Will A Narcissist Miss You When You Leave Them? Should You Care?

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Narcissistic Parents

Narcissistic parents are a trip. Once you realize you are the child of a narcissist, your world is turned inside out, upside down and blazingly real. Everything comes into focus and you suddenly see your life differently. You’re not the one at fault, you never were. And that’s the biggest coup of reading and learning about narcissistic parents.

Growing up under the thumb of this type of mother, I never understood why she behaved the way she did, why she treated me the way she did until many years later. I suffered for many years under her wondering what I could do to win her approval. I never could. At least not in private. In public, she always behaved differently.

Vampire is an excellent blog for those of you who fall under this category. Take a look here and check this blogger out: http://thewebofnarcissism.blogspot.com/. It’s more than worth your while. For an extensive list of blogs that discuss not only narcissism, but other mental health topics go here: http://narcwriters.blogspot.nl/. Warning: Be prepared to bookmark because this list is amazingly long and awesome.

Peace.

Sorceress

All works past, present and future are protected under a CCC. Creative Common License, Kaarie Blake Musings by Kaarie Blake is licensed under a Creative Common Attribution-Noncommercial-Noderivs-3.0-Unported License.

Revealing Your Past To Others.

So as Survivors there is an age-old question we must ask of ourselves: Do we tell new friends/boyfriends/girlfriends of our troubling pasts? And if we do, just how much do we tell them? And how early in a relationship do we reveal how another person shaped who we are today?

If we do tell, then we are opening ourselves to criticism and feedback. Which isn’t something we necessarily want or need. The point of explaining that we are a Survivor of a Psychopath or a Narcissist or (fill in your own blank) is to explain that that particular person has caused some pretty extensive emotional damage to you, perhaps some physical damage, you might be suffering PTSD, you might be hyper-vigilant, you might have some quirks and hey-let’s face it-you know yourself better than anyone else and although you think you’re drowning in a sea of emotions, really, you’re swimming in the lake with dolphins. Why do I say that? Because you understand more about where you are, where you’ve been and where you’re going than those dolphins ever will.

When I explain my story of the psychopath to someone, so very often their response is, “Why didn’t you have him killed?” “He needs to die.” Such a flippant response people let roll off their tongues. But it’s not their position to “kill” someone, I guess, so they say it. I just calmly look at them, and explain that murder is not an answer to a psychopathic stalker and explain the law to them. Words are easy to say, actions are harder, and people talk sh*t all the time. I shouldn’t have to defend myself as to why I have behaved as a victim all these years within the confines of the law. So I don’t tell my story that often to others. Unless it’s necessary. Because most people don’t really think their thoughts through realistically. Because they have lived normal, happy, cookie-cutter lives.

Now as a Narcissist Survivor, my story will garner pity. And I don’t want that either. Growing up the way I did gave me strength. It was hell back then. I couldn’t wait to get out. And the way I got out was the wrong way and it set me up to fail. I know that now but I didn’t know that back then. I was naive, young and biting at the bits to get the hell out. Simple as that. I thought I was ready to face the world but in reality, I really wasn’t. I didn’t have the skills needed because I hadn’t been given the skills I should have been given by proper parenting.

It felt good to be away from the object of my horrors yet she was still very much an integral part of my life. The day after I was married and I had left my home, I received an emergency phone call from my mother early that morning. Yes, an emergency phone call from my narcissistic mother calling me on the first day of my honeymoon. I had left my cat in her care while I would be away until I returned, and would be leaving later that day. She was calling to tell me that she could not “find” my cat.

Now, mind you, we had lived in a two-family home, with my aunt downstairs, my parents upstairs. A full attic and a full basement in this large home. My cat never ventured outdoors. Somehow, this woman had “lost” her and had to call me to tell me this on the first day of my honeymoon, begging me to come back to the home to find her.

Of course I was beside myself, so my new husband and I went back to my old house to look for her. When we arrived, there was my mother, sitting on the couch in the living room, laughing and joking with a group of people. She had invited family and friends to an “after the wedding party”, unbeknownst to me. So I arrive to this party, they look at me as if I’m crazy and why am I there, I look at them wondering why are they there because she never told me about a party. She’s sitting there, Queen of the party, cigarette and drink in hand, laughing away. What a manipulative move on her part.

