Narcissistic Parents!!!

Raising Ourselves

2011-04-21T10:21:00.000-07:00

Systematically going through my in-box and catching up on comments left over the last 12-months during another unintended absence from this blog...

once again, I'm struck by the kindness of commenters.

This kindness is astonishing, really, considering the toxic atmosphere in which we were raised. It's a wonder we all didn't turn out just plain mean, or evil.

In the mood I'm in these days - mulling over the legacy of an npd father as his health deterioriates - this anonymous comment caught my attention:

"...it must be healing to now know that the little girl that you once were was made to feel unsafe being raised by someone who in someways was younger than herself. And now you're left to finish raising yourself. I'm here because I'm in a similar situation. My parents both believed they were perfect. They fed each other this illusion and their kids could never quite measure up."

Left to finish raising yourself.

Wow. Sooooo true. Not only are we left to heal ourselves, we're left to finishing the job our parents were incapable of doing. Some days, I feel like a half-baked meat loaf still quivering in the pan and I wonder, why? Why are some things more difficult? Why do I not believe in myself more? Why aren't I more confident? Why do I lack certain social skills?

This raising-ourself-job is something we undertake...into mid-life! It seems ridiculous, but that's what I find myself doing. Oh, this is yet another area in which I'm "half-baked" and must now address. I just hope this process is done by the time I'm 60!

Destructive Inner Voices

2011-04-14T08:14:00.000-07:00

In my previous post, I wrote about how I've finally been able to let go....no longer obsessing over my n-dad...no longer controlled by guilt or by him.

However, I'm not "cured" or healed.

The legacy of his narcissistic parenting lives on. This came as a revelation yesterday. I'd failed to make a connection - once again! - to a current problem and the past.

Now that I'm job hunting, after staying home to raise my family and manage the affairs of my father, I'm in crisis. I've wasted a lot of time attempting an ill-conceived mid-career transition...too ready to abandon the skills and experience I acquired in my previous career...one I enjoyed. I lack focus, clarity and confidence.

When I see a job I'd like, I think "Oh, they won't want me," even if the job is a more junior position than the one I held before. It seems as if I'm unable to look critically at a position and ask myself, "Do you really want it? Is it a good fit for you?" My husband says I undervalue my experience. To an astonishing degree. An old co-worker wondered why I wasn't playing up certain successes and had to remind me of my contributions to the company.

This isn't anything new. I've always undervalued myself in the workplace.

Why? Why do I do this? I'm pretty sure I have my n-father to thank. Whenever I accomplished anything...in life, at school, at work...and I made the mistake of telling him about it, he'd say, "Who do you think you are?" and warn me about getting too big for my britches. Any success on my part was met with derision. If I disagreed with him, for example, about politics and cited something I'd learned in class, he'd say, "You think you know everything just because you're going to college. Well, you're a nobody and don't you forget it."

Who could forget that message?

Obviously, that one sunk as deep and fast as an alien probe and is reactivated every time confidence is called for!

The revelation? Letting go is not the same, unfortunately, as overcoming the psychological fallout of the narcissistic parent.

Letting Go...It Really is Possible

2011-04-13T10:03:00.000-07:00

My elderly father - diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder years before developing Lewy Body dementia - continues his rapid decline. He can hardly form a coherent sentence now. With the loss of speech, so has much of his power to diminish me, his only child.

He can no longer interrupt me or abruptly change the conversation back to himself. He can no longer make up stories that I'm his natural daughter and not his unnatural, adopted one.
But he's not totally without the ability to lob a good zinger. On the first day of my most recent visit he managed to say two things:

--"I don't like your hair. It looks bad."
--"Why do you look like that? Is something wrong with you?"

Okay, the poor man has dementia and I should give him a break. He knows not what he says. Well, this may be true but this is the kind of stuff he always said...back to when I was a sensitive teenager and his frontal lobes were still intact. The words stung. It was all I could do not to rush to a mirror and check my hairdo. I asked my daughter if I was slouching or had an unpleasant look on my face. (No)

So here's what happened. I couldn't bring myself to visit him the next day. I just couldn't. The idea of being in the same room with him filled me with unspeakable dread. I needed 24-hours to recover. And recover I did. By Sunday, I'd pulled myself together and managed to have a reasonably pleasant visit, although brief because of his sad condition.

Progress!

I no longer obsess about my father: why he acted the way that he did; why he said the things he did; why he could never see me or hear me; why he'd been so...mean. Nor am I any longer consumed by guilt. I no longer fret about my lack of any true feeling or warmth toward him. I longer worry about what the staff at his board-and-care-home think about my infrequent visits...nor do I feel the need to explain why I don't have the same father-daughter relationship that some of their other residents seem to enjoy. Simply put...it is what is is, folks.

So it was with total surprise that, finally, today I can say: I have my life and it no longer includes my father's toxicity.

Finally...freedom!

And then I was catching up on past comments and found this:

JBH has left a new comment on your post "Guilt Trips":

I am glad to have read these posts! I am a clinical therapist in need of some of my own help w my parents. My parents are in their 60's and 70's, respectively. I am in my 30's, married w an 8 mo old and a 2 1/2 yr old.

If this comment doesn't highlight the insidious, destructive powers of a narcissistic parent, I don't know what does. Even someone trained as a clinical therapist is not immune to the trauma such parents inflict.

JBH also wrote:

I have revelations daily about it but I cant seem to let it go.
I want and wish I had great relationships w both my parents but sadly, I dont. And I have to keep telling myself its not my fault.

JBH....it's a temporary and necessary phase...the revelations, the relentless rehashing of the past, the not being able to let go. Maybe you're in the grieving phase, mired in guilt...and getting ready for the angry, furious, why-did-I-get-stuck-with-these-losers-for-parents-phase. The chronology of the phases matters less than actually allowing oneself to actually have real, authentic feelings...to safely reach the other big side of this mess!

If it's possible for ME to let go...after hoarding so much baggage there was hardly room for me...I'm pretty sure it's possible for you to let go, too. Eventually. After a lot of hard work.

And it's not your fault! Never was.

The Question of Judgment

2010-03-27T11:38:00.000-07:00

Jeff asked this question: "if you or your readers have ever discussed in any way a) the act of judging Ns, and/or b) what it does or hopes to do for relatives?

I notice also in the comments on your current post this from Billie:'I struggle with horror at feeling sure I'm being judged no matter what I'm doing or not doing.' Perhaps this phenomenon is related?

I suppose I'm curious about the judgement thing because I'm reading key texts on narcissism and mental health and society in general, which confronts me with what I seek to judge and why, so perhaps it's something I'm attuned to."

I don't think we discussed it.

I've been mulling this one over and I'll be honest...I'm not coming up with any coherent thoughts...it comes to me in bits and pieces.

1. I suspect Billie has developed a fear of being judged because she WAS judged - HARSHLY - by her parents. My mother judged me harshly, too...whenever I disappointed her, which was often, she'd reel off a long list of my faults. I came to believe I was all those things: selfish, cold, selfish, lazy, sneaky....and selfish. (Did I mention selfish? )

2. Admission: I'm a pretty judgmental person. I don't know if I became this way because I saw it modeled for me or what. I don't think this is a very attractive quality and it's something I'm constantly trying to temper.

3. On the "act of judging N's" and what it does for the relatives: Judging our parents may be one of the few things we CAN do in regards to them. We can't change their behavior (only our reactions to them), but we can judge them. It's one of our few options and, since we were judged and labeled by our parents, it's a sort of cosmic tit-for-tat that's rather satisfying. It gives us a little power, a little control...sitting high atop the "judgment seat" for once.

I don't think judging N's has any impact on them...even if they were to know about it. After all, we are the ones who are defective, not them. My mother always used to say, "there's something radically wrong with you,"...implying that she suspected I suffered from a mental illness. I don't remember ever fighting back...except in a passive-aggressive way....or challenging her directly because she would have just stop talking to me (again).

I can recite a long list of perfectly awful reasons why my father became a needy, childlike narcissist and why my mother became self-centered and why she so terribly disappointed when I wasn't the adoring, unquestioning, dutiful daughter she'd longed for. My father expected...demanded...my sympathy for his awful childhood yet had no empathy for me....my adoptive parents - due to their needs - required me to pretend in public that I was their biological child. All I have, in a way, is my ability to judge those acts...which their "backgrounds" does not excuse.

I wonder if judging my parents is my one and only act of revenge.

In the end, does it matter if we judge our n-parents...or not? While judging people we DON'T know well is one thing, it's another to judge those we do know very well...and have harmed us.

Overcoming Social Hang-Ups

2010-03-23T08:47:00.000-07:00

It's funny, in real life, I've devoted an enormous amount of time and energy reaching for the reset button...trying to reshape and rewire my reactions and the way I think after discovering my father wasn't just a lousy Difficult Parent, but one afflicted with Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

On this blog, however, I haven't spent a whole lot of space exploring how to get over an n-parent, probably because I'm not an expert and what may have worked for me may not work for others.

There are several issues and concerns that readers repeatedly raise...many of which I continue to struggle with...so I'd like to begin taking a look at them. If you've encountered the problem and have worked to overcome it, please share how you tackled it and how you feel about the results you've achieved.

