"What is the world?"

Diane* was four when she asked this to a stunned group of grown-ups.

Here was a young girl, not yet school-age, posing an existential question that philosophers have spent centuries trying to answer.

"They looked at me askance, like it was too complex to ask," Diane, now in her 60s, told Mamamia.

But the small child was determined.

"I became a voracious reader because I knew that was the key to finding out for myself what everything was about."

By the time she hit school, Diane's thirst for knowledge had only grown.

Her teachers would tell her mum how smart her little girl was. And her mum would relish in the compliments.

"When she recognised I was academically gifted, she liked that," Diane said. "It reflected well on her."

The mother saw her daughter as a 'mini-me', even sewing miniature versions of her own dresses for Diane to wear.

"I was a proud extension of her," Diane said.

But the dynamic wouldn't last.

Watch: Where do narcissists come from? Post continues after video.

When the family moved to a different suburb, Diane struggled to adapt to her new, highly militant school.

For the first time, her grades plummeted. And her mum wasn't happy.

"Instead of my mother understanding I wasn't coping with the transition, that whole summer she didn't speak to me," Diane said.

The young girl "shut down". She was slowly learning the consequences of getting on her mother's "wrong side".

"I became hypervigilant. A child learns that if you want to be loved and approved of, you just do exactly what your mother wants."

But as she grew up, Diane couldn't ignore her own aspirations.

"I became my own authentic person and created my own passions," she said. "My mum didn't like my independent personality. If I said something she didn't like, she would not talk to me for weeks."

Of course, to the outside world, everything appeared normal. Perfect, even; which is exactly what Diane's mother wanted.

"My mother presents to the world as the sweetest, fairest, wisest and softly-spoken lady. Even l still sometimes get sucked into the mythology of her public persona," she said.

"But she reserved her venom for me."

There were, however, "warm moments".

"That's what was so confusing as a child," Diane said.

Years later, when Diane described this confusion to a therapist, she was given two words that changed her life: covert narcissism.

"The cultural stereotype of narcissism is loud, boastful, and visibly self-aggrandising. Many narcissistic mothers are not like this," psychotherapist Amanda Robins told Mamamia.

Cover or "subtle" narcissism is less about "overt arrogance" and more to do with "chronic self-preoccupation."

As the therapist listed the behaviours of a covert narcissist, Diane recognised them immediately.

"One of the overlooked signs is conditional warmth; affection that fluctuates depending on the child's compliance or performance," Amanda said, "Family structures are usually based around meeting the needs of the narcissist. Her moods are paramount."

Then there's the "subtle undermining of the child's autonomy, all while maintaining a public image of devotion."

"Often the daughter grows up feeling confused rather than obviously abused — sensing something is 'off' but unable to name it," said the psychotherapist.

"It can take many years before the pattern is recognised."

Listen: How to protect yourself against a narcissist. Post continues below.

For a period, Diane managed to carve an identity from her mother. Working in her dream job overseas for seven years.

But when her mum begged her to come home, she acquiesced.

"I often did what she wanted rather than follow my own path in life."

According to Amanda, "guilt is extremely common" for daughters dealing with covert narcissism.

"Many have been conditioned to prioritise the mother's emotional needs and to equate self-protection with selfishness," she said.

In recent years, however, Diane's relationship with her mother has shifted.

Since being diagnosed with a neurological condition affecting memory, Diane's mum is treating her daughter differently.

"As she becomes frailer, mum has started to confide in me. The mask of the false ego is slipping. The mind games have stopped as her recall diminishes."

Diane, who is now her mum's primary carer, feels she is being treated as an equal for the first time,

"She's trusting me with stories of her life. I wonder if she's making peace."

As Diane learns more about her mother's past, she has more compassion for her behaviour.

"There is intergenerational trauma that shaped the kind of mother she herself became. That is why l have been able to forgive her and choose, in her last years, to be there for her."

According to Amanda, it's possible to have empathy for a "parent's limitations while also acknowledging harm."

"These two realities are not mutually exclusive."

Today, Diane is putting the past behind and healing her inner child.

"When you grow up that little child, you validate yourself, you realise that you are enough, you recognise yourself to be a good person. You start to get your confidence back," she said.

"I feel like I took ownership of myself and I started thinking, 'what do I want with the years I have left?' Peace. I just want inner peace."

Feature Image: Getty. Stock image for illustrative purposes only.

*Names have been changed for privacy reasons.