Laetitia Latham Jones – Crisis and Trauma Counsellor
Author: Laetitia
I am a working Wisewoman in West Cornwall with Cassandra Latham Jones, a Crisis and Trauma Counsellor that specializes in assisting former cult members.
A Cultural Indictment of misdiagnosed memories, emotional propaganda and the silencing of the woman who stayed.
There is a quiet war being waged. And the casualty? The Mother. Not the absent one. Not the abusive one. But the one that stayed. The one who broke herself into pieces to keep everything together. The one who gave up her own identity so that her children could find theirs.
The one who fed, clothed, soothed, worked, showed up, and still got labeled toxic.
And what does culture tell her now? Shut up. Don’t complain.
Don’t have needs.
Don’t have feelings.
Don’t be angry.
Don’t be tired.
Don’t be hurt.
Just vanish. Quietly, gracefully and invisibly.
Do this so your Adult Children can finish the story of your failure without you…
There’s a new epidemic.
It’s not viral — it’s emotional.
And its symptoms are silence, shame, and scapegoating.
It’s the epidemic of the disposable mother.
Not the abusive one.
Not the neglectful one.
But the one who stayed.
The one who gave everything — her time, her youth, her identity — and is now being erased from the narrative. Diagnosed without a voice. Abandoned in the name of “healing.” Labeled toxic for having emotions. Forgotten for simply being human.
This isn’t just a few hurt feelings.
This is a widespread cultural phenomenon.
An epidemic of estrangement, misdiagnosed memories, and weaponized therapy.
We are watching an entire generation of mothers be rewritten.
But we will not be erased.
We are still here.
Still grieving.
Still sacred.
Still rising.
Let this post be a gentle wake-up call — a crack in the illusion.
If you are one of these mothers, you are not alone. You are not crazy. You are not toxic.
You are part of a generation of women waking up to a system that betrayed them — and still choosing to hold peace in their hearts.
Read this piece. Share it with someone who needs to know they’re not alone.
When someone dies who you had a complicated relationship with, you may experience confusing and mixed emotions. There are many different ways that this scenario can play out, but the fact is that everyone dies, even people you didn’t like or had conflict with. And when you have mixed feelings about someone in life, you will continue to have mixed feelings about them in death.
People talk all the time about losing someone they deeply loved and cared for. As for grieving someone you had negative feelings towards, people don’t talk as much about that. The reasons why you may have had a difficult relationship are endless. Maybe they were mean or hurtful; perhaps they were violent or abusive; they could have been toxic or emotionally manipulative; maybe they betrayed you or someone you love.
We get it, it feels weird to sort through feelings about the death of someone you didn’t always like and it can feel even weirder to talk about it. So, today we’re going to talk about some of the circumstances that are unique to grieving someone you didn’t like. Then we’re going to answer some of the questions that come up in those situations and talk about how to cope.
You’re not sure if what you’re feeling is grief.
If we understand grief as a natural reaction to loss, you may be thinking that it isn’t a “loss” that this person isn’t in your world anymore. You might think if you didn’t like or want them in your life, it can’t be grief. This can leave you confused about how to categorize the feelings and isolated in discussing the emotions. Check out our definition of grief here for more.
You feel happy or relieved
Or, you’re at least not sad about it. In circumstances when your physical or emotional safety (or that of someone you love) was at risk because of the person who died, you may be feeling an immense sense of relief that your safety is no longer in jeopardy. At the same time, you may also be feeling some guilt that you’re relieved or happy or not sad. Like we said, it’s complicated. Luckily we have a whole post on feeling relief in grief
Your feelings of relief are in conflict with other people’s feelings of sadness
Sometimes you have a bad or complicated relationship with someone, but other people in your life don’t. After that person dies, you may be left to sort through complicated negative feelings, while others work through more traditional grief feelings. This disconnect can leave you feeling isolated and alone, and also ill-equipped to support your grieving family and friends.
You thought your relationship with them might eventually get better.
This thought might have been conscious or it might have been subconscious. Either way, when someone dies who you didn’t like it isn’t uncommon to suddenly feel the weight of the reality that you know will never get an apology, have a chance to apologize, or have a chance for the relationship to change and improve. Even if those were things you never consciously wanted, knowing they are no longer even an option can be difficult.
Your grief isn’t validated by others.
If people in your life knew you didn’t get along with this person, that you had a strained relationship, or had a falling out, people may minimize the validity of your feelings. That is a little thing known as disenfranchised grief. You may still be having intense grief feelings, despite that bitter divorce, painful custody battle, or even history of abuse. People around you might be saying, what do you have to be upset about?!? You hated him and hadn’t talked to him for years!
Death doesn’t bring closure.
You may have imagined that all those complicated feelings would somehow get resolved once the person died or was completely out of your life. But there is a good chance the complicated emotions are still there, even though the person isn’t. You wouldn’t be the first or the last. The reality is the pain of a difficult relationship doesn’t die just because a person has died.
Remind yourself you have the right to grieve.
When someone is removed physically from our lives there is an impact, no matter how we felt about them. It changes the relationship, and it can impact our understanding of the past and the future. Even if the hole left in your life is a hole you believed you always wanted, that doesn’t change its emotional impact. You can deeply miss someone you had a really complicated relationship with, so give yourself permission. The human heart is funny that way.
Remember that it is okay to feel relief.
If you feel guilty that you’re relieved, happy, or not sad about a death, let’s think through the feelings. What you are relieved or happy about is that you are now safe and no longer fearful. This is different than being glad someone has died. If there were another possible way for you to feel safe, you would likely have wished that to be the outcome. For more on this, check out our post about relief.
For better or worse, relationships continue after someone dies.
If you had a good relationship with someone, that can often continue through good memories and carrying on their legacy. If you had a complicated relationship it often remains, well, complicated! You may have imagined a person’s death would make you feel better or resolve some of the feelings you were having. In some cases that’s true, but in some cases it isn’t. You may find you still need to carry on efforts to explore your own feelings about the person or find ways to forgive (keeping in mind that foregiveness is not about saying someone’s behavior was okay!). You can read more about forgiveness here.
