How to Live With a Covert Narcissist: A Clinical Survival Guide for Women Who Can’t Leave Yet

COVERT NARCISSISM • April 28, 2026

Last reviewed: June 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT

In short: Living with a covert narcissist requires protecting your nervous system and limiting their access to information, not managing their emotions, as a survival strategy until leaving becomes possible.

Midnight Quiet: The Weight of Another Day with Him

It’s just past midnight, and the kitchen light casts a pale glow on the cold coffee cup Sonia left on the counter hours ago. She stands barefoot on the tile, shoulders tight, wearing soft pajamas that suddenly feel constricting against her skin. Her phone buzzed a few minutes ago, a message from him. She doesn’t want to read it, but the pull is too strong, and the words sting like a whispered accusation she can’t quite place or disprove.

Sonia is 38, a nonprofit director with a demanding job and a fierce dedication to her team. For over ten years, she’s lived with her husband, a covert narcissist. Tonight, like so many nights before it, she feels the particular exhaustion of walking on eggshells in her own home, an invisible weight pressing on her chest that somehow lands heavier than anything physical could. She’s not sure when she last felt truly safe within her own skin.

Her body is wound tight, her breath shallow and quick. She’s caught in a cycle she knows well by now: hypervigilance, then a kind of quiet despair that settles in after. In my work with driven women who are staying in relationships with covert narcissists while they build an exit, this is the pattern I’ve come to recognize almost on sight: a woman who is extraordinary at her job and quietly convinced she’s failing at her marriage, when in fact she’s surviving something most people never have to name.

Covert narcissists don’t yell or hit. They erode your sense of self more slowly than that, through silence, subtle manipulation, and emotional withholding that rarely leaves a mark anyone else can see. The abuse is quiet but constant, a slow leak that’s hard to detect and even harder to name out loud. For women in this position, the question isn’t just whether this is abuse. It’s how to survive while you’re still here, still in the house, still making his coffee in the morning.

What Does It Mean to Live With a Covert Narcissist?

Living with a covert narcissist means being in a relationship where the manipulation is subtle, steady, and exhausting in a way that’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t lived it. Unlike the classic “loud” narcissist who shouts or dominates openly, the covert narcissist reaches for passive-aggression, guilt-tripping, and silent treatment instead. Think of the loud narcissist as a fire alarm and the covert narcissist as a slow gas leak: no dramatic moment sends you running from the house, just a gradual thinning of the air until you notice you’ve been holding your breath.

The covert narcissist’s need for control often leads to isolation, an erosion of boundaries, and a specific kind of emotional exhaustion that doesn’t announce itself the way a bruise does. This is the woman who rereads a three-line text four times before replying, who has stopped mentioning good news at work because good news, somehow, always gets punished. Her sense of self shrinks in small increments, replaced by self-doubt she can’t quite trace back to a single cause.

For many women still in these relationships, the pressing question isn’t only whether this is abuse, but how to survive day-to-day inside it. Leaving may not be an option yet, whether because of finances, children, immigration status, illness, or safety concerns that are entirely real and not excuses. This post meets you where you’re and offers clinical strategies that respect the complexity of your situation without judgment.

In my work with clients, I see again and again how covert narcissists weaponize information and twist small facts until the person on the receiving end starts doubting her own memory. What follows are practical tools, the kind I actually use with the women sitting across from me, meant to help you protect your emotional and physical well-being while you’re still living with him.

The Neurobiology of Survival in a Covert Narcissistic Relationship

The women I work with commonly describe their bodies as “on edge” most of the time. Their nervous systems are stuck in survival mode, scanning for danger the way a lifeguard scans a crowded beach, unable to fully rest even during the calm stretches. The covert narcissist’s unpredictable behaviors, the silent treatments, the mixed messages, the blame-shifting, keep tripping this alarm long after any actual threat has passed.

I first read Deb Dana, LCSW, several years ago, and her book The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy gave me language I still use in session almost weekly. Dana’s work suggests that recognizing your own nervous system signals is the first real step toward regulating them: noticing the tension in your jaw, the racing heart, the shallow breath, and treating those sensations as information rather than failure.

Here is what this neurobiological lens explains: why living with a covert narcissist is so quietly draining even on days when nothing dramatic happens. Your nervous system isn’t just reacting to a single bad conversation. It’s responding to what your brain has learned to perceive as ongoing, low-grade threat, the way a smoke detector that once caught a real kitchen fire will keep going off at burnt toast for years afterward.

