What if two of Disney’s most beloved love stories actually reveal two very different patterns of narcissistic control?

Both Beauty and the Beast and Tangled appear, on the surface, to be love stories. Both end with a rescue, a transformation, and a happy ending set to music.

But look more closely, and these stories reveal two very different ways control can operate.

One is loud.

There is rage, intimidation, imprisonment, and an explosive temper. There are moments you can point to and say, “There. That’s when something went terribly wrong.”

The other is quiet.

There is no screaming. No obvious locked door. No dramatic moment that immediately looks like abuse. Instead, control is wrapped in concern, affection, guilt, and protection.

And yet, by the end, a young woman has spent her entire life trapped in a tower believing that her cage is love.

These two stories offer a fascinating way to understand the difference between overt abuse and covert control—and why covert narcissistic abuse can be so difficult to recognize.

Sometimes control looks like rage. Sometimes it looks like a warm smile and a locked tower door.

When you are co-parenting with someone who refuses accountability, the hardest part is often not the custody schedule, the communication, or the logistics.

It is watching your children experience the same emotional confusion that you spent years trying to understand yourself.

Recently, I received a message from a listener in her early 50s. She had filed for divorce a year ago, and her husband had finally moved out. She was now navigating shared custody with two teenage daughters, ages 13 and 15.

The schedule was split: four nights with her, three nights with him.

She described her ex as someone who “presents as the nice, generous guy.” When her daughters expressed hurt or frustration, his response was often to buy them something instead of addressing the emotion underneath. No repair. No accountability. No real conversation.

Then she said something that stayed with me:

“His crown is on, and no one can ever penetrate his self-defense system.”

If you listened to the episode about the covert narcissist’s mask, you understand what she meant by “crown.”

It is that protective structure some people build around themselves. A place where vulnerability, accountability, and genuine connection cannot get through.

Instead of hearing:

“I hurt you. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about what happened.”

Children may experience:

“You’re too sensitive.”
“That didn’t happen.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

Or sometimes, an apology is replaced with a gift, a distraction, or an attempt to move on without ever addressing the wound.

And over time, children can start learning the same lesson many survivors learned:

Maybe my feelings aren’t trustworthy.

That is the part we need to change.

I was 17 years into my marriage when I first read the words covert narcissism.

Those words didn’t mean anything to me at first. But the rest of it certainly did.

If you’ve lived it, you know what I mean.

• Circular conversations from hell

• Walking on eggshells in your own home

• Apologizing for things you don’t understand

• Gaslit until you doubt your own memory

• Twisting your words until you don’t recognize them

• Walking away more confused than you walked in

And then there’s the image vs. reality:

• Living two versions of the same person—the one the world sees, and the one you live with

• The relationship that looks fine from the outside and feels like drowning from the inside

And the emotional toll:

• Loneliness inside your own marriage

• Being unseen even when you’re being looked right at

• Exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix

And the control, obligation, and guilt:

• Feeling guilty for having needs

• Never measuring up, never being enough

• Feeling responsible for emotions that were never yours to carry

• Working overtime for basic decency

• Love that feels like a performance review

• Conversations that end with you comforting them for hurting you

When you read words like this, something in you knows. They don’t just land—they resonate. They feel like they’ve been inside you the whole time.

And that’s often the beginning.

Not of confusion—but of clarity.

There comes a moment in many covert narcissistic relationships when something inside you changes. It isn't always dramatic. Sometimes there's no explosive argument or shocking betrayal. Sometimes it's simply the realization that you cannot keep living the life you've been living.

I call this hitting the wall.

For me, it wasn't anger that finally ended the cycle. It wasn't even sadness. It was numbness.

After spending two decades trying to fix a marriage that couldn't be fixed alone, I simply ran out of emotional energy. I had spent years carefully choosing my words, managing someone else's emotions, questioning my own reality, and believing that if I just tried harder, things would finally get better.

Then one day, there was nothing left to give.

When I finally spoke the word divorce, I felt almost nothing. No relief. No panic. No grief. Just a quiet certainty that I could no longer live a lie.

