The Price of Speaking Truth: Why I Won't Let the Trolls Win

When I first started sharing my story about surviving narcissistic maternal abuse, I thought the hardest part was behind me. I'd already done the work, the no-contact boundary, the painful process of accepting that my mother would never be the parent I needed. I thought speaking out would be healing, maybe even helpful to others walking the same path.

What I didn't expect was the army of people who would come for me simply for telling my truth.

The Messages That Try to Break You

Let me paint you a picture of what lands in my comments regularly- "There's a special place in hell for daughters like you." "God will strike you down for dishonouring your mother.""You're an ungrateful, lying manipulator breaking up families.""This is just a trendy power trip, you'll regret it when she's gone."

But it doesn't stop there. I've been called "pathetic" for sharing my story. People accuse me of "monetising my pain" as if healing work and helping others should be done for free. I've been told I'm "narcissistic" myself for setting boundaries in my support group. The irony is staggering, using the very tactics of abuse to silence someone speaking about abuse.

The religious guilt-tripping is particularly vicious. People weaponise faith to shame survivors back into silence, as if surviving abuse somehow violates divine law. They quote "honour thy father and mother" while conveniently ignoring the verses about not provoking children to wrath or the countless passages about protecting the innocent.

Why Society Defends Abusive Mothers

Here's what I've learnt, society will always defend mothers, even abusive ones. There's something so sacred about motherhood in our culture that people literally cannot compute the idea that some mothers are abusers. They'd rather believe that thousands of adult children are simultaneously lying, ungrateful, and vindictive than accept that some women weaponise motherhood to inflict lifelong harm.

This defence system is what keeps the cycle going. When survivors speak out, they're not just challenging their individual abuser, they're challenging an entire social structure that prioritises family loyalty over individual safety. That's why the backlash is so fierce. We're not just sharing our stories; we're threatening a foundational myth that many people need to believe.

The Importance of Awareness

This is exactly why awareness is so crucial. Every time I post about covert manipulation or emotional neglect disguised as "tough love," I get messages from people saying, "You just described my childhood." These survivors thought they were alone, crazy, or ungrateful. They didn't have language for what they experienced because society told them it was normal parenting.

Awareness breaks the silence that protects abusers. It gives survivors permission to name their reality and seek help. It educates the public about the sophisticated ways narcissistic abuse operates, not through cartoon villainy, but through subtle patterns of control, guilt, and invalidation that leave no visible scars.

When we speak openly about these dynamics, we're not "breaking up families", we're exposing the fact that many of these families were already broken by the person who was supposed to protect them most.

Finding My Voice and Keeping It

I won't lie, the constant attacks are exhausting. There are days when I wonder if it's worth it, when the trolls seem louder than the survivors I'm trying to help. But then I remember something important, the people trying to silence me are proving my point.

If what I'm saying is so wrong, why are they so desperate to stop me from saying it?

The truth is, I've found my voice after decades of being told it didn't matter. I've learnt to own my truth without needing anyone's permission or validation. When someone tells me there's a special place in hell for me, I respond, "If speaking up for abused children earns me a spot there, I'll see you at the gates."

Why I Fight Back Before I Block

A lot of people ask why I don't just block the trolls immediately. Here's the thing, I was silenced for so long that now I refuse to be quiet. When someone comes at me with ignorance disguised as concern, I respond; not because I think I'll change their mind, but because other survivors are watching. They need to see that we don't have to take abuse lying down anymore.

In real life, you can't just hit a block button when someone confronts you about your boundaries. You have to stand your ground, articulate your truth, and defend your right to peace. So online becomes practice for those real-world encounters. Every witty comeback, every fact-based response, every moment I refuse to be gaslit is me flexing muscles that were atrophied from years of forced silence.

Sometimes, I can actually educate these people. Sometimes, buried under their defensiveness is genuine confusion about why adult children would "abandon" loving parents. When I explain the difference between normal family conflict and systematic abuse, when I share research on narcissistic patterns, occasionally someone says, "I never thought about it that way."

But when they double down, when they refuse to listen, when they become abusive themselves? That's when I block. Because my energy is precious, and I won't waste it on people determined to misunderstand me.

The Ripple Effect of Speaking Out

Every nasty comment, every guilt trip, every attempt to shame me back into silence just reinforces why this work matters. The people defending abusive mothers aren't doing it out of love, they're doing it out of fear. Fear that if we're allowed to tell the truth about family dysfunction, others might start examining their own families more closely.

But that's exactly what needs to happen.

When I share my story, I'm not just healing myself, I'm giving others permission to heal too. Every boundary held, every truth spoken, every survivor who refuses to be silenced creates space for the next person to step into their power.

The trolls can keep coming. I'll keep educating when possible, blocking when necessary, and shutting them down in person when required. Because at the end of the day, my voice matters more than their discomfort. My healing matters more than their denial. And my truth matters more than their lies.

This is what breaking generational cycles looks like, refusing to be silenced by the very people who benefit from our pain.

To my fellow survivors, your voice matters. Your truth is valid. And you don't need anyone's permission to heal.

Keep speaking. Keep healing. Keep taking up space.

The world needs to hear from us.

If you're a survivor of narcissistic abuse looking for support, you're not alone. Trust your instincts, set your boundaries, and remember, healing isn't a performance for others. It's a gift you give yourself.