Alice Miller and narcissistic abuse

A few thoughts about narcissistic abuse in childhood

ALICE MILLER

When I came across Alice Miller’s work about fifteen years ago, it felt like emerging from a tunnel filled with fog and darkness. I had already studied solution-focused psychotherapy and hypnotherapy, and read countless books in the field—yet not once had I encountered the term narcissistic abuse.

Alice Miller (1923–2010) was a Swiss psychoanalyst who broke taboos by exposing how emotional cruelty in childhood—especially from parents—is often denied, rationalized, or minimized. She believed that even so-called "normal" families could profoundly harm a child if the child's feelings, needs, and identity are not respected. I would add that these so-called “normal” families—often just a projection—hide dark corners and a great deal of pain behind a polished facade.

So for me it all began with an article she had written on her blog. By then, she was no longer alive, but the gratitude I felt was immense. For the first time, my pain had a name. My silent suffering had a framework.

TRYING GOES NOWHERE

I had been consumed by every possible feeling when it came to my mother—guilt, confusion, sadness, hope. I tried to understand her, to heal her, to avoid causing trouble, to fix things, to be enough. I never demanded anything. I worked so hard not to be a burden.

And still, everything failed. And somehow in the end I failed myself, I failed acknowledging that I also had needs, unmet by the ones who had a duty of care and ignored by myself

Does that sound familiar? If the answer is yes, I see you, and I understand you. For those who have never experienced a narcissist, it's impossible to grasp the depth of the damage they cause and the strength it takes to survive such relationships.

Despite the deep emotional abuse, I kept trying—trapped in a codependent bond that narcissists so expertly weave around their prey. Whether daughters, sons, partners, husbands —no one is spared from that web when they are vulnerable and craving attention.

THE DRAMA OF THE GIFTED CHILD

In her most famous book “The Drama of the Gifted Child” Alice Miller explores how intelligent, sensitive children often become what their parents want them to be—caretakers, confidants, sounding boards, achievers, peacemakers—while suppressing their real selves.

Most survivors of parental narcissistic abuse come to the painful realization that they had to abandon themselves in order to survive. This revelation takes years, sometimes decades, to reach. And why is that? Because you are constantly searching for ways to please them, to survive each phone call, every face-to-face encounter. Why? Because they drain you to the bone—true energy vampires.

You, the child—the good girl, the young adult, the grown-up—had to perform a perfect act for the outside world and the cost you paid was monumental. You tried so hard not to do anything wrong. You were nice, polite with the neighbours, helpful to anyone who needed it, always making sure others saw only the well-behaved version of you. But inside, your soul was screaming. Your inner world was in chaos. You were desperate for someone to notice, to protect you, to ask how you felt.
But no one did. There was no rescue, no comfort—only the heavy silence of being unseen.

This is their legacy and in a nutshell this is what you had to face:

POISONOUS PEDAGOGY

What happens when you have such a person your life? Well you’ve been exposed to a twisted, poisonous pedagogy and nope it was not you.

This is the term Alice Miller came with and I immediately resonated with it. The methods used on the victims involved emotional manipulation, guilt, shame, control. This was sold to you as normality and you did your the only thing you could do … adjust and obey, regardless of your feelings or needs.

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THE LOST TRUE SELF

The result of poisonous pedagogy is a lack of boundaries, a total disrespect for your own space or privacy. And in time? In time you grow up disconnected from your true self. We lose spontaneity, creativity, our true voice. What we get from this continuous experience? Let me tell you. We become anxious, perfectionistic, burned out, or deeply sad without knowing why.

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BODY ATTACKS

In her later work, A Miller talked about the body and how the body holds the truth. And things happen when we expect less. They often come when we suppress deep emotional pain, unacknowledged rage towards those who hurt us in childhood and beyond.

So if you have a sense of heaviness, slow movement, sadness—they are not laziness or weakness.
They are your body carrying truths that words couldn’t express for so long.

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HEALING REQUIRES TRUTH

Miller did not believe in forgiving the abuser unless there was sincere remorse. Instead, she believed in facing the truth, feeling the pain, expressing the rage in safe, contained ways, and ultimately letting go—not to protect the abuser, but to liberate the self.

