Divorcing a Narcissist: When Love Turns into Control

Over the years in my coaching practice, I’ve walked beside many men and women who have faced one of the most painful and disorienting experiences imaginable — divorcing a narcissist.

It’s a journey that’s never straightforward. Most of my clients describe feeling as though they’ve been caught in a psychological storm — one moment loved and idealized, the next devalued, ignored, or humiliated. Yet when they finally summon the courage to leave, they discover something both shocking and telling: the narcissist often doesn’t want the divorce at all. They don’t want to lose the control, the perks, and the ego supply that their partner provides.

When the Narcissist Doesn’t Want the Divorce — Just the Power

In almost every case I’ve coached, the narcissistic spouse insists that the marriage should continue — not out of love, but out of ownership.

They’ll say things like:

“You’re overreacting.”
“You just need to stop being so emotional —Just stop arguing.”
“No one else will ever love you the way I love you.”
“You have anxiety — who’s going to help you if you leave me?”

These phrases are not affectionate reassurance; they’re weapons of control. The message underneath is clear: You are incapable of standing on your own, and your worth depends on me.

The narcissist’s “love” is transactional. Their partner is not seen as an equal or a soul to be cherished but as an object of utility — someone who manages their image, covers for their blunders, meets their needs, absorbs their moods, and plays their supporting role in the grand performance of their life.

They do not want to divorce because they don’t want to lose their reflection — the person who validates, soothes, and quietly carries their emotional baggage. Yet they’ll continue to dehumanize that same partner — minimizing their feelings, rewriting history, and publicly humiliating them to maintain control.

The Narcissist’s Domination and Control

One of the earliest and most consistent signs of narcissistic control shows up in both conversation and environment.

In conversation, narcissists don’t listen — they redirect. They change the subject back to themselves or their own interests, regardless of the topic or the glazed expressions around them. They pin the listener — demanding attention, monopolizing airspace, and ignoring every cue of discomfort or disinterest.

Their stories become endless monologues about their work, their accomplishments, or their grievances, while others sit quietly, unseen and unheard. This conversational hijacking isn’t social awkwardness — it’s a subtle form of dominance. The narcissist’s need to be the centre of the universe ensures that no one else’s perspective, emotion, or idea can take up space for long.

And when they feel threatened or contradicted, they may raise their voice, talk over others, or walk away mid-discussion — abruptly ending the exchange so they never have to hear an opposing point of view. The result is always the same: the narcissist controls the tone, direction, and duration of every interaction.

Riding on Your Coat-tails

Narcissists are experts at attaching themselves to people with light — people who are capable, respected, and relationally alive. They are drawn to your strengths like moths to a flame.

If you have a vibrant career, meaningful friendships, or any degree of social presence, they will make it their mission to sit beside you at the head table. They want the appearance of success and the reflected glow of your credibility. The problem is, they have nothing to invite you to — no head table of their own, no friendships to introduce you to, no social circle where you can enjoy what they bring to the relationship.

They ride on your coat-tails — borrowing your reputation, your warmth, your competence, and your network — all while subtly diminishing you behind closed doors. They crave everything about you that they lack:

Your ability to form authentic connections.
Your emotional intelligence and adaptability.
Your willingness to grow, learn, and self-reflect.

Some even mimic your faith, pretending to share your spiritual convictions to win your trust. Yet once the vows are made and the ring is on your finger, the mask slips. Faith becomes a bait-and-switch — a performance tool used to manipulate, guilt, or silence you rather than a shared foundation of hope and truth.

The tragedy is that what they envied in you, they eventually attempt to destroy — because it reminds them of everything they refuse to become.

The Narcissist’s Control Over the Environment

But their domination doesn’t stop with people; it extends into the physical space of the home — every object, every purchase, every decision about what stays or goes. The narcissist views all material things — from furniture to family mementos — as theirs. Ownership, in their mind, belongs to them alone.

I’ve seen countless examples where a narcissistic spouse throws out their partner’s or children’s belongings without consultation — clothing, keepsakes, gifts, even cherished childhood items — all to assert dominance and remind everyone who holds power. And when divorce enters the picture, that behaviour often escalates. They may discard, destroy, or hide possessions with renewed vigor, using the loss as one more way to punish, humiliate, or destabilize those who are leaving.

