Posts Tagged: narcissism


31
Aug 10

Apron Strings and Mixed Messages

forest floorJust received an email from a dear friend.   Her youngest has gone off to college.  She lives on the other side of the country, and yet I can feel how her life has shifted in a plate tectonics sort of way.   I’d like to be camped at her house with cocktails, dinners, movies and whatever her favorite distractions may be.  I know that the gesture would be appreciated, but that’s the last thing she would want right now.

Our parenting styles are very similar.  That is to say, our worlds revolve around our kids, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m a recovering helicopter parent.  When Will was small, I obsessed about every bite he took, the length of every nap, and his clothing preferences.  I could tell you what kind of mood he was in by the expression on his face.  I knew his smell, the rumblings he muttered when he slept, his favorite songs, and his weird sign language that took the place of speech for a scary long time.

We seemed to communicate on a cellular level.

When Jenny came along, I was presented with a new being to cherish and obsess over.  I was in tune with her on a totally different, feminine level.  I read her moods, felt her needs and anticipated her wants before she had to express them. Continue reading →


23
Aug 10

Lawyers, Attorneys and Bears – Oh My!

Mark is contesting the parenting schedule – the schedule that he authored.  At the time of our divorce. he penned a parenting schedule with all kinds of flexibility to accommodate his work and play schedules.  I was quick to accept because I knew he wouldn’t demand to see them much.

Apparently that isn’t serving his “need” to see his children more.

He wants to see them every other weekend, every Wednesday, his birthday and some holidays.

No mention of the kids’ birthdays.

No mention of assisting with home schooling. Continue reading →


8
Aug 10

Surviving Nicely

A year from now you may wish you had started today.
Karen Lamb

Today is the first birthday of this blog.  I prefer to think of it as a birthday, rather than an anniversary, since this blog has been so much like another child for me.

And what a first year.

I spent a good portion of the year writing about the day-to-day business of living with a narcissist.  I hoped my efforts would help others see what they might also be dealing with.  In the process, I was able to see where I had been, and how I needed to help myself and my kids.

I wrote about the tools we developed along the way that helped us with the hurts and frustrations that come from trying to understand a narcissist.

I included quotes that helped me see the big picture.  The quotes served as good words to motivate me when I felt the most hopeless. Continue reading →


29
Jul 10

Identifying Wolves

After reading yesterday’s post, my aunt invited us for a summer bright spot.  Instead of serving coffee and biscotti, we met for a picnic lunch at the park.  We sat in the grass under the shade of a huge pine tree, eating fries and burgers from Dairy Queen.

On the way to her house, I thought of how I’d tell her of the wolves that had been knocking at my door.

I’d give her the details.

I’d get her take on things.

I’d vent (a little) and spew. Continue reading →


28
Jul 10

Coming Full Circle

barbed

“Dad, if you changed some things so that we would be more comfortable around you, we would want to see you more.”  Will, with eyes blinking incessantly, and hands shoved into the pockets of his grass-stained kahkis, summoned the courage to stand up to his dad.

Later, Will told me he felt like he wanted to throw-up when he was talking to Mark.

Jenny was hiding in a corner of the garage.  When Mark asked her if he still used the baby voice, she was visibly shaking.  She looked down at her feet, clutched her Barbie, and whispered, “Yes.”

Then, Mark announced to the three of us that he has only one voice.  He does not have, and never has had, a baby voice. Continue reading →


5
Jul 10

When The Other Shoe Doesn’t Drop

Apparently, the Narcissist’s other shoe is not made of concrete.  Apparently, the other shoe will not even be dropped.  Mark received The Email from mom.  And, as previously written, she dared say things I have never had the guts to say.  She delivered a 2 x 4 to his forehead with more force than I thought her slender arms could produce.  She blew off the end of the smoking gun, re-holstered, and stood with arms crossed, head high, waiting for a response.

I, however, metaphorically cowered in the corner while the kids chatted about firecrackers, s’mores, the cabin and the hopes of landing the first trout of the season.

The first responses were received by Will and Jenny.  Mark told them, rather briefly, that he was surprised that they think he’s a bad dad.  He has always felt that he was a wonderful dad.  He would not be making them any promises to change anything, because he doesn’t quite know what to change.

I’ll refrain from saying something petty like, “Please refer to the previous 47 emails from the kids telling you what makes them uncomfortable.”  Or, “Maybe you could start with the baby voice.”

The next day, mom received a similarly brief response.  Once again, he is shocked that his parenting style is receiving any criticism.  He has always believed that he was being the best father to all his kids.  He mentioned that he has been quite happy, recently, and that he’s shocked that his happiness hasn’t made it possible for him to be an even better father. Continue reading →


28
Jun 10

The Narcissist’s Other Shoe

This is the calm before the storm. Or is it? After Mark’s last email to Will, we have not heard much from him. It has been quite pleasant around here. Although, there is a part of me that wonders what’s coming next.

Will received that lengthy, mom-bashing, blame-laying, ‘your life wouldn’t be what it is today without all the sacrifices I’ve made for you’ email on the day before Father’s Day.   Jenny and Will opted not to call him.  On the evening of Father’s Day, Mark left a message asking only to talk to Jenny. Jenny begrudgingly returned his call on Monday. It sounded like Mark was actually asking detailed questions about her weekend. He did not ask to talk to Will.

