Narcissism is a phenomenon in which a person with low self-esteem is afraid of losing authority in the eyes of others, and they begin to manipulate their friends, colleagues, and family to appear better than they really are. These people are so determined. We decided to imagine what it’s like to have your beloved mother like this.
They have a distorted perception of love and achievement, making it nearly impossible for them to make you feel good enough.
Their self-worth hinges on external validation and a facade of perfection. This creates a moving target for your worth in their eyes. You can achieve great things, but their praise might be laced with criticism, or they might simply shift the goalposts to a new, unattainable standard. This leaves you perpetually striving for an unachievable level of approval.
Additionally, their happiness is often transactional. They dole out affection when it suits them, leaving you confused about what truly earns their love. This inconsistency fosters insecurity and self-doubt, making you question your own value no matter what you accomplish. Ultimately, a narcissistic mother’s inability to offer genuine, unconditional love creates a core belief that you’ll never be good enough, regardless of your efforts.
Narcissistic mothers won’t let their kids’ successes overshadow their own.
Narcissistic mothers crave attention and view their children’s achievements through a distorted lens. While they might brag about their child’s successes superficially, they can’t handle being outshined. This stems from a deep insecurity and a fragile sense of self. Their child’s triumphs become a threat, rather than a source of pride. They may downplay the accomplishment, subtly criticize, or even try to one-up their child with their own past glories, all to maintain a sense of superiority.
She’s only worried about her own problems.
A narcissistic mother’s world often revolves around herself, leaving little room for her child’s emotions or experiences. Their own needs for validation and admiration take priority. They struggle to empathize with their child’s struggles, viewing them as inconveniences or attention-grabbing tactics. This is because the narcissist lacks the emotional maturity to see their child as a separate being with valid feelings. Their child’s problems become burdens to be managed, rather than opportunities for connection and support.
These mothers humiliate their children.
There are a couple of reasons why narcissistic mothers might resort to humiliating their children. One is to maintain control. By publicly criticizing, mocking, or exaggerating their child’s flaws, the mother keeps them feeling insecure and dependent. This fragile self-esteem makes the child less likely to challenge the mother’s authority or seek independence.
Another reason is to bolster the narcissist’s own fragile ego. Putting their child down creates a clear hierarchy where the mother is always superior. This can be especially pronounced if the child shows any potential to outshine the mother, triggering a need to cut them down to size. Ultimately, the humiliation serves the narcissist’s own needs for power and self-importance, leaving the child feeling emotionally bruised and diminished.
She makes kids feel guilty for getting something.
Narcissistic mothers often induce guilt in their children for receiving gifts or achieving success because it reinforces their own sense of control. They might make comments like, «You don’t deserve this, there are others who need it more,» implying the child is selfish for wanting something good. This guilt trip serves a few purposes.
Firstly, it keeps the child feeling indebted and obligated to please the mother. Secondly, it deflects attention away from the mother’s inability to be genuinely happy for her child’s good fortune. Ultimately, by making their child feel guilty, the narcissistic mother manipulates the situation to maintain the focus on themselves and their emotional needs.
She thinks she always deserves the best.
A narcissistic mother’s belief in her own deservingness stems from a distorted sense of self-importance. Deep down, she craves admiration and validation, and views herself as superior to others. This inflated ego convinces her that she deserves the best in life, regardless of her actions or contributions. It’s a constant need to be seen as special and entitled.
This sense of entitlement can manifest in various ways, from expecting lavish gifts and unwavering support to feeling justified in cutting in line or bending the rules. For a narcissistic mother, the «best» isn’t just about material possessions, but also about the constant flow of attention, praise, and control that reinforces her grandiosity.
Her love is unstable. When she needs something, she’s kind. When she doesn’t, she’s rude.
Narcissistic mothers often exhibit a transactional kind of love, where affection is dangled like a carrot. When their needs are unmet, their self-absorption takes center stage. They might become critical, dismissive, or even cold towards their child. Conversely, when they require something — maybe errands run, emotional support, or a public image boost — the kindness faucet turns on.