I calmly ask her if she had found my cat. She tells everyone how worried I am about “Sherman”, and look how “she can’t stay away”. (She doesn’t tell them how she called me hours earlier begging me to come find her.) I turned around, walked out of the apartment, into the hallway, opened the attic door, and out walked my cat. Somehow I knew she would be in there. The attic door remains locked at all times, by the way. I picked her up, brought her back into the house, and told everyone I found her locked in the attic. I then announced that my husband and I were leaving and hoped that Sherman would survive the next two weeks.

Sherman did, as did I. And I’m not sure how my narcissistic mother survived without her scapegoat under her domain. She just had to throw in one last jab before I was finally out of the house, I guess. Twisting words to others, attempting to belittle me and have an audience for her last show. Maybe she didn’t count on my finding my cat in the locked attic so easily. She probably didn’t realize the bond between an animal and its’ owner. At the least, when I left so quickly, all anyone really knew was that I had received a call, was concerned, and loved my pet enough to make sure she was safe. To some, maybe that seemed crazy, to others, it was not. To me, it was normal love for a pet.

That wasn’t the last time she reached out her claws to strike at me. Somehow, she managed to many other times before she died 7 years later. I still shake my head at her behavior. Yes, it still haunts me. But I’ll tell it to others so they know they aren’t alone. And to those who are my friends so they understand when I am silent, looking into nothing, when deep wells become my eyes.

Peace.

Sorceress.

All works past, present and future are protected under a CCC. Creative Common License, Kaarie Blake Musings by Kaarie Blake is licensed under a Creative Common Attribution-Noncommercial-Noderivs-3.0-Unported License.

How To Survive Narcissists.

I detest poinsettias. Those red flowers that pop up in Christmas and holiday decorations this time of year that so many people love. Why? My mother used to hang these poinsettia decorations from the front windows. Maybe. If she was in the mood. I used to sit and wonder if any decorations would be put up with that ball in my stomach each year

You see, whether or not the poinsettias went up was blamed on me.  Christmas decorations had to be hung up for children, I would be told, and the neighbors had been asking her about my excitement about the impending holiday. So, she was forced to decorate all because of me. It was my fault that she had to go through this decorating and un-decorating.

She’d look at me with those ice eyes of hers, complaining about the tree and how regardless of whether it was a real one or a fake one, it was still trouble. A real one dropped needles on her carpeting and a fake one was a pain to put together. Forget decorating the tree. No matter where I attempted to hang an ornament, it didn’t work. And those silver icicles? I always put them on wrong. They were fronds of silver icicles that you threw on a tree, how could you put them on wrong? The Ice Woman found a way you could. Oh Lordie, how half of me hated Christmas and the other half didn’t because I wondered if I would get any presents.

For her, the tree had to be perfect. Her definition of beauty was not seen through a child’s eyes. You know how a child decorates with lopsided ways? And their favorite home-made (which I never did) or school-made ornaments were always front and center because they should be? To the narcissitic Mother, that doesn’t happen. She wants perfection in her eyes that will bring accolades to her. But if they don’t, well, hell hath no fury like her.

Once you come to the realization that you are a child of a Narcisstic parent, it opens a world of doors for you. The Universe suddenly looms larger than life. Doors open and shut. The realization that I had a narcissistic Mother has taken me decades. The fact that I was being raised in a dysfunctional household I realized somewhere in my middle school years. The dawn of awakening of the full impact of all the damage did not come until my 40’s. Until that time, I was living in a world as another person that had been shaped by the tyrannical escapades of her.

She had died years earlier, but her legacy lived on. It had lasting effects on me. The one place it did not claw through to was my children. I am not sure why or how, but I have not raised my own in the manner she raised me. I was very careful not to behave in the manner she did when I was raising my children even to the extent of going overboard in the opposite direction. When they were very young, she would visit with my father, and she would make snarky comments about my oldest. He was a toddler at the time and my daughter was a baby. Then she would laugh at her comments. I’d turn to her and tell her to be quiet about her grandson, he’s perfectly normal and if she didn’t have anything good to say, then don’t say anything at all. She would continue, saying I didn’t have a sense of humor. I would tell her if that’s all she had to say, then I didn’t want to listen to her, and walk away. And I would. I wanted to protect my children from her. She would ignore my infant daughter, which was fine by me.

