How Narcissistic Family Roles Show Up in Adult Leadership, Marriage, and Money

Narcissistic Abuse • May 04, 2026

The Unseen Burden: When External Success Masks Internal Struggle

She sits at the head of the boardroom table, commanding attention with every precise word, every confident gesture. Her quarterly reports are impeccable, her team consistently exceeds targets, and her reputation as a formidable leader precedes her.

Yet, as the meeting adjourns and the polished veneer of professionalism begins to fade, a familiar ache settles in her chest. Later, at home, she navigates the complexities of her marriage with the same strategic precision, anticipating every potential conflict, smoothing over every rough edge.

And when she reviews her meticulously managed financial portfolio, a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her, a whisper of anxiety she can’t quite place.

She is the woman who can run the meeting, hold the family together, earn the money, anticipate everyone’s needs, and still privately feel lonely, scared, ashamed, depleted, or confused.

This internal dissonance, this chasm between an impressive external reality and a heavy internal landscape, is often the quiet legacy of growing up in a narcissistic family system.

For many accomplished women, the patterns learned in childhood, designed for survival within a family dominated by narcissistic dynamics, don’t simply disappear when they leave home. Instead, they subtly, yet powerfully, shape their adult lives, influencing their leadership styles, their most intimate relationships, and even their relationship with money.

This article will explore how these ingrained narcissistic family roles manifest in these critical areas, offering a path toward recognition, understanding, and ultimately, liberation.

Understanding Narcissistic Family Systems: A Clinical Perspective

To truly grasp the enduring impact of narcissistic family roles, we must first define the system itself.

A narcissistic family system is characterized by one or both parents exhibiting narcissistic traits or Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), where the parent’s needs, desires, and image take precedence over the emotional and developmental needs of their children.

In such an environment, children are not seen as separate individuals with their own feelings and aspirations, but rather as extensions of the narcissistic parent, existing primarily to fulfill the parent’s emotional requirements, uphold their image, or serve as a source of narcissistic supply (admiration, attention, control).

This creates a highly dysfunctional dynamic where authentic emotional expression is suppressed, boundaries are routinely violated, and a child’s sense of self is often distorted to fit the family’s unspoken rules.

Within these systems, children often adopt specific roles as a coping mechanism to navigate the unpredictable and often emotionally barren landscape. These roles are not consciously chosen but are rather adaptive strategies developed to maintain a semblance of safety, belonging, or control.

Common roles include the Golden Child , who is idealized and groomed to reflect positively on the narcissistic parent, often carrying the burden of perfectionism; the Scapegoat , who is blamed for the family’s problems and becomes the target of the narcissistic parent’s rage and criticism; the Lost Child , who becomes invisible, seeking to avoid conflict by minimizing their presence and needs; and the Enabler , who supports the narcissistic parent’s behavior, often at the expense of their own well-being and the well-being of other family members.

These roles, while offering temporary psychological protection in childhood, become deeply ingrained patterns that continue to play out in adulthood, often outside of conscious awareness.

The Nervous System’s Blueprint: How Early Experiences Shape Our Adult Selves

The impact of growing up in a narcissistic family system is not merely psychological; it is deeply physiological, encoded within the very fabric of our nervous system. From an early age, children in these environments learn to be hypervigilant, constantly scanning for cues of the narcissistic parent’s mood or impending emotional outbursts.

This constant state of alert activates the sympathetic nervous system, keeping the child in a perpetual state of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn . The fawn response, in particular, is common, where the child learns to appease, anticipate, and cater to the narcissistic parent’s needs to avoid conflict or gain fleeting approval.

This constant activation can lead to a dysregulated autonomic nervous system, impacting emotional regulation and physical health [1].

Attachment theory provides a crucial lens through which to understand these dynamics. Children of narcissistic parents often develop insecure attachment styles—anxious-preoccupied, dismissive-avoidant, or disorganized—as a direct result of inconsistent, conditional, or emotionally unavailable parenting. The child’s innate need for secure attachment is often unmet.

