child of narcissist « Surviving Narcissism

Posts Tagged: child of narcissist

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 →

Child of Narcissist / Control / Lack of Empathy / Moving On / Quotes — Comments Off
26
Jan 10

Apologize

Never ruin an apology with an excuse.

Kimberly Johnson

Child of Narcissist / The World Revolves Around Me — Comments Off
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 →

Child of Narcissist / Lack of Empathy / Moving On — 1 Comment
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 →

Control / Lack of Empathy / Moving On — 7 Comments
14
Jan 10

The Insidiousness of Narcissism

I’m tired tonight. I’m that kind of tired where I tell myself, “It’s okay if you go to bed without brushing your teeth. No one will know. You never do that.” Except — I remember telling myself that one night last week, too.

Mark was here for a visit this afternoon. It drains the energy out of all three of us. After he leaves, we snip at each other. We lose patience with each other. We all know that it happens, and yet we have to tell each other to calm down.

On the second day of this new year, I had what I hoped would be a potentially relationship-changing conversation with Mark.

Okay, so I thought I’d had these with him in the past, but this was different. We were going to start the New Year off on the right foot.

The kids had ended a “Goodnight Call” with Mark, and after hanging up, they both started crying. Continue reading →

Control / Opportunistic / The World Revolves Around Me — Comments Off
11
Jan 10

Noxious Narcissism

bind-weed The other day Will and I were riding home from the ski hill with grandpa. The subject of “Blooming where you’re planted” came up. I don’t think I’d find many people to disagree with the premise — be happy where you are planted. I asked grandpa what he thought about the fact that there might be a lot of weeds where we are planted. He responded by saying, “The best way to deal with weeds is to make sure the plant is healthy.” He is right, of course. The healthier the plant, the less chance the weeds have to take over.

I pretend to be a gardener. I love gardening and flowers and vegies and being outside playing in the dirt with the kids and the worms. I never use any kind of chemicals. That stuff scares me. In fact, for me it is therapeutic to pull weeds.

We have a lot of bind weed where we live. Circling our little garden is a four foot fence made of chicken coop wire. It is just about impossible to uncoil bind weed from that fencing, once it has a chance to get started. And actually, bind weed is kind of pretty when it blooms. Bind weed is part of the Morning Glory family. I usually ignore the bind weed that crawls up the fencing. It looks nice when it blooms, and it’s difficult to get rid of once it takes over. But bind weed needs to be pulled before it wraps its tendrils around young seedlings. I try to get Sweet Peas to climb that same chicken coop fencing. It does well if I can keep the bind weed away from it.

So back to the ride home from the ski hill.

I was enjoying that exquisite relaxation that comes from a day of exercising outside. I didn’t have to focus on driving. My mind was thinking about blooming and weeds and toxicity and narcissism. Suddenly I envisioned Mark wrapping his arms around Will and pulling him onto his lap — the way he has done since Will was a toddler. He always seemed to be restraining Will. He’d refuse to let him run around and play. He seemed to want to pin him down in an effort to control him. And then I envisioned the way bind weed wraps around a vulnerable little Sweet Pea seedling — choking it. The Sweet Pea seedling bends under the weight of the bind weed. It is helpless until someone comes along and pulls the bind weed. I could see my own little Sweet Peas struggling to stand tall, to catch a breath, to reach the sun, to grow and bloom. Continue reading →

Moving On / Tools — 4 Comments
6
Jan 10

You’ll Know Them By Their Biscotti

angel My aunt sent me an email a few days ago. Seems my brother had been reading my blog, was concerned about a couple posts, didn’t know how to help, and phoned my aunt. I’d been chatting with her more regularly lately, and she put his mind at ease.

Let me back up a little. About two months ago, I was reading something about Narcissism, and felt compelled to send my aunt an email. When thinking of warm, fuzzy memories from childhood, it seems that a lot of them took place at her house. I wanted to thank her.

That opened a door.

My aunt has been following along in my blog, and sometimes contacts me when she thinks I need a shoulder. She and my uncle have recently taken me under their wing.

Fast forward to today… Continue reading →

Control / Narcissist Quotes / Quotes / The World Revolves Around Me — Comments Off
5
Jan 10

People As Holidays

People are like holidays. Do others see you as Christmas, or more like Tax Day?

Ward Elliot Hour

The World Revolves Around Me — 5 Comments
4
Jan 10

When Narcissists Cave

Peanut is home. Peanut is a Shetland Pony-sized mechanical horse that Santa brought for Jenny two Christmases ago. Santa should have known better than to deliver Peanut to Mark’s house.

You see, Mark has held Peanut hostage for two years. That’s one third of Jenny’s life. Mark actually told Jenny that he was not going to let her take the pony home to our house so as to guarantee regular visits at his house.

One of the greatest joys of parenting is watching your child get so excited over receiving a gift that they have been wanting so badly. That’s one of the few ways you can actually get close to re-living that excitement you felt as a child. It’s your chance to revisit that total elation over getting the gift that you hoped and dreamed for. Imagine watching that joy and elation on your beautiful little girl’s face.

Then imagine telling her that she can’t take her precious pony home.