This emotional inconsistency leaves the child confused and insecure. They never quite know what version of their mother they’ll encounter, creating a constant state of walking on eggshells to avoid the unpredictable shift from loving to cold.
She cares too much about how other people see her.
A narcissistic mother craves external validation and uses how others perceive her as a mirror for her fragile self-esteem. Her self-worth hinges on admiration and a cultivated image of perfection. This makes her hyper-aware of how others view her, particularly in her role as a mother. She might brag excessively about her child’s accomplishments, not necessarily out of pride, but to reflect well on her own parenting skills.
Conversely, any perceived shortcomings in her child become a threat to her image. She might downplay their achievements or even criticize them publicly to maintain a facade of control and superiority in the eyes of others. Ultimately, the well-being and genuine connection with her child become secondary to managing the public perception of a perfect mother and family.
She complains about people that do something against her will.
Narcissistic mothers view any challenge to their control as a personal attack. Their rigid sense of self-importance dictates that things should go their way. When someone, especially their child, dares to act independently or disagree, it triggers a deep sense of entitlement being violated. They may lash out by complaining excessively, playing the victim, or attempting to manipulate the situation back to their desired outcome.
These complaints serve a dual purpose: firstly, to punish the person for disobeying, and secondly, to garner sympathy or support from others, further reinforcing their position of authority. Ultimately, a narcissistic mother’s complaints about those who defy her are less about the specific action and more about maintaining a power dynamic where she remains in control.
Narcissistic mothers are jealous of their daughters’ beauty. And they pretend to be caring.
A narcissistic mother’s insecurity can turn a daughter’s blossoming beauty into a source of hidden jealousy. They may outwardly offer compliments laced with backhanded remarks, like «You look pretty, but maybe try a different shade of lipstick.» This thinly veiled criticism undermines the daughter’s confidence while maintaining a facade of caring.
Deeper down, the mother might feel threatened by her daughter’s youthful beauty, a stark reminder of her own fading youth and potential loss of attention. This jealousy can manifest in various ways, from sabotaging the daughter’s attempts to dress up for an event to subtly comparing her looks to others. The narcissistic mother’s mask of concern hides a desire to control the narrative, ensuring her daughter’s beauty doesn’t overshadow her own.
She criticizes a lot but almost never gives praise.
Narcissistic mothers often fall into a harsh critic pattern for a few reasons. Firstly, their self-worth is fueled by a need for control and a sense of superiority. Constant criticism keeps their child feeling insecure and dependent, less likely to challenge their authority. Secondly, genuine praise can feel threatening to a narcissist. If their child is successful or confident, it might overshadow the mother’s own perceived importance.
Instead of celebrating their child’s achievements, they might downplay them or even resort to nitpicking flaws. Ultimately, the lack of praise becomes a tool for manipulation. By withholding validation, the narcissistic mother keeps her child striving for approval, a dynamic that reinforces her own sense of power and control.
They’re angry if someone else is in the spotlight.
A narcissistic mother thrives on being the center of attention. Their fragile self-esteem craves constant validation and admiration. When someone else, especially their child, receives praise or recognition, it’s perceived as a direct threat. This triggers a surge of anger because it disrupts their carefully curated image of superiority. They might downplay the other person’s accomplishment, subtly criticize them, or even try to steal the spotlight back to themselves with tales of their own past glories.
This anger isn’t about protecting their child, but about protecting their own inflated sense of self-importance. They can’t bear to share the spotlight, and their reaction reflects a deep-seated insecurity that can leave their child feeling confused and emotionally neglected.
Narcissistic mothers might constantly remind you of the things they’ve done for you.
One is to create a sense of obligation and guilt. By replaying a litany of sacrifices and favors, they make you feel indebted, making it harder to disagree with them or assert your independence. It’s a way to control you through emotional manipulation. Another reason is to inflate their own sense of importance.
Recounting their «good deeds» reinforces their narrative as the selfless caregiver deserving of constant praise and gratitude. Ultimately, these constant reminders are about them, not you. It’s a tactic to maintain power within the relationship and ensure you remain focused on their needs rather than developing your own sense of self.
These narcissistic traits can take a toll. But there’s good news! Our next piece dives into how these experiences shape you, and what you heal from it.