Instead, they learn that love and attention are contingent upon meeting the parent’s needs, leading to profound shame and a fractured identity . Their internal working models of relationships become distorted, expecting rejection, abandonment, or enmeshment, which they then unconsciously recreate in adult relationships [2].

Somatic memory and procedural memory play significant roles here. The body remembers what the conscious mind may have suppressed. Constant tension, the need to walk on eggshells, and emotional neglect are stored as physiological patterns. The body becomes wired for threat detection, making it difficult to relax, trust, or feel truly safe, manifesting as chronic anxiety, hypervigilance, or unease.

Manifestations in Adult Leadership: The Burden of the Crown

For women who grew up in narcissistic family systems, the drive for external success can be a powerful, albeit often unconscious, echo of their childhood roles. The Golden Child, accustomed to striving for perfection to earn love, may become the accomplished executive who can never quite feel good enough.

The Scapegoat, used to being blamed, might become the leader who takes on excessive responsibility, fearing failure and criticism. The Lost Child, invisible in their family, might become the workaholic who seeks validation through constant achievement, hoping to finally be seen.

These patterns, while often leading to impressive professional accomplishments, come at a significant internal cost.

Consider Rebecca , a brilliant and driven attorney, partner at a prestigious law firm. From the outside, her life was a testament to ambition and competence. She effortlessly managed high-stakes litigation, mentored junior associates, and was known for her unwavering composure under pressure.

Yet, beneath the surface, Rebecca was perpetually exhausted, plagued by a relentless inner critic that whispered doubts about her capabilities. She worked 80-hour weeks, rarely took vacations, and found it nearly impossible to delegate, convinced that no one else could meet her exacting standards.

Her childhood was marked by a narcissistic mother who demanded perfection and publicly shamed Rebecca for any perceived flaw, while simultaneously taking credit for her daughter’s achievements. Rebecca learned early that her worth was tied to her performance, and any deviation from perfection meant emotional abandonment.

In her leadership role, this translated into an inability to trust her team, a fear of vulnerability, and a constant need to prove her value, even when it meant sacrificing her own well-being.

Her nervous system, wired for constant threat detection, kept her in a state of chronic stress, leading to frequent migraines and insomnia.

Rebecca’s experience is not uncommon. Many accomplished women from narcissistic family backgrounds find themselves in leadership positions where their childhood coping mechanisms become both their greatest strengths and their most profound limitations. The drive to over-perform, to anticipate every problem, and to maintain an impeccable facade can lead to significant professional achievements.

However, it often comes with a heavy price: burnout, difficulty forming authentic connections with colleagues, an inability to receive constructive feedback without feeling personally attacked, and a pervasive sense of imposter syndrome.

The need for external validation, a hallmark of narcissistic family dynamics, can drive these women to continuously seek accolades and promotions, yet the internal void remains, unfulfilled by external achievements.

This dynamic is further illuminated by leadership psychology , which emphasizes emotional intelligence and relational capacity—qualities often underdeveloped in individuals from emotionally stunted environments. What I observe consistently in my work with women from narcissistic family systems is that vulnerability and courage—essential for authentic leadership—are often the very capacities that were most systematically suppressed in childhood.

The fear of shame, instilled early, makes true vulnerability feel like an existential threat, hindering authentic leadership and relational depth.

The Silent Cost of Over-Responsibility

In leadership roles, women from narcissistic family systems often embody an extreme sense of over-responsibility .

This trait, honed in childhood as they attempted to manage the emotional landscape of their narcissistic parent, translates into a leadership style where they feel personally accountable for every outcome, every team member’s performance, and every potential pitfall.

This can manifest as micromanagement, an inability to delegate effectively, and a constant state of anxiety about potential failures.

The underlying belief is often, “If I don’t do it, it won’t get done right,” or “If something goes wrong, it’s my fault.” This is a direct echo of the childhood experience where they were implicitly or explicitly held responsible for the narcissistic parent’s moods or the family’s stability.

This over-responsibility is often coupled with a profound difficulty in setting boundaries . Having grown up in an environment where their boundaries were routinely violated, these women may struggle to establish and maintain healthy limits with colleagues, subordinates, or even clients.

