A new insight on being the only child of a narcissistic mother

Posted on September 15, 2014 by luckyotter

After putting up my post yesterday, I did more reading on the subject of being a child of a narcissistic parent because there was something in my experience that wasn’t quite sitting right with me and didn’t seem to “fit” the typical narcissistic parent/child relationship: the fact that my mother sometimes praised me effusively rather than using me as a scapegoat. Although usually these compliments were about innate qualities (such as my appearance or intelligence), there were a few occasions when I did get a genuine compliment on something I’d accomplished. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. I wasn’t sure how to explain the anomaly.

In further research after publishing my post, I came across this article that made it crystal clear why my situation was somewhat different than a scapegoated child who had siblings. Although I had older half-siblings on both parents’ sides, in THAT marriage I was the only child. Only children are under a lot of pressure to be all things to the narcissistic mother/father: scapegoat, Golden Child, comrade, worshipful subject, whipping post. While usually I was treated as a scapegoat (especially when my mother had the opportunity to triangulate against me or gaslight me with the help of her flying monkeys) because I was so sensitive (and they HATE that), there were times she was nice to me, even loving. But as a narcissist, she couldn’t truly love, so that “love” was fake and always shortlived. She usually employed this tactic when she was needy–in between her lovers, say, or when her pride had been hurt on the job or by another person. Sometimes she used it after we’d had a huge argument and she wanted to get me back into her good graces. Of course, she never SAID she was needy at these times, but she was needy because her source of narcissistic supply was threatened. So her false front of sweetness was a handy trick to get what she needed.

Most of the time, she only showed this sweet side to others, not to me. I was most convenient to her as a target of her rage because I had what she did not (high sensitivity and intuition) and she was terrified this quality might be her undoing–the thing that might cause me to “out” her one day, which is exactly what I’m doing but couldn’t until I went No Contact (I’ve been No Contact for several years actually). My high sensitivity was why I was usually a scapegoat although for my mother, I sometimes filled those other roles too when it was convenient.

It’s the narcissist’s fear of being “outed” that’s the real reason why they target and bully the most sensitive among us. It’s a shocking realization, but I really think that is what’s behind the narcissist’s hatred of “weakness.” This type of “weakness” they abhor and denigrate is a gift they were not endowed with, a gift they envy because of its power, and one they fear because they know it can hone in one the narcissist’s lies and pretenses like a laser beam and expose them for the monsters they really are, and that possibility scares the shit out of them. And I’ll go out on a limb here and say it’s exactly why powerful narcissists in big government, big religion and big business so often demonize critical thinking, art, science, and spirituality (as opposed to dogmatic religion)–because these things are about TRUTH and thereby shed their light on the narcissists, exposing them and their lies. It’s also why they demonize the vulnerable among us (the poor, the homeless, the sick, the mentally ill, as well as LGBT and non-white minorities)–because the ugly consequences of psychopathic hatred and psychopathic policies can be best seen among these vulnerable groups who are unjustly blamed for their own condition.

Finding myself: a hopeless task if you depend on narcissists to do the job for you (late adolescence/early adulthood)

Posted on September 14, 2014 by luckyotter

As I entered my late teens, I started to focus on relationships to the expense of developing skills, interests and securing a viable future career. I had a nearly pathologic tendency to fall in love easily, almost always with the wrong guys–guys who would reject me, guys who would initially be loving and generous and then turn into monsters when they gained my trust. For someone who grew up constantly being lied to, put down, and disappointed by broken promises from my immediate family, I was remarkably naive and tended to trust men too easily. The only explanation for this I can think of is that I was desperate to find the mother-love I never had, in the form of a romantic relationship.

I was addicted to romance. I watched romantic movies and read romantic stories all the time, write romantic poetry, envied my friends who were in loving and stable relationships, and longed for that “perfect relationship” (this during a time when women were not encouraged to become involved seriously until they got an education and/or established themselves in a career). My crushes came like waves–one after the other, some fun and exciting, but all too often overwhelming, with the power to knock me over breathless and suck me under their powerful currents. My romantic involvements with these men were intense–if you’ve ever read Dorothy Tennov’s 1979 book Love and Limerence, I went through the whole gamut of emotions connected to that condition–from the heady, almost surreal highs of obsessing over and idealizing my crush, to the delibitating lows that left me wanting to die when I even sensed they were pulling away (or just not interested).