ISSUE NUMBER ONE: SOCIALLY....HUNG-UP

Here's what an anonymous commenter wrote:

This is something I remember and only now am seeing how the incident deeply influenced how I relate/struggle to relate to others. I was 13 and had written a letter to my best friend back home. I left the letter on the bookshelf by the door to be mailed. The next day I noticed an envelope with my father's handwriting addressed to my friend, stamped and ready to be sent. I thought it was strange and decided to open it. Not only had my father opened and read the letter but he had added his own sarcastic and mean remarks in the margins and empty spaces. This was very confusing for me. After all he was my dad, and he was really smart so the letter must have been stupid, right? I am 35 now and fiercely protective of my privacy, unsure of myself socially, and always worried about seeming stupid. I guess sometimes I feel empty because I'm afraid to let my guard down. I can handle feeling numb and empty, I've had plenty of practice. I have no idea what to do with kindness and love and the fear of being hurt is greater than the pain of emptiness.

In real life, I suspect most people would be surprised to hear that I spent most of my life feeling socially unsure of myself because I am an extrovert who can pretty much talk to anybody.

However, for most of my life, I used my outgoing nature to cover up the fact that I felt very uncomfortable in many social situations...especially those involving large groups. I am best one on one. When I was child, I never felt like I fit in...always on the outside looking in. That feeling persisted through my teenage years into young adulthood. It was only until I moved far, far away from my parents that I was finally able to relax a bit and enjoy the company of others.

My best time, socially, was in my mid-thirties...in my role as mother of two young daughters. This role gave me the opportunity to meet other parents at school, at the park...pretty much everywhere. And I loved it! We had things in common...something to talk about. (I'm not advocating having kids for expanding your social circle...it just happened that way).

There's also something funny that happens when you're forty...something rather surprising and nice and totally unexpected. I seemed to care less about what other people thought of me. I seemed to relax in my own skin. When I encountered somebody who didn't seem to like me, it didn't bother me as much. I no longer went out of my way to win people over. I learned to listen more and talk less. I suspect I used to talk too much...nervous chatter...to disguise the fact that I felt uncomfortable. When I stopped doing that, I was better able to connect with others.

Here's a funny admission...but it's totally true. I began to observe how my teenage daughters behaved in groups of people. I noticed they don't feel compelled to drive the conversation...they can, well, just "hang." I've never done that well very. It seems to work very well for them. When they do talk, what they say is how they really feel (or it seems so)...their reactions are authentic and have range and depth. So at my advanced age, I began to practice it. I'd ask myself...how do you really feel about what the person just said...or did...and reacted accordingly. Basically, I had to dig deep to find out how I felt. I have to say it was pretty successful. I was amazed that I could retrain myself.

Please feel free to share your experience!!!

The Question of Mental Illness

2010-03-19T09:07:00.000-07:00

In a comment in response to "The Question of Forgiveness," Jeff raised a fascinating question...."Is the n-individual (for we are talking about an individual and not simply a category) , if they are 'mentally ill', mentally well enough to recognise how ill they are? Is their responsibility 'diminished' in the way that some defendants claim in legal cases?"

It really got me thinking. Do I think of my father as mentally ill? He was diagnosed in later life with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. While he was able to hold a job, marry, save money and, in some ways, rise above a terrible childhood, he was a loner all his life and was incapable of forming lasting, reciprocal relationships. He could also be mean, demanding, needy and jealous.

I've always thought of my father as mentally...deficient. I used to wonder if he had a very low IQ. Before his diagnosis, I used to wonder what the heck was wrong with him because he certainly wasn't normal...he didn't act like other fathers. Mostly, I felt embarrassed.

I think Jeff managed to articulate ideas and concepts that would occasionally pop into my mind...fleeting and half-formed...and then poof!....would disappear.

Do YOU think of your narcissistic parent as mentally ill? Slightly disordered?

Here's what Jeff wrote (brilliantly I might add):
The trouble I find is this: one moment I'll make statements about my parents based on how medical categories shed light on their behaviour, then the next, having suggested they were in some way ill, I'll make other statements that suggest they had the same mental faculties as anyone else, as though they were no different and therefore not ill according to medical categories. This doublethink leaves me alternating on their level of responsibility, whether they had the capacity to do any differently than they did, and therefore whether they can be forgiven. To categorise them while assuming they were as responsible as the next person doesn't feel right somehow, as though I'm trying to have it both ways.
The difficulty with forgiveness may be this entrapment between the intellectualisation in understanding their behaviour in medical terms and the inevitable emotional turmoil in having had parents that denied parental love with impunity. The intellectual side relies on models whose helpful explanations explain away the parent's awareness. The emotional side then craves justice from a defendant whose capacity has just been called into question.

The Question of Forgiveness

2010-03-16T08:23:00.000-07:00

Some people are big on the concept of forgiving. Some have said you need to forgive the person/persons who harmed you.

Then there are other concepts floating around...in the category of "Now What Do I Do With This Mess?" Some say we should try to understand the person who caused us so much grief.

When I've attempted to discuss the behavior of my narcissistic parents with select individuals, I'm often met with, "They didn't know any better; they were ignorant." This doesn't ring true. My aunts came from the same socioeconomic background and were loving, nurturing women.

My self-centered mother is long dead. While I felt sorry for her as I watched her suffer through Alzheimer's, frankly, I don't remember any authentic emotions of sadness or grief. When she started down dementia's spiral staircase, she spent most of the previous ten years giving me the cold, silent treatment for "abandoning" her to go away to college.

My father is fading fast with his dementia. I feel sorry for him, too. I know he wouldn't want to hang on in his terrible condition. Still, I don't feel any strong emotions...including hate. I used to loathe him...couldn't stand to even be in the same room with him. Okay, I still can't, but when I do spend time with him, I'm not a seething bag of resentment and fury.

Sometimes, I feel guilty I don't see him more often, but here's where the question of forgiveness comes in. I can't. I don't want to. I'd have to force myself to do it and I simply do not have the the will to overcome profound feelings of dread that accompany a visit. I can occasionally muster the energy to do so, but it does take its toll. He is well taken care of. I check on his welfare frequently. The woman who takes care of him is incredibly patient with his difficult behaviors (my father calls her and the staff the most horrible names you can imagine...his ability to lob insults is astounding).

So here's the deal. There are some things I could forgive. I could forgive...maybe...how my parents treated me as an adoptee. It was pretty bad (I have a whole blog trying to work out that one), but I could chalk it up to the total dysfunction of the Closed Era of Adoption. Then there's just bad parenting. Okay, my parents were raised poor and had lousy parents themselves and didn't know any better. Check.

Here's what keeps me from actively forgiving my parents....the knowledge that they actively made the decision to cut me off emotionally (my mother) and financially (my father) at a very young age. This was very punitive. When I asked for help....once (a loan of $75)....help never came.

If I said I could forgive my parents...and really feel it...I'd be lying. Maybe I'll work my way around to it one of these days. I don't walk around, in real life, an angry person. I reserve "my angries" for this blog.

So if not forgiveness...what the heck else is there?

Feeling Unsafe...and the Superwoman Complex

2010-03-11T07:48:00.000-08:00

Billie shared in a comment her experience as a child getting a bone lodged in her tonsil...and subsequent "adventure" involving the highway, high rates of speed and quite a show of fatherly "concern." It's a doozie. (Poor Billie!) I've copied it below for ease of reading.

Based on my experience and those shared by readers here, the narcissistic parent will co-opt any misfortune suffered by their child and somehow make it all about them. Still, one would like to believe that their parent would rally and provide the necessary care and comfort if said child were sick or injured. Unfortunately, this is not the case. At least, not in my case and certainly not in the case of readers who've shared shocking stories about parents' disturbing reactions to serious illnesses such as cancer or the death of a spouse.

Knowing your parent is incapable of caring for you when you need them most is not just disappointing, it's....unsettling. You know...just know...you are on your own.

In addition to the stress of coping with the problem or illness that has befallen you, you now carry the burden of trying to manage your parent as he carries on about how terribly worried he is and generally making things much, much worse.

The result, at least in my case, was to hide any bit of information that might be co-opted for dramatic purposes. My parents were the last people I'd tell if I needed help. (Rather late in life, in a weak moment, I told n-dad I was scared about the results of a medical test. I've already written about that. Not only was he unsupportive, he was angry. If I died, who was going to take care of him?)

The end result is...the development of a bad case of the superwoman complex. I hate asking for help. I'd rather do everything myself, thank you very much. No, no, I don't want a ride back from the dentist after a root canal...I'll call a cab. I hurt my foot on a walk with the cell phone in my pocket. Did I call my husband who was sitting at home...he would have been glad to pick me up. No, no...I hobbled home. I'm clobbered by the flu? I'll drag myself to work or make dinner for my kids and take the dog for a walk...no big deal. This is different from the martyr complex, because I don't go around sighing and pointing out how no one ever helps me. It just doesn't occur to me to ask for help...this habit of hiding misfortune is so ingrained.

