To All the Daughters of Narc Babies: This One’s for Us

 My mother might as well be dead — not physically, but mentally.

She’s an 80-year-old toddler with the emotional range of a two-year-old who just wants sweets and attention. A permanent tantrum wrapped in an adult body.

Meanwhile, my father is an inspiration.

My brother is a loving soul.

My family — the real parts of it — are incredible.

It’s just her.

The eternal toddler.

The woman who lost her dummy decades ago and has been screaming for it ever since.

To all the daughters of narc babies out there:

Smile, darlings.

We survived the chaos.

We grew up even though they never did.

And we’re stronger, wiser, kinder, and freer because of it.

Here’s to the daughters who became their own mothers.

Here’s to the daughters who broke the cycle.

Here’s to us.

💛🔥