My Husband Kept Staring at Our New Neighbor’s Yard — When I Looked, I Ended Up Calling the Police
When April catches her husband, Benedict, staring at their gorgeous new neighbor’s yard instead of mowing the lawn, she peeks over to see what he’s looking at. Her frustration quickly turns to alarm at what she sees there, prompting her to call the police.
You know those idyllic Saturday mornings you always read about in lifestyle magazines? The ones where the sun is shining just right, the coffee’s brewing, and everyone’s in a good mood?
Yeah, this wasn’t one of those mornings.
Early morning in a peaceful suburb | Source: Pexels
I stepped out into our backyard and immediately noticed something was off. Benedict was supposed to be mowing the lawn, a chore that was long overdue.
But instead of the sound of the mower, there was just silence, save for the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves.
“Benedict!” I called out, my voice laced with frustration.
I scanned the yard, spotting him standing near the fence that separated us from our new neighbor, Angela.
A man staring at a fence | Source: Midjourney
“Benedict, what are you doing?”
No response. He was just standing there, staring intently at something on the other side of the fence. I could feel my patience thinning. I marched over, my slippers slapping against the patio as I went.
“Benedict, did you hear me? The lawn isn’t going to mow itself!”
Still, nothing. It was like he was in a trance. I huffed and moved to stand beside him, following his gaze to see what had him so captivated.
And that’s when I saw her. Angela.
A woman approaching her husband | Source: Midjourney
She’d moved in a little over a week ago, and ever since, there’d been something about her that just didn’t sit right with me. Maybe it was the way she kept to herself, or how she always seemed to be watching us from her window.
Or maybe it was because she was drop-dead gorgeous: blonde, early twenties, the kind of woman who looked like she belonged in a glossy magazine ad rather than a suburban neighborhood.
Today, however, she was in her yard, meticulously burying something large and wrapped in a tarp in her flower bed.
A woman burying a large object in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney
My heart skipped a beat, and a chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t normal.
“Benedict, are you seeing this?” I whispered, my voice shaking.
He finally turned to look at me, a confused expression on his face. “Seeing what?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’? Angela! She’s burying something in her yard. Something big!”
Benedict blinked, his brows furrowing as he tried to process what I was saying. “Maybe it’s just garden stuff?”
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
“Garden stuff? Wrapped in a tarp?” I could hear the hysteria creeping into my voice. “We need to call the police.”
“April, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit?” he said, scratching his head. “It’s probably nothing.”
Before I could argue further, Angela looked up and saw us watching her. Her face went from calm and focused to sheer panic. She quickly started shoveling more dirt over the tarp, her movements frantic.
“Oh my god, she saw us!” I gasped, pulling Benedict’s arm as I ducked out of sight. “We’re calling the police.”
A shocked and frightened woman | Source: Midjourney
My hands were trembling so much that it took me three tries to dial 911. When the dispatcher picked up, I struggled to keep my voice steady.
“There’s a woman burying something in her yard,” I stammered. “It looks like a body.”
“Ma’am, please stay calm,” the dispatcher said in a soothing tone. “Can you give me your address?”
I rattled off our location, my eyes never leaving Angela. She was glancing around nervously as she patted down the dirt, her face pale.
A woman patting down dirt in her garden | Source: Midjourney
The police arrived in record time.
Their sirens blared, cutting through the suburban quiet, and sending a ripple of anxiety down my spine. I dragged Benedict with me to the front of the yard.
I stood there, my heart pounding, as officers in crisp uniforms poured out of their cars and approached Angela’s yard with an air of authority.
“Stay back, ma’am,” one of the officers instructed me, his voice calm but firm.
I nodded, gripping Benedict’s arm for support. He finally seemed to snap out of his stupor, his eyes widening as the reality of the situation hit him.
A man watching police officers approach a neighbor’s house | Source: Midjourney
The officers moved quickly, their boots crunching on the gravel as they crossed into Angela’s yard. She stood frozen, her face pale, hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender.
“What’s going on here?” one officer demanded, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the freshly turned earth in the flower bed.
“It’s not what it looks like!” Angela exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I can explain!”
