We survived another Halloween. They might be a little less scary now that we aren’t living with the narcissist anymore. He called yesterday afternoon to ask if he was invited to take the kids Trick or Treating. I was confused, “I thought I heard them invite you last night?” He lets out a dramatic sigh and says, “Well, yes, but I didn’t know if something might have changed by today.” Apparently he needs to be invited to be a parent.
The kids had overheard my phone conversation with him. They asked what it was about. I explained that their dad wondered if he was still invited to take them Trick or Treating. Will laughed and said, “Oh, he’s doing that thing where he wants us to beg him to come over.” Jenny said, “No, actually, he doesn’t really want to go at all, so he’s seeing if we’ve changed our minds.” They are both correct, to a certain degree. They definitely have him pegged.
Then, when he had completed his 20 minute stint with the kids, he asked if they wanted to do anything on Sunday. Will excitedly told him that we’d be eating junk food and watching the Packers beat the Vikings. Mark was never much into watching football. I think he’s a little miffed that the kids and I are getting into it.
Today, he called 10 minutes before the game was supposed to start. He talked to Jenny, because Will was busy, and his message was, “I’m just letting you both know that I am available to talk on the phone, or to come over and hang out.” And that was it. Clearly, he is letting them know that he expects them to call and beg him to come over. He wants to see if he can actually trump the football game. He wants to see if they like being with him so much, that they’ll gladly change any plans that they’ve made with me. While it may sound like he wants to see/be with the kids, he really just wants them to want to be with him. When he gets over here, he is not at all interested in how they are or what they have going on in their lives. And when they don’t initiate anything with him, we don’t hear from him for days.
And here’s what I do … I spend the rest of the afternoon reminding them that they may want to call their dad. Old habits die hard. I am so conditioned to try and foster this relationship between my kids and their dad. It’s like breathing. I used to say, “Don’t forget to call your dad. Your dad would appreciate a phone call tonight. Do you want to see if your dad would like to come over?” I am setting them up for the same kind of relationship that I had with my dad, and then with Mark. Those relationships were totally driven by me. They were not reciprocal. They were one-sided. When I dropped the ball with my dad, the relationship was over. When I decided to leave Mark, he didn’t come after me and say, “Hey, I’ll try harder. Let’s make this work.” Do I want that for my kids? I continue to foster this “relationship” because I don’t want my kids to some day say to me, “Why did you keep us from seeing our dad? Why couldn’t we see him whenever we wanted?”
And so, I remind them to call less and less. Plenty of nights go by when they don’t call him, and he certainly doesn’t call them. If they ask to call, I always say, “yes, of course.” But each time he comes over, we have bruised feelings and lots of tears. Why would any decent mom intentionally put their kids in a situation where they will be hurt? We continue to have a lot of talks about why their dad is the way he is. I keep explaining that it has nothing to do with them. And one day, they will decide on their own, like I have, that it’s not worth the pain. Until then, things will continue to be a little bit tricky.
Tags: all about me, child of narcissist, narcissism, narcissist behavior, narcissistic behavior, NPD
Your words so familiar, finally found insightful resource that I’m not the only one who has & still going through this, allot if people I share my life experiences with a narcissist find my stories funny , yet un fathomable. Only my children & I know what that’s like, thank you for sharing your words, would appreciate more resource or blog to read on, again , THANK YOU
Cynthia,
Thanks for writing.
Callasyndra has compiled a very comprehensive list of narcissism resources at Musings from the Madhouse.
Good luck and all the best to you and your children.
The way you describe Mark here, how he wants to see if Jen and Will would cancel their plans for him, is sooo familiar. Just like my father. They really are all the same all over the world, aren`t they?
I dropped the ball with my dad when I called to wish him Happy Easter 2 years ago and told him about my second pregnancy. There was a moment of silence, and then he said: “Well…. if you think this is a good idea, than I shall be happy for you.” Right before my announcement, he had been telling me a long and confusing story about his health problems (without ever giving me any solid info on a diagnosis, he likes to keep things vague), and apparently he was miffed that his story did not get the kind of attention he thought it deserved.
That alone did not make me drop the ball, I am used to my dad`s lack of competence in social situations. Later I learned that he had also talked to my younger sister that day, all friendliness and sunshine, Happy Easter, lalala, no mention of illness or anything. He knows she has a pebble`s capacity for empathy and does not even try, treats her with kid gloves instead.
That day I finally understood that I could never change the rules of the game, the only option I had was to stop playing.
Jul,
It’s particularly uncanny that you should write this comment at this point in time.
Recently, we are dealing with numerous calls from Mark – you know, since we moved and all, it’s how he continues to keep himself positioned in the lives of the kids. Well, just one kid. Jenny is the recipient of most of these calls. She’ll look at me and say, “Should I take this?” I’ll say, “It’s up to you, honey.” She’ll head upstairs and I hear this little voice say, “Hi, Dad.”
45 minutes later she’ll return and announce the length of time she was held hostage on the phone. “This time it was 47 minutes 13 seconds.” “A new record! 53 minutes, 7 seconds!!” Always followed by an exaggerated sigh. I’ll say, “So did he ask of you?” She’ll say, “Well, he asked ________________, but when I started to answer, he went back to what he’d been talking about.”