But at family parties, she never made these comments about my children. Instead, the accolades were made. The compliments would be told. The smiles and loving hugs given. All bs. Because behind closed doors no one received smiles and hugs or even an “I Love You” from her.

But, that’s life with a narcissistic person. So, how do you go on? How do you break away? How do you compartmentalize the pain they have caused you for so many years? Is there guilt and if there is, what do you do? How do you survive a narcissist?

Only you can make a decision to walk away. Walking away can be forever, can be for the day’s conversation or can be for a few hours. Regardless, it can give you strength over their words. It can lay the foundation for your future survival in this type of relationship. If you feel guilty over walking away from your parent, don’t. Do they feel guilty over making you feel like a twisted ball of twine? You shouldn’t feel guilty being a victim of someone with an illness.

The most difficult part of dealing with the realization of admitting you have been a victim of a narcissist is now dealing with the pain and attempting to put it away (for the most part). You must compartmentalize it. No one will help you to do that because only you were the one that was originally hurt. There are some that won’t believe you because they didn’t see it happening in the family. But, you know the damage that occurred, and that’s what’s important. As you deal with those issues that you remember, put them up on an imaginary shelf, mark them closed and take a deep breath. Remember that you were the victim and it’s you that is now receiving compensation in the form of new-found happiness, relief and the ability to breathe easier.

Each little task you do for yourself brings you one step closer to being a full-fledged Survivor and that’s a wonderful feeling. You can do it. You’ve survived this long under them, you can survive over them. It’s time for you now.

Peace.

Sorceress.

All works past, present and future are protected under a CCC. Creative Common License, Kaarie Blake Musings by Kaarie Blake is licensed under a Creative Common Attribution-Noncommercial-Noderivs-3.0-Unported License.

The Narcissistic Mother That Destroys.

As the holiday season approaches, many people begin to celebrate with glee and joy. They look forward with anticipation to their special holiday traditions and opening gifts. This is a special time of wonder for children and for adults that still have their inner child within them.

But for those that have had dysfunctional childhoods, for those who have been in abusive relationships and for those whose parent(s) or significant others trashed that Christmas tree (if you even had one), the holiday season is most definitely not a time of wonderment and joy. It is a period of a few weeks where people would just like the calendar to skip the month of December, television commercials would stop focusing on how many special gifts we could buy for our loved ones and haven’t we all seen just one too many happy family sitting in their living room enjoying their absolutely beautifully decorated christmas tree enjoying their baked Christmas cookies?

No, I’m not a descendant of Scrooge. I’m just a graduate of The School of The Dysfunctional Family. A school dedicated to preserve  life-long triggers of memories of unhappiness, feelings of yearning for an All-American family that does smile and really does open Christmas presents that were waiting for them on Christmas morning.

The mission statement for The School of The Dysfunctional Family clearly states a graduate must a) Not enjoy holidays due to past familial stress; b) Wonder why they were the “Chosen Child” of the family to be denigrated; c) Be familiar with the knotted ball stomach syndrome; d) Be fully aware of the ramifications of the term “self-medicate”; and d) Have attended therapy sessions for a variety of reasons never realizing they were a Victim (until their own Day of Reckoning).  Attaining Cum Laude status or higher upon graduation is attainable with documentable proof of childhood amnesia.

Those of us who deal with a dysfunctional family or who have dealt with a dysfunctional family setting know exactly what my words mean. They know the cruelties of a Narcissistic parent, an alcoholic significant other/parent, or an abusive parent/partner. I do not make light of the atrocities these situations play on a child’s development, a human being’s self-esteem and self-worth. These are very serious situations that simply put, put someone’s thoughts in another universe so far away that they believe they will never connect with today’s world. They are made to feel alone, to be alone, to be traumatized. The stronger ones will become Survivors, the lesser ones will suffer more pain, more atrocities in their lives.

I have childhood amnesia. There is very little I do remember, and what I do remember is from photos that I look at. Photos that I keep locked away in a box that I almost never take out to look at.