Communicate about the entire relationship, the good and the bad.
The old saying “don’t speak ill of the dead” can, unfortunately, make people feel like they have to keep their mouths shut about the problems in a relationship after the person has died. We’re here to say, it’s okay to keep processing and talking about these issues if you need to, you may just want to choose your audience wisely. Depending on your situation, friends or family may not be the best people to support these types of conversations. If that is the case, a grief counselor or support group might be helpful. What isn’t helpful is avoiding, stuffing, or ignoring the complicated emotions and memories.
Realize you may be grieving the relationship you wished you had.
We all have ideas about what a mom or dad or friend or spouse or child is “supposed” to be. Unfortunately, what we want a relationship to be is not always what it is. Who we want a person to be is not always who they are. If you are struggling to understand your own complicated emotions about the death, consider that you may be feeling grief around not having had the [mom/dad/husband/wife/friend/child] you wanted or needed.
It is still possible to finish ‘business’.
When grieving someone you didn’t like, or with whom you had a complicated relationship, there can be a feeling that any “unfinished business” will now have to be left unfinished. It may not get finished in the way you imagined when that person was alive (if you were planning for a direct conversation, obviously that just isn’t going to happen). You can still find ways to say the things you wanted to say. That could be in the form of a journal, letter to the person who died, artistic expression, or with a therapist.
Consider all the ways the relationship has impacted you.
Though many of these may be negative and painful, you may also see ways you grew from the strains in the relationship. It may be in your own commitment to not being like that person or it may be in your growth and avoidance of other negative or toxic relationships. It may even be in your ability to find forgiveness or empathy in an impossible situation. Whatever it is, take some time to appreciate yourself and your own growth. This is not being grateful to the person or for the hurt or problems they caused, but taking the time to give yourself credit for the growth that can come from adversity.
When you have a difficult, or worse, relationship with your dad, Father’s Day can be fraught with anxiety and pain. Unpleasant memories, tension, and varying levels of estrangement take center stage, meanwhile, your friends are celebrating their dads with heartfelt cards and gifts.
Father’s Day, like Mother’s Day, is widely promoted and hard to ignore.
A TV ad asks, “Where will you celebrate Father’s Day?” It showcases a beaming adult son enjoying a meal with his cardigan-graced Dad at the best restaurant in town. People think, “great idea.” However, you instantly recall the time your father yelled at you at a restaurant when you were 12. You remember it well. Your father doesn’t.
An online ad pops up, featuring a woman your age, smiling up at her graying dad and presenting him with a gift. Meanwhile, your own father barely communicates with you and on the rare phone call, he sounds like he’s been drinking, can’t remember the name of your dog, and only talks about how much he and his third wife are enjoying their beach condo. You aren’t planning on sending him a gift because he doesn’t call you on your birthday.
Father’s Day can be rife with pain, despite the media demand for unconditional celebration. But there is hope. If you would like a healthier experience this Father’s Day:
Step 1: Accept your father’s negatives
If you have mixed memories of your father, you may feel pressure (both internally and externally) to brush aside the pain and focus on the positive. But you don’t need to abandon past hurts. Past hurts actually feel more “authentic” to you than those vague, “happy” memories you’re trying hard to resuscitate. Instead of hiding the pain, allow yourself some space to simply not enjoy.
Step 2: Gain perspective on your father’s own experience
After validating the negatives, think about whether your father did his best with what he had available, and place the downsides into the context of his own upbringing and life. Typically, we view our fathers as authorities. Yet, every father is really just another person like the rest of us. The late psychoanalyst and social worker Selma Fraiberg promoted the concept of intergenerational transmission of trauma, in which the hurts of parents continue on into their children. While you can feel hurt for the way these ghosts can be passed down, take into context that the struggle you may have had with your father is the same struggle he may have had with his own parents.
Step 3: Acknowledge your father’s positives
While you should acknowledge and accept your father’s negatives, an important step to a healthier Father’s Day is to also find the positives, no matter how small. Did you learn an important lesson from your father? Can you recall any warm feelings you shared with your dad? Did he have a particular talent you admire? One important developmental task of adulthood is to live with appreciation and disappointment side by side; bring light to your bag of mixed emotions. Give yourself some credit and permit yourself to feel both good and bad at the same time.
Step 4: Do something, maybe even give your dad a call
Father’s Day is well set up for new beginnings. Take the opportunity to share something loving with your father, without internally feeling the need to do injustice to your own complex feelings.
If your father lives nearby, perhaps send him an email to invite him for coffee. If you’re states away, set up a time to talk with him via phone or Facetime. Or, if it feels comfortable, pick up the phone and just call on Father’s Day. If you do connect, say hello, and share whatever you are feeling.
Reflect on the negatives, recognize that you are entitled to your feelings, and allow yourself the space to feel a range of feelings. You need not experience only the positive. Allow yourself to connect, say hello, and just accept whatever you are feeling.
Your father may not respond at all. He may not return your email or answer your call. This may simply be a matter of bad timing but he may be actively stating he does not want to speak. Fathers have their own uncomfortable feelings that arise poignantly on Father’s Day.
What feels right for you
Some people choose to acknowledge their feelings with a mailed letter, a card, or an email. Some may reflect privately. While the holiday is called Father’s Day, it is also a day for the child. Do what feels right for you.
When it helps, share any past hurts with your friends and family in the service of allowing yourself to be open to positivity. If you spend time with your father on this special day, you may actually enjoy it.
For adult children, this is also a time to reflect on what fathering means to us, how we hope to take in these memories, and pass down our memories with our own understanding to those we parent or mentor.
While you may not be truly “celebrating” your father, coming to terms with your relationship is an opportunity.
Shadow work is not just a practice of psychology. And definitely not about fixing what’s broken. It’s about discovering what’s been buried—your emotions, wounds, truths, and power.
Rooted in Jungian psychology and practiced for centuries through shamanic, spiritual, and mystical traditions, shadow work is the practice of meeting your unconscious self with honesty and compassion. It’s the journey of bringing light to what has long been kept in the dark.
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” — Carl Jung
What Is Shadow Work?