On Tuesday, Mark called, and this time asked to talk to Will. He had some story about his neighbors, to relay to Will. He ended the conversation by saying, “Hey, I’m floating the river tomorrow. Do you want to come?” He didn’t discuss the email, or Will’s lack of response to his email. After Will got off the phone, he shook his head and said, “Dad is doing that thing where he is pretending that everything is fine.”

Will didn’t go floating with Mark.

I answered the phone on Thursday. Mark asked if the kids were home. I held up the phone and said, “You guys, it’s your dad.” They both looked at me, shook their heads, and whispered, “NO! We don’t want to talk to him.” Instead of forcing them to talk to their dad, I said, “Mark, neither one of the kids wants to come to the phone.” He sternly said, “Okay. Goodbye.” Continue reading →


22
Jun 10

When The Path Is Overgrown

orange-wildflowersI am the stream.  I am the stream.  I am the stream.

Yeah.

Whatever.

There are a few more rapids in the stream today.

I do believe in the stream.  I am the stream.  But, today I needed a little help getting around a humongous boulder. Continue reading →


21
Jun 10

I Am The Stream

the-missouriI thought about posting the most damning quotes from the emails received from Mark in the last few days. I thought I might even write about how Mark is telling Will that while every boy needs a mom, they don’t need a mom who poisons them with the hate they feel for that boy’s dad. I thought I’d even post entire copies of those emails. (Trust me. They far exceed the 1000 word limit that a lot of bloggers prefer.) I thought of posting his criticisms and defending myself. His writings further prove his disorder, so it certainly would be more fodder for this blog.

And when I pictured myself typing those things, I saw battery acid oozing out of my finger tips. The acid flowed over the keyboard and cemented the keys, so that I could no longer type.

I can’t type that negative stuff.

I can’t give more life to his hateful words.

It was the night before Father’s Day, when Will read Mark’s recent email out loud. The kids didn’t cry. They didn’t pace the floor and exclaim that they don’t understand how their dad could write such things. They didn’t beg to sleep in my bed because they were so hurt or bruised by Mark’s words. Continue reading →


20
Jun 10

Happy Father’s Day to Me

I have learned how to throw a spiral.

I ski on the days when it’s too damn cold, though I’d rather be sitting by the fire reading a good book.

I routinely embarrass myself on the golf course.

I know the difference between an ollie, a nosegrind and a kickflip.

I laugh at their burp competitions.

I let them spit sunflower seed shells at each other – until I can’t stand it any more.

I let her cut up her new Barbie outfits because she loves to “alter” things.

I remind her every day that she’s beautiful, and strong, and smart.

I remind him that the strongest men are tender – that they don’t hide their feelings.

I watch hours of skateboarding DVDs, listen to volumes of data on the intricacies of different players’ golf swings, and help build snowboard jumps off our front step.

I let her know that what she has to say is just as important as what anyone else has to say.

I shoot hoops and play h.o.r.s.e, although sometimes I’ve been known to forget and call it h.o.u.s.e.

I carry her to bed some nights, even though she’s getting too heavy for me, because a strong daddy would carry his little girl to bed.

I try not to watch when he rides his bike ‘no hands’.

I put worms on hooks when I’d rather not.  I let him mow the lawn even though I worry that he’ll get hurt.  I try not to baby him in front of others, and I try to treat her like a princess without letting it go to her head.

Once in awhile, when no one is looking, I’ll let them take turns sitting in the passenger seat, and practice shifting gears

I try not to tell him to ‘knock it off’ when he drinks out of the milk carton, even though that drives me nuts.  I let them squirt the whipping cream straight into their mouths.

 

 

I am trying my best.

 

 

Today I will look in the mirror and say, “Happy Father’s Day,” to myself.

 

 

To all the fathering mothers and the fathering fathers, thank you for all the good work you do.


17
Jun 10

When Fear is the Bus Driver

“Whoa!  That was a fun ride!” she says, facetiously.  I’m sure it won’t be the last time Fear drives this bus.  But, for now, I’m back behind the wheel.  I’ve got to look into getting some seat belts installed on this thing.  The view from the back seat was interesting, but a little blurry because Fear was driving so fast.  That’s probably why I was up the night before last, vomiting.  Fear does that to me.  It’s a lot like car sickness.

This morning is cold, cloudy and rainy.  My mood, however, matches a 75 degree, sunny, windless day.

I’m driving now, and I have my confidence back.  The ride is smoother, more leisurely, and I’m sure we’ll stop for snacks and take in a matinee.

Fear took control of the bus when I lost faith in myself and what I know to be true.

I was silencing my own voice, to better hear what others had to say.  But I forgot that no one knows my kids as well as I do.  No one knows their hurts, their insecurities and their fears like me, because I know how they got them. Continue reading →


15
Jun 10

Fear on the Frontlines

I am scared.  My stomach hurts.

Mark talked to my mom before his counseling session today.  He admitted that yesterday’s visit did not go well.  He said he thinks he can’t reach Will.  I’m stunned that he can see this.