When people talk about the games they played with as children and ask me if I remember them, I look at them blankly. I don’t remember my childhood toys. I do remember one doll that I had as a little girl that had to stay in her box. I was not allowed to remove her from the box. I could look at her, touch her in her box, but never take her out. When I was finished looking at her, back to the attic she went. That’s where my toy doll lived. In the attic. To this day, I think dolls are creepy. Easy to figure that one out.

One of my aunts bought me a Barbie and Ken fashion case for Christmas. I remember opening it up and being so disappointed. My aunt, who I loved dearly, was staring at my face, very kindly. All of a sudden, she whispered to me, “You don’t have a Barbie or Ken, do you?” I shook my head no, and tried to hide my tears. She winked at me, and whispered that she would take care of that for me. I was literally so frightened at that moment that my mother would find out that I was going to get another present, another doll that she would hide from me. I was petrified. My aunt saw that look in my eyes, too. She told me everything would be ok and she announced that the store had made a mistake. She said that she had told the store to surprise me and put Barbie and Ken inside the dollcase along with some clothing but they hadn’t, so she was going to have to go back and take care of it herself. I was so relieved at her quick thinking.

Growing up, I was surrounded by loving aunts, loving uncles and a beautiful, loving, warm Gramma who adored me. It was the short straw in mothers that I had. She did everything in her power to make my life miserable, and she succeeded for far too long. She blamed me for her life, used me for her accolades and constantly threatened suicide when she was at her lowest.

Christmas at our home was always a questionable affair. We never knew if it would happen. Would she want a tree? Maybe. Maybe not. I couldn’t talk to her, for fear of reprisals. My brother could, because he was her shining light. My father could try and reason, but usually, to no avail. The trees we would have ranged from real 6 or 7 foot trees, to 1 foot ceramic trees, depending on what she wanted up that year. Decorations? Maybe. If she was in the mood. Christmas dinner? My Gramma prepared that and I was fortunate to be able to eat at her table if my mother was so inclined that year.

Gifts for my brother were always spot on for a boy his age. He loved his gifts. I don’t blame him at all. He was just caught in the middle. Gifts for me were non-existent or something she bought that she knew I would dislike. Because my brother was my Protector, he would always ask me to play with his new toys every Christmas, and she would say to him, “Why are you asking her to play with your toys? She’s a girl, they’re for boys only!” But he would tell her that he needed my help in putting something together or make some excuse to have me there with him. Because he sensed something was wrong. And, he loved me and wanted to help me.

But, those words and actions from her only happened in the sanctity of our home away from the prying eyes and ears of others. Out in public, she behaved like another woman. The smiling, perfect mother. Only I knew better. I knew who she really was. The Narcissistic Mother That Destroys. The Narcissistic Mother that destroys families, holidays, self-worth, self-esteem, emotions and anything else that might come her way in the child she wishes to crush, demolish and pulverize.

She is a force to be reckoned with and one that hides herself from the world with great manipulation. The child knows but cannot tell for fear. Unfortunately, by the time the child realizes they are an adult and the damage has been done. Damage that pervades so many areas of their life. The one most important realization the child of The Narcissistic Mother must come to terms with is that they are the Victim, it was never their fault. From there, they can build a foundation for a successful life after. That is when they become Survivors.

Peace.

Sorceress.

All works past, present and future are protected under a CCC. Creative Common License, Kaarie Blake Musings by Kaarie Blake is licensed under a Creative Common Attribution-Noncommercial-Noderivs-3.0-Unported License.

Survival Of A Psychopath(With Borderline Tendencies…The Son Of A Narcissist Mother)

The tales of the narcissistic mother. How she throws situations at her child. How she deliberately twists and turns her words to make her child feel as if everything is their fault. She’s good at it. She’s had a lifetime at practicing.

For some of the adult children of her, I do have pity. They have never been able to outgrow the horrible feelings of inadequateness that this mother has bestowed upon them. The hidden belittling towards the child she chooses forever to desecrate. The narcissistic mother never stops. She just goes on and on and on.

