The Role of the ‘Golden Child’ in Narcissistic Families
Growing up in a narcissistic family, I know firsthand how each child gets assigned a specific role, and being the “golden child” might sound like a dream, but it’s far from it. The special treatment and praise come with a heavy burden, and it’s one that I carried for years. Behind all the outward approval, there’s a deep emotional toll that can last well into adulthood.
In my book “The Silent Abuse”, I share my experience as the youngest of eight children in a family deeply affected by narcissistic abuse. I was often seen as the golden child, receiving special attention from my mother. But that attention came with high expectations and an overwhelming need to please. I remember how my mother often created conflict with my father, and as the golden child, I was expected to take her side. That responsibility weighed heavily on me, leaving me feeling guilty, confused, and pressured, especially as I watched my older siblings step in to protect everyone.
Being the golden child creates a confusing world. On one hand, I felt fortunate to be the favored one, receiving praise and affection that my siblings didn’t. But on the other hand, I carried the emotional weight of being used to boost my mother’s ego. I wasn’t just her child—I was an extension of her, expected to be perfect and held to impossible standards.
As I grew older, I saw how this role shaped my adult relationships. I felt responsible for keeping the peace and making sure everyone else was happy, often at the expense of my own needs. The pressure to be perfect followed me into adulthood, and even though I appeared successful on the outside, inside I struggled with a constant fear of failure and a deep sense of insecurity.
The emotional toll of being the golden child is real, and it doesn’t just disappear when you leave your family home. It can lead to anxiety, low self-esteem, and difficulty forming healthy boundaries in relationships. In “The Silent Abuse”, I talk about how breaking free from that role took time and effort. I had to understand that my worth wasn’t tied to pleasing others or meeting anyone else’s expectations. It was a long road, but healing is possible.
If you’ve experienced this dynamic, I encourage you to share your experience in the comments—I’d love to hear your story. Healing is a journey, and recognizing the role we played in our families is the first step. If you feel ready to take that next step, reach out to me. I work with survivors of narcissistic abuse, helping them reclaim their sense of self and build healthier, more balanced relationships. If you’re interested, you can set up a free consultation with me using the link below.