Susannah Jowitt says she spent almost five decades questioning why her narcissistic mother didn’t love her, until a late-in-life realization redirected her life. A therapist in 2016 suggested that her mother’s behavior pointed to Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and that the hurt was not her fault. The insight began a reckoning with a past that had long shaped how she viewed herself and her capacity to love.
That diagnosis framed her approach to healing as she stepped back from the fear of rejection and learned to see love through a rebuilt lens. The narrative unfolds from a childhood defined by silence and distance to a more recent reckoning with the consequences of that upbringing. Susannah recalls being given away for the first year of her life—first to a maternity nurse for six weeks, then to her cleaner’s sister for ten months—before returning to her mother, who never touched or hugged her and rarely showed affection. The environment painted a family life where children existed to reflect the mother’s status rather than to be cherished for themselves. The tension in the house persisted even as the siblings pursued their own paths, with the father’s charm masking a pattern of conditional praise and humiliation tied to achievement. When Susannah’s mother and father acknowledged or dismissed accomplishments, the child’s sense of self was measured against a moving target.
The family’s dynamics hardened into a classic pattern described by experts: the parent uses love as a reward, while love can also be withheld to enforce control. The moment of clarity for Susannah began to crystallize after the family’s boarding-school experiences, where goodbyes were a ritual of cold practicality rather than warmth. On the day she and her brother were sent to boarding school, her mother’s abrupt farewell—“Bye then. Off you go.”—were a stark reminder that affection was not the currency by which she would be valued. Boarding school years brought its own mix of independence and longing, reinforcing the ache that love in the home was conditional and always subject to the parent’s mood.
This summer, Susannah’s mother, Juliet, died at 84. She describes the grieving process as strange: there was no genuine grief or sense of loss as the parent’s capacity to harm had long since faded. The death did not erase memory or the lasting impact of the relationship; instead, it intensified the sense that relief could coexist with unresolved anger. The experience also highlighted how friends and other relatives often celebrated the mother’s achievements while denying the hurt she inflicted on Susannah and her older brother. The realization that the relationship would forever cast a shadow on her life underscored the need for further healing, and Susannah sought additional guidance to break the toxic legacy once and for all.
Susannah’s road to recovery intersected with Kathleen Saxton, a business entrepreneur turned psychotherapist, whose new book, My Parent The Peacock: Discovery And Recovery From Narcissistic Parenting, argues that the scars from a narcissistic parent are real but not determinative. Saxton emphasizes that narcissism is more than self-obsession; it involves a persistent need for admiration, a lack of empathy, and a pattern of exploiting loved ones to meet one’s own needs. She notes that while precise statistics are hard to pin down, a reasonable fraction of the population carries narcissistic traits, and a smaller share may meet the criteria for Narcissistic Personality Disorder. In this context, Susannah sees how her mother’s behavior aligned with the patterns Saxton outlines, and how both parents likely passed on the disease of deficiency through their own early-life traumas.
The book places readers in a broader context by outlining how narcissistic parenting affects children. Saxton explains that children of narcissists often inhabit roles within family systems: the Golden Child, the Scapegoat, and the Lost Child. In Susannah’s case, she and her brother moved between the Golden Child and Lost Child roles as the emotional weather shifted. The parent’s tactful manipulation—pitting siblings against each other while granting temporary approval—acted as a control mechanism designed to keep both children anxious and seeking affirmation. The pattern, Saxton argues, creates a trauma bond that can survive a parent’s death and continue to shape an adult’s life unless purposefully faced and addressed.
For Susannah, the turning point came with a recognition that she could know the person she was and still choose a different path. The author highlights a practical framework for recovery: a process that includes identifying and naming the parent’s influence, accepting that one cannot change the narcissistic parent, and prioritizing mental and emotional health. Saxton suggests building a support network that can counteract gaslighting and help sustain healthy boundaries, and she offers exercises to rediscover the self—beginning with mindfulness, then envisioning a conversation with one’s younger self and acknowledging unmet needs.
The interplay of theory and lived experience is central to the book’s appeal. The Russian Dolls approach invites readers to unwrap the layers of identity that exist within them, while the Two Chairs technique—conversing with different aspects of the self—helps to surface internal conflicts and harmonize competing impulses. Saxton also reframes difficult memories as part of a broader narrative that can include both pain and resilience, encouraging readers to accept that bad experiences can coexist with good ones and still be navigated toward wholeness. For Susannah, this reframing has yielded a sense of parity between who she was expected to be and who she truly is. “Who are you without your mother?” Saxton asks in the book, and Susannah has begun to answer in practice as she moves toward a more authentic self. She describes becoming “Happy Susannah,” a state she believes she was always capable of but had not allowed herself to inhabit under the family’s relentless standards. The turning point is not solely the mother’s death but the moment when she could view her life without the filter of blame and judgment.
At 56, Susannah declares she is finally free. The emancipation comes not from estranging herself from memory but from integrating it into a healthier self-hood and choosing values that prioritize family happiness and emotional well-being over externally measured success. The new book, My Parent The Peacock, due from John Murray Press on September 25, lays out a clear path for others who have lived under narcissistic parenting. It offers practical advice and exercises, including steps to recognize narcissistic parenting, to sever the automatic link between love and achievement, and to build a supportive community that can resist gaslighting and the cycle of criticism. The work also provides a candid look at the lasting impact of narcissistic parenting, while remaining hopeful about the possibility of reclaiming one’s life and identity.
Saxton’s guidance is complemented by Susannah’s personal testimony. Her experiences—from early separation and emotional neglect to the later acceptance of a new self—underscore the importance of addressing painful childhood dynamics with compassion and method. The author’s story resonates with readers who have faced similar patterns in their families, offering a roadmap to healing that is anchored in acknowledging reality, setting boundaries, and pursuing a life defined by authentic values rather than inherited expectations. The book presents a message of resilience: healing is possible, and freedom can come at any age when one chooses to grow beyond a painful legacy.
My Parent The Peacock by Kathleen Saxton (John Murray Press, £15.99) is scheduled for release on September 25. A preview edition is available through booksellers at £14.39 until September 27, 2025. For readers seeking guidance and validation on a challenging family history, the book offers a grounded, evidence-informed approach wrapped in a deeply personal narrative. The publication situates Susannah Jowitt’s story within a broader cultural conversation about narcissistic parenting, the lasting effects on children, and the pathways to recovery and empowerment. [Image]