Approximately 8 weeks ago, my father's second ex-wife and I had a conversation. At one point she said "Your father has NPD and probably anti-social behaviour too. Look it up."
So I did. And wow. He fits the bill to a T. The more I read, the more questions I had. Of course I began to question my mother's role in their relationship. Was she his enabler or a narcissist too? And again, the more I read about narcissistic mothers, the more I realised she's a narcissist too. I suspect her mother was one, as she controlled her entire family until the day she died. From what I know, my mother was probably my grandmother's scapegoat.
I've been fortunate as the child of two narcissists; I cut off all ties with my mother long ago. I was her scapegoat, and my younger brother was her golden child. Perversely, though, I am my father's golden child. My brother had severe learning dissabilities. When he started school he was considered borderline mentally retarded. This of course, was a blow to my father's ego. His only son was less than perfect. My father rejected him. My mother protected him, as she had a learning dissability as a child as well (she never finished high school. Never got past 8th grade).
My mother resented me. She resented my independance, my wanting to 'do things for myself'. She always said she and I stopped getting along when I learned to say 'no'. So, in short, when I was 2?? My mother needs to be needed. It's how she finds her validation. So to her, to be faced with a strong, independant daughter was unsettling. How could she feed her ego if I didn't need her? She made up for the gap by cosseting my brother. To evade her abuse, he allowed her to smother him.
My parents divorced when I was 16. I moved out 3 years later and gradually began to shut my mother out of my life. My father supported my decision, although I now realise it flattered his ego that I would choose him over her.
My brother and I never got along because my mother always played us against each other. I used to stand up to her, and boy did I pay for it. I think my brother submitted to survive. I used to get frustrated with him. He'd complain about something my mother wanted or said, and I'd coach him and encourage him to say no, but the moment he came face to face with her, he'd cave. I'd toss up my arms and shake my head in disgust. I think my brother envied me for 2 reasons. One: I stood up to my mother. Two: my father 'adored' me. We are now both in our forties and have no relationship. We barely ever speak to each other. His youngest daughter doesn't know who I am.
My father encouraged me to rebel. I think he took pride in it. He liked it when I stood up to my teachers. He liked it when I refused to conform. My father is a rebel, so being a rebel too, I appealed to this side of his personality; my daughter is strong. My daughter can stand on her own two feet. The only person I had to submit to was him. But again, as a child, I was oblivious to this dynamic. My daddy is proud of me. My daddy loves me. Whereas my mommy hates me. Those were the messages I retained.
To this day, he tells me I am his favourite (oh joy). That he feels closer to me than to my brother. We are very similar, but now I find myself wondering am I similar because it's who I am, or was I 'molded' to be similar?
My mother was very strict. My father, on the other hand, was more permissive. So if I wanted something, say permission to go with my friend and her parents to their cottage for the weekend, my mother instantly said no. My father would say yes. And then the arguments began. Ugh. I can't count the number of times my parents argued because of me. My mother would get angry, would accuse me of 'manipulating' my father, told him I had him 'wrapped around my finger'. And on and on it went. The argument usually ended with my mother declaring she was washing her hands of me. That she wouldn't take care of me anymore and my father could deal with me (If only she'd meant it and kept her word). She'd sulk for a few days, but inevitably, she'd fall back into her pattern, which consisted of screaming her head off all the time, raging, slapping, pushing me around, barging into my room, yanking me awake to rail at me for something as mundane as forgetting to put my dirty clothes in the laundry basket or some minor transgression.
But again, in my child's eyes, my daddy was my champion. The one who protected me from my evil mother-to a certain extent. But my mother found ways to get even, believe me. Her favourite ploy was to work my father into a rage about some perceived wrong I'd done, coating everything with a heavy dose of lies and exagerations, then set him loose on me. She'd get off on it...She'd stand in doorway and relish him yelling at me and slapping me around, until he went too far. Then she'd cry out and tell him to stop, and of course, run to my defense and console me after I'd been beaten (my father was smart though, he never struck me in the face). He'd punch me in the stomach or on my thighs. I'd have bruises from my shoulders to my knees. Until I turned 13. He used to work with juvenile delinquants, so one day, as he beat on me and I lay on my bed, crying and fending off his blows, I kicked him the stomach, sat up and told him that if he ever punched me again, I was going to call child services and he'd lose his job. I remember his face. I think he was shocked by how out of control he was. Either that, or that I was standing up to him.
