“Dad, if you changed some things so that we would be more comfortable around you, we would want to see you more.” Will, with eyes blinking incessantly, and hands shoved into the pockets of his grass-stained kahkis, summoned the courage to stand up to his dad.
Later, Will told me he felt like he wanted to throw-up when he was talking to Mark.
Jenny was hiding in a corner of the garage. When Mark asked her if he still used the baby voice, she was visibly shaking. She looked down at her feet, clutched her Barbie, and whispered, “Yes.”
Then, Mark announced to the three of us that he has only one voice. He does not have, and never has had, a baby voice.
(Previously, on several occasions, he has acknowledged the voice.)
He informed the kids that he will see them even if they don’t want to see him. He told us that he is going to see the kids because he doesn’t want to hear, in eight years, that they are wondering why their dad never came around, when they were little.
He stood there telling them this while Jenny cowered in the corner, and Will’s eyes blinked uncontrollably.
He did not attempt to soften his voice. He did not go to them in an effort to ease their discomfort. He could not see their discomfort. He could not feel their obvious pain.
He did not say, “I am going to see you because I love you so much.” He did not promise to find ways to make them more comfortable.
Will and Jenny desperately looked to me and asked if they could go to grandma’s house – the safe haven.
Mark and I stood on the sidewalk and watched our kids run up the hill.
Those kids should have wandered a zig zag up the hill, stopping to pet a dog, check out a rock, or try to catch a butterfly. They should have stopped (like they always do) to see if I was watching, and wave back. They should have stopped at the top of the hill and yelled, “LOVE YOU!”
They marched straight up the hill, heads down, and never once looked back at us.
My head exploded with words. I wanted to crush Mark.
I wanted to destroy him. I wanted to deliver the kind of words that would level him.
After the kids crested the hill, I turned to walk into the house. I did not say a word. I did not look at him.
He got into his car and drove away.
__________
Why should Jenny and Will keep their promises if they see that their dad doesn’t keep promises?
Why should Jenny and Will be honest, when they see that their dad lies?
Will they learn the convenience of contradicting themselves, to manipulate situations to their advantage?
Have they learned that as long as their desires are met, there is no need to be considerate of another person’s feelings?
Have they learned that integrity is a thing that grownups refer to, but it isn’t really a necessary character trait?
Would it be better to sweep all these bad behaviors under the rug and allow them to grow up in a skewed fantasy world, only to find out 18 or 21 or 35 who their father really is?
Should I have allowed them the security of a fairy tale childhood?
__________
Neither one of the three of us is surprised that we are right back where we started. Neither one of us is suffering from dashed hopes. We knew how this would play out. We know what we are dealing with.
We knew he would let the dust settle after the bogus counseling sessions and the email diatribes, only to pick up where he had left off.
After a few quiet weeks, the phone calls started. He took on the martyr tone. “Call me if you want to. I’d love to see you if you want to see me.”
Last week, it was game on. Visits were a day apart. He’d tell us when he was coming, only to come over more frequently and stay longer. He lounged around in my backyard, eating popsicles, laughing at his own jokes. Once, again, he was the star of his own show. He acted like he had never written harsh words to Will in emails. He acted like everything was just fine. He assumed we’d play along and forget all the things that hurt the kids or made them uncomfortable.
But when he saw that we weren’t playing the game by his rules – we weren’t going to pretend everything was just fine – then he got ugly. I saw evilness in the way he talked to his kids without warmth or compassion.
I saw his lack of caring.
He was a missile on a trajectory taking out whatever was in his path – even his own children. The target is anything that threatens to tarnish his reputation and his image.
__________
In a strange, peaceful way, it is comforting to have things come full circle.
There is no confusion about mixed messages. There is no need to further explain why daddy says one thing and does another. I’ve been explaining all along.
We are in the middle of this circle, but we’ve been training and preparing for a long time.
There is peace in knowing what we are dealing with, and knowing we can handle it.
Tags: child of narcissist, divorce, narcissism, narcissist behavior, narcissistic behavior, NPD, proactive, survive
That scene, and the walk up the hill, are just heartbreaking. Poor kids. But you are teaching them a skill most never learn: to stand up for themselves in a respectful way. And they know you’ve got their back. Nobody can ask for more.
Hi LaVonne,
Thanks for commenting.
Yes, I do have their backs.
Just wish I’d have kicked their dad in the shin when they were walking up the hill and weren’t watching. ;)
Restraining myself is difficult.
I am sad to hear that he is back and up to his old tricks. I find it amazing that he announced that he only has one voice. You must be so proud of your children for standing up to him. Do they journal? Journalling helps the victim see the BS doled out by a narcissist for what it really is. I think a natural human tendancy is to block out negative memories, like the hurt feelings and trauma caused by the irrational behavior of an abusive person. But blocking out these memories is destructive for the victim. Maybe Mark was subconsiously counting on the likelihood that the children would block out the memories of the baby voice? Maybe he was trying to rewrite history to suit himself. Surprise suprise.
Thank you for sharing this with us. I am taking notes on how to handle my narcissisitic ex-husband who has custody access to our two small children. I need to raise them to have the same awareness that Will and Jen have!
You’ve done such a great job with your kids, Jesse. It’s tough they have to stand up to their dad, but they’ve learned how to do it. It’s scary. But they found out the sky doesn’t fall when they do it, and that will give them the strength to stick up for themselves again – and again – and, unfortunately, again. Those kids’ momma ain’t raisin’ no sissies!!! They’re lucky to have you.
Pat,
And I am so lucky to have them.
Who knew that I could raise two kids with spines?
Hi Sue,
Often, I’ll encourage Will and Jen to write what they’re feeling. We have lots of angry drawings from Jen, and angry words in spiral notebooks from Will. Will has actually taken to writing his own blog (not yet public) about what it’s like to be the child of a narcissist. Sometimes I’ll hear him pounding away on the keys of his netbook, I’ll peek over his shoulder, and he’s working on his ‘blog’. It’s a healthy outlet. He has asked if he could read survivingnarcissism.com. Even though he has lived through all of this, he’s not ready for that. Not yet.
And they have each other. That’s huge!
The natural human tendency that you refer to, serves the narcissist quite well. That is why it has been so worthwhile for me to do this blog. I would rationalize, overlook and make excuses for Mark. That’s why I lasted 11 years. When I look back on some of the stuff I’ve written, I still can’t believe I lasted as long as I did.
Maybe some day, Will and Jen will serve as portholes for your two little ones.
My heart breaks for all of you…I know you’re all tough and you will get through this and those darling angels will make it through and be wonderful, well adjusted teens/young adults/adults.
BUT…
When I read this my blood boils…I am and have ALWAYS been very protective of those I love so the teenage version of me wants to come out & call Mark out on all his BS. That same teen wants Mark to be visited by several of her old crazy high school chums. (SEVERAL are NOT upstanding citizens to this day.) Although the person I am today (and even the younger version of me) knows that wouldn’t solve anything.
Of course when I float back to reality I know you are handling things perfectly and the fact that you’ve come full circle is bad but at least you won’t be blindsided by everything that happens now.
Jo,
I must admit, I’ve had a nice fantasy about calling the goons in on this one.
There are some times when it’s very frustrating to take the high road.