Shadow work is the practice of uncovering and integrating the unconscious parts of yourself—your fears, desires, shame, and hidden strengths. These “shadow parts” are often formed in childhood and buried by the ego to protect your identity. However, they don’t disappear. They project themselves onto others, influence your reactions, and can create patterns that keep you stuck.
To do shadow work is to observe your triggers, trace them to their roots, and reclaim what you’ve disowned. This practice is both psychological and spiritual—a return to wholeness.
Yes, you can do shadow work by yourself, and no, it’s not just for therapists or spiritual gurus. It’s for anyone ready to know themselves, fully.
Next, we’ll explore beginner-friendly methods for accepting your shadow side.
1. Observe Your Triggers
Anything that causes an intense emotional reaction—anger, shame, jealousy, discomfort—could be a window into your shadow. Pay close attention to the situations, people, or themes that spark a disproportionate emotional response.
“If you hate a person, you hate something in them that is part of yourself.” — Hermann Hesse
For example, if the sex scenes in the movies and TV shows you watch embarrass or anger you, this may indicate repressed sexuality, or if the scenes of violence and war make you happy inside, this can be interpreted as suppressed anger/hatred.
“Usually we punish the things that remind us of the parts of ourselves that we disagree with and that we are most uncomfortable with, and we often see these parts of ourselves that we deny.” -Robert A Johnson
Use these moments as data points. Ask yourself:What exactly triggered me? What emotion came up? What memory does this remind me of?
2. Take Note of Your Inner Conversations
Throughout your life, you have exhibited some behaviors, said words that you cannot understand, and then wondered why you acted or spoke this way. An archetype/sub-personality/fragment within you has taken all control.
With these parts; We can communicate through internal dialogue and/or active imagination, or simply by writing on paper or computer. In this way, we integrate these parts of us into our conscious mind.
Writing is one of the simplest shadow works exercises. You don’t need to be a writer—just be honest. Here are some powerful shadow work journal prompts to start with:
What emotions am I most uncomfortable feeling, and why?
What qualities in others do I secretly admire or resent?
When do I feel fake or performative?
What am I afraid people might find out about me?
Who triggers me the most—and what do they reflect back to me?
Even five minutes a day can spark surprising clarity.
3. Practice Inner Dialogue
Another beginner-friendly approach is to have a silent (or written) dialogue with a part of you that feels hidden or disruptive. This is a key practice in Jungian shadow work and can be done through meditation or imagination.
Sit in a quiet space. Close your eyes. Ask: Who wants to speak? What do you need me to hear? Then listen—without judgment.
Sometimes the part that speaks is younger, angry, fearful, or wild. All parts have something to teach.
Remember, filling our conscious mind with perfect/ideal thoughts is characteristic of most Western philosophies/theologies, and these philosophies generally do not face the shadows and dark side of the world. A person cannot become enlightened simply by imagining the light, but rather by making the darkness conscious.
4. Accept, Don’t Fix
A crucial shift: shadow work is not about fixing your shadow self—it’s about reintegrating it. The goal is not perfection or constant positivity. The goal is wholeness, honesty, and reclaiming power.
5. Creativity as Expression
Art, dance, poetry, music, and movement are excellent ways to engage with your unconscious mind. Don’t censor yourself. Let your emotions guide your creations.
Creative practices bring your shadow into form and make it easier to observe and integrate. This is also where our Pentacle Necklace comes in—a symbol of harmony between the five elements, including your inner chaos.
6. Use the World as a Mirror
What annoys you about others? What behaviours do you judge harshly? These projections are often mirrors of your disowned qualities.
Not all triggers are projections—but many are. Learning to discern which shadows are yours, which are others’, and which are shared is part of the work.
Try asking:
Is this reaction about me or them?
What part of me feels threatened?
What would I never allow myself to be—and why?
This is powerful reflection work. And with time, it leads to radical self-awareness.
It is also a possibility that two people may reflect similar qualities. Or, qualities that complement each other may be mirrored mutually. For example, one person tends to be overly self-sacrificing and another tends to control others. From the collision of these two, one may be the controlled and the other the controlling, where opposite but complementary qualities may be mutually projected onto each other. Examples can be multiplied. A person may be projecting jealousy, anger, greed, and all the qualities we can think of to the other side and the world.
7. Shadow Work Therapy (Optional But Powerful)
You don’t have to do shadow work alone. In fact, many people benefit from working with Jungian therapists or trauma-informed coaches.
Professional guidance can help you move through blockages faster and more safely—especially if you’re dealing with trauma, grief, or anxiety.
8. Work With Archetypes & Mythic Energy
Symbols like Lilith, Nyx, and the Crow aren’t just myth—they’re psychological mirrors. Working with dark feminine archetypes can be deeply supportive in shadow work.
ON researching this subject, I discovered just how common this situation is and the video may be helpful to this who are experiencing adult child estrangement.
There is a scene in the pilot episode of HBO’s American black comedy-drama series Succession where Kendall Roy locks himself in the bathroom, no longer able to hold in his rage and resentment towards his father. Billionaire media mogul, Logan Roy, is portrayed as a narcissistic, emotionally abusive, power-hungry father who has inflicted a lifetime of neglect and abuse on his children.
After his mini-breakdown, Kendall composes himself, returns to the dining room, and puts on a brave face with the rest of the family to celebrate his father’s birthday. There is an uncomfortable sense that family life is an artificial performance. Not too far from the surface are the pain, resentment and anger of decades of dysfunctional family life.
Trauma specialist, Caroline Spring, wrote that the “happy family” is a myth for many, a performed cultural ideal that masks a myriad of unpalatable truths. This can also be true in death, as people negotiate the loss of family members they blatantly disliked during life, or who caused them nothing but suffering and pain.
It’s difficult to say how many funerals are characterised by singing the praises of people many of those present either openly or secretly resented or cannot forgive.
It’s not necessarily that the deceased wasn’t loved or that their loss doesn’t still sting. Grieving dysfunctional, toxic or hurtful relationships creates a different level of complexity.
