Child of Narcissist « Surviving Narcissism

Child of Narcissist

A Bad Day Doing Anything Is Better Than A Good Day With A Narcissist

His knees make this strangely hollow sound when he smacks them together. Imagine taking two 2×4’s wrapped in fleece, and hitting them against each other. Will is a thin 11 year old. He doesn’t have a lot of padding, especially around his knees. He’s gone through an interesting series of nervous ticks. I don’t think of the knee-knocking as a nervous tick, but I’ve noticed that he does this when he’s playing a game on the computer, or when he’s talking on the phone with his dad.

We went skiing with grandpa yesterday. It was another great day at the ski hill. As tired as I am of the snow, it has made for some amazing conditions this year. Jenny and I don’t feel the need to ski every single day. Will doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with skiing every single day. As we were driving home from the hill yesterday, we were talking about what to do on Sunday. Will has a standing invitation to ski on Sundays with Mark. (Jenny sort of has a standing invitation. That means that Mark has invited her to ski on Sundays, but has implied that it will really be more fun for her when she can ski the more challenging runs. “Daddy loves to ski with you on the days you go with mommy.” That means he makes an appearance on the green run, exclaims loudly how his little girl is skiing so beautifully, and then ditches her for the black diamond runs. We all know that Mark won’t sacrifice a full day of skiing to spend it with Jenny on the easy stuff. The only reason Will has a standing invite is because he can ski everything on the hill now.) Jenny and I had made plans to go to the library this Sunday. Will was saying that he felt like maybe he should stay home and go to the library with us. Grandpa couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he said, “What? You can’t decide between skiing and the library? Are you feeling okay?” Will knows that sounds ridiculous. You’ve heard the expressions: “A bad day of golf is better than…” “A bad day of fishing is better than…” We always say, “A bad day of skiing is better than a good day of staying at home.” It’s more than a little embarrassing for Will to weigh the prospect of skiing versus a trip to the library.

Will called his dad last night, knees knocking, and he couldn’t decide what to do. “I can go skiing with dad and the snow will be awesome. I can practice those jumps I’ve been working on. The moguls on Muley will have a fresh dusting of powder. I know it will be great. But dad will make fun of me and hurt my feelings. I don’t want to deal with that.”

Here’s where I say all the mumbo jumbo that I’m supposed to say to help my son deal with a narcissistic dad. “Try to develop a tougher skin. Let what he says ping off your coat of armor. You can’t limit the things you do in life because you are afraid that someone will say something that hurts your feelings. Focus on the good/fun part of the day. Let what he says role off your back. Or, better yet, actually come out and tell him that what he says really hurts your feelings. Stick up for yourself. Be tough. Be like Bode Miller. Be strong and ski like crazy and ignore your dad.”

In addition to the knocking knees, I’ve noticed that Will always asks his dad if anyone else will be going with them on Sundays. I don’t know if Mark has noticed that Will only likes to go with him if someone else bums a ride. Will doesn’t like to be alone with Mark. Will and I talked about how dad says his sarcastic, cutting comments when no one else is around. No one else hears those comments. That’s why it is hard from grandpa to believe that Will wouldn’t want to go skiing. That’s why the guys at the ski hill may be thinking that Mark is a pretty good guy. They don’t hear what Mark says to Will on the chair lift when no one else is around. Continue reading →

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20
Feb 10

It’s All Talk

Big hat, no cattle.

Unknown

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19
Feb 10

Narcissists and Rules

Don’t touch a cowboy’s hat or a lady’s hair-do.
Don’t ask anyone how many acres they have, how many head of cattle they own, or how much money they have in the bank.
Do not ask a lady how much she weighs or how old she is.
Never ask a big lady when her baby is due.
Don’t tell anyone your social security number, your pin number or your locker combination.
If you eat the whole bag of Fritos, keep it a secret.