They may find themselves saying “yes” to unreasonable demands, working excessive hours, and taking on burdens that are not theirs to carry. This lack of boundaries, while sometimes perceived as dedication or commitment in the workplace, ultimately leads to depletion, resentment, and a further erosion of their sense of self.

The nervous system, constantly on high alert, interprets every request as a potential threat to be appeased, perpetuating the fawn response learned in childhood.

Narcissistic Echoes in Marriage and Partnerships: The Familiar Dance

The patterns established in a narcissistic family system don’t just influence professional life; they profoundly shape intimate relationships, particularly marriage and long-term partnerships. The unconscious blueprint for relationships, formed in childhood, often leads to a repetition of familiar, albeit painful, dynamics. The drive to fix, to please, or to disappear, which once served as survival strategies, can become the very mechanisms that undermine authentic connection in adulthood.

Meet Alex , a successful architect, admired for her innovative designs and sharp intellect. Her marriage to David, a charismatic but emotionally volatile man, was a source of constant confusion and heartache.

David often belittled her achievements, dismissed her feelings as “overly sensitive,” and would withdraw affection for days if she dared to express a differing opinion.

Alex, who had been the “fixer” in her family of origin, constantly tried to anticipate David’s moods, to say and do the right thing to avoid his anger or silent treatment. She found herself walking on eggshells, editing her true self to maintain a fragile peace.

Her father, a prominent but emotionally distant figure, had always praised her intelligence but ridiculed her emotions, teaching her that her value lay in her accomplishments, not her authentic self.

This early conditioning left Alex vulnerable to David’s emotional manipulation, as she unconsciously sought to earn his approval and avoid his disapproval, mirroring the dynamic she knew so well.

Alex’s experience highlights how attachment theory continues to play a critical role in adult relationships. Her anxious-preoccupied attachment style, developed in response to her father’s inconsistent emotional availability, made her particularly susceptible to a partner who replicated that inconsistency.

She yearned for connection and validation, often interpreting David’s intermittent affection as a sign of hope, rather than a manipulative tactic. This is a common manifestation of betrayal trauma , where those who should be sources of safety become sources of profound emotional injury.

The trauma is compounded by cognitive dissonance, leading to confusion, self-doubt, and a struggle to trust one’s own perceptions [4].

This can contribute to the development of Complex PTSD (C-PTSD) , which arises from prolonged, repeated trauma, often in interpersonal contexts where escape is difficult, such as a narcissistic family or an abusive relationship [5].

C-PTSD manifests not only as symptoms of PTSD but also as difficulties in emotional regulation, self-perception, relationships, and meaning-making.

For women like Alex, the nervous system remains highly attuned to relational threats. A raised voice, a subtle shift in expression, or a sudden silence can trigger a cascade of physiological responses—a racing heart, shallow breathing, a knot in the stomach—all echoes of childhood experiences.

This hypervigilance makes it difficult to relax into intimacy, as the body is constantly preparing for potential emotional attack or abandonment.

The desire for connection is strong, but the underlying fear of re-experiencing past wounds often leads to a cycle of approach and avoidance, or a tendency to tolerate unacceptable behavior in an attempt to preserve the relationship, no matter the cost to self.

The Echo of Enmeshment: Choosing Partners Who Replicate the Past

Beyond the immediate dynamics, the unconscious pull to replicate familiar patterns can lead women from narcissistic family systems to repeatedly choose partners who, in subtle or overt ways, mirror the narcissistic parent. This isn’t a conscious choice but rather a deeply ingrained relational blueprint. The familiar feels safe, even if it’s unhealthy.

The push-pull of conditional love, the emotional unavailability, the subtle criticisms—these can feel like home, even as they cause immense pain. This phenomenon is often rooted in the concept of repetition compulsion , where individuals unconsciously seek to re-enact past traumas in an attempt to master them or achieve a different outcome.

Unfortunately, without conscious awareness and therapeutic intervention, this often leads to a perpetuation of the very wounds they seek to heal.