For the others that have been able to crawl out of the hole that this mother has dug for them, I salute you.  You earned much in the way of salutations. You first had to live through the belittling and torturous psychological abuse,  you had to identify it, and you had to move away from it. And if you decided to stay in contact with your narcissistic mother, for whatever reason, (and I make no judgements here because many do stick around),  but you do it on your own terms, you my friend, without a doubt, deserve a medal to wear proudly.

I talk about narcissism with a mother, but it is a psychiatric condition found in women and men alike. It can be found in a partner both female and male alike. It can be found in a child, also. An adult child.  For clarification, here is a classic definition of narcissism:

“Traits and signs:

Thomas suggests that narcissists typically display most, sometimes all, of the following traits:[5]

Hotchkiss’ seven deadly sins of narcissism

Hotchkiss identified what she called the seven deadly sins of narcissism:[6]

  1. Shamelessness: Shame is the feeling that lurks beneath all unhealthy narcissism, and the inability to process shame in healthy ways.
  2. Magical thinking: Narcissists see themselves as perfect, using distortion and illusion known as magical thinking. They also use projection to dump shame onto others.
  3. Arrogance: A narcissist who is feeling deflated may reinflate by diminishing, debasing, or degrading somebody else.
  4. Envy: A narcissist may secure a sense of superiority in the face of another person’s ability by using contempt to minimize the other person.
  5. Entitlement: Narcissists hold unreasonable expectations of particularly favorable treatment and automatic compliance because they consider themselves special. Failure to comply is considered an attack on their superiority, and the perpetrator is considered an “awkward” or “difficult” person. Defiance of their will is a narcissistic injury that can trigger narcissistic rage.
  6. Exploitation: Can take many forms but always involves the exploitation of others without regard for their feelings or interests. Often the other is in a subservient position where resistance would be difficult or even impossible. Sometimes the subservience is not so much real as assumed.
  7. Bad boundaries: Narcissists do not recognize that they have boundaries and that others are separate and are not extensions of themselves. Others either exist to meet their needs or may as well not exist at all. Those who provide narcissistic supply to the narcissist are treated as if they are part of the narcissist and are expected to live up to those expectations. In the mind of a narcissist there is no boundary between self and other.”

Taken from :  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narcissism. Read more at the link provided.

Another description of narcissism:

The DSM IV describes narcissism as:

“DSM IV definition: Someone who suffers from Narcissistic Personality disorder (NPD) has at least 5 of the following characteristics:

  1. has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)
  2. is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
  3. believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)
  4. requires excessive admiration
  5. has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations
  6. is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends
  7. lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others
  8. is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her
  9. shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Associated Features: Depressed Mood Dramatic or Erratic or Antisocial Personality

Differential Diagnosis Some disorders have similar or even the same symptom.

Histrionic Personality Disorder;
Antisocial Personality Disorder;
Borderline Personality Disorder;
Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder;
Schizotypal Personality Disorder;
Paranoid Personality Disorder;
Manic Episodes;
Hypomanic Episodes;
Personality Change Due to a General Medical Condition;
Symptoms that may develop in association with chronic substance use.”

The DSM IV is considered controversial by some for its opinions expressed in its manual.

“The DSM has attracted praise for standardizing psychiatric diagnostic categories and criteria. It has also attracted controversy and criticism. Some critics argue that the DSM represents anunscientific system that enshrines the opinions of a few powerful psychiatrists. There are ongoing issues concerning the validity and reliability of the diagnostic categories; the reliance on superficial symptoms; the use of artificial dividing lines between categories and from ‘normality‘; possible cultural bias; medicalization of human distress and financial conflicts of interest, including with the practice of psychiatrists and with the pharmaceutical industry; political controversies about the inclusion or exclusion of diagnoses from the manual, in general or in regard to specific issues; and the experience of those who are most directly affected by the manual by being diagnosed, including the consumer/survivor movement. The publication of the DSM, with tightly guarded copyrights, now makes APA over $5 million a year, historically adding up to over $100 million.” See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diagnostic_and_Statistical_Manual_of_Mental_Disorders for more information.

A very easy layman’s guide to personality disorders can be found here:  http://www.halcyon.com/jmashmun/npd/dsm-iv.html. Written with excerpts from the DSM-IV, this piece takes apart disorders and puts them into easily understood terms for the layperson.