In Succession, when the tyrannical Logan Roy finally dies his children’s sadness is palpable. However, family therapists have argued that such grief can be complicated by the fact that the bereaved are often mourning a relationship they wish they’d had with the deceased or are angry and remorseful about the fact that things were never repaired.
There is also the possibility for internal conflict when cultural or familial pressure to celebrate the deceased collides with an internal need to acknowledge the fact that they were mean, abusive, and neglectful.
Artificial forgiveness
Bereavement psychologists suggest that forgiving the deceased is important to preserving mental health. After all, as Nelson Mandela suggested, resentment “is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die”.
In simple terms, psychologist Robert Enright defined forgiveness as rooting out negative thoughts, feelings and behaviours towards someone, and finding a way to develop positive thoughts, feelings and behaviours about them too. He suggested such forgiveness is highly relevant in cases where the offending party is dead.
In his book, Dying Matters, palliative care physician, Ira Byock, argued that suffering can be eased through deathbed rituals designed to foster forgiveness. As part of a “good death”, he encourages people to engage in five steps, where they say:
Forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you. And Goodbye.
The idea being that such forgiveness rituals help “wipe the slate clean”.
However, it has been argued that this sort of forgiveness is artificial.
Grief psychologist, Lorraine Hedtke, believes such practices pressure people into what she calls an “artificial ending”. Sometimes people end up silencing suffering or minimising and denying pain in service to a cultural pressure to accelerate forgiveness. She also questions whether forgiveness is really something we can conjure up in “once and forever” rituals.
Death is not the end
Of course, death is not the end of our psychological relationship with the deceased. Hedtke offers the example of an abusive, angry, tyrannical father, much like Succession’s Logan Roy, whose six sons had few kind words to say about him on his death.
Neither the man’s death, nor his funeral, she wrote, were the time or place any of his children felt able to make false declarations of forgiveness. At the funeral they had few kind words or fond memories and could not recall appreciative connections with their father. Only in the years that followed did they begin to construct a more forgiving version of him.
Eventually the brothers were able to retain their original reality – that he was indeed a mean and vindictive father – and also begin to appreciate and understand him in a different light too. This was sparked by a random conversation about a long-forgotten fishing trip, prompting them to remember a positive quality that had previously gone unnoticed.
Even after death, Hedtke argues, relationships change and evolve. In some cases, perhaps this sort of change is only possible after someone’s death.
Studies have also suggested that people’s capacity to forgive the dead may be connected to psychological factors like attachment. Psychologists Elizabeth Gassin and Gregory Lengel found that people with high attachment avoidance were less likely to reach forgiveness for someone they were close to who had died. This makes sense because attachment avoidance is a tendency to repress or shut away our feelings for the other. It is difficult to forgive someone if we are unable to acknowledge or face our feelings about them.
So with all this in mind, it might be hard for the Roy children to forgive Logan straight away. Theirs was a fraught and complicated relationship. Their journey to forgiveness and through grief might take time but that is normal.
The concepts of the golden child and the evil/scapegoated child can make us think of narcissistic parents assigning these roles in a family. However, these roles can also be assigned to adults in a cultic context, and understanding the implications of these roles can benefit cult recovery. In my clinical work, I meet people who have left a cultic environment, alone or together. They may be siblings who broke up with a narcissistic parent, they may be family who left a group as a unit, or they may be friends who withdrew from a cultic group together. Despite all the goodwill and love a survivor may receive, healing can be difficult as there are many wounds and triggers in the relationships between the former members. They might have different experiences in the same context for many reasons. In the recovery process, it can be helpful to try to understand the different roles and the dynamics among the cult leader, the golden child and the evil/scapegoated child. In this article I look at each one of these roles—the cult leader, the golden child, and the evil/scapegoated child, and how they can interact. I give an example of these roles from recent Swedish history and note some of the benefits understanding these roles can have for helping people recover from their cultic experience.
A Note on My Therapeutic Method
In my own practice, I work with Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). There are various forms of CBT, but they share a basis in research and in theory, for example in developmental psychology, learning psychology, cognitive psychology, and social psychology. As research develops, so does CBT. Today it also includes research in, for example, mindfulness and self-compassion. In CBT the therapist is active: Together with the client, we formulate goals, treatment plans, and an agenda for each meeting. CBT is a structured way of working with psychological problems, but there is also flexibility for the wishes and needs of the client. There are a wide variety of techniques like exposure, visualization, role-play, and mindfulness practices. The therapist and the client collaborate to find ways for the client to use therapy in their everyday life in the form of homework. A common misconception is that CBT is superficial, or just about the here and now. For some problems, such as arachnophobia (fear of spiders), you may not need to explore much background. But for other problems, like trauma and chronic trauma, exploring the client’s background is central. Psychoeducation is also a vital part of CBT. This means educating the client about the different ways to understand their problems and how to treat them. For example, a client with panic attacks is educated about how stress manifests in the body and the role catastrophic thoughts play in the development of an attack, as well as how to break the harmful cycle. There are no manuals for using CBT to treat clients coming out of cults, but in the same spirit as with other problems, it’s important for the cult client to understand what has happened to them psychologically, as an individual and as a member of a cultic group. Other benefits of psychoeducation are that it reduces magical thinking and increases the possibility of approaching issues more objectively, as the therapist can refer to research.
The Cult Leader
The cult leader as a traumatizing narcissist
In his 2014 article on the relational system of the traumatizing narcissist, Daniel Shaw describes two differing types of pathological narcissists who had, up to that point, been recognized by psychoanalytic writers. This person may be a parent, a sibling, a teacher, a cult leader, and so on. Of the two types, one is the deflated narcissist, who is thin skinned and shame-prone with fragile self-esteem, easily wounded or insulted. The other is the overinflated, grandiose, thick-skinned narcissist, who is manipulative, aggressive, exploiting, and controlling. These narcissists can be charismatic, seductive, and intensely attentive. Shaw describes the psychoanalytic view that the two types are complementary. Behind the deflated narcissist’s self-doubt and over-idealization is hidden grandiosity—he enjoys grandiosity by proxy, or longs to do so; and behind the overinflated narcissist’s entitled grandiosity is deep insecurity and the urgent need to ward off destabilization, and often psychosis, by manipulating and controlling others who will idealize him (Shaw, 2014). To these classic categories, Shaw adds the concept of the traumatizing narcissist that goes beyond defining a character or neurological pathology. He explains that the pathology is about subjugation of others: followers, spouses, siblings, children: By subjugating the other, the narcissist inflates and verifies his delusional grandiosity and omnipotence. To elevate oneself by subjugating another is the essence of what I mean by traumatizing narcissism. The chief means of subjugation is objectification—using the other as one’s object to possess, suppressing the subjectivity of the other, exploiting the other (Shaw, 2014).
