Some daughters grow up with fathers who are safe havens—sources of unconditional love, protection, and encouragement. Fathers who show up, not only in the physical sense but emotionally, spiritually, and with open arms when their daughters are at their most vulnerable.
I did not get one of those fathers..
What I got was a man who viewed love as something to be earned. Something he could hold just out of reach, watching as I stretched myself thin trying to grasp it. I was a child starving for his approval, measuring my worth in the crumbs of attention he occasionally threw my way. The worst part is—I still wanted it. I still wanted him to see me, to be proud of me, to choose me. Even well into adulthood, I still desired it.
I grew up chasing a kind of love that always felt just out of reach. A love I was never sure I deserved, because the man who was supposed to give it freely made it feel like something I had to earn. Always performing, always striving, never enough.
The Ripple Effect of Narcissistic Control
Before I even realized what narcissism was, I lived inside its consequences. My father didn’t just want control—he demanded it. And when he couldn’t have it through love, he used belittlement, manipulation, and money.
I watched my mother endure years of emotional and financial control, her independence repeatedly stripped away until she was a shell of the vibrant woman she used to be. Every time she found a spark of something that was hers—he’d extinguish it. Accusations of infidelity with anyone she as much as spoke to, man or woman, sometimes even her children’s friends. Anything and everything to isolate her, cause such a scene that anyone who she remotely felt safe with, ran for the hills. Cancelled credit cards, jobs she was forced to quit, all as a way to keep her dependent on him. This level of emotional abuse led her to seek any possible escape she could find. Drugs, gambling, affairs shopping.. anything that would give her even a moment of joy, peace, detachment. As much as I wish I could tell you she found her way out, she is still under his thumb and slowly losing her will to fight.
My siblings, too, have felt the weight of his manipulations. In many different forms—some subtle, others devastating—they were shaped by a man who viewed relationships through a lens of power and possession, not empathy and support. Whether it was through guilt, withheld love, or financial strings attached to every gesture, the undercurrent was always the same: You owe me. Prove your worth. Stay in line.
And if you didn’t—if you dared to choose your own path—you were punished with yet again belittlement, rejection, or sabotage.
My Story, My Wounds
I am the only one of his children who shares his love of music. I thought maybe that would be the bridge between us. Maybe that would be the thing that finally made him proud. But no matter how hard I tried—no matter how much I poured myself into what I thought would matter to him—I never reached him. His approval was like a mirage.
When I moved out of state to pursue a new life, he didn’t encourage me. He didn’t wish me well. Instead, he told me I would fail, that I’d come crawling back. I didn’t. I built a life, fell in love, got married, had children. Still, not once did he reach out just to ask how I was doing. The only time I heard from him was when he couldn’t get ahold of my mom.
In over seven years, I’ve only asked him for help twice—both times after exhausting every possible option first. Both times, he made me feel ashamed for even asking. Meanwhile, he has given others in our family financial support, gifts, ongoing help. But for me? Independence wasn’t a choice—it was a necessity, born out of knowing I could never rely on him.
At my wedding, he stood up and gave a speech that could’ve been written by someone who barely knew me. Cold. Disconnected. Generic. I sat there listening, holding back tears, knowing deep down this was all I was ever going to get from him.
The Unseen Damage
Growing up with a narcissistic father doesn’t just hurt—it rewires your understanding of love. I spent years in relationships where I accepted less than I deserved, believing love was transactional. That if I didn’t constantly earn it, I didn’t deserve it. I confused control with care, manipulation with attention. And I paid for it—in heartbreak, in self-doubt, in silence.
I ache when I see other daughters embraced by their fathers. When they cry and their dads reach for them. When they call and their fathers answer without hesitation or judgment. I see that kind of love and I wonder—why wasn’t I enough for that?
But I Broke the Cycle
I made a promise to myself that I would never have children until I found a man who was the opposite of my father. And I did. I married someone who is gentle, consistent, and full of love—especially for our children.
Now, my son will grow up knowing it’s okay to feel. It’s okay to ask for help. He will never be punished for being vulnerable.
My daughter will never question whether she’s worthy of love. She will never have to prove herself to her father to receive warmth, praise, or protection. She will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she is loved simply because she exists.
The long-term impact of having a narcissistic father is something I carry every day. It shaped how I saw myself, how I let others treat me, and what I believed I had to do to earn love. But I’m not chasing anymore. I’m healing. I’m rewriting the narrative—not just for myself, but for the little girl inside me who never got what she needed.
Most of all, I’m doing it for the next generation—so that my children will never have to question what real, unconditional love looks like.
And for the first time in my life, I’m learning to believe that I am enough, just as I am.
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