The fear of failure and the fear of success in daughters of narcissistic mothers
- An-Karlien
- 19 uur geleden
- 7 minuten om te lezen
My personal story
I had known for a long time that both dynamics — the fear of failure and the fear of success — were deeply rooted in me. Exploring where these patterns came from turned into a painful and, at the same time, liberating process.
I discovered that my fear of failure stemmed largely from an old, deeply burdensome dynamic: whenever I didn’t do well, or even completely messed up, it would reflect negatively on my mother’s “image”. How others viewed her depended entirely on how well I performed. And she made me feel the repercussions of any perceived “failure” with full force.
Through several systemic constellations, another pattern became painfully clear: my fear of success.
I suddenly saw with great clarity how, within the relationship with my narcissistic mother, it had always been safer for me to make myself smaller than her. Standing out, becoming visible, or excelling in something triggered her jealousy and toxic remarks. Remaining “unsuccessful” was — however painful — a clever survival strategy in the toxic climate I grew up in.
These insights became the starting point for a deeper exploration of two interconnected phenomena that many daughters of narcissistic mothers struggle with.
Why these two fears often coexist in daughters of narcissistic mothers
Many daughters of narcissistic mothers carry this strange internal split: a deep fear of failure, and an equally strong fear of success. They seem like opposite forces battling each other, yet both originate from the same place — the painful dynamics of an emotionally unsafe childhood.
Growing up with a narcissistic mother means learning early on that love, approval, and safety are never unconditional — they come with terms and conditions. Everything revolves around the image the mother wants to maintain. When the child performs well, that image is reinforced. When the child makes mistakes, the mother’s fragile self-image is threatened — and that must not happen.
In such an environment, failing becomes dangerous. But the daughter also discovers that success is unsafe: the moment she shines, it triggers jealousy, resentment, or belittling from her mother. A message becomes etched into her psyche: “Visibility is dangerous. Doing too much or too little costs me love.”
And so the daughter learns to live within a narrow zone of supposed safety — a zone where she keeps herself small, stays out of sight, and constantly questions her right to grow or flourish.
The fear of failure – when “not good enough” feels life-threatening
For a daughter of a narcissistic mother, failure rarely just means “not doing something well”. On a deeper level, failure threatens the mother’s façade — and therefore the emotional bond itself.
From a young age, she senses that her mistakes evoke shame in her mother. Not shame about the mistake itself, but about what others might think. The daughter learns: “If I fail, I embarrass her.”
Punishment, withdrawal, or ridicule typically follow, and the child internalises the belief that her own imperfection is dangerous.
How this fear develops:
Conditional love – Maternal approval depends on behaviours or achievements that support the mother’s image.
Criticism and control – The daughter is constantly corrected or criticised, often over small details, teaching her that only perfection is safe.
Enmeshed identity – The mother sees the daughter as an extension of herself. The daughter’s failures are her failures.
Shame and hypervigilance – The daughter becomes acutely aware of every possible mistake, living in constant alertness to avoid criticism.
The internal beliefs this creates
“I must be perfect to deserve love or attention.”
“My worth depends on how well I perform.”
“If I make a mistake, I make her look bad.”
“My failure impacts her — and therefore me.”
With these beliefs, the daughter lives in a continual state of tension. She becomes perfectionistic, though perfectionism is rarely about striving for excellence — it is a strategy to avoid rejection. Behind her high standards lies a deep, childlike fear: “If I fall short, I won’t be accepted.”
The fear of success – the danger of too much light
The flip side of the same coin is the fear of success. Where failure once triggered danger because it evoked shame, success becomes dangerous because it evokes jealousy.
In families with a narcissistic mother, there is rarely space for the daughter to stand fully in her power. When she achieves something, the mother may feel threatened. Instead of expressing pride, she may minimise, criticise, or even sabotage her daughter’s success. A daughter’s achievement reminds the mother of what she herself did not achieve.
The daughter learns: “When I shine, I hurt her.”
And so she keeps herself small, downplays her achievements, or stops just before reaching her full potential. Not because she cannot succeed, but because her inner compass warns: “Success is not safe.”
How this fear develops:
Jealousy and rivalry – The mother constantly compares herself to her daughter and feels overshadowed.
Loyalty through smallness – The daughter adjusts herself to ensure she isn’t “better” than her mother.
Guilt – She feels guilty for being happy or achieving something her mother never had.
Self-suppression as survival – She suppresses her ambitions to maintain peace.
The internal beliefs this creates
“My success hurts her.”