One woman I once worked with described renting a small cubby at her local gym — tucked away in the women’s change room — because it was the only place she felt her narcissistic husband couldn’t invade or dominate. That tiny, locked space became her sanctuary, a symbol of the freedom she longed for but couldn’t find within her own home.

This behaviour is not about clutter or preference. It’s about control, erasure, and punishment. By deciding what stays and what goes, they reinforce the message: Everything — including you — exists on my terms.

This is psychological warfare — hurtful, disorienting, and impossible to make sense of. Over time, it conditions the partner and children to walk on eggshells, constantly anticipating the next outburst or shift in mood. The family of the narcissist often finds themselves bewildered by the boundary-busting, disrespectful behaviour. They struggle to rationalize it, making excuse after excuse, until eventually there’s nothing left to explain — the behaviour has simply become too bizarre, too unpredictable, and too cruel to justify.

The Narcissist’s Demands: Sex, Money, and Control

There are certain things narcissists insist upon in a relationship — non-negotiables that serve their sense of entitlement rather than mutual partnership.

They demand sex, regardless of emotional connection or relational health. To them, sex is a right, not an expression of love. Refusal or hesitation is seen as disrespect or rebellion.

They also insist that their partner work harder, earn more money, or constantly “improve” themselves — not for shared goals, but to maintain the lifestyle or image the narcissist believes they deserve. Many of my clients have been told to take on additional education and training that result in an increased paycheque; pick up a second job, or “figure out” new ways to make money, all while the narcissist does little to contribute beyond their regular nine-to-five.

In some households, the narcissistic parent even pushes their children to work two or three jobs, creating an environment where everyone is hustling — everyone, that is, except the narcissist. While the rest of the family is stretched thin, exhausted, and striving to meet unrealistic expectations, the narcissist spends their evenings watching television, scrolling on YouTube, or retreating into self-indulgent routines.

This double standard reinforces their hierarchy of control: they are the authority, the overseer, the one who must be served — while others carry the burden of their entitlement.

The Smear Campaign: When the Narcissist Writes the Script

When my clients decide to leave, almost all of them are met with an immediate and vicious smear campaign.

The narcissist moves fast — calling friends, family, coworkers, church members, but especially their own children — to get ahead of the story. They carefully craft a narrative in which they are the abandoned one, the misunderstood victim, and their spouse is painted as unstable or immoral.

I’ve seen this time and time again — especially when there’s a sexual component. The narcissist’s preoccupation with sex, status, and image means that when they lose control, they weaponize those same elements.

They’ll whisper that their spouse was unfaithful or “had issues,” even while they themselves were unfaithful, addicted to pornography, or chronically unkind. They project their shame onto the one who finally dared to leave, ensuring that you look seedy while they appear composed and victimized.

This tactic is not random — it’s strategic. They know that if they can tarnish your character, they can diminish your voice. And if they can diminish your voice, they can preserve their control.

Controlling the Narrative: The Narcissist’s Need to Rewrite History

Perhaps the most insidious pattern I’ve witnessed is the narcissist’s relentless drive to control the narrative of how the divorce happened.

They rewrite events so that nothing is ever their fault. They will blame your “emotional instability,” your “family’s interference,” your “midlife crisis,” or even “bad influences” from friends, counsellors, or faith communities — anyone and everyone except themselves.

Located at the bottom of this article is a link to another article that addresses, at length, the narcissist’s need to control the narrative.

They Are, In Fact, the Reason for the Divorce

They cannot bear to face the truth that their behaviour — years of criticism, manipulation, neglect, cruelty, antagonism, perpetual arguments, severe negativity, and covert hostility — is what ultimately destroyed the relationship.

To admit this would shatter the illusion they guard with an armour that is impenetrable: the image of being the misunderstood partner, the one who “tried their best,” or who “loved too deeply.” For a narcissist, acknowledging their own destructiveness would mean facing their greatest fear — shame — and shame is intolerable to them.

So they rewrite the story. They reframe their cruelty as superiority, their withdrawal as your fault, their domination as leadership, and their contempt as honesty.

One example from my coaching practice involved a husband who continually dismissed his wife’s abilities, insisting she “didn’t have the know-how,” and was therefore excluded from all major decisions — the specifications of the new house build, the hardware, the layout, even the smallest design details that made the house a home. He framed his condescension as wisdom, insisting he had done the research. When, after long discussions, they finally agreed on finishes or plans, he would come home having purchased or approved something entirely different — with no consultation. Later, when she expressed confusion or frustration, he simply said nothing and ignored her.