These are social norms or rules. They aren’t laws, but they are so ingrained that they might as well be laws. Some are as old as dirt, and some are relatively new. The Frito rule might be specific to my little family. There are a lot of rules that kids need to learn, and a lot of them can sound kind of silly. Now that Will is older, he understands the one about a cowboy’s hat. He still doesn’t get the one about a lady’s hair-do. Maybe that’s because I don’t really have any sort of hair-do, and I don’t personally adhere to that rule about my own hair. Will is a literal fellow, and I can remember that it took a lot of explainin’ to get across the point about not asking how many cows someone has, or how much money they have. If he was quick to tell someone how many pennies he had in his piggy bank, why wouldn’t they say how many dollars they had?

Last night Mark was over. The visit included the usual high-pitched, sing-song voice, the faked appreciation of the kids’ artwork, and tediously exaggerated tales of his grandeur. When Mark left, Will told me, “Dad gave Bob our locker combination so Bob could wax my skis.” I have met Bob only one time.

The kids and I have been invited to share a locker with some other family members. (These family members are extended family, and they are not part of Mark’s extended family.) The locker is not ours. The locker combination is not ours. Perhaps you may even be able to hear my fingers slamming the keys of my keyboard at this point? At the beginning of the season, Will had gone skiing with Mark. When Will couldn’t get the locker open, he shared the combination with his dad, hoping his dad would be able to get the lock to cooperate. That was an innocent move that any child would make — even a child who is beginning to grasp the rule about not sharing your locker combination, pin number, or social security number.

Over the course of my ‘relationship’ with Mark, I have seen many instances where Mark has not followed rules. It wasn’t so much that he fudged a little, or that he was in a hurry, or that he figured he could bend a rule just this one time, he firmly believes that rules don’t apply to him. Just because a sign says “No Parking”, that doesn’t mean he can’t park there. You would think there would even be some fine print on the bottom of the sign that read, “But it’s okay for you, Mark.” Continue reading →

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17
Feb 10

Love Notes and the Narcissist

I stepped out of the shower this morning, head full of what to make for dinner; are they on track for home schooling; did I figure the taxes correctly; gotta order some firewood …. And I found this on the bathroom floor — a love note from Jenny. Sweet words sung to the tune of ‘Clementine’. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Mark used to write me notes. He wrote a lot of letters to me. For obvious reasons, I can’t bring myself to look at them now. But I remember they were quite wordy, windy, and showy. I hadn’t ever received love letters before. What did I know? There’s the classic examples of love letters that you can find in literature. To me, that’s a lot like the Latin Lover with the rose clenched between his teeth. No thanks. When I think back on Mark’s letters, I remember thinking that there was a lot of stuff about Mark in them. It wasn’t so much about how fabulous I was, it was about how fabulous he was. Maybe he saw the necessity, even then, in trying to convince me.

And he kept track of my responses to his letters. He wouldn’t write to me, until he’d received a response to his most recent letter. He was definitely keeping score. At the time, I thought that there must be some sort of protocol for love-letter writing. I know, now, that love isn’t about keeping score, it’s about giving freely with heartfelt intentions. A genuine expression of love ought to be as innocent as a note from a child. When Jenny penned that little note this morning, I’m positive she wasn’t thinking, “Okay, I’ll write this to mommy, but I sure hope she writes one back to me.” That was not her motivation for writing the note. She loves me, and wanted to tell me. There’s no agenda.

But love is also about some measure of reciprocity. It’s also about loving yourself, and realizing that you deserve love. It’s not stomping your foot, demanding acknowledgment or recognition. It is giving freely without expectation of return. And love is also about respecting yourself enough to move on to something healthier when you keep giving, and getting nothing back.

When was the last time you wrote someone a love note? Write a note to someone — maybe even to yourself. It’s not as silly as it sounds. It’s sending good words out there, that you deserve. You can make it flowery, if you like that sorta thing. Or make it straightforward and to-the-point. Just don’t sit around waiting for a response. That ruins the genuine intent of the whole thing. And if your choice comes down to writing to yourself, or the narcissist in your life, please write to yourself.

Child of Narcissist / Control / Lack of Empathy / Moving On / Seeing My Path / Tools — 10 Comments
13
Feb 10

Narcissism Pisses Me Off

dropping-keys Today we skied like we could be Olympic contenders – in our dreams. We laughed, inhaled fresh mountain air, and got that really good tired. Then we came home and made fajitas, sat by the fire and watched amazing athletes compete on T.V.