Just this week, I figured out I have another problem: I feel very uncomfortable when people are nice to me. It's embarrassing. For example, a good friend offered me free flight passes. While I was very grateful, I refused them. I felt like I'd be taking advantage of her...or that I wasn't worthy of the gift. She insisted she had more (she worked for an airline) and that she'd given her passes to neighbors...who'd traveled lots of places on them...and to others she knew less well than me. Still, I kept refusing, until she insisted...and now I feel guilty that I'm planning a vacation on her passes. What's up with that???

Anybody else "do" this???

Here's Billie's story:

...when I was maybe 6 or 7, I got a fishbone stuck in one of my tonsils. It was uncomfortable, yes, but not an emergency. My father loaded all of us into the pickup and drove, like, 90 miles an hour with his face to his CB radio hand-held, screaming that his little girl was "choking on a fishbone." Really???? He didn't say jack to me when I was miserably sitting in the back, hoping no one was mad at me for causing all the uproar. He just wanted the truckers on I-80 to respond to him so he could feel important. We didn't even have to take the Interstate...it would have been closer to get to the doctor on the highway. This added some excitement and attention to Ndad's life...he couldn't quit talking about how worried he was about me and telling people days later about this. He must've sounded like such an ass to normal adults. "My baby was choking to death on a fish bone, and so I had to drive like a maniac to the emergency room so the doctor could remove it. I was SOOO WORRIED. I was almost sick over it. I don't know what I would have done if she had died."

Oh...Grow Up Already!

2010-03-09T07:48:00.000-08:00

The flip side to the previous post...about narcissistic fathers acting like big babies...is the narcissistic mother acting like a helpless little girl.

One trait I've observed in my own n-parent, and I have no idea how universal this is, is their stubborn resistance to personal growth. They are unwilling to identify a behavior that causes them distress and work to change it...from within. The change, they insist, must come from external sources. In other words, they blame others. (Translation....WE are asked to change, constantly, to accommodate them)

As a result, my n-father had managed to reach old middle age without acquiring the perspective and wisdom usually associated with that age group. He remained....forever 13.

Susie shared her experience with her mother...and I thought it so well illustrated the broader point that I just had to copy and paste it! (Hope you don't mind, Susie). I also applaud her for directly confronting her parent, something I rarely did which I now wish I had! Of course, while we can't change our n-parent, there is something to be said for the satisfaction of sticking up for yourself, setting some boundaries and, well, letting it rip.

The way Susie's mother responds to the criticism...and the setting of boundaries...is, well, CLASSIC! A perfect example of how an n-parent goes into victim-martyr mode when you try to discuss their behavior, thereby escaping personal responsibility. (By contrast, my youngest daughter complained to my husband that he does this thing that really bothers her. He listened, apologized and promised to work on it...she felt acknowledged and respected...he was grateful to have the opportunity to fix something that would improve their communication/relationship).

I guess the big sad take-away is...the relationship with an n-parent is NON-NEGOTIABLE.

Still, for those of you trying to figure out if you're dealing with an n-parent, it's useful to have concrete examples....so here is an excellent "case study" written by Susie (credit to Susie for the post title).

I always felt that way about my Mom. That she should be less melodramatic and childish. Dad, on the other hand, always embraced the uber-macho-I-have-no-feelings-and-neither-should-you stuff.

Just as a current example: My mother volunteers at a.....school where she used to teach (she retired). My mother has never worked another job in her life, so he skill set and knowledge is extremely limited. She has an unfortunate habit of taking on tasks that she is unable to do without an enormous amount of support. So, naturally Dad, I, and my husband all get sucked into helping her with these projects. This year, she took on the task (among many, many others) to scan pictures into the computer for a compilation for the school year book. My mom is not very technologically savvy, so she ends up procrastinating and asking us a bajillion questions. In the end, we end up doing 95% of the work for her because she never learned how to use a computer.
I am SO fed up with helping her and I decided to put my foot down and say no. I told her that I can't do this anymore and that she needs to be able to take on tasks that she is able to do instead of committing herself to things that she doesn't know how to do because it always ends up being a shared burden. I also made the observation that things wait until the very last minute and that she needs to learn to coordinate her time more efficiently.
Ohhhh man...it was such a bad idea to bring this up. She really laid on thick the "poor me" crap. In a justified and indignant voice, "YOU'RE RIGHT. I'm stupid and incapable and I won't EVER ask you for help again!" When I tried to clarify that she just needs to take on things that she can do alone without encroaching on our time, she says, "I know what I'm able to do! I can scrub floors. I can fold laundry and cook dinner too. Why don't I just do THAT?!"(as if by asking her to take on more reasonable tasks and to set personal boundaries with her volunteer job is somehow doing to coercing her into domestic subordination) and "THIS is what makes me happy! I like doing this!" (which sounds completely contrary to her stress and frustration she seems to have with the project. It also says to me that her feelings about being able to volunteer are more important than the fact that it doesn't make US happy having to do it for her).

When she brought out the poor me stuff, I couldn't handle it anymore. I said, "Oh, shut up! Don't try to play the 'poor me act'" to which she buried her face in her hands, starting to cry and said pitifully, "Ohhh WHYYYY are you doing this to me?!" I just got out of my chair and said, "When you're ready to start communicating with me, let me know."

MAN, that felt good, but of course, it accomplished nothing. It just told me how totally impossible N-parents are when it comes to communication. If it weren't so totally frustrating, it would be almost comedic how much self-pity N's have for themselves. It makes me want to say to her, "OH grow up already!!"

For God's Sake....Man Up

2010-03-06T18:47:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up, I had a bad case of father envy.

My own father, a childlike narcissist, was such a big baby there were times I wanted to scream, "Act like a man, for God's sake!"

When he went to the dentist, the pain was excruciating. Only he experienced that kind of pain. When he had a cold, only he got it that bad. When he went to the Department of Motor Vehicles, only he had to wait in such long lines. Everybody was out to get him. He was always the victim, the one who deserved pity.

There's was also something vaguely womanish about my father...gossipy in an old-biddy way...a little too gleeful about the misfortunes of others.

He was so shaken and stirred by any little set-back, so rattled by daily life, that I knew...just knew...I'd be on my own if there was a big earthquake and the building collapsed on top of me. My father wouldn't dig me out. Instead, he'd need to be resuscitated by the paramedics. When I was a kid and had to have a biopsy, he (and my mother) couldn't stay in the hospital with me because he was too upset.

And then I'd watch a Clint Eastwood film and wonder...why can't I have a father like that? You know, the strong silent type capable of defending those he loved? I also had a thing for Gregory Peck playing Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird. Atticus didn't follow his kids around pestering them with endless chatter. When his son was hurt, he didn't fall apart and turn the injury into his drama.

I suppose, at the bottom of all this, was the feeling that I was not safe. Ultimately, I was in charge. My father could not be counted on. He wasn't man enough. When the going got tough, he folded.

There's a unique aspect to being the parentified daughter...of a father: the man in your life is a scared little girl who needs your protection.

Unacknowledged

2010-03-05T08:17:00.000-08:00

I've written about this before...maybe on my other blog.

Sometimes, it's difficult to tease apart the tangled mess of issues that are a result of having narcissistic parents...being adopted by self-centered parents....and just being adopted.

I have major abandonment issues. This is very common amongst adoptees. However, having seen my parents cut people off just like "that" (snap of fingers) when I was child, the threat of this actually happening seemed quite real. Later, my n-mother did cut me off when I went away to college. She stopped speaking to me.

Another issue I have is going unacknowledged.

This is a big one. Intellectually, I understand it. I believe I understand the root of the problem and I have tried my hardest to overcome it. Then this week, wham, it happened again and I am astonished that I allowed myself to re-enter the cycle.

So here it is in a nutshell:

Being the capable, people pleasing, good listener with pronounced tendencies to rescue, I became the confident of a certain relative. However, this relative only called when in crisis (3x a year) which involved lots of time and energy. Heck, it only took decades to realize she had no other use for me except as an occasional therapist. Still, that was progress. I pointed this out to the relative and she admitted she disappears after each crisis because she's embarrassed. Okay. So I sent an email and gave her a free pass. No response. I send another email. Zip. Six months pass. Relative calls husband's cell phone and talks to him. It now appears I may see her at a reunion. I send her an email about a travel deal. This too goes unacknowledged.

Now, I'm fuming and all churned up. For God's sake, I think, buck up!....you're way too old to behave like a hurt child! Obviously, the relative is not a very nice person capable of a mature, reciprocal relationship...move on! But her behavior is, well, not only triggering...it's kind of like catnip. I have to admit, also, to now hating the very mention of her name.

Going unacknowledged is a profound and disturbing experience...having had a childlike narcissistic father who never let me finish a sentence. Basically, I felt invisible to him.

When I go unacknowledged today...whether someone doesn't return a phone call, an email...or passes me without saying hello on the street....is, well, scary and threatening. It's like being erased all over again. I know all this, but when it happened again, I was right back to where I started: extremely agitated.

Should She Stay or...Should She Go?

2010-03-04T09:04:00.000-08:00

Since I was raised an only child of n-parents, I may be totally off the mark in my response, so I thought I'd post what Music Girl (she uses musical notes I can't duplicate, so I'm dubbing her Music Girl) had to say so she could benefit from the advice of others who were raised with siblings.

