By Virginia Wilcsek
I can remember the first time I time traveled. I opened my eyes, barely able to see through the tears. My sister was in the corner. I felt the constriction in my chest—paralyzing, suffocating. I was frozen, unable to move, speak, or even think. I chose not to breathe, not to make a sound. And there he was—my father—standing over her.
This is a recurring flashback. A memory. A visceral experience. A time-traveling moment I once dreaded.
You can call me Vicky—or at least that’s what they called me. Even my nickname triggers a reaction in me. It speaks to the person I believed I was up until the age of 32. I’m now 38. Growing up, I was the youngest of four in a family that I once thought fit the “perfect” nuclear mold. My parents met in an era when machismo was glorified, and outward appearances meant everything.
As a child, I thought my father was my hero—charming, protective, and adoring. My mother? I thought she was the villain, absent both physically and emotionally. My father validated my looks, showered me with attention, and often whispered promises of an escape—a dream of a life just for him and me. As a 10-year-old who felt rejected by her siblings, bullied at school, and plagued by relentless fear, this sounded like salvation.
But to believe in that fantasy was the saddest story I’ve ever told myself. It was a story that took years—decades—to rewrite.
The True Narrative
Fast forward to now. My name is Virginia. I grew up in the chaotic grip of a malignant narcissistic father. His adoration was a façade. Behind closed doors, he was manipulative, cruel, and deceitful. I’ve recently learned that I have not four, but seven siblings. My father’s marriage to my mother was just one of four (that we know of).
Growing up, I was the golden child—a role I now recognize as a tool of control. I was pitted against my siblings and my mother, taught to believe I was only worthy of love if I was quiet, obedient, and “good.” My cries for help were met with rage, my needs dismissed. So, I learned to survive by becoming invisible. Silent. Unheard.
My siblings had their own roles to play—scapegoats, black sheep, and sources of supply. My mother? She was a woman trying to hold our family together while surviving the abuse of a narcissist. She worked tirelessly, balancing the impossible roles of provider, mother, and survivor, while my father squandered time and resources elsewhere.
This was my normal. Abuse, manipulation, and gaslighting were the air I breathed. And like many raised in such environments, I unconsciously continued the cycle into adulthood.
Know The Traits
For those unfamiliar, narcissism is more than arrogance or self-importance. It is a personality disorder characterized by:
– A sense of entitlement and need for excessive admiration.
– Exploitation of others for personal gain.
– A lack of empathy and antagonistic behaviors.
– Fragile self-esteem hidden behind arrogance.
Narcissistic abuse follows a cruel cycle:
– Idealization: Showering the target with affection and praise to create dependency.
– Devaluation: Emotional manipulation, gaslighting, and criticism to erode the target’s confidence.
– Discard: Abruptly withdrawing or abandoning the target when they no longer serve a purpose.
– Hoovering: Luring the target back with false promises, restarting the cycle.
I lived this cycle repeatedly—with my father, in a marriage, and in a decade-long relationship. The shame, guilt, and grief were suffocating. But what I struggled with most was compassion—compassion for myself.
Ways to Cope with Narcissistic Abuse
Coping with narcissistic abuse is challenging but not impossible. Here are steps to reclaim your power and heal:
- Educate Yourself: Understanding narcissism and its patterns can help you make sense of your experiences and reduce self-blame.
- Establish Boundaries: Learn to say no, limit interactions, and protect your emotional well-being.
- Seek Support: Reach out to trusted friends, family, or support groups who understand and validate your experience.
- Engage in Therapy: Work with a trauma-informed therapist to process your emotions, heal from manipulation, and rebuild your sense of self.
- Practice Self-Compassion: Acknowledge your feelings without judgment and remind yourself that the abuse was not your fault.
- Prioritize Self-Care: Nurture your mind and body through practices like exercise, mindfulness, and restorative activities that bring you joy.
- Break the Cycle: Reflect on patterns in relationships and consciously choose healthier dynamics moving forward.
- Journal Your Journey: Writing your thoughts, feelings, and breakthroughs can be a powerful tool for self-reflection and empowerment.
Does this resonate with you? Do you feel this in your body? Pay attention to where tension, fear, or discomfort may sit within you—it can be an important signal guiding your healing.
Becoming the Warrior
Healing isn’t linear. It’s messy, exhausting, and, at times, feels impossible. For years, I time-traveled to moments of pain—memories of loneliness, fear, and rejection. I’d return to the present carrying those emotions, feeling angry, cold, and irritable. Now, I use those moments as opportunities to extend compassion to the versions of myself that once felt so lost and alone. What I used to dread, I now see as powerful tools for connection and guidance—both for myself and for those I support. Through these moments, I’ve learned that even the darkest times can hold the keys to growth and understanding.
It took years of patience, kindness, and self-awareness to break free. Therapy, breathwork, and somatic healing helped me recognize the patterns of hypervigilance, avoidance, and dysregulation. Slowly, I began to rewrite my narrative—not as a victim, but as a warrior.
I’ve learned that healing is about living beyond the trauma, not in it. It’s about reminding yourself that it is safe to be calm. It is safe to be loved. It is safe to be yourself.
Today, I walk alongside others on their healing journeys, offering a space where both pain and triumphs are held with compassion. I honor the little girl I once was—the one who carried fear and silence—and celebrate the resilient woman I’ve become. In sharing my story, my hope is not just to be heard but to validate your experience, to honor your truth, and to remind you that you are not imagining it. The abuse was real. The wounds, though invisible, are profound. To anyone reading this: I see you. I hear you. You are not alone.
Healing is not a destination—it’s a journey. And the most powerful step you can take is to educate yourself, seek support, and reclaim your story.
For resources and support, visit my website or follow me on social media. Together, we can heal. Together, we can thrive.
Virginia Wilcsek
The Transcending Pathway | Carlsbad, CA 92008
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