It was a stellar day.

Why am I so agitated?

In the last few days, I’ve gotten emails from a woman who is agonizing over the chaos in her daughter’s life. Her daughter divorced a narcissistic man five years ago, and this man is still making her daughter’s life a living hell.

I’ve gotten an email from another woman who found the courage to leave her narcissistic husband, but she doubts her decision on a daily basis, because this man continually tells her that she’s making a monumental mistake. Continue reading →

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11
Feb 10

Come And Tell Me Why Yer Leavin’ Me

The first time I set foot in our little house, I got teary. Granted, I wasn’t very emotionally stable at the time. I had decided to leave my husband. I had been living at my mom’s for a couple months. I had to get my kids settled, and the weight of the transition was heavy on me. The realtor unlocked the maroon door and we stepped into the open living room/dining room area. I took one look at the wood stove, glanced at the dark red walls in the kitchen, and I knew it would be our home.

I always wanted a wood stove at Mark’s house. I’m always cold, and I wear layers, even in summer. We deal with a lot of winter, and a wood stove provides a comfort that you don’t get from an electric blanket or forced air heat, or a narcissistic husband. Besides, I love the ritualistic aspects of burning wood. There’s the physical labor of finding and cutting and hauling and stacking the wood. And there’s the continual feeding of the fire. Will and I even cleaned our chimney this year. I don’t care that it’s messy. I love the smell as much as the warmth. It’s basic to survival. It connects me to the process of life.

Mark doesn’t like burning with wood because it’s messy, smelly, and hard to control.

__________

It was our first winter here, and I jumped up to put another log in the wood stove. Without realizing I was doing it, I started singing a song from my college days. Continue reading →

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9
Feb 10

Nighttime and the Narcissist

Who thinks of you at night? Who thinks of you as they turn out the light? Who sends up a little prayer for you, or gives thanks that you are in their life?

Last night, on my way to bed, I checked on Will and Jenny. I do every night. Seems I can’t go to sleep unless I check on them first. It probably isn’t necessary. I tuck them in every night. But I have to see them before I go off to bed. I remember one night several years ago, I was preoccupied, went to bed, read a bit, turned out the light, and settled in. I was just hitting that sweet spot between wakefulness and snooze, when I bolted upright and realized I hadn’t checked on them. I jumped out of bed to make sure that they were snuggled safely in their beds. Every now and then, Will asks me if I still check on them before I go to bed. I’m not sure I could go to sleep without first checking on them.

I don’t think it is too much to expect that a spouse or partner might think of you before he closes his day. Of course, we are busy and exhausted. There are so many distractions. There is the need to just unwind and not have to fulfill anymore obligations. But at the end of the day, can’t we make time for this person who shares a life with us — struggles and all? Can we share a warm glance that says, “I’m glad you’re here, even if I’m too damn tired to do anything about it?”

I can guess what ran through Mark’s head when I was still living in his house. It was probably a lot like this:

“Damn, when is that woman going to figure out how to fix pork chops the way I like ’em? I wish she’d leave me alone with the remote. God, I hope she tucks the kids in, it’s her job anyway. I wonder if she remembered to take the garbage out? Shouldn’t those toys be picked up by now? I wonder if I have clean socks for tomorrow? Do I have to sit through one more story about the kids? Wonder if I’ll get any tonight?” Continue reading →

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7
Feb 10

The Proper Care and Feeding of Your Narcissist

Eight years ago on Super Bowl Sunday, I was two months pregnant with Jenny. I had round-the-clock morning sickness. To this day, I tell Jenny that she was worth every trip to the bathroom.

One of my favorite pictures is a shot of me, looking awful from the morning all-day sickness, holding a gallon-sized container of Atomic Fireballs. There’s something about the hot spicy jawbreakers that kept the sickness at bay. They were an absolute lifesaver. I had an Atomic Fireball in my mouth for 7 months.