“If I become too visible, I lose her love or attention.”
“Being happy is selfish.”
“I must stay modest so I don’t upset her.”
The result is often self-sabotage: procrastination, self-doubt, minimising her own dreams, or discomfort when receiving praise. Success does not feel like growth — it feels like betrayal.
The underlying dynamics: a web of loyalty, fear, and guilt
The relationship between a narcissistic mother and her daughter is shaped by subtle, often invisible dynamics that determine how the daughter learns to relate to herself, to growth, and to emotional safety.
One of the first patterns that often emerges is parentification. Instead of receiving emotional care, the daughter becomes the one who must soothe, regulate, and emotionally support her mother. In this reversal of roles, she learns that her own needs are secondary. Her focus shifts outward long before she ever develops a healthy sense of her inner world.
A second dynamic is projection. A narcissistic mother frequently cannot carry her own shame, failures, or unresolved pain, and so she places these burdens onto her daughter. The child begins to absorb emotions that were never hers to carry — guilt, inadequacy, or the belief that she is inherently flawed. These projected feelings become internal truths that shape how she sees herself.
Another common pattern is competitive jealousy. When a daughter possesses qualities, talents, or potential that the mother lacks or has lost, the mother may perceive her as a rival rather than a child. This creates a painful double-bind for the daughter: to maintain connection, she learns to dim her light. She avoids shining too brightly, downplays her strengths, and stays small to preserve the fragile bond.
Gaslighting further destabilises the daughter’s sense of reality. The mother may deny events, contradict the daughter’s memories, or dismiss her emotional experiences. Over time, the daughter stops trusting her own perception. She becomes dependent on others to confirm what is real and often second-guesses her intuition, thoughts, and feelings.
Lastly, there is image control. For a narcissistic mother, her public façade matters more than her daughter’s emotional wellbeing. The daughter is used to support the idealised image of the “perfect family”: she must behave, perform, and appear composed. Any mistake or deviation from this façade carries the threat of criticism or shame. As a result, the daughter develops chronic hypervigilance, always monitoring how she is perceived and whether she might jeopardise the mother’s carefully curated image.
Together, these patterns create a steady undercurrent of hypervigilance. The daughter learns not who she truly is, but who she must be to avoid punishment, maintain connection, and receive scraps of affection. Her natural desire to grow becomes a source of danger rather than joy.
The three core messages that remain
When we distil all these patterns and beliefs, three deeply ingrained messages emerge:
“I must not fail — or I lose love/attention.”
“I must not succeed — or I lose the connection.”
“My worth depends on how well I keep my mother satisfied.”
These beliefs trap the daughter between two opposing fears. She is afraid to fail, but equally afraid to succeed. The result is often stagnation — a life where her potential never fully blooms because every step forward feels perilous.
Towards healing and redefinition
Breaking these patterns requires awareness, courage and often professional support. Healing begins with seeing what truly happened: recognising that these fears are not “weaknesses”, but natural responses to a distorted and unsafe form of love.
The key lies in rebuilding a sense of inner safety — independent of maternal approval. Therapeutic work focused on self-compassion, trauma integration, and healthy boundaries helps loosen the grip of old survival strategies.
Gradually, the internal belief shifts from:
“I must perform to earn love,” to “I am worthy, no matter what I do.”
And from:
“My success makes her small,” to “My success makes me whole.”
When a daughter dares to make this shift, she doesn’t just rewrite her own story — she rewrites the story of her entire family line. She chooses growth over fear, autonomy over guilt, and love that is no longer conditional.
If you recognise yourself in the fear of failure, the fear of success — or, as so often, both — know that there is nothing wrong with you. These fears are understandable, human imprints of a childhood in which you were not safe to explore, grow, or shine.
But they do not have to remain your cage.
In my 1:1 coaching programmes, I support anyone — and especially daughters of narcissistic mothers — who wants to break free from these fears. Together we work on safety, autonomy, self-worth, boundaries, and the right to build a life that truly belongs to you.
If you would like to explore whether this could support you, you can book an introductory call by emailing me at: hello@unlockyourbestself.today
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I regularly share the essence of these blogposts in my monthly newsletters.
You can find more information, recognition, insights, and support on my Dutch inspirationpage for daughters of narcissistic mothers.
You do not have to carry — or heal — these patterns alone. I would be honoured to walk alongside you.
With love and support
When you read this, which part of the fear-of-failure / fear-of-success dynamic resonates with you the most? I’d love to hear what this brought up for you.