For practical nervous system regulation, try deep belly breathing, naming five things you can see or hear around you, or a short walk. On a Tuesday afternoon, this can look like standing in a bathroom for ninety seconds between a tense phone call and a work meeting, breathing slowly enough that your hands stop shaking before you have to sound normal on a video call. That’s what activating your “social nervous system” buys you: a few minutes of borrowed calm, which is sometimes all a Tuesday requires.

How Living With a Covert Narcissist Looks for Driven Women

Samira, 42, is a vice president of engineering at a busy tech company. She walks into her kitchen after a long day, her tailored blazer still crisp but her shoulders stiff with tension. She sets down her laptop bag and sighs, feeling a familiar knot in her stomach. Earlier, she received an email from her husband, a passive-aggressive message disguised as concern about their finances. The tone felt like a jab, but it was wrapped in careful words that make it hard to call out.

Samira’s days are a balancing act. She manages a demanding team, leads meetings, and then comes home to decode his moods and avoid triggering his silent withdrawal. She’s learned to withhold information because, as she puts it, “He uses everything you say against you.”

What Samira experiences is a form of information starvation, a tactic where the covert narcissist weaponizes knowledge, selectively sharing or withholding facts to maintain control and create confusion. It leaves Samira feeling isolated and second-guessing her own reality.

Erin, 35, an M&A attorney, shares a different but equally exhausting experience. Tonight, after a long day at the firm, she’s in soft sweats, rubbing her temples, still trembling from a recent conversation. Her husband gaslit her over a simple request for emotional support, twisting her words until she felt like the “crazy one.”

For women like Erin and Samira, coping with a covert narcissist means developing strategies that protect their energy without sparking conflict. They become experts at strategic ambiguity, giving vague or non-committal responses to avoid traps, and grey rocking, a technique where you act as uninteresting and neutral as possible to reduce the narcissist’s attempts to provoke or manipulate you. Neither of these is about winning or changing him. They’re survival tools, the kind that preserve your sanity when leaving isn’t yet possible.

I met Delia on a Tuesday in late January, six weeks after her second daughter was born. She came into my office still in her nursing cover, a hospital-grade pump bag slung over one shoulder next to her leather laptop tote, because she’d scheduled our session between a board call and a pediatrician appointment. Delia is 44, a partner at a corporate law firm, the kind of woman associates describe as unshakeable in a deposition. She set the pump bag down carefully, like it might wake something, and didn’t take her coat off.

“I did the spreadsheet again,” she told me. “Custody time, our joint accounts, the retainer I’d need if I filed, what happens to his visa sponsorship of his mother if we separate, what happens to the firm’s client list since half of it came through his family’s introductions. I’ve run this spreadsheet nine times since the baby was born and every single time I get to the bottom and I can’t make the numbers tell me it’s safe to go. So I close the laptop, and I go back downstairs and make him a coffee, because if I don’t, he goes quiet for two days, and I don’t have two days of quiet in me right now with a newborn.”

Sitting with Delia, I felt the particular heaviness I’ve come to recognize in driven women who are also excellent lawyers, excellent surgeons, excellent partners at excellent firms: the heaviness of a woman who has correctly diagnosed her own captivity and still can’t find the exit her competence tells her should exist. She wasn’t confused about what was happening to her. What she didn’t have was a version of leaving that didn’t cost her the girls’ stability, her mother-in-law’s immigration status, or the client relationships that fed her family for a decade.

What I’ve come to think of as the competence trap is exactly this: the smarter and more resourced a woman is, the more clearly she can see every door, and the more clearly she can see why each door is currently welded shut. Delia’s spreadsheet wasn’t denial. It was the opposite, and it was also, for now, a reason to stay. Both things were true in the same nursing cover, in the same Tuesday appointment, in the same woman.

Samira, Erin, and Delia describe the same toll from three different rooms: the exhaustion of living close to someone who constantly undermines your confidence. Each has also found her own version of the same lifeline, a trusted friend, a therapist, a private space that protects some remaining thread of who she is underneath the vigilance.

