Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get.
Unknown
22
Oct 09
Hello, I’m Over Here
I got a letter from a friend today. He prefers to write in longhand. Perhaps his point was so well-taken because he took the time to write the words out on a piece of paper with a pen. He scribbled through a few of the thoughts he wanted to change, and left edits in the margins. It was enjoyable to read. There’s something so personal and real about a handwritten letter.
He is a father-figure for two girls that mean the world to him. He writes of their personalities, their hobbies, and how much they have enriched his life. It’s clear that he is humbled by the fact that they choose to spend so much time with him. He feels that the best he can offer is to be there for them, to be accepting of them and to encourage them. It would seem that offering to be there, to be accepting and to be encouraging would not be too much to ask of a parent. It simply requires that you take a back seat, and not insist on putting yourself first all the time.
I’ve always wanted my kids to feel completely accepted for who they are. I encourage them in their uniqueness. I encourage them in their academics and extra-curricular stuff, but it’s most important that they know I value who they are, not just how they perform. I never want them to feel that they are an inconvenience. That’s the fall-out of being the child of a narcissist. Children of narcissists end up feeling that if they aren’t performing, or serving, then they are an inconvenience.
Another friend of mine, who also has a poor relationship with his father, once told me that he didn’t realize how lousy this relationship was until he had kids of his own. He would check in on his girls while they were sleeping, and he felt that his heart was ready to burst with the love he felt for them. He vividly remembers the first time he thought, “If my dad had ever felt that for me, there’s no way he would have treated me the way he did.” It’s when you have kids of your own that it really dawns on you the capacity you have for love. That’s also when you realize that you came up short in that department. It becomes painfully clear that the narcissistic parent was not capable of being there for you, couldn’t possibly accept you for who you are, and could only encourage you so far as that encouragement might benefit them.
20
Oct 09
It’s Broken, Already
Women are fixers. It’s part of our very nature to see if we can fix whatever may be broken. Accommodating women are serious fixers. It’s not that men aren’t capable or interested in fixing, too, but sometimes I think women have a tendency to try to fix when it can’t be fixed.
A couple nights ago I was reading a review of a new book about children of narcissists. The reviews were mostly positive, with a couple exceptions. One reviewer cited that the author gave lots of examples and case studies of the damage caused by growing up with a narcissistic parent. But this reviewer was quite perturbed that the author did not suggest any fixes. Maybe the reviewer still has a lot to learn about narcissism. Maybe the reviewer is overly-optimistic. Just about everything I’ve read says that the possibility of changing a narcissist pretty much doesn’t exist.
Every family has phrases or expressions that get handed down through the generations. One of my favorites is, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” The other, which I seem to repeat a lot is, “It takes a good leavin’ alone.” A broken relationship with a narcissist is an example of something that cannot be fixed. Remember how you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped? Narcissists don’t believe they need any help. You are wasting your time with this one. You bet it’s broke. But this cannot be fixed. There, I’ve said it again. The individual accommodating a narcissist can get in a vicious cycle trying to make right all the damage done to their relationship. It cannot be made right. It takes a good leavin’ alone.
18
Oct 09
Initiate Change
They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.
Andy Warhol
18
Oct 09
Narcissists as Manipulators
I was making banana bread today with a good recipe out of “The Joy of Cooking.” I use this cookbook at least once a week. It’s a favorite. Today, when I opened to the banana bread page, a note fell out of the cookbook. I’ve had this book for probably five years. I had forgotten there was a note inside.
The note was from Mark and it read:
Jess,
Hope you had fun tonight. Sorry about the “late” comment. It was uncalled for. I’ll work on the control thing and lighten up on expectations so you can relax. Have fun at the cabin. Have Will call if he wants. Mark
As I read this note today, I was thinking, “So, how’d that work for ya, Mark? Guess you couldn’t lighten up on the expectations or manage the control thing after all.” In fact, in one of our last “discussions” before I made the decision to move out, he said that he felt he was losing control, and that the family would be happier and healthier if he had more control. Continue reading →
15
Oct 09
A Good Mother
The most important thing she’d learned over the years was that there was no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.
