When the Family Looks Perfect but Feels Wrong - Narcissistic Family Show
- Jadzia Marek

- Aug 22
- 5 min read
Updated: Sep 23
Growing up in a narcissistic family where one parent is emotionally immature or presents narcissistic traits can be deeply confusing. There might be no physical violence or substance abuse, and on the outside, the family image may look happy, successful, ambitious, and full of achievements. Yet inside, something feels “off.”

As a child, you might start to believe that you are the problem: “If everything looks so good from the outside, then it must be me who isn’t good enough.” Over time, this can lead to internalised feelings of inadequacy, self-doubt, and a persistent sense of not belonging. To survive, you learn to hide your true feelings and present only what aligns with the family’s standards. In the process, the authentic self — your real thoughts, needs, and emotions — can get lost.
Characteristics of a Narcissistic Family
Psychological research and clinical practice highlight patterns typical of families marked by narcissistic traits:
Image over authenticity – Reputation, achievement, and appearances are prioritised over emotional truth or individual needs (McBride, 2008).
Conditional love – Love and approval are tied to performance, compliance, or loyalty rather than unconditional acceptance.
Lack of emotional attunement – Children’s emotions are minimised, dismissed, or reshaped to fit the parent’s narrative (Schneider, 2016).
Enmeshment or neglect – Children may be pulled into a parent’s emotional world (enmeshment) or left to fend for themselves (neglect). You can read more about emotional neglect in my blog post When No One Was There: Healing From Childhood Emotional Neglect.
Scapegoating and favouritism – Siblings are often cast in contrasting roles, leading to division, rivalry, and fractured bonds. Some children may be idealised, while others are criticised or blamed for the family’s problems and treated like an option .(McBride, 2008).
Common Roles Children Play in a Narcissistic Family
Dr. Ramani Durvasula, a leading expert on narcissism, often reminds us that “narcissistic families revolve around the needs of the parent, not the child.” In this environment, children adapt by slipping into roles that allow the family system to survive. These roles are survival strategies, not personality traits — but they often shape adult struggles in profound ways.
The Golden Child
Every family picture has the child who looks “just right.” The Golden Child is showered with praise, held up as the shining example, and told that their worth lies in how well they achieve, behave, or represent the family.
As an adult, the Golden Child often becomes an overachiever, driven but exhausted. Behind the polished surface is a deep fear: What if I fail? Will I still be loved? They may look confident, yet privately battle perfectionism, imposter syndrome, and difficulty allowing themselves rest or vulnerability.
Key task in healing: learning that their value lies not in performance, but in being.
The Scapegoat
In many narcissistic families, one child is cast as the “problem.” This is the Scapegoat — the one blamed for the family’s stress, criticised harshly, or treated as if they’re defective. What’s often overlooked is that the Scapegoat may actually see the family dysfunction most clearly, and their resistance makes them an easy target.
As an adult, the Scapegoat can carry heavy shame and self-doubt. They may enter relationships where they’re undervalued, repeating old patterns. Yet, many Scapegoats develop deep empathy and insight — they become truth-tellers and healers once they learn to stop confusing rejection with their worth.
Key task in healing: reclaiming identity from the projections of others and standing in their own truth.
The Lost Child
Then there’s the quiet one — the Lost Child. They slip through the cracks, not causing trouble, not drawing attention. In a chaotic family, invisibility can feel safer than asking for love and being dismissed. The Lost Child often retreats into books, imagination, or solitude.
As an adult, they may feel detached, uncertain about who they are, or uncomfortable with closeness. They struggle to ask for what they need because for so long, needs felt dangerous. Connection is longed for, but also feared.
Key task in healing: daring to step into visibility, risking intimacy, and rediscovering identity.
The Mascot (or Clown)
Every family in pain needs some comic relief. The Mascot is the one who lightens the mood, making jokes to break tension or soften conflict. Their humour becomes a shield, keeping everyone distracted from the darker truths.
As an adult, the Mascot may feel pressure to always be entertaining, fun, or upbeat. Vulnerability can feel terrifying: Will anyone still want me if I’m not cheerful? They long to be taken seriously, yet fear rejection if they show their pain.
Key task in healing: trusting that they can be loved for their depth, not just their lightness.
The Trap of Hope
A painful reality is that many adult survivors carry a lingering hope:
Maybe one day my parents will finally see me.
Maybe they’ll apologise, or appreciate me, or change.
Maybe if I try harder, they’ll give me the love I always wanted.
Dr. Ramani Durvasula warns that this “hope for change” often keeps people stuck in toxic cycles. It delays grief—the necessary step of mourning the family you did not have—in order to move toward healthier, more fulfilling relationships. You can read more about this in my blog post Can Hope Hold Us Back.
Letting go doesn’t mean giving up on love. It means shifting hope from the past to the future — toward building chosen family, nurturing authentic connections, and creating a life where your needs matter.
If some of this resonates with you, it may be an invitation to pause and gently reflect a little deeper. The truth is, you adapted brilliantly to a challenging environment — those strategies helped you survive. But as Dr. Ramani Durvasula reminds us, “understanding the pattern is power.” As an adult, you now have the opportunity to make different choices. Recognising these patterns is the first step toward reclaiming your identity, restoring your sense of worth, and opening space for a life built on authenticity and meaningful connection.
Think about the role you might have taken on in your family growing up — golden child, scapegoat, lost child, or mascot. How might that role still be influencing the way you see yourself or relate to others today?
And if you wish to go a little further I'm offering counselling services here in Perth, WA or via zoom. Everyone welcome.
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References
Durvasula, R. (2015). Should I stay or should I go?.
Durvasula, R. (2019). Don’t you know who I am?.
Johnson, S. M. (1994). Character styles.
McBride, K. (2008). Will I ever be good enough? Healing the daughters of narcissistic mothers.
Miller, A. (1981). The drama of the gifted child.
Schneider, J. (2016). Understanding narcissism: The therapist’s guide.



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