narcissistic relationships are often the ones least able to access the specialized treatment they need. This is a systemic failure, and it deserves to be named as such.

There’s also the cultural dimension. The mental health field, like the broader culture, tends to default to a “both sides” framework in relational conflicts. This framework is appropriate in most therapeutic contexts. It is actively harmful in narcissistic abuse contexts, and the field has been slow to make this distinction explicit in training and practice guidelines. Organizations like the International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation have made strides in recognizing the unique dynamics of narcissistic abuse, but the recognition hasn’t yet trickled down to the average graduate program or the average clinical supervisor.

If you’ve struggled to find a good therapist, it’s not because good therapists don’t exist. It’s because the system hasn’t yet created the infrastructure to train, certify, and identify them consistently. You’re navigating a gap in the system, and you deserve support in that navigation — which is exactly what this post aims to provide.

The Right Fit: Modalities, Questions, and Next Steps

Let me give you concrete, actionable guidance for finding the right therapist. This is the practical section — the one you can bookmark and reference when you’re ready to start the search.

Where to look. Start with directories that allow you to filter by specialty. Psychology Today’s therapist directory allows you to filter by “narcissistic personality” and “abuse” as specialties. The EMDR International Association directory lists EMDR-certified therapists by location. The IFS Institute directory lists IFS-trained practitioners. Beyond directories, ask in narcissistic abuse survivor communities — online forums, local support groups, or women’s advocacy organizations often maintain informal lists of trusted therapists in specific geographic areas.

The consultation call: what to ask. Most therapists offer a free 15-20 minute consultation. This is your screening tool. Use it. Here are the questions I recommend:

“What percentage of your caseload involves narcissistic abuse recovery?” You want a number. Even 20-30% suggests meaningful experience. If they say “I work with relationship issues generally,” they’re probably not specialized enough.

“What modalities do you use for narcissistic abuse recovery?” You want to hear specific approaches — EMDR, somatic experiencing, IFS, schema therapy. If they say “talk therapy” or “eclectic approach” without specifics, dig deeper.

“What is your position on couples therapy when one partner has narcissistic traits?” This is a litmus test. The right answer is some version of: “Couples therapy is generally contraindicated when there are narcissistic dynamics present.” If they say “It depends” or “I’ve found it can be helpful,” proceed with caution.

“How do you approach the question of the client’s ‘role’ in a narcissistic relationship?” This is another litmus test. The right answer acknowledges that while exploring vulnerability patterns has value, it’s never done in a way that assigns responsibility for the abuse to the survivor. If they say “I help clients look at both sides,” they’re not the right fit.

“Do you have experience with covert narcissism specifically?” If your partner was a covert narcissist, this question is essential. Covert narcissistic abuse has a different presentation than overt, and a therapist who only recognizes the grandiose type may inadvertently validate the covert narcissist’s public persona.

The first three sessions: what to notice. Even after a promising consultation, give yourself three sessions to evaluate the fit. In those sessions, notice: Do you feel believed? Do you feel safe disagreeing with the therapist? Does the therapist name the abuse directly, or does she dance around it? Does she educate you about narcissistic dynamics, or does she treat your situation as a generic relationship problem? Do you leave sessions feeling more clarity or more confusion?

If you leave those first three sessions feeling more confused, more self-blaming, or more uncertain about your reality, that’s data. And the data is telling you: this isn’t the right fit. Moving on isn’t a failure. It’s you exercising the same discernment your narcissistic partner tried to destroy.

Therapy modalities that work — a brief guide:

EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing): Developed by Francine Shapiro, PhD, psychologist and creator of the EMDR methodology, this approach uses bilateral stimulation to help the brain reprocess traumatic memories. For narcissistic abuse, EMDR is particularly effective at addressing the specific traumatic scenes that anchor the betrayal trauma and the core beliefs the narcissist installed (“I’m not enough,” “I can’t trust myself,” “It was my fault”). (PMID: 11748594)

Internal Family Systems (IFS): This modality works with the “parts” of your psyche — the self-blame part, the people-pleasing part, the part that still defends the narcissist. It’s gentle, nonpathologizing, and particularly effective for women who feel internally fragmented after narcissistic abuse.

Somatic Experiencing: This approach addresses the nervous system directly — the hypervigilance, the freeze responses, the chronic tension that narcissistic abuse embeds in the body. It’s especially valuable for women who have done extensive cognitive work (“I understand what happened to me intellectually”) but can’t seem to feel safe in their bodies.

Schema Therapy: Developed by Jeffrey Young, PhD, this approach identifies and addresses the deep schemas — core beliefs about self, others, and the world — that made you vulnerable to a narcissistic partner and that were reinforced by the relationship. It’s a longer-term approach but highly effective for women with childhood emotional neglect histories that interlock with the narcissistic abuse.

Coaching versus therapy. A note for women who are considering coaching rather than or in addition to therapy. Coaching can be a valuable complement to therapy — particularly for driven women who want to focus on rebuilding professional confidence, redefining leadership after narcissistic relationships, or navigating the practical dimensions of post-abuse life. However, coaching is not therapy. It doesn’t address the neurobiological trauma, it isn’t equipped to process traumatic memories, and it lacks the clinical training required to safely navigate the complex psychological injuries that narcissistic abuse produces. If you’re in the acute phase of recovery — if you’re still experiencing intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, dissociation, or difficulty distinguishing past from present — therapy is the appropriate first step. Coaching can come later, once the nervous system has stabilized enough to benefit from it.

If you’re reading this and feeling overwhelmed by the search — if the prospect of evaluating therapists while you’re barely functioning feels like too much — please hear this: start anywhere. An imperfect therapist whom you can evaluate and leave is better than no therapist at all. The search itself, imperfect as it is, is an act of self-advocacy. And self-advocacy, after years of self-erasure, is the beginning of healing.

You survived a relationship that was designed to make you doubt everything you know. Finding the right therapist is the first step toward trusting yourself again — and you don’t have to take that step alone. You can start by joining a community of women who understand what you’ve been through, or by reaching out for structured recovery support that meets you where you are.

You deserve a therapist who sees you clearly. Not one who asks what you did to deserve what happened. One who already knows: you didn’t.

Related Reading

• Freyd, Jennifer J. Blind to Betrayal: Why We Fool Ourselves We Aren’t Being Fooled. Wiley, 2013.
• Van der Kolk, Bessel. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books, 2014.
• Young, Jeffrey E. Schema Therapy: A Practitioner’s Guide. Guilford Press, 2003.
• De Canonville, Christine Louis. The Three Faces of Evil: Unmasking the Full Spectrum of Narcissistic Abuse. Black Card Books, 2020.
• Bancroft, Lundy. Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men. Berkley Books, 2002.

Medical Disclaimer

Medical Disclaimer