Jill Churchill
15
Oct 09
When The Narcissist Has Kids
My life changed the day I gave birth to my first child. “So tell me something new,” you must be thinking. But if you are a narcissist, you can’t say that. If you are a narcissist, you don’t want to say that your life changed the day you had kids.
Before having children, your life is confined to a nice, tidy boat. Sure, the boat can get tippy. Sometimes the boat can even take on water. Most of the time, if you are lucky, you float your boat, and watch the world from inside, without too many disturbances. If you are really lucky, you have children and your boat capsizes. You end up swimming in the warm, crazy pond of life. Some days you can barely keep your head above water. Some days you float on your back and enjoy all that the pond has to offer, but you never leave the pond for the safety of the boat.
And you don’t want to.
The arrival of children may rock the narcissist’s boat, but the boat never capsizes. Narcissists control their boats very well. They will experience inconveniences periodically, but basically, their boat remains intact.
I was in labor with Will for 22 hours. Labor started at 11:00 p.m. on a Sunday night. I jostled Mark a little, told him it had started, but that I would go downstairs so he could continue sleeping. At 4:00 a.m. he got up to get ready to go to work. When he was leaving he said, “Just hang in there until 8:00 a.m., because I should be done with everything by about then, and I’ll be free to take you to the hospital.” Continue reading →
12
Oct 09
Advice
When a man comes to me for advice, I find out the kind of advice he wants, and I give it to him.
Josh Billings
12
Oct 09
The World’s Best Boss
This story dates back to when I was still married and working for Mark. That means it pre-dates my education in narcissism. That also means that I had no explanation for why he would undertake such a ruse.
At the time, our little town’s local paper was running a contest. The contest would determine who, in our town, was the Best Boss. Employees were to write in and nominate their boss. The contest had been running for awhile. I had been wondering if any of Mark’s employees might nominate him. After all, he was a very charming boss. He seemed to be well-liked. He had a handful of employees who had been with him for several years.
A few weeks into the contest, I was in Mark’s office taking care of a few duties. He’d been working furiously on a project for a couple days, and hadn’t said much about it. I asked him what was requiring so much of his attention. He explained that he was entering the paper’s contest for Best Boss. I said, “I guess I misunderstood. I thought you were supposed to be nominated by one of your employees.” He explained that he wasn’t going to wait for an employee to nominate him. And besides, “None of my employees would give enough details or information to adequately explain why I am such a great boss.” He was serious when he said this. He went on to say that he didn’t think any of them were articulate enough to write up a letter that would be good enough to win the competition. I vividly remember standing in his office during this conversation. I must have looked stunned. I was stunned. I was thinking that, in the best of cases, you might ask your wife to pen such a letter. In the worst of cases, you might stoop to asking an employee to write the letter. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he would write the letter himself. Above all, that was cheating. And maybe more importantly, that was incredibly vain, conceited, self-centered, and egotistical. More than anything, I was embarrassed.
I knew people that worked at the paper. What was I going to say if someone ever commented on the letter that my husband wrote for the competition, about himself. Surely he couldn’t win, based on the fact that he was writing for himself. Why wasn’t he embarrassed by this? How could he be so full of himself, that he wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed to brag about himself? I wondered if there was something wrong with me. How many other bosses would write a letter bragging about how great they were to work for?
He actually won the competition. I still can’t believe that. Perhaps he wrote an articulate letter. I read the letter. I have blocked most of what that letter said from my memory. I felt dirty reading it. Maybe there weren’t any other entries. Maybe his charming reputation glossed over the fact that he’d written the letter himself. There are still so many out there that are bamboozled by his charm. Continue reading →
11
Oct 09
True Riches
A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty.
Author Unknown
11
Oct 09
A Boy Needs a Dad
A couple mornings ago we were on our way to school. We got held up in traffic by a school bus coming our direction. The bus driver had his Stop sign out, so we waited for the young passenger to get on board. We were treated to a sweet scene when a dad walked his little girl to the bus. He checked that her coat was zipped up all the way, tugged her hood down to protect her from the chill, adjusted her backpack and planted a kiss on her tiny pink cheek. After she got on the bus, he continued to wait until the bus took off, so he could wave. The bus folded in it’s sign, and we were on our way. Neither one of us mentioned anything about the dad and his daughter.
