How I Co-Parent After Narcissistic Abuse (When My kids Come Back in Tears)

This Isn't the Post I Wanted to Write

I wish I could sit down today and tell you about a cozy game or a content milestone or a fun little life update.

But instead, I'm sitting here trying to breathe through what it feels like when your children come home from their other parent's house....with tears in their eyes...repeating words that were never meant for a child to hear.

Words like

"he said he wishes something bad would happen to you"

"He said you really don't care about us"

They weaponize words when they have nothing else

I've learned something about narcissists.

When they can't control you anymore, they try to control how others see you. And when that still doesn't work? They go for the jugular. Your kids.

I've spent years piecing myself back together after everything he did. And now, the same personal who emotionally shattered me, who broke every promise, left us without help, and disappeared when we needed him the most......suddenly has so much to say.

To our daughters. To our sons

About me. About Phenox.

About how we're the bad guys, even though we're the ones doing all the things he never could.

We're the ones who stay

When the lights need to stay on. We're the ones who make it happen.

When the birthdays come. We're the ones who show up.

When the shoes are too small or the backpack rips or someone has a meltdown at midnight....we're there.

He has time to help everyone else.

To show up for other people's kids.

To play hero in other homes while ignoring the pieces he left in ours.

But were' the ones who do the hard, un-glamours, everyday work of loving these kids the way they deserve.

No matter what he says.... they feel that.

What I tell my kids when they come home hurt

When my daughter comes to me with tear-filled eyes, I don't just tell her "don't worry about it."

I sit with her in it and I remind her.

That what he says is wrong. not just hurtful, but wrong.

That she is allowed to feel confused, angry, or sad and that none of this is fair and a constant reminder that none of this is her fault.

Love isn't something you threaten or use like a weapon.

Her and her siblings are safe, wanted, and surrounded by love.

Phenox will tell her that he will make sure nothing bad happens.

I don't speak hate over him, even when I could. But I do speak truth. Because they deserve truth.

What I do to protect my peace.

I cry when they go to bed.

I vent in private.

I breathe through the rage because it's heavy hot and sharp and I don't want to carry it forever.

I'm exhausted that's another brick in the safe foundation I'm building for them.

I set boundaries. I document everything. I parent with love and logic and a softness I wish I had growing up.

And when I feel like I'm breaking again, I remind myself

I am the safe place.

I am the one who stayed.

I am the one who made sure they still had magic in their childhood, even when I was falling apart inside.

To the moms who get it...

You are not imagining things.

You are not overreacting.

You are not the villain in their twisted story.

You are the lighthouse.

The steady hands.

The healing they'll remember when they grow up and finally see the truth for themselves.

Keep showing up. Keep doing the little things. Keep being the kind of love that doesn't leave bruises.

Let them say what they want, and we will keep building what they never could

Let them gossip

Let them lie

Let them post and vent and spin their narratives.

We'll be over here....

Helping with homework.

Buying clothes and shoes

going on adventures.

Filling in every broken promise they leave behind.

Because in the end, they'll realize

Love is what shows up.

And we never stop showing up.