The Hidden Toll: Coercive Control Beyond Physical Violence

Coercive control sits at the heart of covert narcissistic abuse. Unlike overt physical abuse, it operates through manipulation, intimidation, isolation, and emotional withholding rather than a raised fist. I came across Lisa Aronson Fontes, PhD, clinical psychologist and author of Invisible Chains, years ago, and her argument has stuck with me since: coercive control can be entirely invisible to outsiders while doing damage that runs just as deep as anything physical.

Many women don’t realize that covert narcissistic abuse fits this pattern. Silent treatments, constant gaslighting, financial control, and social isolation all chip away at your autonomy in ways that rarely show up on a checklist anyone else recognizes. You might not be able to leave immediately, and that’s a real constraint, not a failure of will.

Examples of safety planning include:

• Keeping copies of important documents (IDs, financial papers) in a secure, private place
• Identifying trusted friends or professionals you can reach out to in a crisis
• Setting up a code word or signal to alert others if you need help
• Planning safe times and routes to leave the house if needed
• Saving emergency funds discreetly

Even when abuse is covert and non-physical, prioritizing your safety still matters, because coercive control can escalate without warning. Having a plan in place before you need it is what makes the difference between scrambling and acting.

Both/And: You Can Be Doing Everything Right and Still Be Suffering

Here is a painful truth I say to clients more often than almost anything else: you can follow every clinical recommendation, use every coping skill I’ve taught you, and still feel like you’re drowning some nights. The women I work with often tell me they feel guilty for struggling, as though their continued suffering is proof they’re doing something wrong.

Both/And thinking is the frame I want you to borrow here. You can be doing everything right AND still be suffering. The covert narcissist’s abuse is, by design, meant to wear you down over time, not in one dramatic blow but in the accumulation of a thousand small ones. You can feel isolated even in the exact moment you’re reaching out for support, and that doesn’t mean the effort was wasted.

Iris, 45, a design director, wears a soft cardigan as she sits at her kitchen table late one night, long after her husband has gone to bed. She’s just finished a phone call with a trusted friend, one of the good calls, the kind where she felt heard the whole time. And the loneliness is still there when she hangs up. Both are true. Her suffering is real, and it doesn’t mean she’s weak or failing at the thing everyone else seems to manage.

Recognizing that you can be both capable and exhausted, both loved and lonely, opens a door to self-compassion that perfectionism keeps locked. Of course healing isn’t linear here. Some days will feel like nothing has moved at all, and that doesn’t undo the days that came before it.

You’re not alone in this, even though covert abuse is specifically designed to make you feel that you are. Many women who appear strong on the outside are carrying this exact hidden weight.

The Systemic Lens: Why “Just Leave” Is Bad Clinical Advice

“Just leave” sounds simple, but for many women living with covert narcissists, it’s far from easy. The systemic realities, financial entanglement, immigration status, shared children, health concerns, or safety risks, create real barriers that make leaving complicated or dangerous.

Lundy Bancroft’s book Why Does He Do That? was one of the first texts a supervisor handed me early in my career, and I still recommend it to almost every client facing this exact question. Bancroft, a leading expert on abusive relationships, makes a point that reframes the whole “just leave” conversation: leaving is often the most dangerous time for survivors, not the safe endpoint everyone assumes it is. A covert narcissist who senses he’s losing control can escalate, through stalking, threats, or financial sabotage.

This is why advice that ignores context does more harm than good. It leaves women feeling blamed, as if failing to leave on someone else’s timeline means failing at healing, or at courage. Healing and safety were never about a single brave decision made on a Tuesday. They’re slower than that.

Instead, a trauma-informed clinical approach meets you where you actually are, validating the complexity of your situation while offering real strategies for survival until you’re ready to leave. That includes nervous system regulation, safety planning, and emotional support.

For more on this, see Annie’s Systemic Approach to Abuse Recovery, which explores the broader social and cultural factors that affect survivors’ choices and safety.

