Creating the Conditions for Deep Change

Why Safety Matters More Than Confrontation in My Work With Narcissistic Men

How have you worked with narcissistic men for so long?

She asked it with stunned incredulity. Beneath her question were others:

• Isn’t it exhausting?

• Do they ever change?

• Or, more poignantly: Why would you willingly beat your head against a wall doing this work?

I get many questions in my work, but this one comes up a lot.

I’ll confess—early on, I was often intimidated by the grandiosity, the certainty, the performance of strength that filled the room and left little space for vulnerability. I recall a man I saw more than two decades ago who would pull his luxury car into a spot reserved for people with disabilities, then enter my office like a star ballplayer stepping into an arena. Once he said, “I’m an important man, Chuck—if you waste my time in here, we’re done.”

I suspect others in his life heard that too.

Over time, though, I learned that this posture is rarely the whole story. If you can create the conditions for change—if you can stay long enough, if you can remain steady, curious, and safe—something else begins to emerge.

Let’s tease out these conditions for deep change.

Years ago, I operated from a different posture. I wasn’t seeking to cultivate safety and connection. No, I felt like I needed to match their strength—to stand tall, be firm, confront.

But here’s what happened: my clients resisted. Their defenses went up. Conflict escalated. Sure, some would submit under pressure, but that wasn’t at all indicative of real repentance, real change.

Back then, I didn’t yet understand what I now know about the nervous system: that lasting change is nearly impossible when someone is stuck in a defensive, survival stance. Still, I began to sense it intuitively. And my clients became my teachers.

I noticed something shift when I relaxed—in me and in them. I sensed that I didn’t have to work as hard as I was working. And I discovered that for my clients, feeling safe and seen was a prerequisite for any meaningful work.

Beneath the polished exterior is almost always a small, frightened boy who learned early that tenderness was dangerous, that need was unsafe, that survival required bravado. James Masterson’s classic work on personality disorders gave me early language for this—I was encountering a false self, which I would later come to understand as a protective part. And those parts only soften when it feels safe enough to do so.

I remember sitting with a man I’ll call Jack—wide shoulders, strong jaw, firm handshake, and about as much warmth as a winter day in West Michigan. He didn’t want to be there, but his wife had given him an ultimatum.

It took Jack months to thaw. Week after week, he’d grow in tenderness and curiosity.

One day he said, “I expected you’d eventually beat me up in here, but you’re kinder than I expected.”

(Mind you, Jack is twice my size)

“Did you get beat up before, Jack?” I asked, carefully and compassionately.

He sat quietly, his eyes fluttering.

In time, he told the story—of being beaten physically, emotionally, even spiritually. It was the first time I had seen gentle tears. He appeared tender, vulnerable—a little boy within unfurling, longing to be safely held.

Then came the confession: “I learned that as I got bigger, I could either get beaten—or beat you.”

And then I watched the visible shift: jaw tightening, pupils dilating, shoulders widening, a deep inhale.

“I could fucking beat you!” he said, looking directly in my eyes.

And he meant it.

My eyes softened, something unfamiliar to him in this place. I didn’t buck up.

And then the wall fell.

Grief poured out—tears for those he had hurt, including his own son, now showing signs of the same self-protection. Repentant and sorrowful tears.

And mine came too.

Two once-scared little boys now profoundly connected, marveling in the possibility of life outside of the armor.

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How have you worked with narcissistic men for so long? she asked.

Because beneath almost every hardened exterior is a story that was never safely told. Because I have watched men who once terrified rooms learn to sit quietly with their own fear. Because I have seen sons spared, marriages softened, and cycles interrupted when one man finally tells the truth about his pain.

This work is not about tweaking personalities or winning power struggles. It is about creating the conditions for deep change. And that begins with fostering enough safety for courage to grow. It is about staying present long enough for shame to loosen its grip. Yes, it is exhausting at times. No, not everyone changes. But some do. And when they do, the ripple effects are holy and immeasurable.

That’s not-at-all to minimize accountability. But that’s another essay for another time. Empathy and accountability can and do go hand-in-hand.

In the end, I do this work for men like Jack. I do it for the boys they once were, and the vulnerable little boy who still lives in me. I do it for the women, children, and communities who have lived in the shadow of unhealed wounds. I do it because I believe character is not formed through confrontation alone, but through compassion strong enough to hold the truth. I do it because healing is slow—and because staying is sometimes the most courageous thing we can offer.

And I keep showing up because every once in a while, a man lays down his armor— and a little boy comes home.

Resources

• The Emerging Self – James F. Masterson
  A foundational work on false self development, shame, and personality adaptations rooted in early attachment wounds.

• Narcissism in the Chair – Chuck DeGroat (chuckdegroat.net)
  My online course for therapists, pastors, and leaders working directly with narcissistic dynamics in counseling and ministry settings.

• When Narcissism Comes to Church – Chuck DeGroat
  An exploration of how narcissism operates in faith communities and how spiritual abuse takes root—and can be healed.

• The Internal Family Systems Workbook – Richard Schwartz
  A compassionate invitation to begin the journey of working with parts that shape personality and behavior.

• The Mindful Therapist – Daniel J. Siegel
  A rich integration of neuroscience, attachment, and presence for clinicians and caregivers.

• Healing Developmental Trauma – Laurence Heller & Aline LaPierre
  A powerful framework for understanding how early relational wounds shape adult defenses and identity.

• The Soul of Shame – Curt Thompson
  A spiritually grounded exploration of shame, belonging, and healing in community.

• Relational Psychotherapy – Patricia A. DeYoung
  A clear, humane framework for doing therapy rooted in attachment, attunement, and relational safety.

• Understanding and Treating Chronic Shame – Patricia A. DeYoung
  An essential resource for understanding how shame shapes personality, defenses, and relational patterns.

• Fawning: Why We People-Please and How to Stop – Ingrid Clayton
  A compassionate exploration of fawning as a survival response, especially common in relationships shaped by narcissism, emotional volatility, and power imbalance.

• Healing the Fragmented Selves of Trauma Survivors – Janina Fisher
  A masterful guide to working with dissociation, parts, and developmental trauma through a compassionate lens.

• It’s Not You – Ramani Durvasula
  A validating and accessible resource for those recovering from relationships marked by narcissistic abuse.

• From Wild Man to Wise Man – Richard Rohr
  A reflective and spiritually grounded exploration of masculine development, helping men move from bravado and reactivity toward maturity, humility, and generativity.

• I Don’t Want to Talk About It – Terry Real
  A landmark work on hidden depression in men, exploring how shame, emotional isolation, and cultural expectations shape defensive and self-protective patterns.

and this Fall(!):

• Who You’re Becoming: The Slow and Courageous Work of Cultivating Character in a Narcissistic Age - Chuck DeGroat

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