The core here is that the narcissists care primarily about their own needs and feelings. If someone else is expressing their needs, the narcissist will make the other person look selfish and hurtful. Shaw explains that the narcissistic parent is being both envious of and resentful toward the child’s right to be dependent and demanding. The parent will make the child feel shame for their own needs and wishes and will learn to see themself as the parent does, as greedy, selfish, or weak (Shaw, 2014).
The cult leader as a person with disorganized attachment In her 2021 book, Terror, Love and Brainwashing: Attachment in Cults and Totalitarian Systems, Alexandra Stein describes the cult leader in a similar way but uses attachment theory to understand cult leaders and how they form groups. Attachment is an evolutionary mechanism developed for survival. Being attached to a caregiver is a means of protection and just as vital as seeking after food. The caregiver becomes a safe haven where the child finds protection and can be emotionally comforted. If the parent is good enough, the child will be securely attached and thereby develop a sense of being loved and valuable and will be trusting of others. If the parent is not good enough, the child will develop an insecure attachment and struggle to feel valuable and trusting of others. The worst scenario is if the caregiver is the one who is making the child feel scared or threatened. You can’t safely escape both from and to the same person. It becomes an impossible situation where the child will be confused and may dissociate. If this becomes a pattern in the relationship, that child will develop a disorganized attachment. Stein connects attachment theory with trauma research, explaining that disorganized attachment is a chronic trauma which will prevent the brain from adequately regulating emotions, responding to threats, and integrating thoughts and emotions. Since the dissociation is not global, a person with disorganized attachment can be highly functioning in other areas of their lives. According to Stein, this theory explains both the cult leader, who has experienced disorganized attachment in their own life, and the cult leader’s impact on followers. Regardless of what attachment pattern you grow up with, when you are recruited into a cultic group as an adult your attachment to the group will become disorganized (Stein, 2021). Stein shows how the cult leader starts a cult by recruiting one person (person zero) by alternating love and threats, manipulating the member, and isolating them from their safe havens until the member’s attachment is disorganized. The leader’s totalitarian ideology is not the end but a means to prevent the followers from reflecting adequately on their situation, because if they did, they might consider leaving the group. Stein further explains that there are two types of disorganized attachment: the dominant, aggressive type (the leader), and the passive, obedient type (the follower). What drives cult leaders is to make sure followers are attached to the leader (in a disorganized way), in order that the leader may avoid abandonment. The cult leaders do this in the best way they know, from their own experiences.
The cult leader assigning roles as a mean of control
These two models of understanding a cult leader have in common the chronic trauma experienced by the cult leader. Their own developmental trauma has resulted in well hidden low self-esteem and fear of being abandoned. Their behaviors look very much the same with lack of empathy, guilt, or regret; having a shallow charm; being egocentric, manipulative, lying, and grandiose. With this background, it’s easier to understand why they put so much effort into controlling their followers. There are many ways to assert control in a manipulative way. Assigning different roles is only one aspect of the control system.
The Golden Child and the Evil/Scapegoated Child
Research on narcissistic parents indicates that there are generally two types: the disinterested and the controlling. The disinterested parent loses interest in the child if the child does not provide the parent with continuous confirmation and flattery. On the other hand, if the child is successful, they will become a trophy. The controlling parent is obsessed with the child, monitors them, and finds it very difficult to respect their boundaries and autonomy. Both these types have low tolerance for failure. The child the parent prefers is regarded as a “golden child,” is seen as having all the virtues of the parent and is expected to give the parent prestige (Perrotta, 2020). Other researchers describe how narcissistic families with several children will designate one of them a golden child who is to be perfect in everything. The child “becomes a property and an extension of his parent who projects on him all the grandeur and perfection, as his images” (Costin, 2020). The opposite role is the scapegoat. That child is denigrated and humiliated, “permanently triangulated, i.e. compared, placed in the shadow of the golden child to accentuate his self-doubt and discourage him from any attempt to threaten this pathological model” (Costin, 2020). If the golden child rebels against the expectations of the parent, their status can change to scapegoat. In the most dysfunctional families “the parent can incite the golden child to mistreat the scapegoat child” (Perrotta, 2020). In a cultic context these roles can be assigned to children and/or adults. The “golden child” becomes a role model for the other followers, and the “evil child” or scapegoat is a person you can blame for everything that goes wrong. The leader can focus on this scapegoat to avoid recognizing their own shortcomings. These roles can quickly change and can shift between family or cult members at the whim of leadership. In CBT we often talk about behaviors in terms of what function they fulfill for the person and how they affect other people and relationships. This approach can be used to explore the functions of different roles in a cult and help the client make these links and connections. When I do this with my clients, I give examples of the different functions and outcomes when the leader is assigning the roles of the golden child and the evil child in a cultic group.
The golden child
Assigning someone the role of the golden child has several benefits for the leader. This person presents proof to the other members that it’s possible to come close to the goal of being a successful member and that the leadership and the ideology are working. On the other hand, there are also considerable risks with having an adult golden child. The golden child can get too popular and, in the end, replace the leader. The cult leader may try to minimize the risk of replacement and abandonment by damaging the potential attachment between the golden child and other members. This is a common technique of cult leaders, separating parents from children or spouse from spouse so the relationship with another person does not jeopardize the relationship with the cult leader. I experienced this firsthand in my own cult experience, which was in the Unification Church. A local leader in New York tried to make us more loyal to him than to the leader Moon himself. When this was revealed, the local leader was kicked out. We were told he had been attacked by Satan and therefore we should not have any contact with him. We were sent to a camp in upstate New York to learn to see him as the devil and reinforce our attachment to Moon. Once the golden child became a risk to the leader, he was turned into an evil child.