In my late teens and early 20s, I got involved in two abusive (one physically and emotionally, the other mentally and emotionally) relationships with narcissistic men that I won’t go into detail about, as over the long hall they had little importance in my life and both dumped me in the end (which of course was devastating to me, even though I’d been trying to break up with the second narcissist, Ryan, for MONTHS to no avail because he kept stalking me–how DARE he dump me after the hell he’d put me through?!) I was livid. But also relieved. So, anyway, in time I moved on. Although I’d finally learned to not show my emotions on the surface as much as when I was a child (in fact I had become somewhat closed off by this time), I still felt everything so damn deeply on the inside! It could be a real handicap. But these unhealthy relationships had their moments in those days. When I was happy, I was REALLY happy, fleeting though that happiness was.

How strange that I wanted to trust a man so much, after having been treated with so much rejection by both my parents. But maybe I was trying to get that love I craved so badly. And I seemed to be a MAGNET for the abusive, MN type of man. They must have sensed my vulnerability as much as I tried to cover it up.

In spite of my high intelligence and creativity. I loved to write, draw and paint, and at the time was very much into photography, which like everything else I ever began to pursue, I gave up due to a setback: my camera I had saved a whole months’s worth of pay had been stolen, along with all my other camera equipment. As a result I never pursued photography seriously again, although to this day I’m still told I have an “eye” and should take it up again. (Perhaps I will).

Looking back over my life I see a pattern. EVERY time I started to pursue an interest seriously, or undertake some sort of training or an opportunity that would have improved my life and circumstances, I ALWAYS found some reason to give it up, lose interest, or sabotage myself in some way when it became clear too much work or study would be involved or there might be too many setbacks. I was TERRIFIED of failure and CONVINCED I would fail at anything I pursued. All my life my parents, especially Ginny, had told me I could never stick to anything or follow through, and would never amount to anything much because of my terrible personality, and it seemed their prophecy had become true. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was probably PROGRAMMED by them to fail. Although they never said outright they wished I’d fail, I know they never really wanted me to become successful because then I would have power over them (or what they would perceive as such) and then they could no longer scapegoat me as the “family fuckup” (their name for me to this day).

Recall I said in my last blog post I don’t think my father is actually psychopathic, but he’s been deeply influenced by them and always been in collusion with both Ginny (my mother) and his current wife, who is very likely an MN. They call all the shots–Harry is a classic N-enabler who knuckles under to their bidding. And now he’s too frail and sick to ever escape from it. More about this later.

So…following high school I didn’t express much interest in attending college–again, I think this was to rebel against my parents, who continually compared me with my older half siblings, who had all gone to and graduated from college and thought it unthinkable that I would not go.

Or maybe I simply wasn’t ready. At age 18 going on 19, I had no idea what I wanted to do or be, and so after attending for one semester I dropped out. My father was enraged and refused to ever pay for me to further my education ever again. He’d decided I was unmotivated and lazy and nothing could ever change his opinion. He failed to understand I simply wasn’t ready yet, because after a few years of being able to find nothing but dead end jobs (and I was expected to pay my own rent and support myself on these menial jobs) I desperately wanted to go to college and major in psychology. I was 22 at the time and though my father could have afforded to pay for me to go, he refused to help. Because I was still at the age where the college financial aid office counts your parents’ income in whether or not you get a grant, and my parents were doing well financially, I qualified for no student aid or grants except student loans. But I was determined so I took out the loans and attended classes at night, carrying a full time credit load and also working full time during the day because there was no way I could have given up my dead end job, much as I disliked it. Somehow I managed to maintain a 3.5-4.0 GPA and was even on the Deans list for a couple of semesters.

But by the time I entered my third year of college (I was 25 by now), the grueling schedule with its increasing workload and demands was beginning to drain on me, and with no family support (although they could have afforded to help and I think I had proven sufficiently I was motivated) while still having to keep my crummy full time job, my thoughts again turned to longings for romance, and even marriage.

