Growing up with a narcissistic mother is like living in a house where the walls keep shifting—you never know what’s safe to lean on. In This Is Not My Mother: I Was Raised by a Narcissistic Mom and Didn’t Know It, Raquel G. shares what it was like to be the family scapegoat, and her story will feel painfully familiar to anyone who’s been made to feel invisible in their own home.
Living Under Her Shadow
Raquel’s earliest memories—around age four or five—came with a nagging thought: This can’t be my real mother. Her mom, a single parent raising two daughters in a Section 8 apartment, was hardworking but quick to rage. One daughter was the “golden child.” Raquel was the one blamed, excluded, and punished for existing. She remembers her mother smashing her favorite radio, yanking away her towel after a bath, and even punching her in the face during a car ride.
Speaking up was dangerous. If she tried to explain how she felt, she was accused of being disrespectful. Her mother denied things she’d said or done, sometimes pretending whole conversations never happened. Silent treatments could last days. The favoritism was blatant—her sister got the front seat in the car and her own bedroom, while Raquel got the message that she was less important.
The damage wasn’t visible. No bruises. Just the steady erosion of self-worth, replaced by anxiety, confusion, and a constant need to prove she was good enough.
The Scapegoat’s Loneliness
One of the hardest parts of Raquel’s childhood was the isolation. Even surrounded by classmates or church members, she didn’t have a single person she could trust with her truth. Confiding could backfire and even be twisted into proof that Raquel was “the problem.”
The loneliness sometimes turned dark. As a teenager, she caught herself hoping her mother wouldn’t come back from a hospital stay, just to escape the cycle. She came up with her own acronym for SCAPEGOAT—Self-doubt, Confusion, Anxiety, People-pleasing, Expectation, Gaslighting, Ostracization, Abuse, Trust—each word tied to something she’d lived.
Breaking Away
After years of trying to earn her mother’s love—cleaning without being asked, apologizing for peace—Raquel reached a breaking point in 2020. She went low-contact, then no-contact. It was a painful decision, but also a relief.
She started journaling, practicing self-compassion, and pouring herself into things that made her feel alive again—tennis, reading, and earning two associate degrees while working full-time. She learned to give herself the validation she’d never received at home: My feelings are real. They matter. They deserve space.
Faith was part of her healing. So was the reminder to others in her situation: don’t share personal details with someone who will use them against you, don’t rely on marriage to escape, and build your independence—financial and emotional—before you leave.
People often told Raquel she was lucky to have a mother who “took care of her.” They didn’t see the humiliation of being left on the street after a fight. Emotional abuse doesn’t leave marks you can photograph, but it can be just as destructive.
She doesn’t excuse her mother’s behavior, even knowing her mom’s own childhood was traumatic. Instead, she’s determined to break the cycle with her own daughter, Celeste, by building trust and keeping the lines of communication open.
Speaking the Truth
Raquel writes, “This is the day I finally speak my truth. If you’re not interested, stop reading.” It’s a simple line, but it’s a challenge to anyone still silenced by fear or guilt.
If you grew up in a similar home, you’re not alone. Find people who understand—whether in person, online, or through books like This Is Not My Mother: I Was Raised by a Narcissistic Mom and Didn’t Know It.
Write your story. Say it out loud. The validation you’ve been chasing might just come from yourself.