Another way of minimizing the risk a golden child presents to the leader is to give the golden child a role which other followers not only are impressed by, but also fear. For example, the golden child may be held up as an example of good behavior and assigned the role of teaching others how to be good members. The golden child is often also turned into an informer, reporting to the leader on other members’ behaviors. In the manipulative language of the Moonies, the leader Sun Myung Moon and his wife were called “the True Parents,” and the followers then automatically became their “children”. The informer system was presented as helping “brothers and sisters” to follow the right path, and if they did not, telling “mom or dad” about it by giving the information upwards to the closest leader. Since the goals always are unrealistic, the golden child will always ultimately fail, or at least not reach the leader’s goals. This may lead the leader to put pressure on the golden child to do whatever it takes to achieve results. By now the golden child is often desperate and may use the same behaviors as the leader to punish harshly those who fail or do not obey. In many cases the punishment is a direct instruction. The golden child becomes a punisher, an offender. A golden child knows that if they decline to be an informer or a punisher, the leader will be furious and severely punish what is seen as betrayal. Falling from grace is worse than never having grace. The stakes are higher. The golden child is in a trap. There is no way out. They will be severely punished, possibly become the evil child, or be ostracized or kicked out of the group with nowhere to go since they have probably by now burned all their bridges to the world outside.
The evil child
It is also beneficial for the leader to make followers obedient by setting an example of what happens when they do not obey. This can be done by creating a scapegoat or an “evil child”. The leadership chooses someone to blame for what are really their own mistakes or shortcomings or as a distraction from uncomfortable situations. The leader can take this one more step, by choosing as a scapegoat someone who is loyal and hardworking and does not see the attack coming. This instills fear in everyone–anyone can at any moment with no obvious reason be degraded or even kicked out. In an evil twist, the golden child can be pressured to punish whoever the leader doesn’t like, and the rest will most likely follow, heaping criticism on the designated scapegoat.
How roles change behaviour and self-image
Being assigned a role may also change one’s self-image. In social psychology we learn that we define ourselves by our behaviors. If you can change someone else’s behavior, you can also change their self-image. Someone assigned the role of golden child or a role model, being praised and rewarded, may come to view themselves as superior to other members, as special and chosen (by the leader), the one with good results. Harsh behavior towards others and reporting on their misdeeds are defined as being a good and loyal member which strengthens one’s self-image. You learn to think and act like the leader, regarding your own feelings, needs, and boundaries as expressions of selfishness/ego/demons that you need to try to get rid of. A person assigned the role of evil child or scapegoat may come to believe they are a bad person. I have met people who have been punished psychologically, physically, and socially (criticized or ostracized) by the whim of the leader, and they become desperate to get accepted again. They behave as if they did something terrible to earn humiliation and punishment, which in turn strengthens their self-image as an evil person. To understand this dynamic, it is helpful to apply Robert Cialdini’s principles of influence (Cialdini, 2021). One of these is the principle of reciprocation. First you give a person something, like a favor, or an unsolicited gift—as when a charity sends a free tote bag or calendar. Later you ask for something in return. The charity wants a donation. It will be difficult to turn that request down, since we usually are raised with the understanding that we need to repay what another person has provided. If not, we will feel guilt. This becomes manipulative when something is presented as a favor or a gift, but in fact it is a way to make you feel obligated to say yes to the request as a way of repaying the original gift.
Another principle of influence is that we first induce someone to make a small commitment; then we make a request for a larger commitment. Because humans desire to seem consequent to ourselves and to others, the victim may be more willing to agree to the larger request to be consistent with their prior commitment. The trick is to make the victim change their behaviors in many small steps because small steps are easier to accept. Once you take the first step, a sense of commitment is created which drives us to accept the next request. And the next one. Every step strengthens our commitment, and along with the new behaviors we change our self-image. An example of this is, when I met the Moonies, my first step was to go to an open house, and later sign up for a seven-day camp. When I also signed up for the 21-day camp, my handsome new teacher saw me writing a letter to a friend, looked at me very seriously, and said: “Now that you committed to take this seriously, taking time and energy to write letters is not serious.” In a cultic framework, first you are given attention, love, and a sense of community and acceptance. Later, as you transition from recruit to follower, the leader will ask more and more of you. As you achieve higher standing, you may be used as an example for others—that is, you become a golden child, and may be given the job of punishing followers. You will rationalize your cruel actions as beneficial because they support the leader and reinforce their ideology. Your loyalty to the leader is strengthened, and your bond with others is weakened. All this will impact your self-image. You are ‘helping’ others to do the ‘right’ thing, go to heaven, and avoid hell or being a self-centered person.
Understanding These Roles Can Facilitate Empathy, Forgiveness, and Restored Relationships
In the process of leaving a cultic group and trying to recover, those designated as the good and the evil child may face various difficulties. The roles affect their relationships with other former members, and their relationships with people outside of the group. For example, a person who was always the scapegoat can have the impression that the golden child did not suffer, and may also regard the golden child as evil, thinking that they themselves would never treat someone else in such a cruel way. On the other hand, the person who was the golden child and was forced to punish others can drown in guilt without seeing that they were also a victim. My experience as a therapist is that discussing these roles and understanding their dynamics can be helpful in recovery from a cultic group experience. When former members can see that they were all pawns in a cruel game, they may develop understanding and empathy with each other’s difficulties. The situation is not black and white. Understanding these different roles, those of the cult leader, golden child, and scapegoat, can be a basis for working with shame, guilt, and fear; can facilitate forgiveness; and, in the end, may even facilitate restoration of relationships. Of course, in extreme cases, a relationship may be neither appropriate nor possible. Clients need to build or reclaim their identity and learn to respect their own feelings and boundaries. Forgiveness might not be possible, but at least their story can be more comprehensible.
About the Author: Helena Löfgren is a licensed psychotherapist (CBT) and has a Bachelor of Psychology. She is also a former member of the Unification Church in New York. lofgrensanalys.se
Finally getting out of a relationship with a narcissist doesn’t mean you just walk away and everything resets — if only.
