Posts Tagged: child of narcissist


5
Jul 12

Scream It With Me

From the nearest hilltop.

From a virtual mountain, if that’s your thing.

From the top floor of your apartment building.

From your desk at work with your mute button on.

From your shower.

With fists clenched and head thrown back…

 

“I am a good person.

I have a kind heart.

I have always tried to do my best.

I know I am responsible for where I have ended up.

 

Must I pay for my mistakes for the rest of my life?!

 

May I be done now?”

 

 

Straighten your blouse, brush your bangs to the side, glance around to see if anyone is staring and get back on your path.

 

 

*The desperate screams of a woman who fears she’ll have to deal with her narcissistic ex-husband for the rest of her life.

 


3
Jul 12

When He Cries

yin and yangBeware of men who cry.
It’s true that men who cry are sensitive to and in touch with feelings,

but the only feelings they tend to be sensitive to and in touch with
are their own.
– Nora Ephron
 

Beware the man who, when you tell him you’re leaving your husband, starts to cry and lament the fact that his wife left him five years ago.

 

Beware the man who, when surrounded by the beauty of his own children, sheds “happy” tears about a stranger’s five year old daughter who sat on his lap and kissed his cheek.

 

Embrace the man who gazes at you and tears up because he knows his life is blessed by your presence; and he makes it his mission to never let you feel taken for granted.

 

 

 


2
Jun 12

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up – 3

By the end of the third full day of rain, we’d filled our Yahtzee pages and played enough Aggravation to understand how the game got its name.

We’d run through Oh, Hell and Cribbage, too.  In a desperate move, I suggested Trivial Pursuit, even though I could clearly remember how the game was a yawn fest when I was a kid.

Jenny escaped to the garage to work on a project with grandpa.

Will, grandma and I dusted off the Trivial Pursuit box and pulled out the cards.   It wouldn’t be long before we’d lose Will.  We fumbled with questions like, “What team retired baseball player Stan Musial’s No. 6?” and “Who’s the barber in The Barber of Seville?”

It was Will’s turn. Continue reading →


26
May 12

Proof of Love

proof of loveThe bouquet looks tired.  She ought to have pitched it a couple days ago.  She turns the vase to view the arrangement from a different angle and convinces herself that if she changed the water, she could enjoy it for another day or two.

He leaves hand prints in the dust on the cover of the box as he opens it.  The box contains a package of lures, empty 22 shells, skateboard bearings, tech deck pieces and pictures of successful fishing trips.  He keeps the packaging from the gifts.  He’s yet to use the lures for fear he’ll lose one.

He closes the box and grabs for his cell.  He’s hoping to make plans to shoot gophers or stop at the convenience store to pick up worms and go fishing or take a long bike ride.  He leaves another message.

She devotes a drawer in her vanity to notes and cards.  There’s one her dad have given her on her twelfth birthday.  There’s a scribbled note from the boy that sat behind her in 8th grade English.  She found a couple from college roommates.

The drawer is lined with the glitter sprinkled on the “fancier” cards.  She remembers being a little girl excitedly opening a birthday card.  The glitter would stick to her fingers as she read the card’s message.  She believed receiving a fancy card was a sign of a true, lasting kind of love. Continue reading →


26
Apr 12

Selective Attention and Homemade Tea Bags

her pretend tea bags When I brew a cup of tea, Jenny runs over to stand next to my cup.  Her turned-up nose hovers over the steam as she inhales deeply.  She loves the smell of tea but isn’t fond of the taste.  She often asks if she can dunk my tea bag while she watches the hot water take on the soft yellow of Chamomile.  She likes knowing the color comes from flower petals.

I think she’s drawn to the ritual of the process.  She’s fascinated by the little envelopes that hold the dried leaves.  She likes the names of tea:  English Breakfast, Orange Pekoe, Honey Bush, Peppermint and Lemon Zinger.

And so she spent the better part of a sunny afternoon, sitting out on the patio with paper, embroidery floss, staples, tape and markers to make her own tea bags.  Her tea bags contained imaginary dried petals and herbs.

