Through the Fog: Navigating Narcissism and Financial Abuse in Court.

A few years ago, I left a long marriage that had, over time, eroded so much of my confidence and sense of safety. I was juggling a baby, pre-teens, and a stepdaughter—managing the complex dynamics of a blended family, holding emotional responsibility for the whole household, and slowly realising that I couldn’t be the one steadying the ship anymore. I had been trying to keep everything afloat for everyone else, but at the huge cost of myself.

The years since have been about trying to rebuild—financially, emotionally, practically—piece by piece, with no clear path ahead.

As I tirelessly try to find solid ground again, I’ve been navigating the relentless drip of evasions, delays, and legal tactics that seem less about resolution and more about erosion—of my time, energy, and hope. And yet, amid all of it, I keep trying to raise our three children with as much love and joy as I can muster, always centring their wellbeing—and catch up on a career that is both a necessity and a dream.

I’ve had to explain deeply personal, complex realities to professionals in systems not built for nuance. I’ve watched my children get pulled into dynamics they didn’t ask for. And I’ve made decisions no parent should ever have to face—just to give them a sense of safety and continuity.

There’s something surreal about watching someone you once built a life with stand up in court and present a version of reality that leaves out everything that matters. Not just the facts, but the context. The effort. The emails. The unanswered invitations to work together. The children’s actual needs.

This season of my life—deep in legal proceedings, parenting through instability, and still building something hopeful—has been the most clarifying experience I’ve ever lived through.

And also one of the hardest.

Narcissism Doesn’t Disappear in Court

At the heart of so many of these dynamics—beneath the legal games, emotional manipulation, and strategic storytelling—is the same underlying force: control.

In my case, that control has shown up most clearly through financial abuse. It’s not always dramatic or obvious. Sometimes it looks like a slow drip of withheld payments, delayed obligations, or intentional stalling—designed not just to create pressure, but to keep me off balance.

Sometimes litigation becomes the weapon—not to find resolution, but to punish, to delay, to play control games behind a veneer of legality. To drain time, money, and emotional reserves. To create instability. Because financial abuse isn’t really about money. It’s about power. It’s about ensuring dependency, disrupting progress, and undermining confidence—quietly, persistently.

And still, I keep going.

What’s become painfully clear is that court doesn’t always expose these tactics. In fact, it can become a stage for them. Narcissists don’t arrive looking for compromise or resolution. They arrive to win. And they’ll do it by any means necessary.

They tell compelling stories that draw people in, full of carefully chosen emotion, selective truth, and enough charm and faux-vulnerability to plant just enough doubt.

They don’t always lie outright (but I've witnessed that happen too). They omit. They pivot. They cry on cue. And they always make it about them, overtly or covertly.

And in a system overwhelmed and under-resourced, that can be dangerously persuasive—especially when you’re the one holding the unglamorous truth—there to get through it, not to compete for an Olivier Award.

What It Feels Like

It’s disorienting. It’s exhausting. It’s maddening to be told you’re “pre-empting the court” for organising school placements when he ignored every offer to collaborate. It’s surreal to hear someone use the words “co-parenting” and “children’s best interests” like they’re part of the plan, while doing everything in their power to delay, block, and derail what’s best.

But it also becomes a kind of mirror.

You start to see clearly—not just who they are, but who you are becoming in response.

Because there’s only so many times you can present calm, factual evidence in the face of performance before you realise: your strength isn’t in the theatre. It’s in the quiet clarity.

The Lessons (So Far)

- Not every provocation deserves your energy. Narcissists thrive on distraction and chaos. But if you can stay rooted in your purpose—protecting your children, staying honest, honouring your own wellbeing—you stop dancing to their rhythm.

- You don’t need to match their emotion. You don’t need to cry louder, speak more passionately, or look more hurt. In fact, your steadiness speaks far louder than any drama ever could.

- Documentation is power. When someone operates in shadows and distortions, facts become your lighthouse. Keep records. Create timelines. Make it easy for people to see the pattern.

- Call out financial abuse—early and clearly. Financial control is a form of abuse—and it belongs in your court narrative just as much as any other coercive pattern. If it’s happening, name it. Use the C100 form (for child arrangements), Form A (to initiate financial remedy proceedings) and Form E (for financial disclosure), and to make the pattern visible. While Form A is more administrative, your supporting documents—like position statements and chronologies—can describe the full impact: missed payments, economic manipulation, the use of litigation to create financial pressure or delay progress. Describe how these tactics erode your stability. Don’t assume the court understands the link between financial control and power—spell it out clearly and calmly.

- You are not alone. So many of us are walking this line—navigating toxic dynamics in systems not fully equipped to see them for what they are. The more we speak, the more light we bring—and the harder it becomes for professionals to ignore the truth.

Winning the War, Not the Battles

There’s a temptation to fight every untruth. To call out every lie and manipulation. But that’s how we lose ourselves. That’s how they keep us stuck—locked into proving, defending, reacting—while they maintain control of the narrative, one provocation at a time.

It’s distraction by design. And the real work is not getting pulled into it.

When you're up against someone using financial abuse to maintain control, your number one goal becomes freedom—at all costs. Because their tactics aren’t just about refusing to pay or hiding assets. They’re about making the entire process so draining, so expensive, so slow, that you lose the will or the means to keep going. It’s an attempt to win by attrition.

And it works—unless you recognise it for what it is, and choose a different strategy.

So I’ve learnt to let some things go—not because they don’t matter, but because I do. Because my energy is finite. Because my peace matters. Because I want my children to see a different kind of power.

This is a long game. And I no longer get caught up in the cognitive distortion, because I can see things clearly. I’m here to create peace. To model something different. To build a life where my children— and I—can feel safe, steady, and free.

Susie xx

If This Is You Too...

If you’re in it too—navigating narcissistic behaviour in court, feeling like the truth is somehow never enough—please know this: you’re not imagining it. You’re not overreacting. And you’re not alone.

You’re doing something brave. Something hard. Something that will, eventually, give you your life back.

And we’re here with you.

✨ We're also running a free workshop on understanding and navigating financial abuse on Thursday 29th May 2025. If this resonates with you—or you want to understand the legal and emotional landscape better—please join us. Click here.