That night, while I was fixing dinner, Will came into the kitchen and asked me if I’d noticed the dad who walked his daughter to the bus that morning. Of course I’d seen the whole thing, but I asked, “What made you think of that?” “Oh, nothing. I was thinking that guy is a really good dad.” I found it interesting, and a little sad, that he remembered the scene from this morning. I had to admit that I’d been thinking of that all day, too.
Will often comments when he sees a father that he admires. He’ll say how neat it is that the dad appears to actually enjoy his son’s company. Or he’ll say how cool it must be to have your dad want to throw a football with you. It’s as if he’s on the lookout for the right qualities that make a great dad. We’ll be at the park, see a guy playing catch with his son, or another father pushing his daughter on a swing, and Will says, “I wish I had that.” I can tell his heart aches to have that kind of relationship.
The fact that he’s looking for those qualities in someone else indicates that he’s pretty much given up on his dad ever stepping up to the plate.
09
Oct 09
Happiness
Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance and order and rhythm and harmony.
Thomas Merton
09
Oct 09
Drama Is Over-Rated
Mark is here right now. He came by for another visit with the kids. They are playing Twister in the middle of our dining room. He is talking in his sing-song voice. He is talking very loudly. Maybe he talks loud because of his hearing issues. Maybe he talks loud to maintain the stage. I would rather scrape my fingernails across a chalkboard. I would just as soon slit my wrists. Instead, I am pretending to be pleasant. I am being nice so that my children can spend some time with their dad.
After these visits, I used to immediately call a girlfriend or my mom. I would need to tell someone about his weird behavior. I would need to say, “How can he be like this? How is it that he doesn’t know how to enjoy his kids? You should hear the way he talks to them. You should feel how strained the energy is in the room.” I needed to vent. I needed to hear someone say, “I don’t know how you put up with that for so long.” Basically, I needed to have my decision, to leave, validated. I needed to provide more examples and explanations to confirm that I had made the right choice.
Each time we would have one of these visits, and I would make a call to vent, I would feel my blood pressure spike. You know how that is when you get all worked up about something. Someone cuts you off in traffic, someone slights you at work, a clerk is rude to you at the grocery store and you feel your pulse begin to race. You get agitated and defensive and your blood pressure goes up. I would inevitably get myself worked up and I’d have to deal with the fallout of what that stress would do to my body. I wouldn’t sleep well. The next day I would feel a case of heartburn coming on. It wasn’t really heartburn. A doctor once told me that stress creates an excess of acid in your stomach. It sits there until it dissipates and it feels a lot like heartburn.
It got to the point where I realized that I was boring my friends with the same stories. Over and over again, the same things were happening. Nothing was any different. By now, it’s pretty obvious that I left for all the right reasons. No one needs any more convincing. I made the choice. No one else was questioning my decision. It turns out that I was the one still questioning my decision. When I came to terms with that, I could be done with the calls, the venting, the ranting and the drama. I don’t need any more convincing.
When I was done with the drama, I was done with the Pepcid. I was sleeping better. I was less volatile. I felt better. I was at peace. I was happier. I drank less red wine. I drank less coffee. Things seemed to settle down. That’s not to say that Mark was better during these visits. I am saying that I handled them better. Continue reading →
07
Oct 09
No One Believes You
A couple weeks ago the kids and I went to Starbucks for a rare treat. I saw an acquaintance that I’d not seen since I had left Mark. The fellow commented on how he hadn’t seen me in awhile, and he guessed that I was focusing on raising kids.
I explained that I was divorced, and that my circle and routine had changed.
I enjoy seeing the looks on the faces of those who are just discovering that I am divorced.
This fellow said, “On the list of unexpected news, your divorce is tops. I would have never guessed that would happen to you. You always made marriage look easy.” With coffee in hand, he walked out shaking his head.
__________ Continue reading →
