I seem to smell the stench of appeasement in the air.
Margaret Thatcher
Posts Tagged: child of narcissist
18
Dec 09
What Is That Smell?
Underneath my laptop I have a magazine insert that advertises perfume. I usually yank them out and give them to Jenny. I kept this one because it reminds me of my long-distance friend. The heat from the laptop warms it a bit. Once in awhile I hit a keystroke and a little whiff of the scent comes at me. It’s almost like he’s standing right behind me. I wish I knew which keystroke was the magic one to warm up the scent.
The randomness is what makes it sweet.
__________
The kids and I are always talking about how something smells. I can remember Will at his third birthday. He was seriously into his sniffing phase. Each present he opened couldn’t be enjoyed until he’d thoroughly smelled it. He’s gotten a little more discreet about how he smells things.
Jenny often decides whether or not she likes someone based on their scent. Continue reading →
15
Dec 09
Life As Art
Life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint you can on it.
Danny Kaye
14
Dec 09
I’ll Take The Fingernails
“Are you kidding? That’s for me? You guys made that for me? Were you thinking about me when you made that? Can I have it? Can I keep it? Can I hang it in my house? Won’t it look so nice in my house? I can’t believe you guys made that for me! You guys were thinking about me! That’s so cool! That’s really for me, right?”
Would you guess that Mark had been presented with the most exquisite gift ever given? Maybe an original painting? Maybe a handmade quilt? Maybe a one-of-a-kind piece of pottery? Maybe the Hope Diamond? Guess again. The kids gave him a few evergreen branches tied together with a Christmas ribbon. Will says, “Ah, yea, Dad. You can go ahead and hang that on your house.” Then Will turns to look at me with this expression on his face that says, “Get me outta here!”
Those exclamations are the sounds of feigned interest. That is the sound of a person faking enthusiasm for something they think they are supposed to get excited about. That is what it sounds like when you pretend to be interested in something your kids have done. Can you imagine having to pretend to be interested? Can you imagine not thinking that everything they create is some kind of gift, or an indication that they are destined for a life of greatness?
We’ve heard that a lot. Usually those exclamations are followed by short statements that tell the artist how they came up short in their execution. “Jenny! That’s the most amazing drawing of the Loch Ness Monster that I’ve ever seen. But I don’t think he has purple spots.” “Will, I love the story you wrote. But, Buddy, you should really stick with painting.”
Narcissists don’t react to situations the way most people do. Most people try to appropriately match their reaction to the situation. Actually, I don’t think most people have to try to do that. Okay, maybe we have to work at it a bit, when we’re reacting to something coming from someone we don’t know well. But with our family, or people we know well, it shouldn’t be fabricated. It comes naturally for most of us to find the right measure of enthusiasm for any given circumstance. Narcissists don’t have that ability. Maybe it has something to do with their lack of empathy. Perhaps they have to fake all emotions when they are reacting to something that they haven’t created. Continue reading →
10
Dec 09
Who Cares What They Think
Our ski season starts tomorrow. It has been ridiculously cold here, and I’m not really in the mood to go on the first day. I think I need more time for my body to get acclimated to the change in temperature. At least that’s what I’m telling my lazy self. I’m 47 years old and I still ski. I’m not bragging. I’m just surprised.
When I was in 6th grade, the gym teacher told me that I really needed to go out for basketball. I was taller than most everybody else in the class. It made sense that I should be on the basketball team. However, I didn’t want to play basketball. But, because I was an accommodator-in-training, I tried out for basketball. I am a first born, and therefore, a relatively cautious individual. Back then, I was a cautious, first born kid, who was overly preoccupied with what other people thought of me. I was incredibly self-conscious. I may have been decent at basketball, but I didn’t want to make a fool of myself, so I didn’t apply myself. At the end of try-outs, the gym teacher politely told me that I might want to try out for track, instead. I didn’t try out for track. Since then, I’ve always said that I’m not athletic. And yet, I still ski.