Have you ever laid in bed at 2 a.m., replaying a conversation from days ago, trying to figure out what you said wrong — or what they meant by that tone, that look, that pause?

Maybe you’ve drafted a simple text message ten different ways before sending it. Maybe you rehearse conversations before they even happen. Or maybe your mind never really stops running worst-case scenarios, just in case.

If that sounds familiar, this isn’t a personality flaw.

It’s a survival response.

There was a moment in my healing journey that changed everything.

I walked into a therapist's office and told her I needed to talk about two things: my church and my marriage.

At the time, I wasn't entirely sure why those two topics belonged in the same conversation. They seemed like separate chapters of my life. One was about faith. The other was about a relationship. But the deeper we dug, the more obvious it became that they shared something important.

The parallels were impossible to ignore.

What I eventually realized was that my high-control religious upbringing and my covert narcissistic marriage were operating from the same playbook. Different settings. Different people. But the same rules, the same expectations, and the same emotional consequences.

And once I saw it, I couldn't unsee it.

Have you ever wondered how you went from being someone who spoke up for yourself to someone who barely recognized yourself anymore?

Maybe you used to have opinions. Boundaries. A voice.

And then, somewhere along the way, you found yourself apologizing constantly, monitoring someone else's moods, and putting your needs last without even realizing it.

If you've experienced covert narcissistic abuse, you're not imagining that shift.

Covert narcissistic abuse doesn't just hurt you—it rewires you.

One of the most common questions survivors ask is:

"How did I get here?"

The answer often lies in understanding the four trauma responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn.

But these aren't just random reactions. They are a hierarchy of self-advocacy.

Today my older son moved out.

He is 26 years old. And as I watched him leave, the last 26 years played through my mind — the good, the bad, and everything in between.

If you are parenting through a narcissistic relationship, then you know the fear I’m talking about. The one that doesn’t announce itself. The one that just sits quietly in your chest whispering, Will my child be okay?

I lived with that fear for years.

There were seasons when I genuinely thought I was losing my son. Depression. Isolation. Anger. Days spent in bed. Nights where the heaviness in my chest felt unbearable. And in January of 2019, only weeks after my divorce was finalized, my worst fear nearly came true when my son attempted suicide.

In this episode, I’m sharing what those years taught me — not as an expert, but as a mother who walked through it.

I talk about the mistake I was making without realizing it: trying so desperately to pull my son out of pain that I unintentionally taught him to hide it. I share the conversation with a grieving father that completely changed the way I parented. And I share two recent conversations with my son that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Have you ever tried to describe your partner to a friend or family member and halfway through thought, “This sounds totally fine. I sound crazy. Why do I feel so terrible?”

That is covert narcissism in a nutshell.

It’s the kind of narcissism that doesn’t look like narcissism. There’s no loud ego walking into the room. No obvious arrogance. No dramatic self-importance.

Instead, they might seem quiet. Humble. Sensitive. Misunderstood.

And somehow, you end up feeling like the problem.

Today, I’m walking you through the Top 10 signs you may be in a relationship with a covert narcissist. Think of this like a checklist—but instead of grocery items, you’re checking off red flags you may have been taught to ignore.

Let’s get into it.

It’s 2am. You should be asleep.

But instead, you’re staring at the ceiling and their voice is back in your head.

“You’re too sensitive.”
“You always do this.”
“Why can’t you just be normal?”
“If only you had done this… then I wouldn’t have done that. This is your fault.”

And just like that, your mind is off and running.

You’re back in that kitchen. That car. That conversation that never really got resolved. Replaying it. Rewriting it. Searching for the perfect response—the one that would finally make them understand. The one that would make them see you.

You know the one I mean. The one that feels like gold. The one that has to land this time.

But it never does.

And eventually, you find yourself asking the same question again:

Why can’t I just let this go? Why can’t I stop thinking about it?

If this is you, I want you to hear three things right away.

First: you are not weak, obsessive, or crazy.
Second: there is a reason the loop won’t stop. And it is not the reason you think.
Third: what your mind is chasing is not what you think it is.

Let’s break it down.