This is the narcissistic pattern in motion — the rewriting of reality. What was clearly control becomes “logic.” What was disrespect becomes “prudence.” What was betrayal becomes “miscommunication.” In their version of events, you become the unstable one — the problem, the cause, the “emotionally damaged” spouse who ruined what could have been beautiful.

They minimize their infidelity, their rage, their stonewalling, and their control, insisting you were “too sensitive” or “misremembering.” This is not confusion; it is deliberate psychological self-preservation. The narcissist’s fragile identity depends on being right, admired, and in control, so they construct a false narrative in which they are the victim and you are to blame.

And they tell that story everywhere — to friends, family, their children, anyone who will listen. They deliver it with conviction, repeating it so often that it begins to sound credible. Over time, even they start to believe it. The more they retell it, the more they distance themselves from truth, until the real events are buried beneath layers of denial, distortion, and projection.

You remember the sleepless nights, the circular arguments, being put on ignore, and the years of being told that you were the one who needed help. You were always willing to look at your flaws, to take responsibility for your part, and to do whatever it took to make things better. But they refused to do the same.

Narcissists are not self-reflective or self-aware. They lack the humility to examine their own behaviour or the empathy to understand its impact. Instead, they give lip service to growth — nodding along in counselling sessions, saying the right things in front of the therapist — then walking out of the office dismissing the entire process with comments like, “That guy’s an idiot; he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

At times they’ll also try to evade responsibility by blaming ADHD. While ADHD can affect attention, organization, and follow-through, it does not cause contempt, domination, gaslighting, smear campaigns, or serial betrayal. Many adults with ADHD take responsibility, pursue treatment, communicate transparently, and repair when they miss the mark. What you are dealing with here is not neurodiversity — it is entitlement and abuse. Using a diagnosis as a shield against accountability is just another manipulation tactic.

Financial Control

Financial control is another hallmark of narcissistic domination. They lecture you about “tightening your belt,” insist that you cannot spend money, and make you feel irresponsible for wanting small comforts or necessities. Yet, while you are budgeting and sacrificing, they are quietly spending the joint savings — buying big-ticket items like vehicles, tools, or luxury electronics without a word of consultation. They justify their spending as “necessary” or “earned,” while your smallest purchase is challenged. This hypocrisy is not about finances; it is about power. Money becomes a leash — a way to keep you dependent, apologetic, and afraid to assert your own needs.

One woman I coached described how her husband worked out of town most of the time. When he was home, he demanded accountability for every dollar — especially from her. One week, as he prepared to leave again, she told him they needed money for groceries and milk for the children. He snapped that he needed the money for cigarettes and warned that if he went without, he’d be “cursing” her the entire time he was gone. They had already borrowed from the grandparents. There was nowhere else to turn. So she gathered what courage she had left, bundled her children, and walked to the welfare office. One child peddled beside her on a little bike with training wheels, while the other two rode in a double stroller. She was humiliated — standing at the checkout with food stamps in hand, her face burning red with shame.

That moment marked a turning point. It never happened again, and she quietly vowed that she would never allow herself to be degraded that way again.

But the financial control continued in quieter, more insidious ways. She never had money to get her hair done, fix her teeth, or buy new clothes. Every sacrifice she made was for the children — ensuring they had what they needed, even if it meant she went without. Meanwhile, his preferences always took precedence. Her needs were dismissed as frivolous; his indulgences were framed as necessities.

And while she budgeted, stretched meals, and rationed necessities, he quietly drained the joint savings — buying big-ticket items like vehicles, electronics, or tools without a word of consultation. He justified every purchase as “earned” or “essential,” while her smallest request was challenged.

This hypocrisy was never about money; it was about power. Financial control is psychological warfare — a way to keep a spouse dependent, apologetic, and afraid to assert their own needs.

Narcissists are not just inconsistent; they are punishers. They use guilt, shame, and moral outrage as weapons of control, ensuring that even your attempts to heal are overshadowed by their relentless need to keep you beneath them.

Meanwhile, you are left reeling — trying to reconcile your lived experience with the version they broadcast to the world. And as they spin their tale of innocence, you begin to question yourself: Was I really too demanding? Too emotional? Too much?

