Surviving Narcissism Exploring life after marriage to a narcissist. Learning and thriving by sharing our story. – Jesse Blayne

Peanut is home.  Peanut is a Shetland Pony-sized mechanical horse that Santa brought for Jenny two Christmases ago.  Santa should have known better than to deliver Peanut  to Mark’s house.

You see, Mark has held Peanut hostage for two years.  That’s one third of Jenny’s life.  Mark actually told Jenny that he was not going to let her take the pony home to our house so as to guarantee regular visits at his house.

One of the greatest joys of parenting is watching your child get so excited over receiving a gift that they have been wanting so badly.   That’s one of the few ways you can actually get close to re-living that excitement you felt as a child.  It’s your chance to revisit that total elation over getting the gift that you hoped and dreamed for.  Imagine watching that joy and elation on your beautiful little girl’s face.

Then imagine telling her that she can’t take her precious pony home.

It’s pretty difficult to remain self-centered once you have kids.  You don’t even miss those self-absorbed days.  Your focus is first on making sure they survive.  Then you are wrapped up in the fun, the adventure, the craziness, the chaos and the bliss of watching these blessings turn into people.

Unless, of course, you are narcissistic.

Narcissists are barely phased by the introduction of children into their lives.  In fact, children are often seen as guarantees of more sourcing for the Narcissist.  Until, of course, they develop minds of their own, and then they are of no use.

Holding Peanut hostage actually backfired on Mark.  As much as Jenny adored that pony, she didn’t adore it enough to want to go out to her dad’s place anymore than was absolutely necessary.

For that first year, the kids still had somewhat regular (bi-weekly) visits and occasional over-nighters, at their dad’s house.  In the last year, there were no over-nighters, and maybe a few bi-monthly visits.  In the beginning of Peanut’s incarceration, Jenny knew better than to ask if she could bring the pony home.  In the last year, as the visits tapered off, Jenny would occasionally get up the courage to ask if she might be able to bring Peanut home.  Mark would always respond by saying, “Mommy’s house is way too small.”

In one small statement he would attempt to make it sound like he had the better house, and it was mommy’s fault that Peanut couldn’t come home.

When I learned of his attempt at manipulation, I made a point of telling Mark that we would be happy to make room for Peanut in our tiny home.   I’ve been finding ways to make that point, several different times, over the last six months.

The kids “enjoyed” a rare visit at their dad’s yesterday.  While they were there, Jenny called me to ask if she could bring Peanut home.  I patiently explained to her that we’ve had this discussion many times, and the answer  is still, “Yes, you may bring Peanut home.”  Then Jenny says, “But, daddy doesn’t believe me.  He says it’s still not okay with you.”  I asked to talk to Mark, and when he gets on the phone, I remind him that I’ve been telling him  that we have room for the flippin’ pony.  He says, “I wasn’t aware of that.  No one told me that.  I thought your house was too small.” ( In the dictionary under the words “irritating”, “frustrating” and “exasperating” there ought to be a photo of my wasband.  He’s the one smiling at the camera, so full of himself, in all his annoying glory.)

When Mark returned the kids yesterday, he carried Peanut into our house.  He actually said, “You guys should have told me that you had room.  I would have been happy to bring Peanut over sooner.”

That is why I do not have guns in my house.