Narcissism as described from halcyon.com:

“1. An exaggerated sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements). Translation:  Grandiosity is the hallmark of narcissism.

2. Preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love.  Translation: Narcissists cultivate solipsistic or “autistic” fantasies, which is to say that they live in their own little worlds (and react with affront when reality dares to intrude).

3. Believes he is “special” and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions).  Translation: Narcissists think that everyone who is not special and superior is worthless. By definition, normal, ordinary, and average aren’t special and superior, and so, to narcissists, they are worthless.

4. Requires excessive admiration.  Translation: Excessive in two ways: they want praise, compliments, deference, and expressions of envy all the time, and they want to be told that everything they do is better than what others can do. Sincerity is not an issue here; all that matter are frequency and volume.

5. Has a sense of entitlement.  Translation: They expect automatic compliance with their wishes or especially favorable treatment, such as thinking that they should always be able to go first and that other people should stop whatever they’re doing to do what the narcissists want, and may react with hurt or rage when these expectations are frustrated.

6. Selfishly takes advantage of others to achieve his own ends.  Translation: Narcissists use other people to get what they want without caring about the cost to the other people.

7. Lacks empathy. Translation: They are unwilling to recognize or sympathize with other people’s feelings and needs. They “tune out” when other people want to talk about their own problems.

8. Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him.  Translation: No translation needed.

9. Shows arrogant, haughty, patronizing, or contemptuous behaviors or attitudes.  Translation: They treat other people like dirt.”

I’ve chosen three presentations of narcissism simply because each human mind digests material differently. We all have different learning styles and I want those who have come here to truly understand the narcissist.

I lived with a psychopath and his narcissistic, histrionic mother for a number of years. Dealing with these two people led to an incredible journey of becoming a Survivor with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  The thought processes of both Daniel and his mother Sandra were unlike any other people I had ever encountered.

Daniel’s mother was classified as a narcissist. Her tales to me often spoke of the ways she used people in her different jobs. She would often laugh at her intricate ways to use people without their knowing. She would build her stories to a crescendo and then sit back to her audience and demand respect, praise and attention . I questioned her methods of arrogance. I often found her repulsive in her attention-seeking methods at the expense of others. In the end of our relationship, her despising me eventually became built on my honest appraisal of her spoken truths that were thinly disguised lies for others in her mission to always manipulate people.

Daniel had blocked many memories of his childhood and with good reason. He often talked of his abuse during childhood. At times, he would question Sandra openly of her parental tactics in front of me, often putting her on the defensive/offensive. If she couldn’t blame someone else for her abusiveness as a parent, she would walk away from the conversation and ignore him. Nothing was ever her fault, unless in her eyes, the outcome would have been well-received.

Sandra admitted to me she drank heavily during her pregnancy and during the earlier years of his childhood. She blamed her drinking first on her obstetrician’s recommendation for her pregnancy. She told me that she couldn’t keep any food in and was constantly vomiting during her pregnancy with Daniel.

Queasiness is  quite common for the beginning of a pregnancy. In her words, she told me that her doctor told her that she should “drink beer and eat saltines” for her pregnancy if “that was all she could keep down”.  I have no way of proving or disproving what this woman told me. I do find it difficult to believe that a medical doctor would recommend his pregnant patient to drink alcohol. Medical advice has changed through the decades, of course.

I will offer that any child whose mother drank throughout the nine months of development has a definitive opportunity for a host of problems in their physical and mental capacities after they are born. As she continued to drink, she offered the excuse that she did “continue to drink for the sake of her marriage”. She never took ownership of her problems and the problems they might have caused for her son.

Environmentally and genetically, he never had an opportunity to thrive with his narcissistic mother. That is not an excuse for any of his behaviors. Many people go on to surpass abuses and victimization. Others do not. Does a narcissistic mother create a psychopath? I have no answer for that. I don’t think anyone does. There are many views and reasons on how a psychopath is created. I had the opportunity to live with one. I still suffer to this day from the experience.

Peace.

Sorceress.
.

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Survival Of A Psychopath(With Borderline Tendencies…The Narcissist Mother & Her Power Over Her Child)

A child growing up under a narcissists control is so mind-boggling to the child. It wreaks havoc in the child’s mind as the child matures and becomes an adult they have no idea what they have become or where they are going when they have arrived. Confusion reigns in the mind of the child of the narcissist in the wake they leave behind. In the clouds of the dust.