She wrote:

My two younger sisters are treated similarly but I bear the brunt of my parents narcissistic behaviour. Relatives, friends, and even my sisters point it out to me. That I shouldn't have to deal with so much shit from them. I've been numb to it for so long that I barely notice it now. The only time it upsets me is if, having come home from a good gig and screamed and moshed a bit and got my anger out, I come home tired and then get punched in the face. The good thing is I can shrug away the bruises as something I picked up in the mosh pit.

Anyway my main concern is that, although my sisters don't get treated the worst, if I move out - I'M NOT THERE TO BE MY PARENTS TARGET. Right now, if either of them does something wrong, they get a telling off but it all comes down to 'you learnt this from your eldest sister, didn't you?!'..
And then I'm the target.

When I move out to university- what'll happen? What if they turn to the next eldest one? What if, because of my absence and blatant rebellion/going against my parents wishes, they become more angry and controlling? What if they give my sisters EVEN more hell than they give me now?

I can be selfish. I can apply for a university I like purely because it's far away. I can stay out an hour or two past my curfew.
But I CAN'T leave/stand by whilst I know my younger sisters are going to get punched in the face for something I'VE done. I don't know what to do :(

This isn't just narcissistic behavior. This involves physical abuse.

I'm a little worried because in a previous post, I mentioned my mother slapped me. She did...several times...but that was in the "old days" and it wasn't very hard. Today, it would probably be considered abusive.

I did not mean to give the impression that slapping a child is in any way is acceptable. Your parents are hitting you hard enough to leave bruises! I strongly encourage you - for your safety and the welfare of your sisters - to either contact social services (or the equivalent of where you live) and enlist their services or, should your parent(s) strike you again, to leave the house immediately and call the police and file a report.

In addition to the self-centered behavior you've described, your parents have crossed another boundary into even darker territory that requires firm, decisive action on your part. It is possible that your father has serious anger-management issues that could escalate. Your natural, age-appropriate desire for independence will continue to put you at odds with your father...enraging him further...possibly putting you at increased risk.

As for your sisters, perhaps the best thing you can do for them - besides calling social services - is to show them that you will not tolerate abuse...be a role model, in other words. Show your sisters that leaving home IS possible and that life outside is a much healthier and happier place to be.

Readers...what's your take?

Pssst...Your Mother is a Narcissist

2010-03-02T08:06:00.000-08:00

An anonymous reader stopped by and posted this question to the teenager with the narcissistic mother:

"do you have any advice on how to make a teenager see that their mother is a manipulative, emotional vampire.."

I decided to post it because it's a very interesting question. Is it possible to help a teenager recognize their parent is narcissistic if they haven't yet figured it out? Are there any risks to doing so? What do you think?

Shoot, I can't remember exactly where I read this...in which book...but it addressed that question. The answer was basically to give the child/teenager a safe place to explore his feelings after an "encounter" with the narcissistic parent...to mirror back to them their state of mind. For example, "you seem very upset right now." To be there to reassure the child they've done nothing wrong and, mostly, to listen non-judgmentally so they feel safe to continue talking about the n-parent so it doesn't feel the other adult is attacking their parent.

Easier said than done because I'm sure you just want to ring that parent's neck and call her every name in the book! If I remember where I read this, I'll post it.

At least your step-son has some people in his life who have his best interests at heart and who will see him for who he is!

The You-Owe-Me-Guilt-Speech

2010-03-01T16:03:00.000-08:00

Watched Spencer Tracy's last movie, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, this weekend.

One scene left me gasping with recognition...the speech delivered by the African-American father to his 37-year old doctor/son when he realizes his son won't listen to reason and insists on marrying the white girl.

I'm not calling the father a narcissist, but man, that speech is awfully familiar! Substitute the mailman references with, "and after I fed and clothed you" and "drove you to school!" and it was the same speech meant to control my behavior through guilt.

If you see the movie, you'll see the way the father's face twists with fury and his intimidating body language. My mother did a lot of angry finger pointing in my face and much stomping about.

Sidney Poitier's brilliant "comeback" is my fantasy...how I would have LOVED to have articulated that very same reply!

Seem familiar, anybody?

FATHER:

Yeah, I know what you are
and what you've made of yourseIf.

But I worked my ass off to get the money
to buy you aLL the chances you had!

You know how far
I carried that bag in years?

mlles.

And mowin' Iawns in the dark so you
wouIdn't have to be stokin' furnaces...

and couId bear down on the books.

There were things your mother should
have had that she insisted go for you.

And I don't mean fancy things.

I mean a decent coat.
A Iousy coat!

And you're gonna teLL me
that means nothin' to you....

and you couId
break your mother's heart?

THE SON RESPONDS:
You Llsten to me.

You say you don't want to teLL me
how to Llve my Llfe?

What do you think
you've been doing?
You teIl me what rights I've got
or haven't got...
and what I owe to you
for what you've done for me.

Let me teLL you something.

I owe you nothing.

If you carried that bag
a mllLlon miles...
you did what you
were supposed to do...
because you brought me
into this worId...
and from that day you owed me...
everything you couId ever do for me,
Llke I wlll owe my son...
if I ever have another.
But you don't own me.
You can't telI me when or where
I'm out of Llne
or try to get me to Llve my Llfe
according to your ruIes.
You don't even know
what l am, Dad.
You don't know who l am,
how I feeI, what I think.
And if I tried to explain it the rest of
your Llfe, you wouId never understand.

Dear Teenager with Narcissistic Mother

2010-02-28T19:32:00.000-08:00

A sixteen-going-on-seventeen year old stopped by and had a question. Her mother, she says, is narcissistic and she's worried that she'll be that way, too.

A few other kind readers offered wise words of reassurance. I'll echo them. Nah, don't worry about it. If you were headed down that path, it probably wouldn't even occur to you because you'd have little self-awareness. If...if...you occasionally acted in a self-centered way and didn't like that about yourself, you can change that by simply being more mindful. I suspect, instead, you'll always be hypervigilant guarding against becoming narcissistic and will "err" on the side of being a super good listener, supportive, overly responsible, etc. Just my two cents, but I'd be more worried about becoming co-narcissistic than narcissistic at this point!

Because there are readers who stop by who were more recently teenagers than moi and even us oldsters can remember so clearly what it's like to deal with a narcissistic parent during the teenage years, here's a bit of what this young woman shared. It would be lovely if you could give her some feedback:

my n-mother seems hell bent on guilt tripping me and listing all the things she's done for me. it could be the 'teenage phase', as they call it, im going through but i disagree as she is exrtremely controlling and self-absorbed - to the point where she blamed me for a car accident she had because she was continuously complaining about me. NOTE: at this time i was in an exam during school. i came home to find her waiting for me so she vent out her anger at me and give me a lecture over the problems i'd caused. i'm the reason she has a bad knee, the reason she gets angry most of the time - lets say all bad stuff. i get very frustrated as im not allowed to participate much in outside activities and she very much told me straight up that im not allowed to have a social life.yes, teenage problems but my frustration is beginning to worry me and cut into my abilities in performing in life/school:sleep deprivation. spent many years trying to make our relationship work but how is one possible if there is only one talking and directing it?

First, I admire your initiative in researching the problem. Obviously, you are a very intelligent young woman capable of being proactive.

Your biggest problem...at this point...due to your very young age is what you're going to do now that you've identified the problem. I mean, it's one thing to be out of the house and deal with it then, it's another that you are still a minor (with legitimate needs) dependent upon a self-centered mother.

Rosa had a great suggestion...I agree...let your fingers ZOOM across the keyboard to click on the daughters of narcissistic mothers website link.

I have no idea what your health care situation is. Some families have mental health insurance that would cover therapy. Is it possible to find out if you have access to such services? You could say you are feeling a tad anxious or worried about insomnia and would like to talk to a professional (be prepared for your mother to make that into her drama). Perhaps you could ask your high school counselor (only if you trust that person) for a recommendation for free teen counseling services.

I think it would be highly beneficial for you to see a real person/therapist who could listen to your concerns. While the online world is a wonderful, safe place....I can't tell you how much I loved my therapist, how nurturing and supportive she was...and how much I gained from just...you know...talking without being interrupted for once!

Just joking...but you are a mighty powerful person if you can give your mother a BAD KNEE!

Hah! I was responsible for my mother's bad back! I can sooooo relate! RIDICULOUS!!!

What do you mean you are not allowed to have a social life? Are you a sophomore, junior? Do you think your mother will allow you more social opportunities when you're a bit older? Is there a cultural reason behind this? For example, some of my daughter's friends are Persian or Asian and their parents are much stricter than, say, I am.

That said, you mentioned lots of behaviors that take me right back to my own teenage years...and made me cringe! It's so awful to have to tiptoe around...fearing what you'll be blamed for next...and to feel like you are TRIPWIRED to your mother's central nervous system!

Narcissistic Parents and Therapy

2010-02-27T09:57:00.000-08:00

HoldFast read the article about co-narcissism and wondered if anybody had narcissistic parents who'd actually go to therapy. If not, would you dare suggest the idea? As always, please feel free to share your experience/thoughts.