Labels are funny things. Why do we let people put labels on us? And why do we so willingly put labels on ourselves? I have a step-brother who hasn’t worn a pair of shorts in 34 years. Some kid once told him he looked like he was riding a chicken. That’s all it took. My step-brother hasn’t worn a pair of shorts since 3rd grade. How come we don’t stand up for ourselves and believe in ourselves. Why don’t we say, “Yea? So what. I like riding a chicken! So there!” I’m always telling my kids (and reminding myself) that people aren’t really looking at you or caring about what you do that much, anyway. They are busy focusing on their own stuff. They might comment on what you are doing, but they move on pretty quickly.
I have been making some tough decisions lately. I think that decisions are more difficult when I keep factoring in the potential reactions that I’ll get from the people in my life. There is this constant chatter in the background. I can hear them saying, “You can’t do that. That’s not the way it’s done. Nobody else does it that way. You should do it like we do. You should be more like us. It works for us. It will work for you, too.” I want them to like me. But more and more, I’m realizing that it’s more important that I like me.
Each time I make a new difficult choice, I realize that I am being true to me. As the dust settles on these new choices, I’m getting closer to my goals of Health, Harmony and Creativity. It has taken a long time for me to realize that I am strong and smart. I can have my own goals. I can follow my own path. I think sometimes it is a bit uncomfortable when people in my life see me making choices that are so different from their choices. Maybe it makes them want to reevaluate their choices. It’s more likely that they are thinking I’m losing my mind. They think I’ve gone off the deep end. I choose to think that I’m just swimming in a different pool. Continue reading →
6
Dec 09
Sparkly, Silver, Strappy Slingbacks
“There’s my mommy’s wedding shoes.”
Jenny and her classmates have been earning pretend money since the beginning of the school year. They are rewarded with coins for their good behavior. Now that Christmas is upon us, they will have the opportunity to use the money they’ve earned. The teacher is setting up a little shop with donated items from parents. The kids will shop from these gently used and not-so-expensive new items. They can fill their little Christmas lists from the items in their Classroom Store.
I was helping the teacher set up the store. One of Jenny’s classmates was still hanging out at the end of the day. Trevor was pretty excited about the stuff he was seeing in the little store. He was wondering who might like the deck of cards, and who might like the mug filled with herbal tea bags. And then he looked at me and said, “There’s my mom’s wedding shoes!” He was so pleased and proud to point out the glittery silver shoes. He could hardly wait to see who would be interested in the shoes his mommy wore on the day she married his daddy.
Trevor’s parents are divorced now. I’ve seen them both at the school — separately, of course. They are one of the sets of parents that has asked the teacher to please schedule conferences individually. They despise each other and refuse to be in the same room, at the same time. I can’t imagine how they deal with the Christmas Program, since I’m pretty sure the school won’t be scheduling a separate showing for each disgruntled parent. Although, there are plenty of disgruntled, divorced parents. Perhaps a separate viewing for moms one day, and dads a different day is a good idea.
I haven’t been able to quit thinking about those silver slingbacks. They so sweetly represent all the hope and promise that Trevor’s mom and dad must have felt on the day they got married. They seem to embody the wish that all little girls have, to one day marry that prince charming and live happily ever after. And they also symbolize the little boys’ wishes to marry the beautiful little princess in the fancy shoes. Now, those shoes were laying amongst the unused potholders, trial sized shampoo bottles, and Dollar Store wrapping paper.
I still marvel at how the brain/spirit/soul works in all this. I include all three because I’m not sure which is responsible for the total disdain and dismissal that one feels for the ex-spouse. I still can’t figure out how it’s possible to so love someone that you think you can’t live without them, and then, at some point, you can’t stand to suffer through a 10 minute teacher conference in that wasband’s presence. Perhaps it’s only possible to get to that point because that person was never really loved to begin with? Who could handle the responsibility of knowing that another can’t live without you? It’s such a lovely, romantic notion, isn’t it — to have someone say they can’t live without you? Yet there are days when it’s all I can do to get dinner on the table, practice the spelling words and balance my checkbook. Then Rita, our chubby feline, rubs up against me, wanting something from me, and it sends me over the edge. I can’t be everything for everyone, let alone anyone. And no one should be expected to do that for me. Continue reading →
29
Nov 09
When Divorcing The Narcissist Isn’t Enough
Last night Will was so stressed, I actually resorted to giving him a Pepcid. That’s the first time he’s taken anything for an upset stomach. His stomach had been bothering him for two days. Coincidentally, his father had been over both those days.