Will and I marveled at how much they looked like real tea bags.  Maybe these were tea bags for baby dolls.  They might be used for a party with imaginary friends.

Jenny served us up some “steaming hot tea” in pastel-colored cups with mismatched saucers.  Will asked for Peppermint.  I chose Earl Grey. Continue reading →


18
Apr 12

It Isn’t Fair But It Is Good


We’d gone in search of lavender fleece.  We came home with jewelry making supplies, three unpainted birdhouses in need of jazz, and half a yard of turquoise fleece for, “You know, mom….  more projects.”

The idea was that each of us would paint a birdhouse.

Will and Jen are coming out of that blissful phase of thinking everything they do is fantastic.  They are starting to compare their creations to others.  But for right now they still relish the act of creating.  That means they get out the paints, sit down on the floor and go to it.

Without a plan.

Without first sketching, erasing, sketching again or starting over. Continue reading →


15
Apr 12

Narcissism – The Crux of the Matter

Me:  “He’s demonstrated that he is more than willing to put in the time.  When other kids his age beg to play Xbox, he searches the internet for tips on golf swings.  Clearly, this is one of his top three passions – it may be the thing he is most passionate about.  We’ve been told by a couple instructors that he is blessed with some natural talent.  We don’t spend money on soccer or baseball or football or guitar or karate.  I really think it’s time we get him some lessons and support him in this thing he loves.”

Him:  “My parents never did that for me.”


2
Apr 12

He Might Be A Narcissist If …

… before you were married, he said flattering things about the way you dressed and the clever way you put yourself together.  After marriage, he tells you how he never liked boots with skirts, and that you shouldn’t wear your hair short because it makes your face look full.

… he refuses to suggest that you spend a day doing something you’ve been talking about – something he knows you’ve been dying to do – until you beg him to go with you.

… he spends more time getting ready in the morning than you.  His lotions and potions take up more space in the bathroom than your creams, and he often smells more fragrant than you.

… before marriage he was convinced you did everything perfectly.   Now that you’ve been married for eight months you’ve mysteriously forgotten how to cook an egg, sweep a floor, make a proper bed or keep the car tidy.

… he says you spend too much time reading and not enough time watching the stuff he likes on T.V. Continue reading →


9
Mar 12

Things That Can Be Fixed

Jenny fixes a too gaudy Barbie dress by altering it.  She cuts off the flouncy sleeves and shortens the train.  She might use tape or thread or buttons, but she knows she can fix it.  She’ll even fix Barbie’s hair with snips here and there.

When the wheels don’t spin fast enough on his skateboard, Will can fix that problem by cleaning the bearings.

I can fix a too-thin sauce in a batch of  Chicken and Broccoli Fettuccine by letting the sauce soak into the pasta a bit before serving.

I fix the toilet when it makes that whistling sound.  Will fixes the squeaky hinge on the art supply cupboard.  Jen fixes a meal of flowers and herbs for her imaginary pony.

Fixing is what we do.  Fixing is in our blood. Continue reading →


2
Mar 12

The Good is Good Because of the Bad

Through tears he said, “I don’t wanna go. I’m tired.  Do we have to?  Do we have to do a dad visit?”

I said, “I’m sorry, Honey.  I know.  You are tired, but that’s not a good enough excuse to skip out on a visit.  You can be tired at dad’s house, too.”

He said, “I know that, but it’s not the same.  It’s not comfortable there.”

__________

Later, when sorting through Tech Decks and old Golf Magazines, picking up air soft ammo and discussing the logic behind owning seven backpacks, we found the wallet he lost last Thanksgiving.

“Mom!  Can you believe it?  There are gift cards in there, too.  I thought I’d never see that wallet again!”

I said, “You lead a charmed life, Cowboy.  Do you see that?”

He said, “I know, mom.  I do lead a charmed life.  Even if I have to go to dad’s today, I still have it pretty good.”

He walked out of the room to show Jen the found wallet.

A bit later he came back in and said, “I get it, mom.  The good is that much better because of the bad.”