“Let’s see what’s under there first,” another officer said, motioning for his partner to investigate the freshly turned earth in the flower bed.
Freshly turned earth in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney
The second officer scraped away dirt and soon revealed the tarp.
“There’s something buried under here,” he called out as he hurriedly shoveled more of the dirt aside. It didn’t take long before he revealed a lumpy form a little over five feet long.
“Open it up,” the first officer said in a serious tone.
The moment felt like it stretched on forever. My breath hitched as the tarp was pulled back, revealing what looked unmistakably like a human form.
A tarp-covered object buried in a flower bed | Source: Midjourney
“Oh my god,” I whispered, my knees threatening to give way. Benedict tightened his grip on my arm, his face a mask of shock.
But then, as the officers peeled the tarp further, the truth came to light. It wasn’t a body. It was a mannequin. A lifelike, hyper-realistic mannequin, complete with detailed features and even eyelashes. The initial wave of horror was replaced by a confusing mix of relief and bewilderment.
“It’s a sculpture,” Angela said, her voice firmer now, though still edged with fear.
A woman speaking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney
“I’m an artist. I specialize in hyper-realistic sculptures for exhibitions. This one wasn’t ready for public display, and I didn’t have space to store it properly, so I was burying it temporarily.”
The officers exchanged looks, one of them nodding slightly. “Alright, we’re going to need to verify that. Can we take a look inside your house?”
Angela nodded, her shoulders slumping as the tension began to drain away. “Yes, of course. Follow me.”
We watched as the officers followed her inside.
A police officer | Source: Pexels
My mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. Was this really happening? Had we just called the police on our neighbor over a misunderstanding?
A few minutes later, the officers returned, looking somewhat sheepish. “Her story checks out,” one of them said, addressing us. “She’s got a whole studio full of art supplies and other sculptures. This was just a big misunderstanding.”
I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, my face flushing. “I just… I thought…”
A woman speaking to a police officer | Source: Midjourney
“It’s okay,” Angela said, her expression a blend of amusement and irritation. “I get it. It did look pretty suspicious.”
“You could have just asked her, April,” Benedict chimed in, a small smile playing on his lips. “Maybe then we wouldn’t have half the police force in our yard.”
“Not helping, Benedict,” I muttered, elbowing him lightly.
Angela sighed, a small smile breaking through her frustration. “It’s fine, really. I’m just glad it’s all cleared up. Maybe next time, we can just talk?”
Two women speaking on a suburban sidewalk | Source: Midjourney
“Agreed,” I said, feeling a mix of relief and lingering embarrassment. “I’m really sorry for all this. I guess I let my imagination get the better of me.”
Angela laughed, the sound easing the remaining tension. “No harm done. It’s actually kind of funny when you think about it.”
We all shared a laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting us. As the police wrapped up and left, Angela and I stood there, a tentative understanding forming between us.
“Let’s move past this and be good neighbors, okay?” she suggested, extending her hand.
Two women shaking hands | Source: Midjourney
“Absolutely,” I agreed, shaking her hand firmly. “I’d like that.”
Benedict looked between us and grinned. “Well, I guess I’d better start on that lawn. Who knew a little yard work could turn into such an adventure?”
He nodded to Angela and strode off down the side of the house. As he fired up the mower, the familiar hum filled the air, bringing a sense of normalcy back to our Saturday morning.
Angela waved goodbye, heading back to her yard, and I watched her go, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and amusement.
A woman smiling | Source: Pexels
“Life in the suburbs, huh?” I said to myself, shaking my head.
Just then, my eldest son appeared at the front door. He watched with wide eyes as the cops drove away before staring at me.
“Mom? Are you in trouble with the police?” he asked.
“No, honey,” I said with a laugh as I stepped inside. “What do you say to having pancakes for breakfast?”
As I stood mixing pancake batter a few minutes later, I couldn’t help but feel thankful.
Pancake batter in a mixing bowl | Source: Pexels
What had initially seemed like a scary incident had ended in laughter and a newfound friendship. And as the hum of the lawnmower droned on, life returned to its usual rhythm, with a twist of unexpected excitement to remember.
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