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

Winter forgot about us for a couple weeks — long enough for the snow to melt and the birds to enjoy pretending that it might really be over.  But, winter made an impressive return today.  Apparently it’s wanting to remind us just who the boss really is.  I had asked my young cousin if he might be able to split the rest of our wood.  I’m hoping it gets us through the rest of the season.  Will loves the opportunity to hang with an older guy, strut around with a hatchet in his hand, and have an excuse to drink coffee.

My cousin has plenty of stories to tell of his own absent father.  His dad is my dad’s brother.  They both cut class during Fatherhood 101.  They were too busy talking about one’s hot GTO and the other’s riches from the recent poker game.  They had their priorities.  It was interesting to listen to my cousin and my son compare notes about their dads.  Both of them have these tough exteriors that would lead you to believe that they really don’t give a damn, and that they are doing just fine without.  I expected one of them to say, “Who needs a dad, anyway.”  My cousin took a sip from his mug and said, “Ya know, last year my dad didn’t call me from November to April.  Not once.”  He initially said it like it was a badge of honor.   But I could see in his eyes that he’s trying to understand how his dad could go for so long without having any interest in his life.  He’s keeping track.  He’s taking notes.  He’s not going to forget. They head out to split wood.  I can hear each chop.  I imagine that with each swing of the ax, those boys are letting out their anger, frustration, disappointment and hurt.  At least I hope they are.

While they are chopping, Jenny and I sit at the kitchen table.  Jenny is creating a very detailed drawing of her new doll.  A friend brought Jenny a beautiful rag doll from Mexico.  She is colorful, happy and ready to be loved.  Just like Jenny.  I’m working on a sewing project that I promised Jen I’d finish.  I love how when you are doing simple chores or projects with your hands, your mind opens up and things come out your mouth.  I always hear little pearls coming from my kids.  They don’t need prompting.  When their hands are busy and don’t require input from their brain, their brain is free to cycle, and suddenly they express things that have been buried.  Jenny often brings up the story of the yellow blanket with the embroidered blue birds.  We were living at Mark’s.  Jenny was three.  She wanted to bring the blanket down to the living room from upstairs.  Mark stopped her in her tracks and said, “You have enough toys in the living room.  That blanket has to stay up in your bedroom.”  In her sweet little voice she pleaded with her daddy to let her bring the blanket downstairs.  After all, she had a baby downstairs that was cold.  She needed the blanket.  Mark told her to put the blanket back in the bedroom.  That was the end of the conversation.

To this day, Jenny doesn’t understand why that was such a big deal.  Why would it matter to bring the blanket downstairs?  She has taken notes on a couple other instances where Mark insisted on something that just didn’t make sense.  I know Will has a bunch of notes, too.  He actually has notebooks in his bedroom where he writes of the strange dealings with his dad.

Today I learned that Jenny recently asked her dad about the yellow blanket incident.  She said that when she did, Mark said, “Oh honey, that was your mommy that didn’t want the blanket downstairs.  That wasn’t me.”  Narcissists don’t realize that others take notes.  Then I said to Jenny, “I’m impressed that you had the guts to talk to your dad about that.”  She responded with, “Oh, yes, I did.  But that was the last of my guts.”

It may have been the last of her guts, but it won’t be the last of her notes.