That confusion is not an accident; it is gaslighting. It is how the narcissist keeps you doubting your own memory, tethered to their story, and apologizing for wounds they inflicted.

But here’s the truth: as mentioned they are the reason for the divorce. Their refusal to listen to your heart, to take responsibility, to grow, or to love without control is what dismantled the relationship. You did not fail — you finally woke up.

Reclaiming that truth is not about revenge; it’s about recovery. You take back your narrative not by arguing, but by living your truth — calmly, clearly, and without apology.

How the Relationship Unravels

In most marriages, the breakdown doesn’t begin with money or sex. Those are usually the final symptoms — not the cause. The unraveling starts quietly, long before one partner moves money into another account or before physical intimacy fades.

It often begins when the couple stops doing life together. Conversations become transactional. Meals are eaten separately. Shared interests fade. The relationship shifts from emotional partnership to logistical coordination — two people running a household but no longer sharing a heart.

Over time, they become more like business partners than lovers or friends — scheduling, managing, and surviving, but not truly connecting. Discussions turn into negotiations, and disagreements turn into battles. The tone changes: laughter gives way to tension; warmth gives way to criticism. Eventually, one stops talking altogether for fear that every conversation will spark another argument.

This silence is not peace — it is emotional exhaustion.

The routines continue, but the relationship no longer breathes. The hurting spouse stops reaching for the other. Within the relationship they stop dreaming together or asking questions that matter. And when emotional connection disappears, spiritual and physical intimacy inevitably follow. By the time sex becomes strained or money becomes part of the leaving plan, the relational, emotional, and spiritual ties have already been severed.

The tragedy is that the narcissist does not notice the breakdown at all — not when the emotional bond frays, not when the spiritual connection fades, and not when their partner quietly begins to detach. They only take notice when their physical access is threatened — when affection wanes, when admiration stops, or when sex is no longer available. That is when panic sets in, not because they miss the relationship, but because they’re losing their supply — the steady stream of attention, validation, and control that keeps their fragile ego intact.

For years, the narcissist has used their spouse as a human soother, a constant source of emotional regulation and narcissistic supply, never as a person to cherish. What they call “love” is dependency; what they call “connection” is control.

For the narcissist, sex is about validation, not connection. When their partner finally begins to pull away — physically — it is not received as hurt or fatigue but as defiance. As the relationship breaks down, sex often becomes a form of control or emotional blackmail.

Research published in the Journal of Interpersonal Violence and other peer-reviewed sources identifies this pattern as sexual coercion — when one partner uses guilt, manipulation, or relentless pursuit at all hours to obtain sex rather than mutual desire (Basile, 2002; Katz & Tirone, 2009). The pressured partner, worn down by conflict and constant emotional turbulence, may comply just to keep the peace.

This creates a painful cycle of obligation rather than genuine intimacy — a dynamic that is profoundly damaging to the subjected spouse. The person on the receiving end often feels trapped in their own home and body, disconnected from their needs, and quietly grieving the loss of what intimacy was meant to be. Each coerced encounter deepens the ache of being unseen — of realizing that what is being sought is not love, but supply. Over time, trust erodes, self-worth diminishes, and the soul begins to fracture under the weight of emotional exploitation.

True intimacy cannot exist without safety, respect, and consent. When one partner uses sex as a means of dominance rather than connection, it ceases to be an act of love and becomes yet another expression of control. Healing begins when the suffering partner reclaims their right to safety, choice, and dignity — both in body and in spirit.

When Sex Becomes a Stage, Not a Bond

The mindset and inner workings of the narcissist do not see sexuality the same way as emotionally healthier people do. For most individuals, sexual intimacy flows from connection — from mutual trust, affection, vulnerability, and shared safety. But for the narcissist, sex is not about union; it’s about supply. It becomes a means to regulate their fragile self-esteem, to prove desirability, to maintain dominance, or to silence the partner’s growing discontent.

Where healthy people use intimacy to give and to connect, narcissists use it to take — to feed a hollow center that cannot be filled. They often view sexuality as performance or currency rather than communion. They confuse being desired with being loved, and they equate conquest with worth. This distorted lens makes them incapable of experiencing sex as an act of mutual tenderness; instead, it becomes another domain to control.