Poor Will was going on four years old. He got used to me hanging out in the bathroom. In fact, after Jenny was born, I was doing something, let out a cough, and I heard Will say, “Mommy, are you throwing up again?”

Anyway, we had been invited to a Super Bowl Party. I was sitting in a chair, trying to summon up the strength to put on my shoes. I did not want to go to the party, but I didn’t want to disappoint Mark and Will. I looked at Mark and said, “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t go. I feel like all I’ve been doing is trying to simply exist.” He looked at me, let out a sigh of frustration and said, “Well, that is all you’ve been doing.”

__________ Continue reading →

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28
Jan 10

The Blogger as Narcissist

Maybe I’m the Narcissist?

I’m the one writing this blog.

Could be I’m every bit as narcissistic as my wasband.

That thought used to keep me awake at night.

I’ve taken the tests. I’ve read the books. It’s not lost on me that with as much time as I spend writing and thinking about my life, I could be every bit as narcissistic as he is. Add to that the fact that I’m putting this all out there for the world to see. But I have enough experience in, and knowledge about, NPD to know that I’m not the narcissist.

I sleep well.

Writing this blog has been the best thing to happen to me in a long time. I started out venting, spewing, rationalizing and explaining. Now I see that writing this blog has been instrumental in helping me move on. There are fewer days when I wallow in the “poor me”; and a lot more days when I marvel at how far the three of us have come. Continue reading →

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26
Jan 10

Apologize

Never ruin an apology with an excuse.

Kimberly Johnson

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25
Jan 10

Why Did the Narcissist Cross the Road?

The other night I really yelled at Jenny. Yes, it is only January, and I have already managed to remove myself from contention for Mother of the Year – 2010. That didn’t take long. Truth be told, I probably committed my first infraction on January 1st.

Jenny is a selective eater. In Jenny’s case, ‘experimental eating’ means anything other than PBJ, chocolate milk, mandarin oranges and finely grated cheddar cheese. I had put a bowl of homemade soup in front of her. I will say that at least she tries what I present. She doesn’t whine. She has a couple bites and then politely asks for something that she will actually eat. This particular night, I blew a grommet. I lost my temper. I know all the psychological damage that can be caused by making an issue out of food. I have my own fond memories of sitting at the table trying to gag down ice-cold canned spinach – like it’s any better when it’s warm.

I’m not proud to tell you that she ended up in tears. I was a jerk. After I made her a peanut butter and jelly, I apologized. I really apologized. I said, “Jenny, I am sorry.” I thought of saying any one of the following:

“I’m sorry. I’m getting my period. I wish you would eat the damn soup.”
“I’m sorry, but you frustrate the hell out of me and I just wish you would eat what I put in front of you.”
“I’m sorry that you are so selective about what you eat.”
“I’m sorry I spent all day making homemade soup, only to have you turn your nose up at it.”

Instead, I admitted that I made a mistake, and I simply said, “I am sorry,” without justifications, rationalizations or explanations. Continue reading →

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22
Jan 10

Children of Narcissists Take Detailed Notes

winter 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.” Continue reading →

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28
Oct 09

Filling The Hole

I can’t sleep — again. Jenny woke at 2:30 a.m. and came in my bed.

In the old days when I couldn’t get back to sleep, I’d lay there thinking about what I was doing wrong, what I needed to change, or how I could do better. Now when I can’t sleep, I think about how far I’ve come, how I really am doing well, and how I can’t wait to write on this blog.

If you have never tried journaling, you need to. I’ve written in diaries or journals – and now this blog – my whole life. A journal provides a guarantee that you will always be listened to and heard.

Anyway, now it’s 4:00 a.m., so I might as well get up, fix some decaf tea, grab some graham crackers and start writing. It’s funny how as my fingers fly across the keyboard, my head seems to empty of all the thoughts keeping me awake, and my body loses its tenseness.

Tonight I was thinking about my theory – it’s not an original theory. It’s an amalgamation of a bunch of different theories that I’ve read about in all the self-help books that I’ve devoured over the years.