Struggling to view themselves as good enough, as smart enough, as pretty enough, the child of the narcissist has no idea of their happenstance in life. But it really wasn’t so accidental after all. The narcissistic parent plans everything, and plans it well. Their child’s life is planned from the day they were born and from before and the child will suffer for the rest of their lives, unless they are able to break free of their parent.

Every accomplishment this child attains is of no use (to the parent)because the narcissistic parent will find a way to pass it off as “expected” or “your sibling did the same thing” so “why are you expecting so much praise?”  The parent won’t say these words in front of others where they might be chastised or frowned upon for their negativity at their own child, but in the dark confines of their own interactive world in their one-on-one where they will and do and find ways to belittle their children.

Not so bad you think? Let’s break this down. Child comes home from school with a grade on a test that she worked diligently on the night before and she passed with flying colors. She received an A-. That’s a great grade. It’s an A for chrissakes.

A typical response from the narcissistic parent would be: “An A-?” (And that’s if she will talk to you at all.) Let me get your brother’s tests from that grade level and see how he compares to you.” You didn’t even know she was saving his tests all these years. But she was. So now you have this knot in the pit of your stomach waiting to see if he received better than an A-  because if he did, then you’re grade sucks. And she will let you know it, in so many words. Or looks. Or non-looks and non-words. The excitement of your grade just got squashed. Doesn’t matter anymore. She just made you feel like crap. Again. The narcissistic parent just stomped on you. Again.

Sounds incredible? That a parent would actually think an A- sucks? A narcissistic parent does. And believe me, they let you know. But in subliminal ways. All through your childhood. Nothing you do is ever good enough for them. They compare you to something better. Whether it’s another sibling, or another friend’s child or whatever.

The point is, you are never good enough for them. And you carry this stigma as a child until adulthood. Because as a child, you don’t have the capabilities to understand just why you aren’t good enough for your parent. What could you have done to not be good enough? But that’s the point. You, as a child, didn’t do anything. You didn’t do anything wrong.

So you keep on trying. You keep on striving as a child. You keep on setting those goals for yourself. You keep telling yourself that you can be better. You will be better. You will seek that approval of that parent. Why? Because every child wants the approval of their parent. It’s a natural emotion. It’s the psychologically ill parent that attempts to destroy the child. Remember that. It’s not the child. It’s the parent.

They are always trying to tell their friends how they are attempting to help you because after all, they are such good parents and you need such help. My mother was a Singer Seamstress. She worked for the Singer Sewing Machine Company teaching sewing classes. She was good and made many of her own clothes. She was so good, in fact, no one could tell that her clothes were hand-made. She knew what patterns would design classic clothing. She knew style. She knew fabrics. She was one of the best.

At around age 9 or so, she decided she was going to teach me to sew. Not that I wanted to learn, but she was going to teach me. After all, if she was a professional seamstress, her daughter (by her definitions) had to sew also. Her daughter had to have her skills. Forget the idea that by this time I was already writing short stories. Her opinion was in on my writing.

I had come home for lunch from 4th grade with a story about astronauts landing on another planet as yet undiscovered in our huge universe. My story talked about astronauts stepping off their spaceship and being greeted by these balloon heads with smiling faces  and then welcomed to their planet. (I was 9. I was interested in the universe and space at the time.) I remember reading the story to my parents and this was her reaction. She looked at me with her cold eyes, and simply said. “That’s sadistic.” I didn’t even know what the word “sadistic” meant. I went into my room and quickly looked the word up. Even at age 9, I knew my story had nothing to do with sadism. I walked back out of my bedroom, and said nothing. I was seething inside, but knew better than to say something to her ice eyes. I never read another story of mine to her again.

But her words didn’t stop me. By the time I hit high school, I joined the newspaper and made feature editor. By the time I was a senior, I had been named the first female editor-in-chief in the school’s history. No accolades from her. Instead, I was told, one of her “good friends” that she “graduated high school with” was an advisor to the school paper and, “you know, I’m sure that had something to do with your appointment”. So another words, here she was telling me that my four years of hard work of writing, four years of being different editors on the paper had nothing to do with my being named editor-in-chief. It was all because she knew the advisor to the school paper. Squashed again. This is what a narcissist does. Draws attention back to themselves.