The narcissist becomes fixated on the topic of sex, convinced that everyone around them — friends, family, even strangers, but especially YOU — must be as preoccupied with it as they are. And if you ever made a mistake or had an indiscretion, that becomes their permanent talking point — the single story they tell about you. They inflate that moment until it eclipses every other truth about the relationship — your years of endurance, faithfulness, or effort — because it is the only narrative that lets them avoid self-reflection.

In their version of events, sex is everything, and because they view relationships through that lens, they have no concept of the deeper elements that build lasting partnership: trust, empathy, forgiveness, communication, and shared purpose. As relationship researcher Dr. John Gottman has shown, the leading predictors of divorce are not money or infidelity — they are what he calls the Four Horsemen of the Relationship Apocalypse: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling.

These are the very behaviours that define the narcissistic dynamic. Money and sex often become the battlegrounds, not the causes, when a suffering spouse finally throws in the towel after years of emotional starvation and psychological warfare.

And yet, when the marriage ends, the narcissist distills the entire story down to one accusation: you were somehow deviant or unfaithful. They imply that your moral “issues” destroyed the relationship — all while concealing their own sexual duplicity and dysfunction.

In truth, many of these same individuals live double lives marked by infidelity, compulsive pornography use, coercion, or patterns of sexual dominance that strip intimacy of tenderness and respect. Their accusations are a psychological projection — an attempt to offload their own shame and moral corruption onto you so they can remain the “clean” one in public view.

They were the ones who had the affair — the secret relationship that everyone else seemed to notice while you, still trusting, missed the signs. People tried to tip you off, but you couldn’t believe it at first. And yet, if you ever faltered, even in a moment of deep loneliness or pain, they would never let you live it down. They would crucify you for the rest of your life, weaponizing your humanity as proof of your unworthiness, while denying their own betrayal to the bitter end.

And if you have ever apologized for an indiscretion, apologize once — then never again. Your apology will be used as ammunition, twisted into evidence of guilt, and thrown back at you to keep you small. Narcissists cannot bear accountability, but they thrive on your self-blame. Guard your truth, and never hand it to them again.

As narcissists age, their ability to attract a partner begins to falter. The charm that once drew people in wears thin, replaced by arrogance, self-absorption, and a tiresome need to dominate every conversation. Many become unattractive — not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Their egos have grown louder even as their appeal has faded. What remains is a hollow bravado that few find engaging.

As a result, the only individuals they could attract are often people they themselves deem “beneath them” — those they would never genuinely respect or commit to. Yet instead of recognizing that their own arrogance and cruelty have made them undesirable, they twist the narrative into contempt. They sneer at anyone who might show them interest, dismissing them as unworthy or inadequate, all while secretly craving the admiration they can no longer command.

If given the opportunity, they would betray you again in a heartbeat — and often have in the past. The only thing that restrains them now is not moral reform, but diminished access. Many narcissists who are not currently involved in infidelity are not abstaining out of conviction or integrity, but simply due to lack of opportunity. If the door opened, they would walk through it without hesitation.

Jesus spoke directly to this kind of duplicity when He said, “First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean” (Matthew 23:26). The narcissist concerns themselves only with polishing the outside — the appearance, the reputation, the performance of goodness — while leaving the inside untouched, filled with pride, deceit, and self-justification. They may appear respectable on the surface, but beneath the veneer lies a heart that refuses repentance and accountability.

Aging does not humble them; it only exposes what has always been there. And even after the spouse has left, the punishment continues — just in different form. Unable to control their partner directly, they turn to character assassination, projecting their bitterness through the stories they tell. They weaponize reputation, rewriting history for their children, friends, and anyone who will listen. The goal is the same as it always was: to regain control, to damage credibility, and to ensure the spotlight never shifts toward their own failure. Their resentment festers, and they pour it out through distortion and defamation, punishing the one who dared to walk away.

It’s a cruel inversion of reality. The one who tried to bring light, healing, or boundaries into the relationship becomes branded as corrupt, while the narcissist — often the true source of sexual distortion — presents as righteous and wronged.

Understanding this dynamic helps survivors reclaim their dignity. The problem was never your morality; it was their manipulation. Their story was never about truth — it was about deflection, dominance, and disguise.

The Refusal to Take Responsibility

If there’s one hallmark of narcissism that emerges again and again in my sessions, it’s this:
They will not take responsibility.

Not for the lies.
Not for the cruelty.
Not for the betrayal or the public slander.