Here's what the author had to say:

Narcissistic people blame others for their own problems. They tend not to seek psychotherapy because they fear that the therapist will see them as deficient and therefore are highly defensive in relation to therapists.........Co-narcissistic people, however, are ready to accept blame and responsibility for problems, and are much more likely than narcissists to seek help because they often consider themselves to be the ones who need fixing.

My father, a childlike narcissist who needed me to parent him, had two distinct traits:
1. Complete inability to listen to other people...to the point it seemed there might be a neurological disturbance; talked non-stop;
2. Total lack of empathy for others; simply could not understand that other people had needs or feelings; (example: when I told him I needed to know where I spent the first month of my life--foster home?hospital?--he said it didn't matter because it wasn't important to him where I'd been);

When I read this bit about blame...the lights went off. My father never, ever took responsibility...for anything. My mother was a blamer, too. She blamed me for making her sick or my father sick.

My father would make bad decisions and later, somehow, blame me when things went wrong. Once, he insisted on having an optional surgery against the recommendation of his doctor and over my pleas not to do it, then scheduled the surgery secretly for the day before my (non-refundable) family vacation. He suffered a complication at home...requiring 24/7 after-care...then blamed me for a) not finding the best surgeon; b) making him stay in a skilled nursing facility and c) told everybody at said facility that I'd abandoned him to go on a vacation.

I grew up hearing the following from my mother:
--You're cold
--You're selfish
--You don't love me
--I think there's something radically wrong with you...how could you ______
--.....and after all I've done for you
--.....after after all I've put you through.

So when Pisces6 wrote the following, I could totally connect.

Getting my parents into therapy? Hah! They're more likely to send me to therapy saying there's something wrong with me. They'll probably be insulted if I ever mention such a thing.

My mother would have happily gone to a therapist....if it had been more acceptable to her socioeconomic class and culture...if she thought the therapist would examine me. I could just imagine how it would play out. She'd sit there and point at me and list all my faults...then gaze expectantly at the therapist...positive he would conclude that I was cold and selfish.

In his later years, my father did have to see a psychologist and guess what happened? He was diagnosed with NPD.

For those of you who don't have time to read the article on co-narcissism (link in previous post) written by Alan Rappaport, PhD, here is the abstract:

This article introduces the term "co-narcissism" to refer to the way that people accommodate to narcissistic parents. I use the term narcissism here to refer to people with very low self-esteem who attempt to control others' views of them for defensive purposes. They are interpersonally rigid, easily offended, self-absorbed, blaming, and find it difficult to empathize with others. Co-narcissistic people, as a result of their attempts to get along with their narcissistic parents, work hard to please others, defer to other's opinions, worry about how others think and feel about them, are often depressed or anxious, find it hard to know their own views and experience, and take the blame for interpersonal problems. They fear being considered selfish if they act assertively. A high proportion of psychotherapy patients are co-narcissistic. The article discusses the co-narcissistic syndrome and its treatment, and gives case examples of patients who suffer from this problem.

Co-Narcissism

2010-02-25T19:17:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, when I'm talking to certain friends or certain relatives, I find myself doing all the listening as the person goes on and on about their latest project or problem.

Later, I'll hang up the phone or return from coffee, entirely frustrated...and I'll vent to my husband that ______ was annoyingly and obnoxiously self-centered.

This seems to happen to me a lot, actually.

Possibility No 1: The role of listener is what I'm used to, having never been allowed to finish a single sentence in the presence of my n-father...in my entire life...no exaggeration.

Possibility No 2: I hold myself back in conversations and ALLOW the other person to the fill the void.

Sometimes, I wonder if there's some way I behave that seems to bring out the Boor in people. In fact, I was just thinking about this when I rediscovered this article written by Alan Rappaport, PhD, about co-narcissism. This is something he addressed at the top of page three.

He wrote: "Their tendency to be unexpressive of their own thoughts and feelings and to support and encourage others' needs creates something of an imbalance in their relationships, and other people may take more of the interpersonal space for themselves as a result, thereby giving the impression that they are, in fact, narcissists, as the co-narcissists fears."

Bingo.

The one thing I like about this...as a theory...is that there's something I can actually do to lessen my frustration and to have more meaningful, reciprocal encounters. I can take up...oooo!....half-the space. Okay, I'd be thrilled with a third!

Here's a link to the article:

Co-Narcissism: How We Accommodate to Narcissistic Parents

controlmastery.org [PDF]

There's much worth discussing...let me know which themes are of greatest interest and I can start up future, separate posts.

Behind the Mask

2010-02-24T09:35:00.000-08:00

Jeff posed this interesting question, so thought I'd post it for discussion:

Regarding the alignment in several comments here of NPD with sociopathy, I wondered what anyone might think about the possibility that their N relative's apparent lack of empathy and need to lay on guilt trips was both a mask for and projection of an underlying and intolerable burden of guilt?

Funny you ask this, Jeff, because I was just discussing my dad's particular brand of narcissism with my husband. My husband said he's always been struck by my father's total lack of empathy...and total lack of self-awareness in general. In the case of my parent, I suspect he didn't feel guilty. He felt incredibly victimized and conducted his life as an angry victim...demanding compensation for what he did not receive as a child.

However, I wouldn't classify him in the malignant narcissist category...even though he left a long trail of destruction! I've been shocked by some of the stories shared here and elsewhere where narcissism is bound up with intentionally malicious actions.

If you are better qualified to take a stab at Jeff's question, please do!

Guilt Trips

2010-02-22T18:30:00.000-08:00

If I had to name one feeling that has followed me around all my life...it's guilt.

You know how humans are basically giant bags of water....biologically speaking? Psychologically speaking...I was a bag of guilt.

I clearly remember feeling guilty at a fairly young age because I had the power to make my parents sick. If I was naughty, I gave my dad a stomachache. If I annoyed my mother, she'd say, "You don't know what you're putting me through."

When my high school boyfriend broke up with me and I stumbled in the house, crying my eyes out, my mother was furious because I'd managed to scare her to death and she slapped me (not very hard)...she'd thought I'd been raped. She went to her room, highly upset, saying I'd put her through an ordeal.

My announcement that I was going away to college, years older than the typical student, was met with accusations that I was abandoning them, "after all we've done for you."

In fact, my mother was really big on reminding me of all the stuff they'd ever done for me...whether I'd asked for them or not.

After my mother died due to complications of Alzheimer's (she became docile...nice to be around as the disease advanced) and my father was alone, he went into overdrive laying on the guilt. He'd say stuff like:
"Don't forget about me, you're all I've got now" (I'm an only child);
"I'm so lonely, where are you?"
"I just wanted to hear your voice" (then he'd proceed to talk the entire conversation and wouldn't let me say a word)

Of course, I asked my father - repeatedly - to move closer to me so I could see him more often and help him out. He refused. Then created situations that forced me to travel 400 miles to rescue him. Until I put my foot down.

Of course, he told all the neighbors and anybody who'd listen about what a lousy daughter I was, that I'd taken their retirement money for my college education (they refused to help/I paid ever single penny) and then abandoned him in his old age. I was, to say the least, mortified.

The thing is...we could never just have a parent-child relationship without the guilt. The guilt was a like third person in our family...the one that held the whip.

Personally, I'd feel silly trying to make my daughters feel guilty, mostly because it takes a lot of theatrics and heavy sighing and they'd probably laugh.

The only weapon against The Guilt Trip is achieving Emotional Detachment. I finally, finally don't feel guilty anymore...although I sometimes do feel the occasional pang of guilt...but nothing like Crippling Guilt.

I've come to think of Emotional Detachment as the secret weapon against the narcissist's secret weapon...a state of enlightenment that is only achieved after much practice.

As always, please feel free to share your opinions, thoughts and stories!

Taking Care of Daddy

2010-02-21T12:12:00.000-08:00

This is actually an ad promoting adoption in India. It's several years old now. As an adoptee, I found it disturbing.

Now, I've come to think of it as one of the best depictions of the parentified child.

Just looking at the photo makes me feel anxious, uneasy and....trapped.

For as long as I could remember, my father has been needy and childlike...more like a 13-year old boy than a man. He'd follow me around the house, talking, talking, talking. I'd have to go to the bathroom to escape the chatter.

I have an ongoing debate with a childhood friend about the characteristics of narcissistic families.

Many of the things I cite as examples of self-centered behavior are attributable - she says - to culture. In specific, our Latino culture in which children, especially girls, are expected to place family above all other considerations. That we were, culturally, expected to be our mother's companion and that, even after marriage, stay close to home to continue our caretaking duties. College had not been an option for them and, for us, was considered unnecessary and frivolous.

This is a tough question.

What's a somewhat normal, acceptable level of parentification within a culture...and when does it cross the line into something closer to pathological?

On the one hand, you could look at my parents - second generation Mexicans - and say they were like that because they'd been raised poor, were undereducated and pretty ignorant and treated me like chattel...because they knew no better and that's how the culture treated kids. (I've read that, besides Latinos, there's a lot of parentification in Asian and African American family systems)

Then again, my father was late-in-life diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder so in my case, maybe it's a combination of both: pathology and culture.

