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

“Will the rest of your party be joining you?”  “It’s too bad your dad couldn’t come with on your vacation.”  “Father couldn’t join the family on the cruise?”  “Shall I wait until the rest of the family gets here?”  To the last comment, I politely smiled and said, “This is the entire family.”  I started to wonder if the cruise ship passed through some sort of Mexican Riviera version of the Bermuda Triangle and dropped us right in the middle of 1950.

I didn’t realize our little family was viewed as being that unconventional.  But I started looking around at the other passengers, and I’m pretty sure that I was the only single mom traveling with kids – make that, the only single parent.  There were plenty of singles, but none with kids.

So while I was sitting by the pool on the “Mariner of the Seas” cruise ship, watching my kids splash in the pool, being served my afternoon T & T, I thought to myself, “Why aren’t more single parents cruising?”

Cruises provide a great return for your vacation dollar.  (Ick.  I sound like a commercial.)  They offer fun, entertainment and an opportunity to relax and meet new people.  And, in my limited experience, they are the BEST WAY to vacation as a single parent.  I didn’t have to drive or plan or cook or entertain or decide or do anything but put them on the boat.

Then I realized that single parents (moms) aren’t cruising because of fear.  Hell, single moms probably aren’t even vacationing because of fear.  What else are single moms (or single parents) keeping their families from doing because of fear?

And then I thought of fear on a larger scale, as it applies to everyone, not just single parents or married parents or non-parent peoples or me.

What am I not doing because of fear?

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In 1983 I was 20 years old, I owned a 1973 green Chevy Impala, and I had just dropped out of college.  Literally.  I got up from an I&ME class, walked to the registrar’s office and removed my name from the roster.

Dropping out of college was less scary than finishing that I&ME class.

A girlfriend and I hatched a plan to drive to Redondo Beach, and then head up Highway 101 to see California.  We didn’t have cell phones, we didn’t have credit cards, and we didn’t have much of a plan. Part of the time we stayed with her aunt in Redondo Beach, part of the time we stayed with a family friend in Marin County, and most of the time we slept in the Impala.  We would park at the perimeter of a motel parking lot, lock the doors, and settle in until the sun woke us up.  I was usually in the front seat, so I’d try not to roll over for fear my hip would hit the steering wheel and honk the horn.  I don’t remember what we did for showers.  I’d like to think we found places to shower regularly, but I’m not sure that was a priority.  I don’t remember how long we were gone.  Was it three weeks or six weeks?  I still can’t believe my mom ‘let’ me go.  But I was 20, what could she say.  (And yes, I have considered the real possibility that Jen or Will would try to do their own version of a Chevy Impala Adventure.  I’ll make sure they have cell phones and credit cards.  I am, after all, a hovering mom.)

And then, a year later, I went back to Redondo Beach to try to live and work there.  I made it three months.  I’m not a big city girl.

And then I did another scary thing, and went back to college, to suffer through that I&ME class, and get a degree.

And after college, I took the reverse route of everybody I knew, and got jobs I liked, instead of jobs that paid well, or seemed to fit my degree.

And then I did something really scary.  I married Mark.  And then I had babies.

And each time I did something scary, I worked through my fears and gained confidence in myself.  I trusted myself more after each adventure.  I learned about myself.  I became more competent, and I met more challenges.

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I haven’t scaled Mount Everest in the literal sense.  But I have scaled several mountains in a figurative sense.  We all do.  That is the journey.  How should I approach those mountains?  Should I set up camp at the base, pull out my little cook stove, sip tea and read good books?  Should I let myself be intimidated by the mountains and decide to stay put?  I have made a choice to sip the tea, and read the books to educate myself on what I might expect from the mountain.  I try to inform myself about how to prepare for the climb.  Armed with the knowledge and the right tools and provisions, I start the climb.  Sometimes I am slow and methodical.  Sometimes, I take a run at it.  When I went to Redondo Beach in ’83 I had a map and gas money.  I’m a little more cautious now.  I have to be.  I have other passengers. I definitely became more cautious when I became a mom.

I don’t want to lose my enthusiasm for the climb.  I don’t want to let fear paralyze me.  I definitely spend more time gathering information before starting out.  I read, ask questions, check with others who have traveled the same route, and take a lot of notes.   I have become more fearful of the staying put than of the mountains.   That doesn’t mean I can’t be content, that means I’m afraid  I’ll miss out on some wonderful opportunities if I don’t try to climb.  The confidence I’ve gained has taught me that I can handle the climbs if I do my homework.  The lessons I’ve learned in the climbs have taught me that I have a whole lot more to learn.  I don’t think I can learn more by being camped out at the base, in a holding pattern.

I’m in a holding pattern right now over what to do about this blog and the book and the ‘what next’.

I am gathering information, taking prodigious notes, making connections and charting  a course.

My bags are packed.