‘Better you than me’ – Going unprotected from narcissistic abuse by the enabler parent.

When You Were Unprotected: Recovering from the Enabler Parent's Silence

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

-Edmund Burke

Some things in life only survive when they’re protected. A newborn child, for instance, needs the devoted presence of a caregiver just to keep breathing. Without someone stronger to watch over what’s fragile, the good in life doesn’t last.

This is especially true for children. When the natural order of things is respected, parents protect their children. They keep them from danger. They advocate for them. They offer safety that allows the child to explore, grow, and trust. But when that order is flipped — when a parent harms their child — the other parent is meant to intervene.

Sometimes, no one does.

In families where one parent is a narcissist, the child’s hope often shifts to the other parent. Maybe this parent isn’t cruel. Maybe they seem kind or at least not aggressive. Maybe they even show moments of warmth. But what many scapegoated children come to realize — often painfully — is that this second parent didn’t stop the abuse either. And that’s what hurt most.

They stood by.

They didn’t object. Didn’t step in. Didn’t believe you.

And when the person who could have protected you didn’t, you were left to make sense of that absence. For many survivors, this absence is its own form of abuse. Not by commission, but omission. The enabler parent doesn’t yell. They don’t always insult. But they don’t shield you either. And so you’re left to absorb what the narcissistic parent dishes out — with no rescue in sight.

What Enables the Enabler?

In my experience, the narcissistic parent rarely abuses alone. The other parent may avoid conflict at all costs. They may be devoted to pleasing the narcissist. They might be terrified of becoming the next target. So, they adapt. They get quiet. They redirect their focus. They bury themselves in work or alcohol or household tasks. They may appear preoccupied — but they’re really choosing not to intervene.

This is how the narcissist retains control. By having a partner who looks the other way.

Some enablers will even join the narcissist in blaming the child. They’ll agree when the narcissist accuses the child of being "difficult" or "too sensitive." They’ll repeat the story that the child is the one who needs to change. Other enablers simply go missing — emotionally, mentally, or even physically. But their silence speaks volumes.

The Message the Child Receives

Children don’t just hear what’s said to them. They internalize the logic behind how they’re treated. And when the enabler parent does nothing while the child is scapegoated, the child is left to interpret this silence:

• If I deserved protection, someone would have stepped in.

• If no one helps me, maybe I’m not worth helping.

• If both parents allow this, maybe they’re right about me.

The logic forms fast and early. A child can’t say, “My father’s emotionally dependent on my mother’s approval and fears her narcissistic rage, so he’s emotionally abandoning me to maintain peace in the household.”

Instead, they say: I must be the problem.

Stories of Going Unprotected

Terry grew up with a narcissistic mother and a passive father. One night when Terry was four, he came into the room to say goodnight. His mother, seeming agitated by his lightness, asked if he’d brushed his teeth. He said yes. She responded with theatrical disbelief, accusing him of lying. She turned to his father and said, “Can you believe he’s standing there lying to us?”

His father didn’t ask a question. Didn’t look concerned. Just put down his beer, grabbed Terry by the arm, and spanked him. Terry had brushed his teeth. The sting wasn’t from the spanking — it was from the knowledge that his father knew this was unfair and did it anyway.

Jason’s story followed a similar pattern. After his parents divorced, he remained with his narcissistic mother. She would explode at him regularly for doing chores "wrong," then blame him for her mood. Jason clung to the idea that his father stayed local after the divorce. "He could have gone back to California," Jason said in therapy. "At least he stayed nearby."

But when asked if his father intervened, Jason hesitated. "He’d just tell me not to upset her."

No custody battle. No child protective report. Just a quiet suggestion that Jason try harder to keep his mother calm — as if her rage was his responsibility.

To hold onto the belief that his father loved him, Jason did what many scapegoated children do: he made himself the problem. That way, his father’s passivity could still feel like love.

The System of Denial

Narcissistic family systems thrive on shared denial. The narcissist enforces the lie: "The child is the problem." The enabler confirms it by doing nothing to contradict it. Over time, this lie becomes a shared reality.

The scapegoated child is not only blamed — they’re disbelieved. Their pain is ignored. Their protests are used against them. If they cry, they’re told they’re too sensitive. If they speak up, they’re told they’re disrespectful. And the enabler, by not stepping in, makes the child’s position even more hopeless.

The cruelty becomes institutionalized.

The family’s goal becomes preserving the narcissist’s illusion of goodness, no matter what it costs the child.

Why the Enabler Fails to Act

Most enabler parents don’t see themselves as abusive. Many were neglected in their own childhoods and learned not to expect care or connection. They often feel lucky to be in a relationship at all. When they receive affection from the narcissist — especially early on — it feels like a lifeline.

They cling to that feeling, even when the cost is high.

And their children become collateral damage.

Some enablers truly believe they are doing the best they can. They may think their silence keeps the family intact. They may think the narcissist will calm down if they just give it time. They may tell themselves the child is "resilient" or that things aren’t really that bad.

But to the child, it’s clear: the person who could have protected me didn’t.

Healing Means Facing the Truth

Part of recovery for scapegoat survivors is confronting not just the narcissist’s abuse, but the enabler’s failure to intervene. This can feel treacherous at first. Many survivors feel fiercely loyal to the enabling parent. Compared to the narcissist, they may seem gentle or even loving.

But love without protection is not love.

When you acknowledge that your enabler parent left you unprotected, you take a vital step in reclaiming your worth. You stop justifying their silence. You stop carrying the guilt they should have felt. You stop pretending that being "not as bad" as the narcissist makes someone safe.

You begin to see clearly.

And with that clarity, you gain the freedom to build new relationships — ones where your pain is heard, your needs are met, and your safety is non-negotiable.

You deserved protection. You still do. And now, you get to decide who’s close enough to offer it.

If you’re working to understand and recover from this kind of experience, I created the Reclaim & Rise Healing Toolkit for exactly this purpose. It’s a step-by-step guide designed to help you dismantle the false beliefs left by narcissistic abuse and build a new internal framework rooted in truth, safety, and self-respect.

You can learn more or get access to the Toolkit here.