Posts Tagged: survive
31
Oct 09
Can You Connect With A Narcissist?
My brother has big, chocolate brown eyes. When he is conversing with you, his eyes are focused on you and nothing else. His gaze is warm and welcoming. He doesn’t make you feel like you are being interrogated, he makes you feel comfortable and accepted. My sister-in-law laughs when she talks of how my brother knows everyone in their neighborhood, their dogs’ names, and who might be ready for a pick-up game of racquetball. He can be intense — in a good way. You get the feeling that he is interested in what you have to say, and he wants to know more.
I get energized from connecting with people.
(I admit that connecting with others is a way for my hole to get filled. I know… I’m supposed to do that from within.)
My kids and I will be looking for something at Target, and I’ll ask a clerk for help. Invariably, while she’s leading us to the widget that I can’t find, she’ll tell us about the time that she bought the same widget; how her husband thought she was crazy, but that it did exactly what the product was supposed to do; how her mother-in-law bought the same thing, and now the whole family swears by this widget; and on and on …
I can’t get out of a store without hearing the makings of a life story. Continue reading →
28
Oct 09
Holding Back
It’s not who you are that holds you back, it’s who you think you’re not.
Anonymous
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 →
24
Oct 09
Acceptance
You can either hold yourself up to the unrealistic standards of others, or ignore them and concentrate on being happy with yourself as you are.
Jeph Jacques
24
Oct 09
One Day At A Time
If you’ve read this far, you have most likely suffered from a relationship with a narcissist. Sometimes I find myself thinking that every time I turn around, I find a new person who has been in a relationship with a narcissist, or has discovered, finally, that they were raised by narcissists. Narcissism is very pervasive in our culture, and it seems to be getting more prevalent.
At this point, if you haven’t checked out my disclaimer page, you might want to do that.
I will remind you that I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL on the survival of narcissism. I’m not there yet. I do believe that I’m headed in the direction of becoming a professional narcissism survivor.
Surviving with narcissism is a work-in-progress. I am having way more good days than bad days. I guess that means it’s working.
These aren’t magical steps that will cure you overnight. These suggestions will not have you waking tomorrow morning with a plan for how your life will dramatically change. This is a slow and steady process. But because it is slow and steady, it takes. It will last. You will eventually see that you’ve modified your behavior. You will become pro-active instead of re-active. Your kids will see that you possess a power they didn’t know you had. You will respect yourself and know that you are worthy of a healthy life. Continue reading →
22
Oct 09
Care
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
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
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.