The struggle for authentic connection is profound. Having learned that their true selves were not acceptable or safe to express, these women may struggle with genuine intimacy, fearing that if their partner truly saw them, they would be rejected or abandoned.

This can lead to a cycle of self-silencing, people-pleasing, and a deep sense of loneliness within the relationship, even when outwardly it appears stable. The body, still wired for threat detection, may experience intimacy as a vulnerability that could lead to further pain, creating a physiological barrier to deep connection.

The Complex Relationship with Money: A Mirror of Early Wounds

Money, often seen as a symbol of independence, security, and power, can become another arena where the lingering effects of narcissistic family roles play out. For women who have achieved external success, their financial lives can be surprisingly complex, reflecting the emotional wounds and adaptive strategies developed in childhood.

The drive to earn, save, or spend can be deeply intertwined with unmet emotional needs, a desire for control, or a desperate attempt to create a sense of safety that was absent in their early lives.

For some, money becomes a source of enmeshment , mirroring the way their identity was enmeshed with the narcissistic parent. They may feel compelled to financially support family members, even to their own detriment, out of a sense of obligation or a desperate hope for approval.

This can be particularly true for the former Golden Child, who may feel an ongoing responsibility to maintain the family’s image or alleviate the narcissistic parent’s financial burdens. Conversely, the Scapegoat might use money as a means of escape or spending impulsively as a form of rebellion or self-soothing.

Others may experience money trauma , where their financial decisions are driven by a deep-seated fear of scarcity or a need to prove their worth.

Growing up in an environment where resources (emotional or financial) were inconsistently provided or used as a tool for control can lead to a pervasive anxiety around money.

This can manifest as an inability to enjoy their wealth, constant worry about losing it, or a tendency to overwork, believing financial security will bring emotional safety. The nervous system, attuned to perceived threats, can interpret financial instability as high-stakes, triggering stress responses.

Consider Christine , a highly respected financial analyst who managed multi-million dollar portfolios for her clients with remarkable acumen. In her personal life, however, Christine struggled with a chronic sense of financial insecurity, despite her substantial income and savings.

She lived far below her means, constantly worried about unforeseen catastrophes, and found it almost impossible to spend money on herself without feeling immense guilt.

Her father, a self-made man with narcissistic tendencies, had frequently used money as a tool for control, praising Christine when she excelled academically and financially, but withdrawing affection and making her feel worthless if she expressed any desire for personal spending or pursued interests that didn’t align with his vision for her.

He would often remind her of the sacrifices he made, subtly implying she owed him her success. Christine learned that money was tied to love and approval, but also to control and obligation.

In adulthood, this translated into a paradoxical relationship with wealth: she was adept at generating it for others, but deeply conflicted about enjoying it for herself, her nervous system still registering the subtle threat of disapproval or loss of love if she prioritized her own financial well-being.

This complex interplay between early family dynamics and adult financial behavior is often overlooked. It highlights how the emotional landscape of childhood can create deeply ingrained patterns that influence even the most seemingly rational decisions.

The pursuit of financial independence, while a healthy goal, can become another avenue for seeking external validation or attempting to fill an internal void, rather than a genuine expression of self-sufficiency.

Understanding these underlying motivations is crucial for breaking free from these inherited patterns and building a relationship with money that is rooted in genuine security and self-worth, rather than fear or obligation.

In my work with driven women, I see consistently how financial behaviors rooted in childhood family dynamics—the compulsive earning, the financial caretaking, the avoidance of wealth—reflect early relational survival strategies rather than considered adult choices. Bringing awareness to these patterns is the first step toward changing them.

Both/And: Embracing the Paradox of Strength and Vulnerability

One of the most profound and often confusing aspects of healing from a narcissistic family system is learning to hold the Both/And .

This concept acknowledges the inherent paradox of being both incredibly competent, accomplished, and resilient in the external world, while simultaneously carrying deep internal wounds of loneliness, fear, shame, depletion, or confusion.

It is the recognition that one can be a formidable leader and still feel like a scared child in personal relationships; that one can manage complex financial portfolios with ease, yet struggle with profound financial anxiety.

