Why this book exists
this book is where the scapegoat stops whispering
The kind of book a friend writes after coming back from hell with: receipts, theories, and a plan to never end up there again.
I am the daughter of a covert-narcissist mother and a borderline father. I am the scapegoat. I am, statistically, also you. Or someone you love. Or someone who's been quietly drowning at family dinners while everyone else passed the bread.
My credentials are not on a wall. I never had a certificate, a mentor, or a clean origin story. What I had was decades of fieldwork surviving emotionally incompetent parents. I hit rock bottom not dramatically, but in the quiet exhausted way, the kind where you stop dreaming and just exist, and even that feels like too much.
I speak from the inside of the experience, not above it. That is my vulnerability. And it is also my authority.
This book is part memoir, part chaotic philosophical deep dive into why humans do what they do to each other, and part brutally honest survival kit for the loops that keep us stuck.