Sometimes - as in mine - culture seems like a big, fat excuse for the inexcusable...a sort of denial...an "Oh well, they didn't mean it, they really loved you."

But it didn't feel like that. I didn't feel loved. If a parent loved you, wouldn't they visit you in the hospital when you were sick? Wouldn't they be there for you when you needed comfort or reassurance? Couldn't they pull it together long enough to see you through a crisis? If the answer is no, they didn't, then I'm guessing there's something more than culture to explain it.

Refusing to Pay It Forward

2010-02-19T11:06:00.000-08:00

This is my second post today. I was going to delete the last one...it felt too yucky...but decided to let it stand because, dammit, it's the way I feel about my aging narcissistic father who now has dementia. I really, truly wished I liked the man. I feel sorry for him. I'm not without sympathy and compassion, but I just can't love him. Because I don't - even at this sorry stage of his life - I feel guilty. I know I shouldn't, but I do.

Out of the whole mess that is our dysfunctional relationship...there is something positive worth noting. The fact that I have refused to pay it forward...on my daughters.

I was just reminded of this by Just Me, who wrote:

Oh yea, I was brought up being told I was lazy, selfish, ungrateful, etc. I was never told I was good at something or did a great job. I was invisible...unless of course I was annoying her...then I was raged at. And by annoying, I mean, asking for basic needs, permission to do things, eat things, go places.

......I am proud to say I have never...NEVER...caused my children to cry. What a concept!
(see Rich Inner Lives comments for full quote)

It IS a concept! It is hopeful and positive and wonderful and amazing! That we adult children of narcissists - through mindfulness - can choose not to manipulate or control or subject our children to conditional "love." To stop the madness!

Don't get me wrong. I am not a perfect parent, far from it. I've managed to annoy the hell out of my kids...all by myself...without my parents help. I've learned to apologize for my mistakes and mean it. I've never given them the cold, silent treatment to try to control them. I've done my best to listen without interrupting and let them express their feelings...even when it's highly uncomfortable because they are pissed off and raging. That said, there are days when I cringe because I know that I overreacted or mishandled something with my kids, but I keep trying to improve my parenting skills...this is a very satisfying experience...something I CAN control...me and the way I choose to behave.

The Fading, Aging Narcissist

2010-02-19T09:02:00.000-08:00

Talked to my father yesterday.

He has dementia, but still recognizes people. I no longer feel the intense dread and stomach churning I used to experience before contact. He's no longer able to say really crushing things, although he can manage to lob the occasional well-aimed insult that can take your breath away.

He was a loner all his life. He never had one, single friend as far as I knew. He'd hang out with somebody for a short time, then take against them and never talk to them again after some sort of drama.

He was always suspicious of other people's motives. When I was growing up, he'd tell me that my friends didn't really like me, that they were just using me (for car rides, for example) and that my boyfriend(s) didn't really like me...they just wanted s-e-x.

Loner though he was, he suffered great loneliness. Especially as he aged. Before dementia set in, he wanted me to be his everything. I found this to be an overwhelming burden...especially after a lifetime of neglect. He'd call at all times of the day and say things like, "I just wanted to hear your voice," "I'm so lonely, don't forget about me," and "I'm calling to let you hear my voice with a sore throat...don't I sound sexy?"

It's nearly impossible to reconcile his neediness and expectation that I was to fill the vast void with recollections such as mine: the time he (and my mother) left me alone in the hospital because it was too uncomfortable there and they were "too upset"...the time he was angry that I might have cancer, because I might die and then who would take care of him? I knew I never could rely on my father, so never bothered him with any problems.

Now, whenever I visit or call...these dark memories follow me around.

He's fading, but the nasty memories are not. Yet. When I'm in contact with him, I may not be as upset as I once was, but little bits and pieces of the past waft around, like an unpleasant odor.

Rich Inner Lives

2010-02-17T18:22:00.000-08:00

An anonymous commenter stopped by to share some well-articulated observations...including that thing we no doubt all do at some point...wonder if there's any "point" to our painful experience as children of narcissists.

For me, I think of it - especially considering that I was placed by a social worker in the clutches of a childlike man who himself needed parenting - as a crap shoot. I could have gone to some fairly normal people eager to give a child a home. Instead, the dice rolled and I ended up parentified...where the child-parent roles were reversed. No real point to it. Just...Really Bad Luck.

For those of you born into narcissistic families, you have a different challenge making sense of it. In some ways, it's harder. I at least can console myself with the undisputed fact that I'm not actually related to my parents. I have a nice fantasy world that I could retreat to...one where my first family was warm and loving and nurturing and where I was allowed to finish the occasional sentence. Believe me, I escaped to my fantasy world whenever I got the chance. (Before anybody gets too excited, my birth mother has her major issues, but one still likes to dream)

So I was really interested when the anonymous commenter shared this observation:

More recently I think about how this experience has affected my development of creative talents, and perhaps that was part of the point. N's don't have an inner life of imagination and dreams, but the non-n children of n's often do have a rich inner life. Often, our imaginations are the only place in which we receive nurturing. So maybe part of the point was to develop our imaginations in some special way. I bet there isn't a non-n child of an n-parent who doesn't have a great imagination and creative ability.

(emphasis mine--this concept rings so true!)

Sometimes, it's hard to find the upside of being raised by narcissists, but it is comforting and probably fairly healthy to try and find at least some positives!

In addition to developing a rich inner life, I bet you are:

--responsible (okay, maybe overly responsible)
--a good listener (this is what happens when you're not allowed to talk)
--proactive (trying to head off the next crisis)
--diplomatic (forced to smooth over troubled waters when your parent insulted somebody)

The Elderly Narcissistic Parent Dilemma

2010-02-13T21:54:00.000-08:00

If we were to approach this in the manner of an accountant, with neat little columns and an unsentimental eye, you can see how the numbers don't really add up.

Column One: What your parents did for you.

Column Two: What you're now expected to do for your parents.

If you have the lousy lucky of having narcissistic parents, then Column One is a bit of a disappointment. The basics of child-rearing may have been covered, like food, shelter and clothes. The stuff other parents did for their kids you probably didn't get. In fact, you probably had to do stuff for them.

In my case, the roles somehow got switched around and I ended up taking care of my needy, childlike father...blah, blah, blah...and don't get me started on my self-absorbed mother who couldn't stay with me in the hospital when I was a kid and had a cancer-scare because it was too uncomfortable. (Plus, she was too upset and didn't I know what I was putting her through)

So basically, Column One is screwed up. Where there should be parental entries...hey!...there's your name instead! At the bottom of Column One, the parents are running a deficit.

Hop on over to Column Two...that's the really scary one. That's the column with just your name appearing and who knows how long those narcissistic parents are gonna last.

See, that's the dilemma, folks. No bank of goodwill to drawn upon in the tough times. No fond memories of mom sitting by your bedside reading a book to comfort you, no recollection of Dad saying something goofy yet strangely reassuring when your boyfriend broke up with you. No, nada, none. Didn't exist.

Yet, somehow, you're expected to jump up and say...yippee...I have no problem taking on the responsibility of caring for aging narcissistic parent(s)!

Let me be a warning to the rest of you. Although I wouldn't change what I've done, I have now entered my - GASP - seventeenth year of dealing with aging narcissistic parents. It started early in my case, as my mother developed early onset dementia...a decade before I even knew what the term "self-absorbed parent" meant.

This means my columns - technically speaking - are now "equal." My parents raised me to seventeen. I've been financially responsible for myself since then. If one thinks of this in terms of what "we owe" our parents...I'm clear!

I've now contributed seventeen years of my life to helping manage aging parents. I have never, except for a few days and it almost killed me, done the hard work of bathing, changing adult diapers or any of that stuff - so nobody gets the wrong idea - although I do order my father's incontinence gear from Sam's Club.

(Oh my gosh. Is there a link between narcissism and the later development of dementia?)

So it has gone, folks. Most of those years, by the way, were spent in the misery of ignorance...not knowing that my parents were narcissistic...rushing around in a frenzy trying to prove that I was the good, dutiful, perfect daughter...a walking, talking case of generalized anxiety, a raging hypochondriac with a taste for Xanax.

Back to those columns. They never have and never will add up. When other people - who have annoying parents or garden-variety dysfunctional parents - call you ungrateful or try to tell you that you OWE your parents your life because they fed you baby bottles or wiped your butt....fuck 'em. Seriously. Don't even try to argue. Nod your head. Then do your own thing. Do your best. Act as humanely and responsibly as you can. Plan. Anticipate. Use your leverage - you will have it if you're parents have pissed everybody else off and need you - to design a workable solution that may involve some tough decisions...as in our case...but it did work and I can at least have the satisfaction of knowing that my father is well cared for...even if I'm not doing it with my own little hands.

Seeking A Second Opinion...on your parent(s)

2010-02-12T17:39:00.000-08:00

If you've read some of my past posts, you'll know that I've always been "creeped out" by my narcissistic, childlike father. In fact, at one point, my therapist asked if I'd ever been sexually abused by him, so strong were (are) my feelings of revulsion.