The Both/And invites us to move beyond the simplistic binary of “strong” or “broken,” recognizing that these seemingly contradictory experiences can coexist within the same individual.

For driven, ambitious women, acknowledging this internal struggle can feel like a profound failure. The very coping mechanisms that allowed them to survive their childhood—the drive to achieve, the need to appear perfect, the suppression of vulnerability—often become the barriers to acknowledging their pain.

They may fear that admitting their internal struggles will somehow invalidate their external success, or worse, confirm the deep-seated belief instilled by the narcissistic parent that they are fundamentally flawed. However, the Both/And perspective offers a path toward integration.

It allows for the celebration of their resilience and accomplishments while simultaneously creating space for the necessary grief and healing of their childhood wounds. It is the understanding that their success is real, and their pain is also real. They are not mutually exclusive.

Embracing the Both/And requires a shift in perspective, a willingness to look beyond the polished exterior and acknowledge the complex, often messy reality beneath. It involves recognizing that the drive for external validation, while perhaps rooted in early wounds, has also fueled remarkable achievements.

It means understanding that the hypervigilance that makes intimacy difficult also makes them incredibly perceptive and attuned to the needs of others. By holding these contradictions with compassion rather than judgment, these women can begin to integrate the fragmented parts of themselves, moving toward a more authentic and wholehearted existence.

The Systemic Lens: Shifting the Focus from Individual Blame

When navigating the aftermath of a narcissistic family system, it is crucial to adopt a Systemic Lens . This perspective shifts the focus away from individual pathology or self-blame and instead examines the broader family dynamics, intergenerational patterns, and the complex interplay of roles within the system.

It is the understanding that the behaviors, coping mechanisms, and emotional struggles experienced in adulthood are not inherent character flaws, but rather predictable responses to a deeply dysfunctional environment.

The Systemic Lens recognizes that a narcissistic family system operates like a toxic ecosystem. Every member plays a specific role to maintain equilibrium, often at the expense of individual well-being. Children adopt roles like Golden Child, Scapegoat, or Lost Child as necessary adaptations to survive. Understanding this dynamic is essential for dismantling the belief that they are responsible for the dysfunction or that their struggles are a sign of personal failure.

Furthermore, the Systemic Lens invites an exploration of intergenerational trauma . Narcissistic traits and dysfunctional family dynamics are often passed down through generations, a legacy of unhealed wounds. The narcissistic parent may have been a product of a similar environment, perpetuating emotional neglect and control.

This context helps alleviate self-blame, allowing individuals to see their experiences as part of a larger narrative. This fosters compassion for the self, recognizing the strength required to break free from these patterns. The dysfunction was never about them; it was about the system.

A Practical Map for Healing and Recovery

Healing from the legacy of a narcissistic family system is not a linear process, nor is it a quick fix. It requires a commitment to untangling deeply ingrained patterns, regulating a nervous system wired for threat, and rebuilding a sense of self that is separate from the roles assigned in childhood.

For driven, ambitious women, this work can be particularly challenging, as it often requires dismantling the very coping mechanisms that have fueled their external success. However, it is also the path to genuine freedom and authentic connection. Here is a practical map for navigating this complex terrain:

1. Recognition and Naming: The first step is acknowledging the reality of the experience. This involves naming the narcissistic dynamics, recognizing the roles played within the family system, and understanding how these patterns continue to manifest in adulthood. This process of validation is crucial, countering the gaslighting and minimization often experienced in childhood. It is the realization that confusion, anxiety, and the sense of never being enough are not character flaws, but symptoms of relational trauma.
2. Nervous System Regulation: Before deep psychological work can occur, the body must feel safe. This involves learning to recognize signs of autonomic arousal—racing heart, shallow breathing, urge to flee or fawn—and developing somatic practices (grounding, deep breathing, mindfulness, somatic experiencing therapy) to regulate the nervous system. The goal is to shift from chronic threat detection to safety and connection, allowing the body to relax.
3. Establishing Boundaries: For those who grew up in environments where boundaries were routinely violated, learning to set and maintain healthy limits is essential. This involves recognizing one’s needs, communicating them clearly, and enforcing consequences when boundaries are crossed. It is a process of reclaiming personal agency and protecting energy, time, and emotional well-being. This is challenging in professional or intimate relationships, but critical for rebuilding self-trust.
4. Re-parenting the Inner Child: Healing often involves addressing the unmet needs of the inner child—the part of the self that experienced the emotional neglect, the criticism, or the conditional love. This process, often facilitated through therapy, involves offering the compassion, validation, and safety absent in childhood. It is about learning to become the nurturing parent one never had, acknowledging past pain while creating a supportive internal environment.
5. Building an Authentic Identity: The ultimate goal of recovery is to build a sense of self that is not defined by the roles assigned in the narcissistic family system or the external achievements used to mask the internal void. This involves exploring one’s values, interests, and desires, separate from others’ expectations. It is a process of discovering who one is beneath the armor of competence and burden of over-responsibility, cultivating a life aligned with one’s authentic self.
6. Seeking Specialized Support: Healing from relational trauma is rarely a solitary endeavor. Seeking support from a trauma-informed therapist or coach who understands narcissistic family dynamics is crucial. This guidance provides tools, validation, and a safe space to navigate recovery, offering a corrective relational experience that challenges past patterns.

Conclusion: Reclaiming Your Reality, One Step at a Time

The journey of understanding and healing from narcissistic family roles is not merely about recovering from past wounds; it is about reclaiming your present and shaping your future.

It is about recognizing that the impressive woman who can run the meeting, hold the family together, earn the money, and anticipate everyone’s needs is also the woman who deserves to feel truly seen, safe, and whole.

The loneliness, fear, shame, depletion, or confusion you may privately carry are not indictments of your character, but rather echoes of a system that asked you to sacrifice your authentic self for its survival.

This path requires courage—the courage to look inward, to challenge deeply ingrained beliefs, and to prioritize your own well-being. It involves a compassionate understanding of how your nervous system adapted to survive, and a commitment to gently guide it back to a state of safety and regulation.

It means learning to trust your own perceptions, to set boundaries that honor your needs, and to build relationships that are rooted in mutual respect and genuine connection.

It is a process of disentangling your identity from the roles you were assigned, and discovering the profound strength that lies in your authentic self.

If you find yourself resonating with these experiences, know that you are not alone. There is a path forward, a way to move from managing their reality to truly living your own.

Normalcy After the Narcissist offers a structured, trauma-informed framework to help you recognize these patterns, separate your identity from assigned family roles, understand your inner critic, and begin to build a self outside the narcissistic person’s definition.

It’s a space where your confusion is validated, your experiences are normalized, and your journey toward a life organized around your reality begins. You’ve been managing their reality long enough. This is where yours begins.

• FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

  Q: How do I know if my family dynamic was actually narcissistic, or just difficult?

  A: A difficult family might have conflict, but a narcissistic family system is organized around the needs, image, or emotional regulation of one or both parents, at the expense of children’s autonomy and emotional reality. Constant management of a parent’s emotions, conditional love, or frequent denial of your reality are strong indicators of a narcissistic dynamic.

  Q: I’m incredibly successful in my career. Does that mean I wasn’t really affected?

  A: External success is often an adaptive coping mechanism. Many driven women use achievement to create safety, prove worth, or escape family dynamics. The impact usually shows up internally—as chronic exhaustion, imposter syndrome, anxiety, or persistent emptiness despite accolades.

  Q: Why do I keep attracting partners who are emotionally unavailable or critical, just like my parent?

  A: This is often due to repetition compulsion and the nervous system’s familiarity with certain dynamics. Your brain and body learned early that love is intertwined with anxiety, conditional approval, or emotional distance. The familiar feels “safe” to the nervous system, even when harmful, leading you to unconsciously seek similar patterns.

  Q: Is it possible to have a healthy relationship with my family if I set boundaries?

  A: It depends on the family’s capacity for self-reflection and respect for boundaries. In many narcissistic systems, setting a boundary is viewed as aggression or betrayal. A superficial relationship with strict boundaries may be possible, but true, mutual connection may not be if the system remains rigid.