About a year earlier, I had begun to drink heavily although this didn’t affect my grades, it did affect my attendance at work. My father, by now remarried to a woman (who turned out to be either a MN or just someone with severe OCD and a controlling personality that mimicked MN) had moved to Texas and had joined AA. I attended AA for a few months and decided it wasn’t for me, but I did meet a man there who seemed to pursue me in a way I eventually couldn’t resist.

Michael could have been a poster child for the “charming” narcissistic lover. He pursued me relentlessly, even though at first I wasn’t that interested. There was just something about him that made me slightly uncomfortable…perhaps his aggressiveness in pursuing me (although he was always very sweet at first) I found slightly offputting, but his undying attention and charm eventually overcame my misgivings (which I should have listened to but I wanted so badly to believe he was sincere), and soon I was head over heels in love with this man who really wasn’t my type at all. For a while he was the perfect lover, wining and dining me, bringing me flowers, telling me constantly how much he needed and loved me, and then after just three months of dating, he proposed to me in a romantic restaurant–actually bowing down on his knees in front of me when he asked me to marry him. He seemed very sincere and I couldn’t believe anyone could love me that much. I was in heaven, but little did I know the worst hell of my life was about to begin–and would last for the next 28 years.

I dropped out of college because the student loan money had run out, but also because I couldn’t maintain the grueling schedule of juggling work and school and at the same time spend time with Michael and prepare for our wedding. My parents were horrified I would leave school. Their horror coupled with their wanting me to always fail and refusing any financial help, was an incredible mindfuck. The fact Michael made less money than I did (in spite of not finishing my degree, I landed a promising new job as a copy/columns editor for a medical journal for a wellknown publishing firm) and yet charged extravagant gifts for me and expensive dinners to credit cards should have been a HUGE red flag, but I ignored it. Six months later, on a beautiful day at the end of May 1986, we tied the knot. I was 26.

Part three will describe the progression of his narcissism and abuse of me (and later, our two children). This will be the most painful part of my story to write, but probably also the most therapeutic (and interesting to readers).

Something I’ve noticed about narcissists

Posted on September 12, 2014 by luckyotter

I’ve read many blogs and web sites about narcissists, and one question that keeps coming up is, “do they know they’re narcissists?” Another, related one is, “do they know what they’re doing or why they’re doing it?”

The answer to both is yes. Narcissists know exactly what they are, and I think they also love it when you figure them out. They’re flattered that you know of suspect them of this nasty character disorder, even if it means it will be harder for them to continue using you as a source of narcissistic supply. They also like to read about themselves.

Several years ago, I realized my mother was a narcissist. At the time, I was pretty enraged at her (more about my relationship with her another time) and emailed her a copy of the checklist for narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) from DSM IV. She backed off with the manipulations after that for awhile. Nothing else had been able to shut her up until I sent that email. I don’t know if she was flattered or not, but she definitely knew I had her number.

About a year ago I worked for a guy with fullblown malignant narcissism. I left a copy of “People of the Lie” on my desk (not on purpose), and when I came back after lunch, I caught him standing there at my desk seemingly lost in the book. He was so engrossed he didn’t even see me approach my desk and didn’t look up until I said hello. He jumped a little, then commented about my having some interesting reading taste. For the rest of the day he seemed more cheerful than usual. The next day, he asked if he could borrow the book when I was done with it.

I recently purchased a copy of Dr. Simon’s book about malignant narcissism “Character Disturbance.” I live with my daughter, who allowed my ex (her father) to come inside my home even though I have a restraining order against him (she does not). Of course that’s another matter and a serious one which I won’t address here. I did find it humorous that he had found my copy of the book, which was lying on the coffee table in the living room (not where I had left it) with a page corner turned down where he had left off reading. My daughter told me he was asking her why I was reading it, and she told him because it was about him. She said he kind of smiled after that and said he might order a copy of the book for himself. Evidently he knows exactly what he is and likes it.

This is my first post in my first blog. Allow me to introduce myself.

Posted on September 10, 2014 by luckyotter

Hello world. This is my very first blog. I’m not sure what the hell I’m doing yet or how the heck this thing (WordPress) works. I’m learning so please be patient with me. Continue reading →