It’s pretty difficult to remain self-centered once you have kids. You don’t even miss those self-absorbed days. Your focus is first on making sure they survive. Then you are wrapped up in the fun, the adventure, the craziness, the chaos and the bliss of watching these blessings turn into people. Continue reading →

Moving On — 6 Comments
30
Dec 09

Stress — It’s All In Your Head

I’ve been making a lot of choices and decisions that will ultimately lead to less stress in our lives. I hope. It’s too soon to tell, but most days it feels like we’re heading in the right direction. And here’s the weird thing about eliminating stressors — it’s stressful. I’m serious. Tonight I was manically walking through the kitchen ticking off this checklist in my head. Dinner – done. Kitchen – done. Laundry – done. Christmas decorations put away – done. (Told you I was a scrooge, didn’t I?) Bills – done. And instead of feeling like I had earned the right to head to the couch with a cup of tea and a magazine, I found myself pacing back and forth and feeling agitated. I was supposed to be busy. There should have been something else on the list. I felt guilty for being done early. I couldn’t justify couch time because certainly there was more that I should be doing.

What is the correct age for deciding that we’ve earned the right to relax? Do I have some kind of character flaw if I give myself permission to sit and read? Do we have to have a certain amount in the bank before we can give ourselves time to relax? We allow ourselves vacations, but how many of us have an even longer to-do list for vacation?

I remember the mom at school that was waiting for the bell to ring so she could shuttle her kids to soccer and piano lessons. She was sitting and reading a novel. We had 15 minutes before the bell was going to ring. I was helping Jenny with homework. Another mom walked by and said hello to the mom with the novel. They both exchanged exhausted “hellos” and apologized for not calling and explained how ridiculously busy they were. All this while the first mom held a novel in her hands. Why couldn’t the first mom say, “Isn’t this great? I’ve 15 whole minutes to enjoy this wonderful book before we run around like maniacs.” But if she were to admit that, then she must not be a very good mom. Because really good moms go all day long, without any breaks, without any time-outs, until they crash at the finish line. And guess what our kids think? They grow up to think that they have to go all day long, too. They grow up to think that they can’t sit and read or play cards or do absolutely nothing.

Mark was here tonight. No wonder I was pacing in the kitchen. I still have these voices in my head that say, “Don’t pour a glass of wine in front of him. Don’t let him see you sit down. Pick up the stuff in the living room. Get dinner on the table soon.” Heck, it’s not even like he was staying for dinner. Just what does it take to get those darned voices out of my head? He was playing Twister with Jenny, and I had to skirt around him to get to the other side. (In case you may be wondering if Mark is coming around and actually engaging with Jenny, you must know that he barely made it through one round.) As I made my way across the room, I really looked at him, and I was hit with a wave (make that a tsunami) of relief. And I thought to myself, “I am going to sit on my butt, watch T.V., read and have a glass of wine, and you can’t stop me. So there.”

Now that would be a great New Year’s Resolution: More Couch Time with Less Guilt. I’ve earned it.

The World Revolves Around Me / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — Comments Off
27
Dec 09

The Height of Narcissism

A few days before Christmas, my kids received a letter from Santa Claus. I told you they were special. Actually, for about the last three years, Mark has been penning a letter, printing it in a flowery script, placing it in a manila envelope with a return address of “Office of Santa Claus, North Pole”, and leaving it at our door. The letters always talk about what is currently going on in their lives, like the fact that Will is into golf and Jenny is growing her bangs out. I think Mark is capitalizing on the “Santa watches everything” line, and he’s letting the kids know just what it is that Santa sees. Mark does not keep in mind the fact that kids are very perceptive. And he hasn’t factored in the inevitable conversations and reactions at school, when our kids ask other kids about their letters from Santa. Oops.

The night of the letter delivery, when Mark made his “goodnight” call, he asked to talk to me. When I got on the phone he said, “Hey, did the kids get a letter from Santa?” I said that they had gotten it. And there was a long pause. Mark said, “Well, they didn’t mention anything.” Another pause … Finally I said, “Ah, Mark… If I ask them about the letter right now, they will know that you had something to do with it.” “Oh, yes. Well, I just wanted to know if they got it and if they liked it.”

Will is 11 and he still believes. At least it sure seems like it. Could be that he’s faking it because he’s already discovered that fantasy is better than reality. He did ask a bunch of questions about this year’s letter. “Do all kids get letters? How does Santa have time to write all those letters? If all kids don’t get letters, why do we get ’em?”

The three of us were excited this year because Mark had made plans to be out of town for Christmas. Then, on the night of Christmas Eve, he asked when he could see the kids on Christmas Day. That sent us into a tailspin. Of course, in typical Narcissist fashion, he denied ever having made plans to be out of town. He said that he’d been asking the kids (all along) when they could come over. When I got off the phone, I asked them if their dad had attempted to make plans for Christmas Day. They denied ever having been asked. Then they asked if I was mad at them. Then we tried to re-create phone conversations with Mark. And once again, the three of us realized that we were caught up in his lies and contradictions. We got our bearings, set up a time for the kids to see him, and proceeded to grin and bear it.