The way you moved, spoke, and reacted around them wasn’t random; it was survival. And even when they’re no longer in your life, some of those habits stick around for a long time to come. These mannerisms aren’t flaws, just reminders of what you had to do to get through it. If any of these feel familiar, know that you’re not alone. Keep working through your experience and finding ways to process them so that you can truly move forward without the baggage of their abuse.
1. They say sorry way too much.
Apologising becomes second nature after constantly being made to feel like everything was their fault. Even when they haven’t done anything wrong, “sorry” just slips out, like a reflex. It’s easier to apologise first than to risk upsetting someone, even if there’s no reason to think they’re actually mad. It can be for little things, like taking up space in a room or accidentally bumping into someone. The need to smooth things over before there’s even a problem is just something they learned along the way. Over time, they start realising they don’t need to apologise for simply existing.
2. They hesitate before saying what they really think.
When every opinion was once picked apart or twisted against them, speaking up starts to feel risky. They might pause before answering simple questions, trying to figure out the “right” thing to say. Even harmless opinions like what they want for dinner can make them feel like they’re putting themselves in the line of fire. It’s not that they don’t have thoughts or preferences. It’s just that, for a long time, sharing them came with consequences. Eventually, they start realising that safe people won’t punish them for having a voice.
3. They over-explain everything.
When someone’s spent years being gaslit, they get used to having to “prove” their reality. They might give way more detail than necessary when telling a story, just to make sure they won’t be misunderstood. Even when no one is doubting them, they feel the need to justify every little thing. It’s the same with making decisions, explaining why they chose something before anyone even questions them. They’re just used to having to defend themselves, even when there’s no fight to be had. Eventually, they learn that they don’t owe anyone a 10-minute breakdown of why they picked one option over another.
4. They struggle to make decisions on their own.
When every choice was once criticised, even small decisions can feel overwhelming. They might freeze up over what movie to watch or what restaurant to pick, worrying they’ll “get it wrong.” The fear of making a mistake, even when it doesn’t matter, sticks around for a while. It’s not because they don’t care or are trying to be difficult. It’s just that they got used to someone making them second-guess every move. Learning to trust their own choices again takes time, but it happens.
5. They downplay their own feelings.
After years of being told they were “too sensitive” or “overreacting,” they start believing it. They might brush off things that actually hurt, convincing themselves it wasn’t that bad. Even when something really bothers them, their first instinct is to push it aside. They might say things like, “I don’t want to be dramatic, but…” or “It’s not a big deal.” It’s just what happens when someone’s been made to feel like their emotions are an inconvenience. Eventually, they start unlearning that and realising their feelings are valid.
6. They get tense when someone’s mood suddenly changes.
People who’ve been around narcissists know how quickly things can flip. One second everything’s fine, the next, there’s tension in the air, and they have no idea why. So they get really good at noticing tiny shifts in body language, tone, or energy. It’s like an automatic response — they pick up on the smallest signs of frustration and start preparing for what’s coming. Even when no one’s actually upset, their brain still sends out a warning. Over time, they realise that not every sigh or pause means danger, but that instinct doesn’t fade overnight.
7. They can’t accept compliments to save their lives.
When someone’s been picked apart for long enough, nice words can feel… weird. Compliments don’t quite register, or they feel the need to downplay them. “Oh, this outfit? I just threw it on,” or “I got lucky, that’s all.” It’s easier to brush off praise than accept it. It’s not that they don’t appreciate it; they just don’t know how to believe it. Being treated with kindness feels foreign after being criticised for so long. Eventually, they start letting the good words sink in instead of automatically deflecting them.
8. They’re super tuned in to other people’s emotions.
Living with a narcissist means always being on high alert for their mood swings. Over time, survivors develop a hypersensitivity to other people’s emotions. They can walk into a room and immediately sense if something feels “off.” It’s not just empathy — it’s survival. They learned to read the energy of a situation to avoid conflict. But constantly scanning for signs of trouble is exhausting, and they eventually start realising they don’t have to do that with safe people.
9. They pause before answering simple questions.
Even casual conversations can feel like a test. When you’ve been with someone who twisted your words, you learn to tread carefully. Even answering “How was your day?” might come with a pause while they run through all the possible ways their response could be taken. They’re not hiding anything; they’re just used to walking on eggshells. Eventually, they get to a place where they don’t feel the need to filter themselves so much. But at first, even harmless questions can feel loaded.
10. They hate asking for help.
When someone’s been made to feel like a burden, asking for help feels impossible. They might convince themselves they should be able to handle everything alone. Even when they’re struggling, the idea of leaning on someone feels unnatural. It’s not that they don’t need support; they just don’t want to be an inconvenience. Over time, they start learning that healthy relationships involve give and take. But breaking the habit of doing everything solo takes time.
11. They get nervous when things are going too well.
For survivors, peace can feel unfamiliar. When they’re in a stable, loving relationship or things in life are actually going smoothly, a little voice in their head whispers, “This won’t last.” They’re used to good moments being followed by chaos. Even when they want to relax and enjoy things, part of them stays on guard. They seem like they don’t trust happiness because they were trained to expect the rug to be pulled out from under them. Eventually, they realise that real, healthy love doesn’t come with hidden conditions.
12. They sometimes don’t trust their own judgement.
When someone’s spent years being told they’re wrong, they start believing it. Even after leaving, they struggle to trust their instincts. “Am I overreacting?” “Am I the problem?” “What if I’m being unfair?” Making choices without second-guessing themselves feels foreign. But the more they rebuild their confidence, the more they start recognising that they were never the issue. Learning to trust themselves again is part of the healing process.
13. They feel guilty for setting boundaries.
For so long, saying “no” or putting themselves first meant backlash. Narcissists don’t respect boundaries, so survivors learned that standing up for themselves just made things worse. Even after leaving, setting limits can make them feel selfish or anxious. They might feel like they need to over-explain why they can’t do something or worry that people will be upset with them. But after a while, they start realising that boundaries aren’t mean, they’re necessary — and the right people will respect them.