By the time I was 12, I could put in a zipper, sew in shoulders in a blazer, and had made a suit jacket, shorts with a zipper and a skirt perfectly (according to her standards) of course. I say “her standards” because she had this tool called a “seam ripper” that she would have me rip out the seams all the time if she thought one stitch was out-of-place. I often wondered if she was that tough on her own students at work.

So here I am, age 12, finished with the 3 piece suit deal, and I decide to make a bathrobe for the summer. It was a wrap-around with 3 armholes. Pretty simple idea that I could whip up in no time. No such luck. She pulls out that damn seam ripper and tells me to rip out the seams around the arms holes again. I remember looking at her and told my mother simply, “No.” I told her they were good enough. She argued. I argued. I put the seam ripper down. I got up from the Singer Sewing machine, put what I was working on away, and never turned back again. I have never sewn anything again in my life to this day. She spoiled my love for sewing.

In high school, one of the classes “girls” had to take was sewing. I opted out of it. Horrors! My mother actually took me to the sewing teachers home for a consultation. (She knew the woman and had graduated high school with her back in her own day.) These two women sat in the living room and had a discussion  about me. The sewing teacher was actually very nice. She didn’t ask me much, but I think she understood why I didn’t want to take her class. She told my mother it wasn’t important for me to have sewing, because after all, I had the best teacher right at home. I realized she was playing right into my mother’s narcissism. She told my mother that it would be better if I took another type of home ec, perhaps cooking, since I could learn all the sewing techniques I needed from a Singer seamstress and after all, aren’t they best in the world? I was smiling to myself, and thanking this woman silently. She was looking at me very kindly.

We left and on the way home my mother was half-angry and half-embarrassed, I guess. She felt she had wasted her time and she didn’t like that. On-going was her tirade about how she was always trying to help me because I was such a needy child. I told her I would meet her at home and took another way so I wouldn’t have to listen to her speech for the next ten blocks of walking because she didn’t get her way and I did. I paid for it tho with a week of silence from her at home.

So how do you explain that situation? It seems a caring mother brings her child to a teacher. A caring mother explaining to another woman that her daughter should take this home ec class and this mother cares so much that she is willing to take the time out of her busy day to visit this woman at her home to discuss this situation. NO! That’s not what this was about. This narcissistic mother was embarrassed that her daughter didn’t want to take sewing because she herself was known in that town as one of the best professional seamstresses that taught others how to sew. How would it look if her own daughter didn’t take the sewing class? Now her daughter couldn’t show off her skills to the teacher. She would be embarrassed. She didn’t have her daughter’s interests at heart, she had her own interests first.

But she had taught me the basics and I turned that around. When my youngest was in pre-school, he wanted to be a Ninja Turtle. I didn’t like the plastic costumes that you could buy at the mart-type stores. So I decided I was going to make one for him. But I wasn’t going to sew it, I was going to hot-glue it together. And that’s what I did. I took my sewing skills in cutting out the materials with the pattern for a Ninja Turtle, pinned the materials together, then instead of sewing it together, I hot-glued it together. Oh yes I did. He wound up wearing it two years in a row. Other mothers marveled at his costume. They thought I had sewn this little boys Ninja Turtle delight. When I told some of them how I had actually made the costume, they had to look at it carefully to inspect it for hot glue for proof.

I guess what I’m saying here is I rose above her making me hate sewing at age 12 by using the skills she taught me and transferring them to another medium. I still find it difficult to sew, I get that balled-up feeling in the pit of my stomach when I approach a sewing machine or needles or thread or anything remotely related, but at least I can transfer those skills to use in other ways. Admittedly, I probably will use hot glue to quick hem a pant leg than sew it, that’s how much I hate sewing. That’s how much that tight ball feels in my stomach. And that’s what a narcissistic parent does to you. They can make you feel like crap about things in your life.

You’re sucked in because you’re their child, but at the same time, they devastate you. It’s up to you how you want to play their cards as an adult. It’s not an easy road.

Peace.

Sorceress.

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