When I was fifteen and a father-daughter dance loomed in the future, I spent an entire month dreading the prospect of having to slow dance with my father under a giant disco ball. Yuck. It was even yuckier and more disgusting than I'd allowed myself to imagine. After figuring out the whole narcissistic-parent thing, I decided that I felt this way because my father had managed to cross every boundary...etc., etc.

Recently, I spent an afternoon talking with a childhood friend of my now dead mother (self-absorbed, controlling). Let's call her Jane, a woman I greatly admire and respect. (Why couldn't someone like that have adopted me?)

We got to talking about my father. Jane always asks after my father's health, but I've always suspected she's never liked him much. Maybe because Jane is 80-something and not in great health herself, Jane admitted the reason she and my mother drifted apart for a long time: my father. Jane said she found my father, well, creepy in a way that was hard for her to describe. She said he insisted on being a part of their conversations and tried to monopolize their conversations. She said it was obvious he resented sharing his wife with her friends. She also said my mother's sisters and brothers-in-law didn't like him, either...and thought he was "weird."

Jane said she and other people felt very sorry for me having a father "like that."

I feel sorry for me, too.

But here's the thing. Jane gave me a gift. I'm not crazy nor was I crazy. There was something "off" about my father and other people noticed. Too bad nobody told me this sooner. It would have spared me a whole lotta grief and second-guessing myself. I thought I was evil and a bad, ungrateful daughter for harboring such feelings.

In fact, getting a second opinion on my father was so validating - such a big relief - I'm surprised it hadn't occurred to me before.

Don't Leave Home Without It.....Baggage

2010-02-10T13:45:00.000-08:00

Have been mulling this over since we dropped our oldest daughter off at college...the huge difference in the way she separated from her parents (us) and the way I, with much difficulty and drama, separated from mine.

Our daughter went with support, careful planning and lots of mini-lessons on how to bank, shop, do laundry, take public transportation, etc. In a way, we'd been working for years on preparing her for this transition. (Interestingly, a college counselor at a parent orientation warned mothers and fathers NOT to burden their new college student with family problems, guilt trips or pleas to come home because mommy misses him/her). Said daughter doing well!

On the contrary, I was - technically - able to leave home at the age of eighteen when I began working full time. While I was saving money to go away to college, I now wonder why I waited so long to move out of the family home...being as miserable as I was.

Looking back, I now understand that instead of positively preparing me, my self-absorbed parents expended their time and energy trying to sabotage a healthy transition to the adult world.

Beginning in my teens, my parents began to issue dire warnings about the hazards of moving away from home. I'd be raped. I was too spoiled to manage on my own. I'd be kicked out because I was too messy and I wouldn't know how to pay bills on time. Any attempt to counter these gloom and doom predictions were met with snide comebacks like, "You think you're so smart, but you don't know anything," and "You have no idea what the real world is like. It'll spit you out."

On some level, I must have internalized their scary view of my future because even though I desperately wanted to, I always found an excuse not to move out. Until I finally did, years later, with an incredible amount of exhausting drama. (I've written about that earlier, so I won't rehash that).

Instead of helping me build life skills, they seemed intent on tearing me down....reaping doubt...mocking my quest for independence.

I didn't so much leave home as ripped myself away.

I remember getting the acceptance letter to a college 400 miles away, sitting on the toilet and hyperventilating. The time had finally come. I was going to leave home. This time, I wouldn't change my mind. I steeled myself for what might come. And sure enough, it did. A tsunami of anger, resentment, ill-will and an onslaught of predictions of failure. Their fall-back and favorite prediction was that I'd get raped, for sure.

When I refused to listen to "reason," my mother stopped talking to me. By the time my bags were packed, my head felt the size of a balloon with a tension headache. When I finally made it to college, I was so wrung out by the experience of that awful, unnatural separation that I simply couldn't enjoy it, at least, not for a long time. And when I did, I felt guilty.

I have no idea if leaving home...the hard way...is a common experience of children of narcissists. If you'd like to share, please do. I'll collect the experiences and add them to a later post so it's easier for people to read.

Book Recommendation

2010-02-09T17:13:00.000-08:00

As I'm on the lookout for (new to me) books about narcissistic parents, I was very happy to receive a recommendation from commenter/n-parent survivor Susie. Since this book may not be as well known as some of the others, I thought I'd share her review for those of you seeking more information:

The following contributed by Susie (copied from a comment/slightly shortened)

I really enjoyed reading "The Narcissistic Family" by Robert Pressman and colleagues. I read it for a class....so I don't know if it is easy reading for the general public, but from a survivor's point of view, the book was extremely helpful.

It also helped me better understand the structure of therapy and that everything that my therapist did had a purpose; that it wasn't just mindless rabble or simply the process rehashing painful memories.

It also taught me that individuals don't have to be officially diagnosed for the family structure/system to be "narcissistic" a.k.a.: self-absorbed. A lot of people who are dealing with narcissistic families/parents/partners etc are hesitant to give it a name or label for fear of "therapizing them". The book speaks more about the relational style of narcissistic families rather than the specific pathology of the narcissistic individual.

(Thank you, Susie! Ordered it from Amazon.)

Ghost Parents

2010-02-07T11:57:00.000-08:00

I'm luckier than most adult children of narcissists. I no longer have to deal with a difficult, demanding narcissistic parent and all the dilemmas and anxiety that poses.

My self-absorbed mother, who specialized in cold, punishing silences and angry outbursts, gradually softened as her Alzheimer's progressed. By her third year into the disease, she'd evolved into an entirely different person, smiling and always pleased to see me. While this transformation was a blessing, it was a mixed one. It made resolving the relationship impossible. Instead of some sort of conscious decision on my part how to proceed with my mother, I could only watch her fade away...leaving me to grapple with a lifetime of bad memories and all sorts of uncomfortable feelings.

My childlike narcissistic father became worse with the onset of Lewy Body dementia, what few filters he possessed zapped by this progressive disease of the frontal lobes. If he was difficult before the dementia, he became exponentially challenging afterward. It was like the Perfect Storm...a man with little judgment who says whatever he likes, no matter how hurtful, is impacted right smack in the judgment center of the brain! A visit with him required a thicker skin than an elephant. I watched in amazement as he managed to infuriate a geriatric doctor...who dumped my father as a patient.

But now, my father too has finally faded. He's still unpleasant and occasionally mean, but he's too far gone to pick up the phone and harass me. He's lost the power to make my daily life miserable. He's become a ghost while still living.

Here's the thing. My narcissistic parents continue to haunt me. What they did. What they didn't do. I think of them off. Daily. Whenever I see parents with children, walking the neighborhood, at the store. When I'm with my own daughters, seeing one off to college, the other through a tough break-up, these milestones trigger some terrible and sad memories that come unbidden.

Maybe this is another phase. Maybe it's the final phase before finally Letting Go. Maybe my father will have to die first before I can put this long and painful chapter behind me.

Feeling Powerless in Relationships

2010-02-04T18:26:00.000-08:00

Until now, I hadn't realized that for most of my life I'd acted like a victim in some relationships.
I knew I had a problem, but I hadn't quite framed it that way.

If you knew me in real life, this might make you chuckle, because I'm not meek nor am I a mousy pushover. I'm an extrovert who has no problem being alone. I have held jobs that have required me to take charge and, occasionally, make tough decisions.

In my personal life, I have unfortunately gravitated to people with narcissistic tendencies...who did most of the talking, called the relationship shots, set the tone, called when they needed a shoulder to cry on...those one-sided relationships that are highly frustrating, exhausting and, ultimately, disappointing.

If you've read books about narcissistic parents, you'll be familiar with the theories as to why we are attracted to the very personality type that made us so miserable in the first place.

Then Susie wrote this in a recent comment:

After living with parents who pretend to be empathetic, it is really difficult to determine people's motives or if they have ulterior motives at all. It's taken me a very long time to stop becoming a victim in relationships.

It struck me...besides the whole gravitating toward narcissistic types...that I too had allowed myself to become a victim in my relationships.

By that I mean I honestly felt powerless to take charge, to help shape the dynamic, express my needs. Sure, I'd complain to others about so-and-so, I'd talk behind their back with a third party and avoid, sometimes with near athletic prowess, actually confronting said person.

Recently, an old friend asked for my time and help in a project of hers and I agreed. I gave her almost one whole day of my weekend and did an errand for her to boot. When she tried to tell me how I should dress for this event, she was quite insulting. My daughter was shocked. She said my friend was acting like a total, ungrateful bitch. I was taken aback. My daughter said she didn't waste her time on people like that and was surprised that I put up with it. My husband heard the insult, too, and he said I hadn't imagined it...it was pretty bad...that she was pretty bad, too...unrelentingly self-absorbed and pointed out that my friend had not allowed anyone else to speak...she was so busy talking about her project.

The point is...in my mind...I wasn't so clear. It's like when I'm around a person like that...I just sort of lose myself...it's like I'm pulled into their sphere of influence and I can't think clearly...which leads to me feeling powerless. It's an old, ugly, familiar dynamic. A person acts a certain way. Then I act this way. Around non-narcissistic people, I'm not a victim. I can assert myself. It's the narcissists that seem to have a special hold on me.