  Q: I feel guilty even thinking about my parents this way. They provided for me financially. Am I just being ungrateful?

  A: Financial provision is a basic parental responsibility, not a substitute for emotional attunement and safety. Narcissistic families often use financial support as a shield against criticism or a tool for control. You can acknowledge financial provision while validating emotional neglect or harm experienced.

  Q: How can I stop feeling responsible for everyone else’s feelings at work and at home?

  A: This requires recognizing the “fawn” response and the “fixer” role adopted in childhood. It involves somatic work to tolerate the discomfort of not managing others’ emotions, and cognitive work to redefine responsibilities. It’s a gradual process of untangling your worth from your utility to others.

  Q: Will I ever feel truly safe and relaxed in a relationship?

  A: Yes, but it requires intentional healing. This involves rewiring your nervous system to recognize true safety, learning to tolerate authentic connection’s vulnerability, and choosing partners capable of secure attachment. It is a process of moving from survival mode to relational capacity.

  Q: What is the difference between therapy and a course like Normalcy After the Narcissist?

  A: Therapy provides individualized, relational processing of trauma (e.g., EMDR, somatic experiencing). A course like Normalcy After the Narcissist provides structured, trauma-informed psychoeducation, offering frameworks, vocabulary, and cognitive understanding to make sense of your experience, a powerful catalyst for healing alongside therapy or as a foundational step.

  Related Reading and Research

  • [1] Vignando M, Bizumic B. Parental Narcissism Leads to Anxiety and Depression in Children via Scapegoating. The Journal of psychology. 2023. PMID: 36595560. DOI: 10.1080/00223980.2022.2148088. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36595560/
  • [2] Schore AN. Dysregulation of the right brain: a fundamental mechanism of traumatic attachment and the psychopathogenesis of posttraumatic stress disorder. The Australian and New Zealand journal of psychiatry. 2002. PMID: 11929435. DOI: 10.1046/j.1440-1614.2002.00996.x. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/11929435/
  • [3] Xu YM, Hu CJ, Zhong BL. Family Dynamics and Depression Among Children: An Integrative Review of Theoretical Models and Attachment-Based Interventions. Psychology research and behavior management. 2025. PMID: 41210217. DOI: 10.2147/PRBM.S559551. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/41210217/
  • [4] Stocchero BA, Rothmann LM, Portolan ET, Lopes TG, Ferraz-Rodrigues C, Garcia MG. The consequences of childhood maltreatment on dual-diagnosis psychiatric conditions and clinical outcomes in substance use disorders: A systematic review and meta-analysis. Child abuse & neglect. 2024. PMID: 39418865. DOI: 10.1016/j.chiabu.2024.107085. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/39418865/
  • [5] Mansueto G, Cavallo C, Palmieri S, Ruggiero GM, Sassaroli S, Caselli G. Adverse childhood experiences and repetitive negative thinking in adulthood: A systematic review. Clinical psychology & psychotherapy. 2021. PMID: 33861493. DOI: 10.1002/cpp.2590. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/33861493/
  • [6] Sprio V, Mirra L, Madeddu F, Lopez-Castroman J, Blasco-Fontecilla H, Di Pierro R. Can clinical and subclinical forms of narcissism be considered risk factors for suicide-related outcomes? A systematic review. Journal of psychiatric research. 2024. PMID: 38437765. DOI: 10.1016/j.jpsychires.2024.02.017. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/38437765/

  References

  Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)

  1. van der Kolk BA, Wang JB, Yehuda R, Bedrosian L, Coker AR, Harrison C, et al. Effects of MDMA-assisted therapy for PTSD on self-experience. PLoS One. 2024;19(1):e0295926. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0295926. PMID: 38198456.

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  About the Author

  Annie Wright, LMFT

  LMFT · Relational Trauma Specialist · W.W. Norton Author

  Helping ambitious women finally feel as good as their résumé looks.

  Annie Wright is a licensed psychotherapist (LMFT #95719) and trauma-informed executive coach with over 15,000 clinical hours. She works with driven, ambitious 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 Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.

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