Beyond the Broken Pieces: A Heartfelt Note on Being Seen in My Healing Journey

I want to share something close to my heart—a reflection on healing, understanding, and the delicate dance between the two. To those who’ve held space for me, sent kind words, or offered advice; thank you. Your care has been a lantern in the dark. But there’s something I need to gently clarify—not out of frustration, but from a longing to bridge the gap between intention and true connection.

The Landscape of My Healing

When I first began sharing my story, it was raw and visceral, centred on the pain of growing up with a narcissistic mother. But healing, I’ve learnt, is not static. Over time, the focus has shifted—like a river carving a new path—from her actions to my rebirth. This journey is no longer about untangling her choices; it’s about rewiring the conditioned mind that once believed I was unworthy of peace.

I’m now in a chapter where healing means dismantling old neural pathways, like sanding down grooves worn by fear, and rebuilding them with self-trust. It’s about recognising that “forgiveness” is not a finish line but a single stitch in a much larger tapestry. Yet, when people suggest I “just forgive” or “let go,” I realise there’s a disconnect. You see, I have let go—of the idea that her approval defines me, of the need to justify my boundaries, of the shame that once glued me to the past. What remains is the quiet, daily work of becoming.

The Puzzle Analogy: Missing the Full Picture

Imagine handing someone a single puzzle piece—a corner of sky, a sliver of a face—and asking them to describe the whole image. Without seeing the box, their guess is limited to that fragment. This is what it feels like when advice comes without context.

My memoir, The Narcissist’s Daughter, is that puzzle box. It shows how the pieces—the grief, the survival instincts, the reclaiming of joy—fit together. Without it, even well-meaning guidance can feel like mismatched fragments. When friends assume I’m still wrestling with anger or stuck in the “forgiveness phase,” it’s like they’re holding one piece without seeing the full portrait of where I am now- building healthy relationships, silencing the inner critic, and learning to trust joy without waiting for it to dissolve.

The Fear Beneath the Surface

Let me be honest: when advice misses the mark, it’s not the content that stings—it’s the fear that after all this work, I’m still misunderstood. That the people closest to me see me as the wounded girl I was, not the woman I’ve fought to become. The triggers aren’t about narcissism itself; they’re about the ache of feeling unseen in my growth.

An Invitation to Walk Beside Me

If you want to support me, here’s how:

- Engage with my story, not the stereotypes. My blogs and social posts are open windows into my world—they show the quiet victories, like rediscovering myself or setting boundaries without guilt.

- Ask me about the present, not just the past. Instead of “How are you healing?” try “What’s surprising you about your journey lately?”

- Trust that I’m no longer in the storm. I’m in the soft, steady work of rebuilding—brick by brick, thought by thought.

To Anyone Feeling Unseen

If this resonates, know this, your healing is yours alone. You don’t owe anyone a performance of progress. The people who matter will sit with you in the messy middle, not just the dramatic peaks and valleys.

And to my friends, thank you for loving me through the chaos. Let’s keep learning each other. Let’s trade assumptions for curiosity. Let’s meet in the present, where healing is no longer about survival—but about thriving.

Love and healing,

Kylie B

P.S. If you’d like to see the full puzzle, my memoir is here. But if books aren’t your style, my blogs and social posts are free, open doors into this ever-evolving journey.