14. They’re still figuring out what safe love looks like
After being conditioned to accept toxic love, healthy relationships can feel confusing. They might not trust kindness at first or feel uneasy when there’s no drama. It takes time to rewire their brain to see love as something safe, not something they have to earn. But little by little, they start recognising what real love feels like. And when they do, they realise they never have to settle for anything less again.
If the festive romance and scent of mass-produced flowers on February 14th leave you feeling more blue than rosy, you’re not alone. Here’s why, according to an expert.
Valentine’s Day, with its hearts, roses, and romantic gestures, is often hailed as a celebration of love and affection.
However, for many of us, the pressures and expectations associated with this day can contribute to stress, anxiety, frustration, disappointment and feelings of loneliness and even despair.
Valentine’s Day can be a day of pain, sadness and hurt as we watch couples display affection, treat each other and exchange gifts.
It can trigger us, impact our self-worth, make us feel more alone or like there is something wrong with us. This is especially common for those of us who have an addiction to being in love with being in love or avoidance in our intimate relationships and friendships.
The pressure of perfection
One of the primary reasons Valentine’s Day can be detrimental to our mental health is the societal pressure to create a perfect romantic experience. From elaborate dates to expensive gifts, the day is often portrayed as a benchmark for measuring the depth of one’s love.
The fear of falling short of these high expectations can lead to stress and anxiety, as individuals strive to meet an unrealistic standard set by society. Seeing social media posts of gigantic bunches of flowers, romantic picnics, expensive dinner dates and seemingly flawless relationships on platforms like Instagram and Facebook can trigger feelings of inadequacy and comparison.
This digital comparison game can exacerbate anxiety and self-doubt, leading individuals to question the validity of their own relationships or their worth if they are not part of a romantic celebration. It can also lead to disappointment and frustration, creating tension within normally healthy relationships and negatively affecting mental health.
Loneliness can be amplified
While Valentine’s Day is marketed as a day for couples and secret lovers, it can be an isolating experience for those who are single, recently separated or divorced, or those grieving the loss of a loved one. The emphasis on romantic relationships during this time can intensify feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.
Single individuals may find themselves questioning their worth or feeling left out, which can contribute to a sense of alienation that can negatively impact their mental health. Loneliness, in and of itself, is an emotion we all feel. The gift of loneliness is that we learn to reach out to others, to not suffer in silence and to not ignore it.
The toxic level of loneliness is despair and isolation and it is in this space that we begin to turn it onto ourselves with a lot of negative self-talk such as ‘I’m not enough’; ‘I don’t deserve this’; ‘I’m unimportant’ and ‘I don’t matter’. It is imperative at this point that we share how we are feeling with a close confidant or a therapist to help us navigate this painful place we find ourselves in.
Love addiction and love avoidance
When speaking of love addiction, it is often helpful to think of this as being the pursuer in a relationship. Love Addiction or the Pursuer can be described as people who seem to choose people to love who cannot or will not “love them back”. This is a very painful and compulsive behaviour that affects the love addict as well as their partners and children.
These patterns are rooted in our dysfunctional childhood experiences and result in us, as adults being attracted to people who reinforce:
our low self-esteem
our needless and wantless view of life – we rarely functionally ask for our needs or wants to be fulfilled, generally because we don’t know what they are
our perfectionism – we try to be as ‘they’ want us to be
People experiencing patterns of love addiction or avoidance can often find themselves drawn to those displaying the opposite pattern, leading to complex, toxic or dysfunctional relationships of co-dependency.
A love addict is someone dependent on, enmeshed with, and compulsively focused on taking care of another person. You may experience:
Low self-esteem and self-worth
A fear of abandonment or being alone – this is terrifying for a love addict
Difficulty with internal and external boundaries
Confusing love with neediness
Patterns of staying in, and returning to painful or unhealthy relationships
Emotional or sexual manipulation and dependency
Romantic or sexual intrigue, obsession, and fantasies
Assigning somewhat magical qualities to others in hopes of them fulfilling our fantasies
Love Avoidance can lead to you avoiding intimacy out of fear of being drained, engulfed or controlled. Many love avoidants were enmeshed or parentified as children and consequently, all intimate relationships can potentially be smothering. You might put up walls to prevent you from feeling overwhelmed, trapped or suffocated by a relationship. Many people who are love-avoidant, recognise characteristics of Love Addiction in their partner, or past partners. You might also:
Feel compelled to care for needy or troubled people, seeing yourself as a ‘wonder woman’ or a ‘white knight’
Avoid being emotionally vulnerable or fully honest in relationships
Be overly critical of your partner, viewing them as weak or resenting them for being needy
Communicate in either passive-aggressive or overtly aggressive ways
Return to relationships out of guilt or fear of abandonment, or try to find a replacement for relationships once they end
It’s completely normal to experience a flurry of emotions on Valentine’s Day. Finding authentic ways to express and receive love, free from societal expectations, can lead to more fulfilling and healthy relationships. If you are single or struggling with a romantic relationship, take some time for self-care and seek support if needed.
From a message board forum for estranged and alienated parents and grandparents-
For those adult children who have had loving, caring parents and the relationship was previously good, but you’ve taken the advice from people you hardly know and gone no contact, you really need to take a good look at yourselves and the impact you are having on your parents. Estrangement is a killer make no mistake. Parents have ended their lives or become ill and died.
■If you can sit and eat your Christmas dinner knowing your parents are facing the bleakest of days, the problem isn’t them.
■If you can ignore birthdays, Mothers and Father’s Day knowing the pain it will cause, the problem is not them.
■If you can tell your children that your parents are bad people or you simply deny they exist, or if you think you can talk your way through explaining the benefits of cutting your child off from knowing it’s own gene pool and tribal roots, the problem is not your parents.
■If you can snub, ignore, ostracise, dish out the silent treatment on an ongoing basis, sulk and then act as though you are the victim, it’s you that’s the narcissist, not your parents.
■If your parents loved you and did their best yet you can deal with knowing all these things above and yet still continue to hurt your them in this way, the problem isn’t them.
Read this piece. Share it with someone who needs to know they’re not alone.
Taking The Helm 