My brother witnessed these beatings too. He used to run into his room and hide until the storm passed. He was terrified of my father. He will never deny my father anything. When he doesn't to cave, his coping mechanism is to lie. Unfortunately, like my mother, he isn't very good at it and always ends up getting caught in his lies. Drives my father bonkers.
So my mother managed to get my father to beat me, then she'd come to my rescue and console me; all this, I now realise, to feed her ego. To get me to 'need' her. It' all so twisted and confusing, I can barely wrap my head around it. Part of me feels like my entire life just went topsy-turvy. I can't tell where up and down are anymore LOL
I find it intriguing that I pushed my mother out of my life, but managed to rationalise my father's behaviour and forgive him for everything he did. I always accommodate him as it's easier to give in than put up with his tantrums. When a conflict does arise between us, and for whatever reason, I put my foot down, he of course finds a way to twist things around and suddenly, I'm the one in the wrong. Never mind what he did, I'm the intolerant one. Or the one who's over-reacting. Or overly sensitive. And if he's really up against the wall then of course, he pulls out his famous "I am not perfect" speech. I've heard it so many times, I know it by heart. My favourite part is when he says "I take note of what you're saying." I want to scream at him, "Do you ever read those bloody notes?" When it comes to me, however, I am not allowed to 'not be perfect'. I get the "You're not a child anymore" speech. "You're selfish, you should think of others more. It's time for you to grow up and act like an adult." So this year, on my 44th birthday I made the decision to allow myself to 'not be perfect'. I've reached the age of imperfection. Finally. I'm looking forward to pulling that speech out of my hat and give it back to him. LOL
And there lies my problem. I want to get even. I want to make him angry. I want to mock him, make fun of him, stand up to him and shoot him down. I want him to know he's lost me, that he doesn't 'own' me anymore. That my accomplishments are not an extension of himself. That I'm not some toy to proudly display to others when the whim strikes. I'm sick of walking on eggshells around him. Sick of dreading his fits of temper. Sick of bowing to his every demand. Just plain sick. And very, very angry.
But there's the rub. If he has NPD, he will never, ever change. Nothing I say or do will reach him. Technically, I'm wasting my time resenting him and feeling all this anger. So here I am with this boatload of anger and nowhere to direct it. Sometimes, I feel like contacting my mother (she'd be thrilled) and take out my anger on her. Wanna dance, mommy? I'm up for it. I'd gladly make her my scapegoat LOL
Boy, do I need to see my shrink.
So I did. And wow. He fits the bill to a T. The more I read, the more questions I had. Of course I began to question my mother's role in their relationship. Was she his enabler or a narcissist too? And again, the more I read about narcissistic mothers, the more I realised she's a narcissist too. I suspect her mother was one, as she controlled her entire family until the day she died. From what I know, my mother was probably my grandmother's scapegoat.
I've been fortunate as the child of two narcissists; I cut off all ties with my mother long ago. I was her scapegoat, and my younger brother was her golden child. Perversely, though, I am my father's golden child. My brother had severe learning dissabilities. When he started school he was considered borderline mentally retarded. This of course, was a blow to my father's ego. His only son was less than perfect. My father rejected him. My mother protected him, as she had a learning dissability as a child as well (she never finished high school. Never got past 8th grade).
My mother resented me. She resented my independance, my wanting to 'do things for myself'. She always said she and I stopped getting along when I learned to say 'no'. So, in short, when I was 2?? My mother needs to be needed. It's how she finds her validation. So to her, to be faced with a strong, independant daughter was unsettling. How could she feed her ego if I didn't need her? She made up for the gap by cosseting my brother. To evade her abuse, he allowed her to smother him.
My parents divorced when I was 16. I moved out 3 years later and gradually began to shut my mother out of my life. My father supported my decision, although I now realise it flattered his ego that I would choose him over her.
My brother and I never got along because my mother always played us against each other. I used to stand up to her, and boy did I pay for it. I think my brother submitted to survive. I used to get frustrated with him. He'd complain about something my mother wanted or said, and I'd coach him and encourage him to say no, but the moment he came face to face with her, he'd cave. I'd toss up my arms and shake my head in disgust. I think my brother envied me for 2 reasons. One: I stood up to my mother. Two: my father 'adored' me. We are now both in our forties and have no relationship. We barely ever speak to each other. His youngest daughter doesn't know who I am.
My father encouraged me to rebel. I think he took pride in it. He liked it when I stood up to my teachers. He liked it when I refused to conform. My father is a rebel, so being a rebel too, I appealed to this side of his personality; my daughter is strong. My daughter can stand on her own two feet. The only person I had to submit to was him. But again, as a child, I was oblivious to this dynamic. My daddy is proud of me. My daddy loves me. Whereas my mommy hates me. Those were the messages I retained.