How to Heal: Safety Planning and Nervous System Care

Here are key clinical strategies I share with women who are still living with covert narcissists:

• Nervous system regulation: Practice grounding exercises such as deep belly breathing, orienting to your environment by naming five things you see, hear, or feel, or gentle movement like stretching or walking. These help shift your nervous system from fight/flight or freeze into a calmer state.
• Grey rock technique: Respond with minimal reaction or emotional engagement to your partner’s provocations. Covert narcissists are sensitive to emotional cues, so keep your energy neutral and non-reactive to reduce attempts at manipulation.
• Information starvation: Limit the personal information you share, especially around finances, plans, or emotional vulnerabilities. Covert narcissists often weaponize details to manipulate or control you.
• Strategic ambiguity: Use vague or non-committal answers to avoid traps or conflict. For example, saying “I’ll think about it” instead of “No” can reduce escalation.
• Build your “go bag”: Prepare an emergency kit with important documents, money, and essentials in a safe place. Also build an emotional “go bag” by identifying trusted friends or therapists to reach out to when needed.
• What to tell the kids: Protect children by keeping explanations age-appropriate and avoiding blaming language. Focus on safety and love rather than details of the abuse.
• When to break the rules: Sometimes, doing what feels right for your safety means bending societal or cultural expectations about marriage and family. Trust your judgment and prioritize your well-being.

Safety planning and nervous system care lay the foundation for healing. They prepare you physically and emotionally for whatever comes next, whether staying, leaving, or something in between.

Delia still runs her spreadsheet most months. It has more columns now, one for the retainer she’s quietly saved, one for the immigration attorney she consulted on her mother-in-law’s behalf, not her husband’s. She hasn’t left yet. She isn’t pretending she will next week. But she told me recently that she no longer makes him the coffee out of fear, only when she wants to, and that distinction, small as it sounds across a kitchen counter, is most of the work so far.

When you’re ready, trauma-informed therapy can help you make sense of your experience, rebuild your sense of self, and plan your path forward. If you want to explore that, consider working with a therapist who specializes in covert narcissistic abuse recovery.

You’re not alone in this. Many driven women face these challenges and find ways to survive and, in time, heal.

For ongoing support and insights, consider subscribing to Annie’s Sunday newsletter, Strong & Stable. It’s designed to meet you where you’re and help you build strength every week.

Recognizing and Grounding in Your Body’s Signals

When you’re living with a covert narcissist, your mind spends a lot of energy making sense of confusing, contradictory experiences: warmth quickly followed by coldness or subtle undermining. But your body carries its own version of that dissonance. I return often to Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, MD, and his finding that trauma and chronic stress are stored somatically, not just cognitively, which means your nervous system can hold tension or numbness long after your conscious mind has stopped registering the threat. For women who can’t leave yet, learning to attune to these bodily sensations is one of the more accessible ways to regain some internal authority.

For example, you might notice a tightening in your chest when your partner dismisses your feelings, or a sinking sensation in your stomach after an interaction that leaves you doubting your own perceptions. Such somatic clues aren’t just side effects of stress, they’re signals from your nervous system that something needs attention. Bringing mindful awareness to these sensations can help you differentiate your own reality from the distortions the narcissist projects.

Practices such as grounding through breath, gentle movement, or body scans can be especially effective. You might try a simple exercise: pause during or after a difficult interaction, place your hand on your heart or abdomen, and take slow, deep breaths. Notice the texture of your skin, the rise and fall of your breath, and any areas of tension or calm. This embodied awareness can anchor you in the present moment and reduce the dissociation that covert narcissistic abuse often triggers.

Managing the Cognitive Dissonance: Reclaiming Your Reality

Covert narcissists often lean on gaslighting tactics that gradually erode your confidence in your own perceptions. Psychologist Robin Stern, PhD, has studied emotional manipulation for years, and her definition of gaslighting is the one I hand clients most often: a form of psychological abuse that causes victims to doubt their own memory, judgment, or sanity. It’s especially insidious when it’s subtle and intermittent, because you’re left second-guessing yourself without overt evidence.

One practical approach is to keep a private journal or log of interactions. Writing down conversations, your feelings, and specific events helps externalize your experience. For driven women who often rely on logic and evidence, this documentation can serve as a tether to your truth when the narcissist’s distortions cloud your mind. Over time, patterns emerge that validate your experience and help you resist the internalized confusion the covert abuser instills.

Corinne, a 38-year-old marketing director, embodies this struggle. She often feels a knot tightening in her throat when her partner dismisses her work achievements or subtly blames her for household tensions. Corinne started journaling daily, noting specific phrases and her emotional responses. This practice helped her notice how often she was minimizing her feelings to keep the peace. Through this process, Corinne began to reclaim her voice internally, even while remaining in the relationship for practical reasons.