This is why her message resonated so deeply with me. She wasn’t asking us, the survivors, to simply forgive. She was asking us to show up—to give voice to what hurt, to name what happened, to stop protecting those who harmed us.

Forgiveness, if it comes at all, comes in its own time. And in my experience, the most vital form of forgiveness is not toward the abuser—but toward ourselves, for not knowing how to protect our tender hearts, for enduring what we did, and for surviving.

Here is what I believe in now, after many years dedicated understanding this behavioural condition.

I believe the victims of narcissistic abuse need to break the silence that generations before us kept under lock.
We need to choose truth over loyalty to a system that harmed us.
We need to acknowledge that “We matter.

🌿 1. Daily Truth-Tending inspired by Alice Miller’s work

Choose one sentence a day to write that begins with:

“The truth I wasn’t allowed to say is…”

This can be about your mother, father, your husband, boss, or even society.
Even five minutes of truth-tending daily creates a gentle ritual of reclamation.

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🖋️ 2. The Witness Letter (Miller’s Inner Ally)

Alice Miller said the healing begins when we find a compassionate witness to our story.

You can be that witness for your inner child. Write a short note to little you something like:

“I see you. I believe you. I’m sorry they treated you that way. It was never your fault.”

🧘‍♀️ 3. Somatic Anchoring – “The Body Remembers”

Place your hand on your heart or belly and say gently:

“It wasn’t my fault. I survived. And now I’m coming home to myself.”

Miller believed that healing doesn’t happen only in the mind, but also in the body—especially after years of being forced to disconnect from your own needs, instincts, and emotions.

For me, it took a long time to go from discovering the truth to truly understanding it, then slowly processing it and applying different healing modalities. I am still a work in progress. But what I do know is this: I can support others who have suffered—or are still suffering—from this kind of abuse.

Sometimes, healing begins simply by being in the presence of someone who understands. Someone who doesn’t need words to recognise the pain. Who sees it in your eyes, in your trembling hands, in the way your breath barely rises. Sometimes, that’s all we need: to be seen, to be validated, to feel safe in the knowing that the other person knows.

Because believe me—you cannot fool someone who has survived this. You cannot say “I understand” if you’ve never been there. We can tell. We see the signs.

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🌸 THIS IS WHAT I STRONGLY BELIEVE

“You don’t have to forgive the unforgivable to be free. You only have to tell the truth. Your truth.”

Sometimes, writing a letter to the narcissist can be a powerful way to release your thoughts and emotions. You don’t need to send it—just write it. Let it all pour out. Then, if it feels right, get rid of it in a ceremonial way. Burn it, tear it up, or bury it. This is one version I’ve written. I’ll be writing more now that I’ve got started

Letter to the narcissist

You never asked who I was.
You never asked what I loved, or feared, or dreamed of.
You never saw me.
You never accepted me.

For you, I did not matter.
You stole my voice.
You stole my identity—
tore it apart piece by piece with your coldness, your control, your silent contempt.

I tried to please you.
Over and over.
And what did I receive in return?
Rejection. Belittlement. Indifference that stung like cruelty.

I should have left.
I should have protected myself from your contriving behaviour—
sadistic beyond words.

I was a hostage.
There was no sanctuary, no safety in that home.
So I built my worth outside—
working harder, always giving more,
burning the candle at both ends
just to feel alive somewhere,
because home was not a place of peace or love.

You gave what you wanted to give—
things chosen to prove something,
never from the heart.
Control dressed as generosity.
Obligation disguised as love.
You called it care.
But I know now: it was power.
It was about you, not me.

You made a theatre of life,
and I had to act in your script.
But I was never allowed to write my own lines.

I see now:
The hardness wasn’t love.
The withholding wasn’t wisdom.
The punishment wasn’t protection.

You do not live in my body anymore.
You do not own my light.
You do not get to narrate my story.

I was always worthy of tenderness.
And now—I am learning to give it to myself.

Ferret I release you.
I return to myself.
I am Martha.
I am Corina.
And I am free

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Until next time, be well!

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