To this day, he tells me I am his favourite (oh joy). That he feels closer to me than to my brother. We are very similar, but now I find myself wondering am I similar because it's who I am, or was I 'molded' to be similar?
My mother was very strict. My father, on the other hand, was more permissive. So if I wanted something, say permission to go with my friend and her parents to their cottage for the weekend, my mother instantly said no. My father would say yes. And then the arguments began. Ugh. I can't count the number of times my parents argued because of me. My mother would get angry, would accuse me of 'manipulating' my father, told him I had him 'wrapped around my finger'. And on and on it went. The argument usually ended with my mother declaring she was washing her hands of me. That she wouldn't take care of me anymore and my father could deal with me (If only she'd meant it and kept her word). She'd sulk for a few days, but inevitably, she'd fall back into her pattern, which consisted of screaming her head off all the time, raging, slapping, pushing me around, barging into my room, yanking me awake to rail at me for something as mundane as forgetting to put my dirty clothes in the laundry basket or some minor transgression.
But again, in my child's eyes, my daddy was my champion. The one who protected me from my evil mother-to a certain extent. But my mother found ways to get even, believe me. Her favourite ploy was to work my father into a rage about some perceived wrong I'd done, coating everything with a heavy dose of lies and exagerations, then set him loose on me. She'd get off on it...She'd stand in doorway and relish him yelling at me and slapping me around, until he went too far. Then she'd cry out and tell him to stop, and of course, run to my defense and console me after I'd been beaten (my father was smart though, he never struck me in the face). He'd punch me in the stomach or on my thighs. I'd have bruises from my shoulders to my knees. Until I turned 13. He used to work with juvenile delinquants, so one day, as he beat on me and I lay on my bed, crying and fending off his blows, I kicked him the stomach, sat up and told him that if he ever punched me again, I was going to call child services and he'd lose his job. I remember his face. I think he was shocked by how out of control he was. Either that, or that I was standing up to him.
My brother witnessed these beatings too. He used to run into his room and hide until the storm passed. He was terrified of my father. He will never deny my father anything. When he doesn't to cave, his coping mechanism is to lie. Unfortunately, like my mother, he isn't very good at it and always ends up getting caught in his lies. Drives my father bonkers.
So my mother managed to get my father to beat me, then she'd come to my rescue and console me; all this, I now realise, to feed her ego. To get me to 'need' her. It' all so twisted and confusing, I can barely wrap my head around it. Part of me feels like my entire life just went topsy-turvy. I can't tell where up and down are anymore LOL
I find it intriguing that I pushed my mother out of my life, but managed to rationalise my father's behaviour and forgive him for everything he did. I always accommodate him as it's easier to give in than put up with his tantrums. When a conflict does arise between us, and for whatever reason, I put my foot down, he of course finds a way to twist things around and suddenly, I'm the one in the wrong. Never mind what he did, I'm the intolerant one. Or the one who's over-reacting. Or overly sensitive. And if he's really up against the wall then of course, he pulls out his famous "I am not perfect" speech. I've heard it so many times, I know it by heart. My favourite part is when he says "I take note of what you're saying." I want to scream at him, "Do you ever read those bloody notes?" When it comes to me, however, I am not allowed to 'not be perfect'. I get the "You're not a child anymore" speech. "You're selfish, you should think of others more. It's time for you to grow up and act like an adult." So this year, on my 44th birthday I made the decision to allow myself to 'not be perfect'. I've reached the age of imperfection. Finally. I'm looking forward to pulling that speech out of my hat and give it back to him. LOL
And there lies my problem. I want to get even. I want to make him angry. I want to mock him, make fun of him, stand up to him and shoot him down. I want him to know he's lost me, that he doesn't 'own' me anymore. That my accomplishments are not an extension of himself. That I'm not some toy to proudly display to others when the whim strikes. I'm sick of walking on eggshells around him. Sick of dreading his fits of temper. Sick of bowing to his every demand. Just plain sick. And very, very angry.
But there's the rub. If he has NPD, he will never, ever change. Nothing I say or do will reach him. Technically, I'm wasting my time resenting him and feeling all this anger. So here I am with this boatload of anger and nowhere to direct it. Sometimes, I feel like contacting my mother (she'd be thrilled) and take out my anger on her. Wanna dance, mommy? I'm up for it. I'd gladly make her my scapegoat LOL
Boy, do I need to see my shrink.