Setting Boundaries That Feel Safe and Doable

Boundary-setting is one of the most challenging aspects of living with a covert narcissist, especially when you can’t leave yet. Unlike overt narcissists, covert ones often provoke guilt or shame when you assert yourself, using passive-aggressive behaviors or sulking to undermine your limits. The key is to start small and focus on boundaries that protect your emotional and physical well-being without escalating conflict unnecessarily.

For example, if the narcissist tends to invade your personal space when you’re working, you might establish a simple rule like closing your office door during certain hours. Or if they tend to interrupt when you’re sharing your feelings, you can say, “I need to finish what I’m saying before you respond.” These boundaries may feel uncomfortable at first, but they’re essential for maintaining your sense of self.

Christine Courtois, PhD, is a clinical psychologist whose writing on complex trauma shaped my early training, and one point of hers has stayed central to my work since: boundary-setting in emotionally abusive relationships is a form of self-care, not an act of aggression. She advises assertive communication that’s clear, calm, and consistent, which also happens to give a covert narcissist the least material to work with.

Somatic Recovery: Reconnecting With Your Body’s Wisdom

Beyond cognitive strategies, somatic recovery is a powerful avenue for healing the subtle but profound impacts of covert narcissistic abuse. When you experience chronic emotional invalidation, your nervous system may default to fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses. These automatic patterns can manifest as muscle tightness, chronic fatigue, or digestive issues. Recognizing these somatic symptoms as part of the abuse experience, not personal weakness, is liberating.

Integrating somatic exercises into your routine can restore nervous system regulation. Gentle yoga, qi gong, or trauma-informed movement practices help release stored tension and increase interoceptive awareness, your ability to sense internal bodily states. Annie Wright’s somatic recovery guide offers practical tools tailored for women in these situations, focusing on safe, incremental body reconnection.

Kavita, a 45-year-old attorney, often experiences a persistent tightness in her jaw and shoulders after tense conversations with her covert narcissist partner. She began incorporating brief body-centered pauses throughout her day, checking in with her posture, breathing deeply, and consciously relaxing her jaw. Over several weeks, Kavita noticed a decrease in her chronic headaches and an improved ability to regulate her emotional responses.

Creating Micro-Moments of Autonomy and Joy

Even when full separation from a covert narcissist isn’t possible, carving out small pockets of autonomy and joy can sustain your spirit. These moments can be as simple as a quiet cup of tea, a walk in nature, or re-engaging with a creative hobby that the narcissist diminishes or ignores. Such practices aren’t indulgences; they’re essential acts of self-preservation.

For driven women accustomed to high demands, reclaiming these micro-moments can recalibrate your nervous system and remind you of your intrinsic worth beyond the abuse dynamic. These experiences also create alternative neural pathways that reinforce your identity separate from the narcissist’s influence.

Consider building a “joy inventory”. A list of small activities or rituals that consistently bring you peace or pleasure. When you notice creeping self-doubt or emotional exhaustion, turn to this inventory as a reminder that your needs and desires are valid. You can explore more about rebuilding your sense of reality and self in Annie Wright’s reality-rebuilding exercises.

Planning for Safety and Strategic Exit When Ready

Although leaving a covert narcissist is often complicated by financial, familial, or logistical concerns, preparing strategically and safely is essential. This preparation isn’t about rushing but about building resources, support networks, and clarity. You may find it helpful to consult with professionals experienced in covert narcissistic abuse, including therapists, legal advisors, or support groups specializing in this abuse type.

Understanding the unique challenges of covert narcissistic abuse in the context of leaving matters. Annie Wright’s article on why leaving is harder than it looks offers valuable insights into the emotional, psychological, and practical barriers many face. Recognizing these barriers as part of the abuse, not personal failure, can reduce shame and give you back a sense of agency.

In the meantime, maintaining a safety plan that includes trusted contacts, emergency resources, and self-care strategies can provide a sense of control. Even small steps, like securing important documents or identifying safe spaces outside the home, contribute to your steadiness.

Building Compassionate Inner Dialogue

One of the most insidious effects of covert narcissistic abuse is the internalized critical voice that echoes the abuser’s subtle put-downs and invalidations. This self-criticism can chip away at self-esteem and reinforce trauma bonding. Building a compassionate inner dialogue is a form of resistance and healing.