Finally, last night I said, “Honey, I know you feel obligated to talk (or I probably said, listen) while your dad talks. I know you don’t want to hurt his feelings. I know you are kind and respectful. But it’s not fair of him to assume that you don’t mind listening to him for 35 minutes while he complains about paying taxes. He could complain to a friend about that, not his 13 year old daughter. It’s particularly inconsiderate to expect you to be the shoulder he needs to cry on. That’s what he should be doing for you.”
I also pointed out that Will used to be the shoulder he cried on, but Will stopped playing that role. And now their dad doesn’t bother Will with that stuff anymore.
Jenny will decide – on her own – when she’s done with that role. I hope – for her sake – that she decides soon.
Good on you for deciding to NOT play that game!
Ah, phone calls.
For many years, I repeated the same mistake over and over when talking on the phone with my father. For the first 20 minutes or so, I would feed my dad only superficial information, because I did not want to get my feelings hurt by telling him something I really cared about. But he would keep asking: “Isn`t there anything else going on in your life?”, until I would finally give in and volunteer a bit of info that was very important to me. And that was inevitably the very moment in which he said: “You know, I just remembered that I need to do xyz, have to quit now, sorry, bye.”
I am ashamed to say it took me quite a while to recognize that pattern and keep things strictly superficial from then onwards.
But Jenny has you. I am sure through your example she has learned to pay attention to her own feelings, and she will know when it is time for damage control.
Jul,
I read Jen your comment. She was working on a craft as I read. I got to the end of the sentence, “… have to quit now, sorry, bye.” and she put down her project and gave me that look that says, “Been there.”
We both shook our heads at how survivors experience SO many of the same things.
Thank you so much for writing. You are helping. Jenny says, “Thank you.”
Oh, I am sorry that Jenny had to experience the same thing. I remember how deflated and small I felt everytime he did that to me, and how ashamed that I had let it happen again.
While it is comforting to know that there is someone out there who exactly knows what I am talking about, it also makes me sad to hear it. Nobody should be made to feel that way…..
In your earlier reply, you wrote that Will had stopped playing that role (of shoulder to cry on). Could you tell me how he managed to do that? Somehow I have never found a good way…. Apparently it is too easy to make me feel guilty, and my parents both know it.
Jul,
This is from Will:
“I used to be sensitive, but I stopped. I don’t feel guilty. I just don’t think about it, because if I think about it then I …. I dunno. I just don’t think about it.”
I wish I could do that.
I hope this helps.
Jul,
This might be too long, but …
We start the morning with reading. Before we started, I asked Will to help me answer your comment. Then we went into reading. (Currently we are reading Riordan’s The Sea of Monsters. The irony is not lost on me.) While reading, I had this thought:
It seems I AM able to not think about it when it comes to my dad.
Just after the first of the new year, I got a phone call from the hospital. My dad was in the ER after having had another of his seizures. (This has happened several times and these aren’t life-threatening, so when I lived in the same town, I would not go to see him. Many times I wouldn’t even get a call that he had been admitted. I got comfortable with not making it something that I had to deal with, by NOT thinking about it.)
This time, however, I’m living 90 minutes away. And the thoughts started: “What if this is the last time he has a seizure and it’s fatal?” “Am I a bad daughter for not going?” “What will others think of me if I don’t go?” “It’s been almost three years since I’ve seen him, maybe I should go this time?”
The person from the hospital said my dad had asked them to call me.
I’m always telling my kids to take the high road, so dammit, I figured I’d better set a good example.
I went.
He didn’t seem particularly surprised to see me. He didn’t remember asking the staff to call me. He chit-chatted about weather, the hospital food, and his golf game. He learned that I had moved, but didn’t ask for details. He asked the ages of Jen and Will. His lunch arrived and I said, “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your meal.” He said, “You better get yourself something to eat.” I said, “Take care.” He said, “Love you.”
I haven’t heard a word since.
All that guilt is SO not worth it.
Hi Jesse,
thank you so much for taking the time to reply to my question! Thanks a lot to Will, too!
So you drove 3 hours to see your father, and he did not even remember that he had asked for you. You are so right, guilt is not worth it. And I am pretty good at not feeling guilty or not thinking about it as long as I don`t have direct contact. But in one-on-one situations, when I sense that the other person needs to talk about something, it seems I always end up giving some kind of signal that I am ready to listen. Will must have found a way to stop giving that signal, so that Mark now respects his boundaries. Being able to switch it on and off, depending on the person I am with would be the highest level, but I am not there yet…. Hats off to Will that he has reached it at such a young age.
Jul,
It’s just in this last year that I’ve seen Will establish these boundaries. I am SO glad he has learned this now, as you say.
I had to laugh about what you said about sensing the other person’s need to talk and sending the signal to listen. A week ago, Jen said, “Mom, have you noticed how people aren’t talking your ear off the way they used to?” I guess the new zip code did that for me. ;)