I’m too familiar with this feeling. I have a stash of Pepcid for myself.
After both visits, Will started pacing, cussing and ranting. I’ve told him that he can write about what bugs him. We’ve lots of cryptic notes around the house.
“My Dad is an A hole.”
“F you dad.” Continue reading →
18
Nov 09
Crossing Paths
Jenny is bummed because her closest friend is drifting away. Last year they were in the same class. This year they are in different classes, and while we arrange for the girls to get together outside of class, the relationship is definitely changing. Jen doesn’t understand why Hailey isn’t interested in the same things anymore. Jen wants to know why Hailey doesn’t listen anymore. That’s tough for a 2nd grader. And it’s tough for a 2nd grader’s mom.
But the issue with Hailey opened up an interesting conversation for the three of us. I was trying to explain to Jen and Will about friendships and relationships, in general. I’ve gotten that email about friends, a couple times, now. You know the one — it talks about how some people come into your life briefly, some come into your life for awhile, and some come into your life to stay.
I was trying to explain to Jen that she and Hailey had paths that were headed in the same direction for awhile. They liked the same things, told the same secrets, and giggled at the same time. That was lovely for awhile. But people change, and sometimes their path takes them in a different direction. That’s not a bad thing. It’s a little sad, because you still wish that person’s path was along side yours. But it’s exciting to think that you will be bumping into another person, who may be on the same path as you. And then, at some point, your path will change, and you will veer off in a new direction. I wanted them to see that they should be happy that their paths intersect with other paths for lots of reasons. They should see the benefit of those crossings and not be so blue when the paths head off in new directions. They get to take all the things they learn, and all those shared experiences with them on their own new path.
Of course, that led to my talking about how Mark and I were on the same path for awhile. I wanted them to understand how grateful I am that my path crossed with Mark’s. If it hadn’t, there wouldn’t be Will and Jenny. Naturally, they both wanted to know why my path wasn’t the same as Mark’s anymore. I started to give them that tired old excuse about how people grow and change, and blah, blah, blah. But my kids are pretty visual. I wanted to give them something that would drive the point home. I explained that Mark and I were sort of driving down this path, but it was like we were in two separate cars. I guess I wasn’t comfortable in his car, and he didn’t particularly like my car. His car was fancy and pristine. His car was very organized. You couldn’t drink coffee in his car or eat Goldfish Crackers in his car. Booster seats never really fit properly in his car. My car had plenty of room for booster seats, graham crackers, granola bars, wipes, bikes, stuffed animals, books, papers, crayons, and frisbees.
One day, as we were headed down our path, side-by-side, in our two separate cars, it was like my hand involuntarily (or maybe not so involuntarily) yanked on the steering wheel, my car went out of control, and I crashed right into his car and caused a seriously messed up demolition. I reminded them of those cool demolition derbies that they see on T.V., where the car is totally trashed, but the driver jumps out, arms in the air, grinning from ear to ear. I tried to explain that I had been ready for a new path for awhile. I wasn’t happy traveling that same path with their dad anymore. In order to head out on a new path, I made the choice to not be married to their dad any longer. I pointed out that divorce is a lot like a demolition derby. There’s a lot of messed up cars, but usually everybody walks away intact. Some drivers, of course, come out of the derby much happier than others.
10
Nov 09
Don’t Be Fooled By The Narcissist
I just came back from a weekend away. It was just four nights, but it required a lot of preparation to make it possible for me to go. I won’t say that I had to move heaven and earth, but I pretty much had to shift the continental U.S. to make it happen. I probably would most likely have more options for child care if I didn’t have a problem with imposing on others. Accommodators don’t like to impose. That is against our very nature. Add to that the fact that if I’m going away on a little holiday, I can’t enjoy myself if I think my kids are going to be miserable. So, I do bend over backwards to make sure all parties will be relatively happy if I should get the chance to go.
__________
It is not an option for Will and Jenny to stay at their father’s house. They don’t even stay for over-nighters. Eight months ago I took a trip, arranged for the kids to spend part of the time at their father’s, part with an aunt, and part with grandma. Mark could not, or would not, clear his schedule for the entire length of my trip. And it is exhausting for grandma to handle the lifestyle adjustment for the entire trip. I had to get creative. (See what I mean?)
