“You’re like a daughter to me”
Norlander: If I had a dollar for every time a mentor said “You’re like a daughter to me” right before doing something that no healthy parent would do, I’d be retired on a beach with my phone on Do Not Disturb.
Jada: And I’d be sitting right next to you with my fruity drink, because chile… same.
Here’s the thing: when you’re early in your career or even mid-career and finally getting that “big break” the words I see something in you hit different. They sound like safety. They feel like belonging. And if you’ve been navigating systems where Black women, women of color, or just you in your wholeness are rare, it’s intoxicating to have someone pick you.
That belonging comes with a line: “You’re like a daughter to me.” And if you’ve ever had complicated dynamics with a parent, you know how loaded that sentence can be. That one phrase wasn’t just about mentorship. It’s about role-casting. And once you’ve accepted the role, the script already written.
It starts with access: “Come with me to this meeting, sit in on this call, let me introduce you to so-and-so.” Then the praise: “You’re the only one I trust with this,” “You’re going to go far,” “You remind me of myself at your age.”
And just when you’re floating on that cloud of affirmation, the shift happens.
The access becomes gatekeeping.
The praise becomes performance management.
And that seat at the table? You realize you’re not there to eat. You’re there to make them look good as the one who “brought you up.”
The Pattern: Who Is the Mentor Manipulator?
In Wounded vs. Wholeness Leadership™ terms, the Mentor Manipulator is that wounded leadership archetype who uses mentorship as a leash.
They don’t guide you toward independence. They groom you for dependence.
They want protégés, not peers.
They want loyalty, not liberation.
They want you to shine, but only in ways that keep their own light looking brighter.
They’ll sell it as “protecting you from the politics” or “helping you grow strategically.” But what they’re really doing is running your career like a side hustle where your wins feed their ego and your failures become proof that you still “need” them.
And because they wear the costume of generosity, it can take years to realize you’ve been positioned as an accessory, not a mentee.
Why They’re So Hard to Spot
Let’s be honest. The early days with a Mentor Manipulator are euphoric.
They text you after meetings. They give you “insider” advice. They tell you the real story behind decisions. You feel special, chosen, ahead of the curve.
And because most of us have been told to just be grateful for any mentor, we ignore the creeping red flags:
- Praise with a side of possession: “You’re my person” sounds cute until you realize it’s shorthand for “I own your loyalty.”
- Overexposure to their drama: You know too much about their rivalries, their grudges, their unfiltered opinions of the higher-ups.
- Subtle isolation: They encourage you to keep certain ideas, contacts, or opportunities “between us.”
Sometimes it’s not just workplace politics. It’s personal. The Mentor Manipulator taps into the same attachment wiring you have with family.
Some mentors mother you in ways that felt affirming at first: advice, protection, a sense of being held. But underneath? They sew tiny seeds of doubt. Not “you’re not good enough” in one blow, but little questions planted over time:
Are you sure you can handle that yet?
You don’t want to move too fast.
You’re still so young.
When doubt is disguised as care, you start thinking they’re the only one who can truly “see” you. And that’s exactly how they keep you tethered.
How It Shows Up in Real Life
The Mentor Manipulator isn’t always obvious, but their patterns are predictable once you know what to look for:
- Your wins become their wins. Every time you achieve something, they make sure people know they “discovered you,” “trained you,” or “gave you your start.”
- Opportunities are rationed, not shared. They’ll give you just enough visibility to keep you loyal, but not enough to surpass them or step into true independence.
- Advice doubles as sabotage. They might steer you toward choices that keep you in their orbit: jobs, projects, or roles that benefit them more than you.
- They control your network. If you meet someone powerful without them, expect frostiness. If you get invited to a meeting they didn’t arrange, suddenly “it’s not the right time for you to be in that space.”
- Emotional currency. They confide in you just enough to create a false sense of intimacy, but weaponize that closeness if you start pulling away.
The Impact: On You, On Culture, On Your Nervous System
Being mentored by a manipulator doesn’t just mess with your career. It messes with your nervous system.
- Self-doubt on loop. You start questioning your own readiness, your own instincts.
- Guilt as a leash. You feel bad even thinking about leaving because “they’ve done so much for you.”
- Isolation. You realize you haven’t built many independent relationships because your access has been funneled through them.
Seeds of doubt, once planted, have a way of rooting deep. You start thinking you need their blessing before making moves. You start seeing your growth through their eyes instead of your own. That’s not mentorship. That’s identity management. And it works, because they’ve made themselves the soil your self-worth grows in.
From Orbit Interrupted: The Scars They Leave on Collaboration
The thing about scars is that they’re permanent. But that doesn’t mean they’re permanent damage. A scar is proof of healing, but it also changes the texture of the skin. And after a Mentor Manipulator, your professional “skin” changes.
You might keep a little more distance in collaborations. You might hesitate before trusting someone’s offer to “take you under their wing.” You might over-prepare for meetings so no one can “clarify” your own ideas back to you. These are your collaboration calluses, formed in the friction of working with someone who claimed to build you up while quietly breaking you down.
The danger is when we confuse calluses for wisdom. Yes, they can protect you, but they can also dull your sensitivity. Wholeness means learning to collaborate again without making the next person pay for the last one’s crimes.
The Wholeness-Centered Interruption™
Breaking free from a Mentor Manipulator takes both strategy and self-compassion. You can’t just ghost. They’ll turn it into a betrayal narrative. But you can exit without giving them the satisfaction of playing the villain in their story.
Spot the shift early.
Notice when advice starts feeling like direction. When “guidance” starts feeling like gatekeeping.
Rebalance the emotional ledger.
Mentorship isn’t a lifetime debt. Write down what you’ve given as well as what you’ve received.
Quietly diversify your network.
Meet people outside their circle. Build relationships that aren’t filtered through their approval.
Respond, don’t react.
When they pull the “you owe me” card, respond with neutrality:
“I’m grateful for what I’ve learned here, and I’m excited to take these skills into my next chapter.”
Exit like you’re leaving a bad lease.
Quietly, with your security deposit .. your dignity ….intact.
From Orbit Interrupted: Re-Entry After Manipulation
In Orbit Interrupted, I talk about how every wound to your leadership is also a wound to your ability to imagine freely. The Mentor Manipulator doesn’t just limit your career. They interrupt your orbit. They make you second-guess the gravitational pull of your own ideas.
That’s why the Wholeness-Centered Interruption™ isn’t just an exit strategy. It’s a re-entry strategy.
Who do you want to collaborate with now that you’re free?
How do you want to feel in those collaborations?
What version of you do you want to bring into the room?
Reflection: From Protégé to Peer
The hardest part about leaving a Mentor Manipulator is realizing the relationship was never as mutual as you thought.
But here’s the reframe. The goal of real mentorship is for you to outgrow it. A mentor who’s worth their salt celebrates your independence, not resents it.
Every scar has a story, but not every story needs to be repeated. You can look at the seam where the wound healed and say, “That’s where I learned what love isn’t. That’s where I learned what leadership isn’t. That’s where I promised myself never to mistake control for care again.”
And then you move. You collaborate with people who honor your wholeness. You mentor in ways that hand people their wings, not clip them. You let your scars guide you without letting them fence you in.
Listen to Jada’s episode of Wounded vs. Wholeness Leadership™ for the unfiltered conversation on the Mentor Manipulator. We’re naming names (not literally, but energetically), breaking down the receipts, and talking about what real, wholeness-centered mentorship looks like.
Because your growth was never supposed to be somebody else’s control strategy.