You don’t just wake up one day and know who you are again. Not after surviving narcissistic
abuse. Not after years of being gaslit, diminished, and taught to second-guess your every
thought, emotion, and need. No, rebuilding yourself after trauma is not a glow-up—it’s a dig-
deep.
And believe me when I say: I’ve done the digging.
I didn’t just “leave the relationship.” I walked away from the wreckage of a version of myself I
no longer recognized. The confident, radiant, self-aware woman I am today? She had to be
rebuilt, piece by piece.
There was a time I lived in constant self-doubt. My self-esteem? Nonexistent. Confidence? A
ghost. Every decision I made felt like it had to be run through an internal panel of critics who
sounded an awful lot like my abuser. I was exhausted. Lost. Disconnected from who I was
before I learned to shrink.
But here’s the part no one tells you: getting out is just step one. The real work begins after the
door closes. When you’re staring at your own reflection wondering, Who am I now?
For me, that question led to a journey I didn’t expect—but one I am so grateful for. It started
with inner child healing. I had to meet the little girl inside me who had learned that love came
with conditions, silence was safety, and shrinking made me lovable.
I had to sit with her. Hold her. Let her speak.
And then, I had to promise her we were going to do things differently from now on.
Let’s be honest: narcissistic abuse doesn’t always look like yelling or chaos. Sometimes it’s
quiet. Subtle. A slow erosion of your sense of self until you forget that you were ever whole.
That’s the kind of abuse I write about in my memoir, The Silent Abuse. It’s about growing up
with emotional manipulation disguised as love. It’s about the long-term effects of always trying
to earn your worth.
If you’ve ever walked away from a narcissist and still felt like you were trapped—mentally,
emotionally, spiritually, please know that’s not a failure. That’s a symptom. Of trauma. Of PTSD.
Of the deeply internalized belief that maybe, just maybe, you were the problem.
Spoiler alert: you weren’t.
So how did I start to heal? It wasn’t just one thing. It was a blend of practices—art therapy,
breathwork, learning how to say no (and mean it), setting boundaries that didn’t come with
apologies. These weren’t trendy self-care tips. They were life preservers.
Art therapy, in particular, gave me a voice when I didn’t have the words. It allowed me to
express pain that was too big, too tangled, too buried to speak aloud. And with every
brushstroke, with every breath, I reclaimed something sacred: my truth.
And it’s not just about healing from trauma—it’s about rediscovering yourself. Asking the big
questions: What do I actually want? Who am I without the pain? What brings me joy that isn’t
attached to someone else’s approval?
If you’ve been there, you know, it’s not always a graceful journey. Healing gets messy. You
grieve. You rage. You remember things you wish you could forget. But then… clarity comes.
Confidence builds. The confusion lifts.
And life starts to feel beautiful again.
If you’re in this phase, if you’re rebuilding, I want you to hear this loud and clear: you are not
broken. You are becoming. And you’re doing beautifully.
I wrote The Silent Abuse for survivors like us. For the women still dusting themselves off, still
figuring it out, still trying to piece together the parts of themselves that were never lost, just
buried. It’s my story, but it’s also yours. It’s a reminder that you’re not alone, and you never
were.
So if you’re on this path, keep walking. Reclaim your voice. Fall in love with your boundaries.
Say goodbye to self-doubt and hello to self-worth.
You’ve got this. And I’ve got your back.
�� Grab your copy o The Silent Abuse on Amazon
�� Visit me a Soulfully Wild for more healing tools and workshops
�� And yes, your girl was named one of NYC Journal’s “Top 20 Female Entrepreneurs to Watc
in 2024”
Turns out, healing is the best kind of comeback.
