This wasn’t the plan – to be a single mom in my 50s, raising kids by myself. Continue reading →
You might be a narcissist if you haven’t seen them in their comfort zones, when they talk in silly voices and make each other laugh so hard they almost cry.
You might be a narcissist if you haven’t noticed how they hold their arms close to their sides to guard themselves from your criticisms.
You might be a narcissist if you don’t know how you hurt them when you dismiss them.
She won’t dance in front of you because she knows you’ll make fun of her.
He hasn’t told you about his Instagram account because you’ll tell him how to take pictures.
You only see them when they are perfect reflections of you, but that’s not who they are.
They do have people in their lives who really see them for who they are, but that wouldn’t occur to you.
You don’t even know that you don’t know your kids.
It was cold that morning at 6:30. I turned on the kitchen light to make coffee and the thermometer told me it was -7. The fire had gone out. By the time Will shuffled out into the living room, the sun was turning the snow into shaved sparkles. He thought we ought to go out and take pictures. I told him I’d go out when it warmed to 5 above. Continue reading →
“How much do I tell them? How do I help my kids with their narcissistic mom, without running their mom down and making them feel worse? What’s the right thing to do?” Continue reading →
His eyes roll as his hand makes the universal symbol for “one who talks too much.” He paces the floor and occasionally says, “Uh huh.” Continue reading →