When I returned from my trip, Jenny told me that she wasn’t comfortable spending the night at her dad’s anymore. Will agreed that he wasn’t comfortable staying at Mark’s either. It seems there was an “incident” that made Jenny confused and uncomfortable and she asked me to not make her stay there anymore. I discussed “the incident” with Mark, and of course he denied everything. I had no choice but to trust Jenny. It is my job to protect her. I made the decision to allow the kids to see their father only when I would be present. There would be no over-nighters — ever.
___________ Continue reading →
6
Nov 09
Narcissists Can’t Dance
I got rid of my piano. I gave away the dining room table. We have a tiny house. But now we have some open floor space on the hardwoods in the dining room. It’s going to stay that way. Every morning we listen to music before we head out the door. Will gets to pick on Mondays and Wednesdays. Jenny picks on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I get Fridays. Most of the time, we are brushing our teeth while dancing in the middle of the dining room. It sets a happier tone and helps us choose a better attitude before we really get the day going.
In addition to saying your kind words to yourself each day, you ought to be making music a big part of your life. There are times when it’s comforting to listen to sad stuff. Sad music allows you to wallow in your mess a bit. You shouldn’t do that for long. But sometimes it’s necessary to feel crappy about your situation. It serves the same purpose as venting to a friend who will listen. Music shares your pain. After a couple or three moody songs, then it’s time to pick something fast, fun and in-your-face. Our current favorites are “Rocks in Your Shoes” by Emily West, and “Heaven” by Los Lonely Boys. Will and Jen know all the words by heart. I’m pretty sure they haven’t listened enough to get the meaning. But they love the beat.
When I was a kid we had a Hammond Organ. Wow. It’s great fun when you are a sixth grader comparing notes on what instrument you play. One kid plays the flute. One kid plays the trumpet. The cool kid plays the drums. The even cooler kid plays the guitar. And the nerdy girl plays the organ. I got to take organ lessons. That’s probably when I first learned to be self-deprecating. If you can’t laugh at yourself for taking organ lessons, then you better develop a thicker skin.
My mom had a thing for playing the piano and then the organ. She tells how when she and my dad first divorced, she would tuck my brother in his bed, and me in my bed, fix a stiff drink, put on the headphones, and play the organ — really loud. It was her way of shouting at the world. Her way of expressing all that anger and resentment.
I hate the organ. I have an iPod. Lucky me. The three of us enjoy it in the morning. I enjoy it all by myself at night. I’ve noticed that I’ve gravitated toward the fast, take-on-the world kind of songs; and away from the sad, what-about-me songs. And the dancing is a big part of the music. We all dance like maniacs around here. It’s a great way to have fun with each other. And for me, it’s a great way to relieve stress. Who cares what you look like? It’s about the fun of expressing the music. Continue reading →
1
Nov 09
What We Discard
The things people discard tell more about them than the things they keep.
Hilda Lawrence
1
Nov 09
Trick or Treat
We survived another Halloween. They might be a little less scary now that we aren’t living with the narcissist anymore. He called yesterday afternoon to ask if he was invited to take the kids Trick or Treating. I was confused, “I thought I heard them invite you last night?” He lets out a dramatic sigh and says, “Well, yes, but I didn’t know if something might have changed by today.” Apparently he needs to be invited to be a parent.
The kids had overheard my phone conversation with him. They asked what it was about. I explained that their dad wondered if he was still invited to take them Trick or Treating. Will laughed and said, “Oh, he’s doing that thing where he wants us to beg him to come over.” Jenny said, “No, actually, he doesn’t really want to go at all, so he’s seeing if we’ve changed our minds.” They are both correct, to a certain degree. They definitely have him pegged.
Then, when he had completed his 20 minute stint with the kids, he asked if they wanted to do anything on Sunday. Will excitedly told him that we’d be eating junk food and watching the Packers beat the Vikings. Mark was never much into watching football. I think he’s a little miffed that the kids and I are getting into it.