Try to notice when your inner voice turns harsh, and gently intervene with kindness instead. You might say to yourself, “I’m doing the best I can in a difficult situation,” or “My feelings are valid, and I deserve respect.” I think often of Kristin Neff, PhD, and her research on self-compassion, specifically her finding that self-kindness measurably mitigates the effects of trauma and shame. It’s not a platitude. It’s a documented buffer, available even on nights when no one else is being kind to you.

Using affirmations or compassionate journaling can further reinforce this inner support. For many women stuck in covert narcissistic relationships, reclaiming this inner ally can feel like the first real step toward freedom, even before physical separation is possible.

Seeking Support That Understands Covert Dynamics

Not all therapists or support groups are equally equipped to address the subtle complexities of covert narcissistic abuse. Finding clinicians who recognize the unique patterns, such as emotional invisibility, chronic invalidation, and trauma bonding, matters. This specificity can accelerate healing and reduce the frustration of feeling misunderstood.

Resources like Annie Wright’s recovery guide for driven women and healing roadmap offer tailored suggestions to connect with appropriate support. Peer support, whether in-person or online, can also provide validation and practical advice from women walking a similar path.

Remember, healing from covert narcissistic abuse isn’t linear. There will be setbacks and breakthroughs. Compassion for yourself throughout this process is the foundation that sustains you.

If you’re living alongside someone whose behavior slowly erodes you, and leaving is not something you can safely or realistically do right now, I want to say this plainly. Staying, for now, does not make you weak, and it does not make you complicit. There are countless real reasons a woman can’t simply walk out, and understanding them is not the same as endorsing the situation. You can protect your inner reality and your sanity today and also work quietly toward more options for your future, both at once, and holding both is a form of strength, not resignation. Nothing in this piece is a substitute for a safety plan built with people who know your specific circumstances. If you ever feel you’re in danger, please reach out to a domestic violence advocate or hotline, or a licensed professional who can help you think through your safety directly. In the United States, the National Domestic Violence Hotline is available at 1-800-799-7233. You deserve support, and you deserve to be safe. When you’re ready for that kind of support, I’m here.

Warmly,
Annie

Warmly, Annie

Related Reading

• Bancroft, Lundy. Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men. New York: Berkley Books, 2002.
• Porges, Stephen W. The Pocket Guide to the Polyvagal Theory: The Transformative Power of Feeling Safe. New York: W.W. Norton, 2017.
• Fontes, Lisa Aronson. Invisible Chains: Overcoming Coercive Control in Your Intimate Relationship. New York: Hazelden Publishing, 2015.
• Campbell, Jacquelyn C., and Daniel Webster. “Danger Assessment: Validation of a Lethality Risk Assessment Instrument for Intimate Partner Femicide.” Journal of Interpersonal Violence 16, no. 3 (2001): 345, 360.
• Evans, Patricia. The Verbally Abusive Relationship: How to Recognize It and How to Respond. Holbrook, MA: Adams Media, 2000.
• Shaw, Daniel S. Traumatic Narcissism: Relational Systems of Subjugation. New York: Routledge, 2014.

References

Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)

1. van der Kolk BA, Stone L, West J, Rhodes A, Emerson D, Suvak M, Spinazzola J. Yoga as an adjunctive treatment for posttraumatic stress disorder: a randomized controlled trial. J Clin Psychiatry. 2014;75(6):e559-65. doi:10.4088/JCP.13m08561. PMID: 25004196.
2. Porges SW. Polyvagal Theory: Current Status, Clinical Applications, and Future Directions. Clin Neuropsychiatry. 2025;22(3):169-184. doi:10.36131/cnfioritieditore20250301. PMID: 40735382.
3. Neff KD, Bluth K, Tóth-Király I, Davidson O, Knox MC, Williamson Z, et al. Development and Validation of the Self-Compassion Scale for Youth. J Pers Assess. 2021;103(1):92-105. doi:10.1080/00223891.2020.1729774. PMID: 32125190.

Books & Cultural Sources (Chicago Author-Date)

• Shaw, Daniel. Traumatic Narcissism. Routledge, 2013.
• Dana, Deb. The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy. Norton & Company, Incorporated, W. W., 2018.
• Oliver, Mary. Devotions. Little, Brown Book Group Limited, 2017.

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