I believe we all have a hole in our soul. Some call the hole a void or an injury. I don’t like “injury”. It’s too dramatic. “Injury” leads to the word “victim”. I don’t like walking around thinking that I’m a victim. It sounds helpless and hopeless. Continue reading →

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23
Sep 09

Survival Tools

When I was looking for a divorce lawyer, I met with a female attorney first. I could tell from the first meeting that she didn’t like me. We just didn’t click. I didn’t hire her and went on to hire a different attorney. The first attorney did give me some valuable advice. She wisely told me that I needed to give Will and Jenny the tools they needed to learn to deal with their dad and his disorder. She made a point of making sure that I understood that I could not prevent them from seeing their dad, so I might as well arm them with the necessary coping skills.

Her statement has really stuck with me. And it applies to life in general. As much as we may want to run from situations, we only grow by learning to deal with them. Go ahead and run, but chances are, the new path you take could lead you headlong into the same mess. I have not specifically told Will and Jenny about their dad and NPD.* They are too young for that. But when they ask questions about their dad’s behavior, I take the time to explain his actions. My goal is for the kids to understand that their dad is just the way he is, and it has absolutely nothing to do with who they are, how they dress, what their interests are or anything they are doing. I do not want them laying awake at night, thinking that their dad behaves the way he does because of something they did or because of who they are.

They have managed to come up with a pretty good set of tools for heading off any disappointments or confrontations. They have learned which buttons to avoid pushing. It has all been trial and error. Act this way, and this is what you get. Act a different way and you can expect this. Kids are intelligent. They understand cause and effect. If something is painful, they’ll do their best to avoid it.

Mark stopped by for a visit yesterday. Just before he had gotten here, Jenny had been rubbing her eye. Her eye was irritated and red. When I asked her if she was going to go out and say hi to her dad, she said, “Mom, if he sees that my eye is red, he’s going to treat me like a baby. I’m not going out there.” (Mark still believes that Jenny is the last holdout for any sourcing of his narcissism. He treats her like a baby with the hope that she will always be his admiring little girl. He does not empathize with the fact that seven year old girls cannot stand to be treated like babies.) I laughingly suggested that she wear my sunglasses, and expected that she wouldn’t take me up on the offer. Surely, wearing big sunglasses would get more adverse attention than a red eye. She took me up on the offer. She pranced around the front yard in huge sunglasses, and she never took them off. Being the true narcissist that he is, he didn’t even notice the sunglasses or the red eye. It ended up being fun for Jenny, and she avoided being treated like the baby.

Will and Jenny have gotten pretty clever at coming up with different tools. I help them to be confident with who they are. They come up with the tools and coping mechanisms on their own. And just like with everything else in life, the lessons we learn on our own are the ones that stick. They will both come out of this with some pretty extensive tool chests. Those tools should serve them both well in all their different relationships. Continue reading →

Child of Narcissist / Lack of Empathy / Moving On / Seeing My Path / The World Revolves Around Me / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — 6 Comments
21
Sep 09

Forgiveness

I have one of those screensavers on my laptop that displays all the photos in My Pictures. I still have all the photos from when we lived with Mark. Others have commented that it’s a little odd that I haven’t removed them. That screensaver provides a lot of entertainment for Will and Jenny. It’s like having a whole bunch of photo albums at their fingertips. Their dad is still a huge part of their lives and they get a great deal of enjoyment out of the photos.

If it pains me to see pictures of Mark, then I haven’t moved on.

The other day I walked by the laptop and saw a nice photo of Mark with one of the kids. I thought how sad it is that he misses out on the day-to-day stuff with Will and Jen. As an accommodator, it is easy to lose sleep over stuff like that. That’s why it took me so long to leave.

I felt sorry for Mark over many issues. I felt sorry for him because of his upbringing. I felt sorry for him because of the distance between himself and the rest of his family. Was I going to feel sorry for him for the rest of my life? Naturally, there was a point when I was too mad to feel sorry. But mostly, it is sad that NPD prevents him from really knowing his kids. NPD prevents him from having any healthy relationships.

There is so much written about forgiveness. We’ve heard it all about how the only one who is hurt when you hold a grudge is yourself. Continue reading →

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