Today, he called 10 minutes before the game was supposed to start. He talked to Jenny, because Will was busy, and his message was, “I’m just letting you both know that I am available to talk on the phone, or to come over and hang out.” And that was it. Clearly, he is letting them know that he expects them to call and beg him to come over. He wants to see if he can actually trump the football game. He wants to see if they like being with him so much, that they’ll gladly change any plans that they’ve made with me. While it may sound like he wants to see/be with the kids, he really just wants them to want to be with him. When he gets over here, he is not at all interested in how they are or what they have going on in their lives. And when they don’t initiate anything with him, we don’t hear from him for days.
And here’s what I do … I spend the rest of the afternoon reminding them that they may want to call their dad. Old habits die hard. I am so conditioned to try and foster this relationship between my kids and their dad. It’s like breathing. I used to say, “Don’t forget to call your dad. Your dad would appreciate a phone call tonight. Do you want to see if your dad would like to come over?” I am setting them up for the same kind of relationship that I had with my dad, and then with Mark. Those relationships were totally driven by me. They were not reciprocal. They were one-sided. When I dropped the ball with my dad, the relationship was over. When I decided to leave Mark, he didn’t come after me and say, “Hey, I’ll try harder. Let’s make this work.” Do I want that for my kids? I continue to foster this “relationship” because I don’t want my kids to some day say to me, “Why did you keep us from seeing our dad? Why couldn’t we see him whenever we wanted?” Continue reading →
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 →
26
Oct 09
Narcissists Are Six-Year-Olds
When I first started digging into all this narcissism stuff, I kept reading that a narcissist’s maturity level stops at about the age of six. I was astounded at how all these characteristics of narcissism perfectly fit my ex-husband. But I have to admit, I really thought the six-year-old thing was a bit of a stretch. I guess I was taking it too literally. I mean he owned a business, drove a car and had a checkbook. He didn’t really act like a six-year-old. Or did he?
While Mark was here to visit with the kids Friday night, he kept trying to hatch a plan to pick them up the next day. I could hear the kids dodging his questions. When they don’t want to do anything with him, they always say, “We’ll have to check with mom, first, to see if she has made any plans.” That’s my clue to make up some plans. They’d been kind of secretive with him when he was asking them about getting together. After he left, they told me the reason they didn’t want to see him the next day. Turns out he had come up with a plan for a Christmas gift for me. He wanted the kids to help him with it. They wanted to have nothing to do with it because it was all his plan. He hadn’t asked for any of their input.
The next morning, he called to see when he could pick up the kids. It’s getting somewhat easier to be honest with him. I told him that they weren’t excited about working on the project with him since it was all his idea. He said, “Well I know it was all my idea, but I thought they liked my idea.” I thought to myself, “Well did you ask them if they liked your idea? Or did you just assume that they liked your idea? Or better yet, how about you ask them what they’d like to get me for Christmas.”
Here’s where the six-year-old behavior begins. That was Saturday morning. I’m writing this Monday, after the kids have gone to bed. He usually calls for his bogus goodnight calls almost every night. He didn’t call Saturday, Sunday, and now Monday nights. He is pouting. We are being taught a lesson. He is giving us the cold shoulder. We have gotten to the point where we really enjoy not hearing from him for a couple or three days. One of the kids will notice that he’s not calling and say, “Dad must be pouting again.” Then a couple more days will pass and one of the kids will miss him. They will ask if they can call him. I will say, “Of course you can call your dad.” They will call, and he will pick up where he left off at the last visit, like nothing ever happened.
A couple years ago on Father’s Day, Will was torn about what to do. He felt obligated to spend the day with his dad, but he also wanted to spend time with his grandpa, at the cabin. We came up with a marvelous idea for fitting both plans into the day. When we explained the plan to Mark, he actually whined and said, “Well what about me? What am I supposed to do? It’s my Father’s Day, ya know.” At the time, Will was 9, and grandpa had already assumed more of the fathering role than Mark had. Will knew that he was expected to spend the day with his father, but he also knew what a farce that was. I remember the three of us standing in the driveway. Will and I looked at each other and then we both looked at Mark. I couldn’t believe that not only had that immature thought entered Mark’s mind, but he actually verbalized that thought–in front of his son. Who were the adults in that scenario? Besides, once someone says something like, “Hey, you’re supposed to be with me,” how much does anyone want to be with them? And how enjoyable, then, is it for the person who had to beg another to spend time with them? Continue reading →