My head was reeling with the sudden change in Mark’s tone.

Is he ready to discard the kids because they aren’t interested in sourcing his narcissism?  He has never admitted to this strained relationship with Will before.  Why now?

The kids are scheduled for a session with Mark and the counselor tomorrow.  They are begging me not to make them go.  They are crying.  They are pleading.

I’ve told them that we are taking the ‘high road’.  We will go to one more session to show Mark, and the world, that we are giving this our best. Continue reading →


14
Jun 10

From the Sidelines to the Stands

I spent some time on the sidelines.  I was too close to the game, and couldn’t see the action well.   I moved to the stands.  I can see the game better, and it’s a lot more comfy here, too.  It’s best that I’m further from the action.  They can’t hear me when I fail at keeping my mouth shut.  I’m sitting on one of those cushions with the attached back.  There’s no one sitting in front of me, so my feet are up.  I’ve got popcorn and an icy cold beer.

My kids are suiting up for another run at this ‘game’ at grandma’s.  Last night, Jenny slept with me again.  She’s dreading today and couldn’t get to sleep because she can’t quit thinking about how her dad just doesn’t see her.  This morning, Will said, “I am done with these visits.  I just feel beat down.”

I’m picturing my kids suited up for a football game.  We’ve only recently gotten into watching football.  There hasn’t been a dad around to spend Sundays watching the games, so we don’t really know how the game is played.  Will certainly knows more than Jen and I do.  But he still doesn’t understand penalties and downs and all that stuff.  They are begrudgingly putting on their shoulder pads and helmets.  After a few encouraging shouts from the stands, they will drag their butts up the hill to grandma’s house.

I tried the coaching bit for eleven years.  Perhaps I’d have done a better job if I’d known more how the game was played.  It seems the other team (Mark) keeps changing the rules.  Each time my kids were tackled, I’d rush out to the field, help them up and encourage them to get back in the game.  It took me quite awhile before I realized that Mark kept changing the rules.  I was encouraging the kids to play fair.  After each tackle, it became harder and harder to talk them into going back in for what they knew would be another hit.  I hoped they’d be able to play better as they got older.  At this point, they pretty much hate the game altogether.  They don’t even want to be near the stadium, let alone on the field.

Now, with my mom as coach, it’ll be interesting to see how the rest of the game plays.  Initially, Jen and Will were cautiously optimistic.  This new coach did a better job of getting them psyched before the game.  She was a lot more enthusiastic about the potential outcome.  She really believed we could win this thing, and her spunk was contagious.  The three of us were ready for a new coach because we were sick and tired and bruised from losing every stinkin’ game. Continue reading →


12
Jun 10

What A Dad Does

backyard-water-slideThis photo reminds me of all the fun that was had around our house this week.  Those drops of water are getting ready to slide down the tulip leaf.  You can almost hear the drops saying, “Wheeeee!”

Kelle, my cousin’s daughter, was invited to stay Monday night.  Her mom and sister went on a trip, and we thought it’d be fun to have Kel here to hang out with Jen and Will for a night and a day.

They had so much fun, that Monday night and Tuesday turned into Tuesday night …

You can see where this is going.

I started to feel bad for Joe, her dad.  I thought he might be missing his daughter a bit, so we invited him for pizza Tuesday night.  He arrived during major renovations.  The kids hatched a plan to move the fort they had constructed in the living room, to the back yard.  I dug out the inflatable mattress and the pump.  We were twenty minutes into inflation when Will announced that Jenny could blow up the mattress faster than that silly pump.  Joe offered to run to the other side of town to get his pump. Continue reading →


9
Jun 10

The Narcissist’s Instincts

I woke to the sound of our cat crunching on her breakfast.  We buy her the good stuff.  I’m sure that’s why she’s so nice to us.  Then I heard her claws click across the hardwoods as she made her way down the hall and across my bedroom.  I heard the pause  before she jumped on my bed.  She snuggled in for a morning nap after filling her belly.  My bed sets beside a sliding glass door that looks out on the Poplar in the back yard.  Just as the cat closed her eyes, I saw a Robin land on the shed roof next to the Poplar.

I don’t know how my cat saw the Robin with her eyes closed.  There wasn’t a sound to alert her.  Her body tensed, her hair stood on end, and she started making that chattering sound that cats make when all-systems-are-go, and there’s a victim to be trounced upon.  Her instincts kicked in.  She went from full belly/drowsy eyes to ready to pounce in 2.3 seconds.

That is the power of instinct.

I didn’t babysit much as a teenager.  I wasn’t interested.  I didn’t want to hold babies.  Truth is, I was afraid of babies and their needs and their vulnerability.  I didn’t think they were particularly cute, and they smelled weird.

As I got older, I got to a place where I actually wanted a baby.  It was a foreign concept and a new feeling for me.  I felt this longing, but I couldn’t conceptualize why I wanted this thing that I hadn’t been interested in.  I won’t go into the clock ticking and the insatiable hunger and that stuff.  It was just this low-grade hum that kept telling me, “You want this.  Your life isn’t complete without this.” Continue reading →