The narcissist’s survival depends on never being the problem. In their eyes, the only issue is that you no longer played your part. The moment you stepped out of their script, you became their enemy.

This is why, even after separation and divorce, many clients find the narcissist still orbiting their lives — stirring up conflict, slandering them to their own children, extended family, or colleagues in a relentless effort to re-enter the conversation. They insert themselves through gossip and accusation, ensuring that your name remains on their lips — not out of longing, but out of strategy.

If you ever wonder what dating them would be like now, imagine the new partner listening to endless diatribes about you, as if you were the villain in every story — a person with “Satanic horns,” as one client joked bitterly, after hearing how grotesquely she was portrayed.

They don’t want reconciliation; they want access — access to your emotions, your energy, and your attention. They crave the reaction that says, You still see me. I still matter.

But it isn’t love.
It is control pure and simple.

Breaking the Silence: Speaking Truth to Your Children

One of the hardest but most liberating shifts in healing comes when you stop protecting the narcissist’s image and start speaking the truth — especially to your children.

For years, many spouses of narcissists have learned to stay quiet: to cover, to smooth over, to protect the children from “knowing too much.” But as Dr. Richard Warshak writes in Divorce Poison, silence often does more harm than good. It allows the narcissist’s version of events to take root unchallenged and teaches children to distrust their own perceptions.

With adult children, truth-telling can become a moral and relational responsibility. This doesn’t mean speaking in bitterness or trying to recruit them to “take sides.” It means telling the truth with calm clarity — explaining what actually happened, how control and manipulation were disguised as love, and how dishonesty shaped the family dynamic. When you speak truth, you help your adult children make sense of what they saw and felt for years but couldn’t name. It validates their reality and models emotional integrity — something the narcissist never could.

For younger children, Divorce Poison emphasizes that truth must be offered gently, in age-appropriate ways that focus on reassurance, safety, and honesty without vilifying the other parent. Younger children need to know that what happened is not their fault, that both parents are responsible for their own behaviour, and that love should never feel manipulative or frightening.

This kind of truth-telling is an act of protection — shielding young hearts from the confusion of gaslighting and helping them discern the difference between love and control.

Whether your children are young or grown, telling the truth is not an act of revenge; it’s an act of restoration. It untangles the web of deceit and helps prevent the same dynamics from repeating in the next generation.

When done prayerfully, humbly, and without malice, truth-telling becomes a sacred step toward healing the family system — and yourself.

Healing: Reclaiming Your Story, Step by Step

When clients come to me in the aftermath of divorcing a narcissist, they’re exhausted — mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Many no longer recognize themselves.

The healing process begins by helping them:

Name the truth — what happened, without minimizing it.
Detach from the narcissist’s narrative — you are not who they say you are.
Rebuild agency — small, consistent choices that re-establish self-trust.
Anchor in faith — remembering that God’s truth doesn’t shift with gossip or gaslighting.
Relearn safety and rest — physically, emotionally, spiritually.

This is where the shift from insecure and reactive to secure and responsible begins. It’s not instant. It’s a rebuilding — layer by layer — of truth, worth, and quiet strength.

A Word of Hope

If you are in the process of divorcing a narcissist, know this: you are not crazy. You are not dirty, broken, or weak. You are someone who has survived emotional warfare and is now learning to live free.

The narcissist will rewrite history — but history belongs to truth, not illusion.

At Waypoint Wellness & Performance Coaching, I’ve seen men and women rise from the ashes of these relationships with a newfound clarity: I don’t need to fix them. I just need to heal me.

And that’s where freedom begins.
One decision at a time.
One boundary at a time.
One act of courage at a time.

You are not defined by the smear campaign. You are defined by the quiet, steady work of becoming whole again — rooted in truth, fortified by grace, and led by hope.

Coaching Invitation

If this story resonates with you — if you’re walking through the fog of a narcissistic relationship or trying to rebuild after leaving one — you don’t have to navigate it alone.

At Waypoint Wellness & Performance Coaching, We offer (upon request) faith-based, practical guidance to help you regain clarity, confidence, and peace. Together we’ll focus on reclaiming your voice, re-establishing boundaries, and writing a new chapter grounded in truth and healing.

To reach out to George or Lesley for coaching support head over to the contact page. Click Here

For further reading check out, Unveiling the Narcissistic Pursuit of Narrative: Scapegoats Navigating the Path to Truth through Faith