On Christmas Day, after opening the gifts that Santa left at Mark’s house, Will gave me a call. He had an urgent question. “Mom? Did you talk to Santa on the phone this year?” I emphatically said, “No! Pal, he’s way too busy to be talking to every body’s parents this time of year.” Then Will says, “Well I was just checking.” Continue reading →

Lack of Empathy / Moving On / The World Revolves Around Me — Comments Off
24
Dec 09

Ho Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum

I have got to lighten up. I seem to have misplaced my sense of humor. Perhaps I’ll discover it under the pile of gifts yet to be wrapped. Maybe it’s at the bottom of a mug of eggnog laced with rum. (Yuk. Why do people drink sweetened, pre-scrambled eggs? Just give me the rum.) Yesterday Jenny asked me why my eyes were purple. I said, “I was crying.” She said, “How come you were crying, Mommy?” I scooped her up, twirled her around, and excitedly told her, “Because it’s Christmas, Silly.” Doesn’t everybody cry at Christmas? She has watched me sniffle at Hallmark commercials. I’ll let her think that I’m crying for all the mushy reasons that people might get teary over, at this time of the year.

Ahhh… Christmas with a Narcissist. It’s a beautiful thing. For years, Mark told me that Christmas was his most favorite time of the year. He would actually get misty-eyed over the holidays. Then, as we started a family, he would still get all sappy about Christmas, and how magical it was. But we were never seeing him. His shop gets crazy busy during the Thanksgiving/Christmas season. I wasn’t sure what part of the holidays he enjoyed so much, because he wasn’t able to spend time with his family. Perhaps I just didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to know, in my heart, that the reason he loved Christmas so much was because of the money-making potential of the holidays. I saw the pattern — he would tear up when discussing the day’s proceeds, not how cute his kids were at their Christmas Programs. Actually, he’d fall asleep at their Christmas Programs due to exhaustion from putting in so many long hours trying to wrangle in those few extra dollars.

When I would suggest that he hire an extra person to help him with the load so that he might enjoy his favorite time of the year with our kids while they were young and believed in Santa, he’d scoff at me. He’d pontificate and say, “Well, you have the luxury of staying home, making the house pretty, and making caramels for Christmas because I slave away and put in the long hours to make that possible.” While I agreed that his working as hard as he did made it possible for me to stay home, I also saw that he enjoyed being on stage down at the shop. No matter the level of craziness or exhaustion, he would parade around Ho Ho Ho-ing the customers, cheerfully bagging the product and all the while exclaiming about how great it is to be one of Santa’s Elves. He would insist that the kids and I be down at the shop, so we could marvel at his performance.

Then, on Christmas Eve, he would collapse at 3 p.m. and begrudgingly wake on Christmas morning when the kids wanted to get up early to see what Santa had left. And, Oh! What Santa would leave! Mittens, ski socks, long underwear, toasty warm ski jackets, snow boots, and gloves, too. And another set of thinker long underwear, warmer than the first, and glove liners and ski tickets, and fleece jackets to layer under the other fleece jackets. And hats and neck warmers and liners for the ski socks. We didn’t work as a team on Christmas gift purchasing. I got what I thought the kids would have fun with. He got what he thought they needed. One year I said, “Mark, if we are going skiing anyway, why is a lift ticket a gift?” He would answer that he made it possible for us to go skiing, so that was a gift. I’ve often considered opening some kind of ski retail shop with all the mittens, gloves, ski socks and long underwear that still has not been worn. The other day, Mark asked Will where his heavy-duty long ski mittens were. I knew the mittens that Mark was referring to. He’d given them to Will three years ago. They are still too big for Will. In fact, they are too big for me to wear.

It seems there is a delicately fine line between the crying and the laughing. I think I’ve been on the wrong side of that line lately. I can either cry about the absurdities of the holidays with Narcissists, or I can laugh. They sure do give us a lot of material for laughter. I hope that if you find yourself crying during this Christmas Season, that you are crying for all the right reasons. Continue reading →

Guest Posts / Narcissist Quotes / Quotes / You Might Be a Narcissist If ... — 32 Comments
23
Dec 09

Narcissist Quotes

You cannot make this stuff up.

Only Survivors know how true these quotes are.

Thank you for sharing!

Annie:

“I got myself a new pair of running shoes. Here — you can have my old ones.”

After telling him that I had made an appointment with an Ob/Gyn to discover if I may have fibroids or something more serious, he chimes in with, “Can’t they check your knees while they’re at it?”

Continue reading →

Moving On / Quotes — Comments Off
21
Dec 09

Toes

Mom — you just need a little ‘Toes’.

Jenny Blayne

Moving On — 1 Comment
21
Dec 09

Turn It Up

Survival has been tough lately. Dang. I’m losing the sense the it ever does get any easier. I’m making the choices that get us closer to where we want to be. But there’s some big one’s left to tackle. I’m running out of reserves. Jenny looked at me the other day and said, “Mom, hook up the iPod. You need a little ‘Toes’.” That’s our new favorite by the Zac Brown Band. She was right. I plugged it in and turned it up. Let’s pack it in and head to a sandy beach.