17
Feb 12

Life in the Village Where Relationships Come First

the village where relationships come firstOnce upon a time there was a contented village where everyone worked together to pursue their goals, realize their dreams, raise their children and make the world’s best ice cream.

There was one governing rule in the village:

Relationships must come first.

Relationships with partners, spouses, kids, parents, friends, grandparents, dogs, cats, gardens, trees, birds, butterflies, dandelions and all other living things must come first.

When a villager reached an age where self-awareness could benefit her rather than taint her (think narcissism) the relationship with her own self would become a priority as well. Continue reading →


3
Feb 12

They Said

They said, “How bad can it be?  He doesn’t beat you.  He doesn’t gamble.  He isn’t gone every weekend.  You have a nice home.  How bad can it be?”

They said, “You know, it’s not easy being a single mom.  There will be lonely nights.  It’s a lot to handle by yourself.  Are you sure this is what you want?”

She said, “I don’t want to hear your reasons for leaving him.  I think he’s wonderful.”

He said, “I thought you were the perfect couple.  You looked like you were happy.  Wasn’t he making enough money for you?”

And when I started this blog, they said, “You shouldn’t dwell on all this negative stuff.  It just isn’t healthy for you or the kids.  Leave all this toxic stuff behind you.”

After I’d been writing for over two years, and the kids and I had clearly grown and worked through a laundry list of issues, they said, “Well, where are you going to go with this now?  You’ve survived.  You’re thriving, even.  You’ve clearly come out the other side and you’ve made great progress.  Why are you still writing about surviving narcissism?”

__________

This morning I received an email.  She said, “I saw the comment that came from another corner of the world.  I see how many there are.  I see how they all wonder if they might be crazy. I see how this impacts children.  I see how this might help.  I get it now.”

 

I knew she would.


17
Jan 12

A Work In Progress

I am a work in progress and so is this blog.

First, some chronology to set the stage:

5 1/2 years ago –  Stuff three boxes, buckle two young kids into car seats, leave husband,  nice house, financially secure future, perpetual stomach aches and nicest yard* I’ll ever tend.

5 years, 5 months ago – Discover NPD and naively present the concept to narcissistic husband and helplessly watch as message falls on deaf ears.

5 years, 3 months ago – Buy tiny, cozy, safe home for the three of us.  Put holes in walls, roll in grass that is never fertilized, refuse to make beds, leave projects out in plain sight, smile and laugh every day.

4 years, 4 months ago – Youngest starts public school.  Take a temporary, part-time job with family.  Rush between commitments like every other family in the U.S.  Stomach aches start to make a reappearance.

4 years ago – Divorce is finalized. Kids seem to be coping well with divorce, not so well with public school. Continue reading →


13
Jan 12

Tales From Moving On

She hadn’t written him a letter explaining. She hadn’t told him she was leaving. She didn’t realize – until she saw her hands putting her journal, a laptop, and some clothes in a box – that she was leaving.

As she packed, her mind wasn’t going over the possibilities of what would come next.  She hadn’t made a six-month plan or a five-year plan.  She hadn’t given serious consideration to finding work or a house.  She didn’t know what she’d tell friends and family.

She needed to breathe.

In order to breathe, she would have to leave her marriage.

As she packed, her thoughts were consumed with, “What do I need to take with me because I am never coming back here.” Her hands operated as if on auto-pilot. Her demeanor was calm and determined. She didn’t frantically start grabbing things from the kitchen cupboards. She methodically filled one box with a few necessities for starting a new life. Continue reading →


9
Jan 12

They Look Through You

Whether it comes from years of looking inward, or years of not seeing clearly, I don’t know.  Their eyes take on a cloudiness that makes it look like they have a difficult time focusing on the rest of the world.

You will feel yourself fighting the urge to hold a magnifying glass between yourself and the Narcissist, but it won’t help.  If you aren’t careful, they’ll use the magnifying glass against you.  They’ll find your flaws and use them to illustrate the fact that they are superior to you.

They’ll point out that they cook eggs better than you, or sweep the floor better or dress better or laugh easier.

 

The Making of a Narcissist Continue reading →