Really Mean Old Parents

2010-01-31T15:42:00.000-08:00

Hah! I called that one!

Recently, a neighbor complained that the elderly man who lives next door has horrible, selfish adult children who've abandoned him in his time of need and rarely visited.

The old guy is a character and seems nice enough, but then again, so did my narcissistic father who turned me into his emotional caretaker and sucked me dry. I know for a fact that some neighbors and family members called me a horrible, selfish, ingrate because I rarely visited after I left home.

"Who knows?" I told my neighbor. "Bob (named changed) might be an okay guy, but he might be a nasty, abusive parent. There may be a good reason his kids don't visit. Or you may be right. They could be selfish pigs." My neighbor conceded one never does know what goes on behind closed doors.

Well, the door opened wide enough for me to get a peek inside and it wasn't pretty, folks.

The maligned horrible, selfish adult daughter had taken her father out in her car and when I was walking by, dog in tow, I heard her explain - nicely - that she needed to get going because she'd left her dog inside all day and she needed to let him out and go potty.

Bob responded by saying, "I don't give a shit! What do I care? Get the hell out of here?" (This shouted in the ugliest possible tone of voice, complete with flailing arms and twisted facial expression)

"But Dad!" the woman protested.

"I said I don't give a shit about you or your goddamned dog. Just leave, dammit!"

I fled the scene, grateful the old bastard wasn't my father. Now I'm not saying the old coot was a narcissist. Maybe he was just a Difficult Old Fucker. And no, the man does not have dementia. By all accounts, he's sharp as a tack. Some neighbors think he's funny. Maybe he's funny around non-relatives. To his daughter, who came to help him, he was a Really Big Douche Bag.

And you know what I'm betting? He was always like that to his kids, hence the lack of visits.

In witnessing that one minute exchange, I imagined a lifetime of emotional abuse endured by this woman who finally solved her problem by limiting contact. Because of her decision, she may also come in for public scoldings by scandalized neighbors or family members who know nothing of her situation and don't care to, more concerned about voicing their indignation.

Adult children with really awful aging parents who need them after abusing them have few choices, especially if there aren't financial resources to throw at the problem.

The best choice (in my mind): OUTSOURCE...limit contact...make sure they are cared for but don't do it yourself.

If that option is not available, you have my complete and utter sympathy. Really. It's awful to finally come to terms with the kind of parent you have, just in time for said parent to begin declining...further requiring your time and energy. Oh, the tragedy.

I can only imagine the state of mind the poor woman left in as she drove away from her father's house.

Managing a Narcissistic Parent

2010-01-29T08:05:00.000-08:00

As I catch up on comments made during my (unintended) absence, I came across this:

buddy said...: My daughter decided (with much guilt) to not invite my parents to her child's baptism because "I really want to have a special event that's not about Grandpa." I could have cried because I realized that ALL of our holidays, weddings, graduations and other family events are ALWAYS about how we planning to deal with my dad.

Buddy's daughter made the right choice, as bad as it made her feel. No doubt, Buddy was supportive even though he too felt bad that his father couldn't safely be invited to such an important family event. It's possible that Buddy's daughter was setting the stage for the future...putting the interests of her child before the grandfather after enduring a lifetime of ruined occasions. I cringe thinking of how this narcissistic grandparent must have behaved for the granddaughter to make such a difficult (brave) decision.

My own father ruined: the birth of first daughter (drama involving "bad back"--back never to pose problem again); birth of second daughter (visited with mother in early stage Alzheimer's, kept secret, then left me alone w/mother, newborn and toddler...mother hallucinates, endangers baby and runs out into the street). Instead of bonding w/babies, I was attending to parental needs. Husband took care of babies.

Besides the trauma of having a narcissistic parent, there's also the additional challenge of MANAGING THE NARCISSISTIC PARENT. This is a constant, anxiety provoking exercise, filled with anger and resentment that you can't have a semi-normal Thanksgiving or reunion like other families where Aunt Clara nods off because she drank too many wine spritzers or the 40-year old twins start sniping like teenagers.

We're not talking about the usual family dysfunction. We're talking about trying to ward off the narcissistic parent or grandparent going nuclear because they are not the center of attention. The worrying often begins weeks before the event. What would it be like if we didn't invite N? Wouldn't that be nice! No, we can't possible exclude him! That would be mean! What if N found out? Okay, we'll take turns sitting with N and divert him so Ashley can open her birthday presents and, for once, enjoy center stage. How can we keep N from making a toast and speech that goes on for an hour? What if N starts going on about how hard he worked and starts listing everything he's done for his ungrateful brats?

We become expert at running through scenarios and planning exit strategies. We're fast and nimble at scurrying about, trying to limit the damage...making excuses, smoothing down ruffled feathers, always trying to appease our parent so we can just get through the fucking event without a major meltdown. And when we finally get home, we realize...nope...despite our best efforts...the narcissistic parent or grandparent has done it yet again! Ruined another occasion.

Even going out to a simple breakfast with my narcissistic father was an exhausting experience. He'd leech onto the waitress and talk her ear off or turn around and start yakking at the poor people trying to enjoy their meal next to us or have some sort of drama because another family was seated first or the waitress slighted him because she forgot he always had three eggs instead of two.

Of course, the narcissistic grandparent is not capable of actually helping with the grand kids. They don't do usual stuff like running them to the potty during a restaurant meal or occasionally babysitting or making them cookies or calling when Ashley gets a fever of 103. They are good at talking about how upset they are about Ashley's fever or that they were putting aside money for Ashley's college education, thereby endangering their own retirement.

The truth is...there IS no way to manage the narcissistic parent or grandparent. We try. God, how do we try. Sometimes, we go through extraordinary lengths to contain them, not unlike some scene out of Jurassic Park when the T-Rex is on the loose. Our narcissistic parent careens about...wrecking havoc...except we can't go running away, screaming. When we look over our shoulder, panting and desperate to escape, we discover we're actually chained to them!

Unfortunately, the only way to manage the narcissistic parent or grandparent is to haul out the bolt cutters and cut the chain and say, "bye-bye!"

No Empathy...Zip...None

2010-01-28T09:14:00.000-08:00

Had a totally frustrating conversation with an old friend. We were discussing how our parents (may) have impacted how we turned out. My friend has a Difficult Mother and a Difficult Father.
She kept saying all parents are imperfect and went on to say so-and-so's dad did this...and her mom did such-and-such but, ultimately, it's up to us to get past it and fix ourselves. Agreed.

However, this is her way of saying, "You're whining...we all had Imperfect Parents and let's move on, shall we?"

This is what makes having any sort of conversation about the perils of having a narcissistic parent with someone who's never had one. In the case of my friend, she kept trying to assign my parents lack of skills on their cultural traditions and (sadly woeful) lack of education and sheer ignorance. Sure, that's true to some extent. However, my (adoptive) father had narcissistic personality disorder and my (adoptive) mother was self-absorbed.

While my friend's mother was indeed Difficult and did some real numbers on my friend rendering her an insecure mess, we're talking about a whole other level of mind- boggling nuttiness when we're talking about the truly narcissistic parent.

The difference...and it's a BIG one...is lack of empathy. A shocking lack of empathy for the child. If I had to cite one difference between the Difficult Parent and the Narcissistic Parent it would be the lack of empathy.

For example (I wrote about this at length elsewhere, but I'll recap here), I remember a bizarre conversation with my n-dad after I'd discovered that I wasn't adopted until about a month old. I wanted to know where I was for that month. At the hospital? In a foster home? There was no record of it in my paperwork and the adoption agency said that was confidential information and to ask my adoptive father. So I did.

First, n-dad was surprised that I was a month old when I came to them. He thought I was a newborn. Second, he had no idea where I'd been during that time and said it made no difference to him. I said it was important to me. He said not to worry about it, it made no difference to him or my adoptive mother where I'd hung out for a month as an infant because all that counted was that they'd "got" me. No matter how much I tried to get n-dad to recognize my need to know, he couldn't register it. He could only keep repeating that it didn't matter to him.

At this point, I was clearly distressed. My dad couldn't seem to register that, either. He got angry because I always pestered him with questions about where I came from. When I said I needed to know about my background, he said I didn't because where I came from wasn't in the least bit important to him. The funny thing is my adoptive father had always made a huge, stinking deal about his suspicion that his own father may have not been his biological one. Oh, the irony! Growing up, I had to listen to how traumatizing this uncertainty had been and was expected to sympathize. Yet, I did have biological parents out there somewhere, but that was no big deal.

Total...Lack...of...Empathy.

Lack of Pride in Achievements

2010-01-26T15:54:00.000-08:00

In the last year, I went back to school to begin retraining....almost 25 years after graduating from college.

I worked very hard and earned A's. Not only did I find the whole back-to-school experience very satisfying, I was consciously pleased with myself for rising to the challenge of disciplining myself to study.

As I checked my grades online and whooped aloud, it occurred to me that I'd never felt truly satisfied when I went to college the first time.

I was never one to jump up and down that I'd passed a difficult class or that I did much better on a test than expected. I don't remember feeling any pride in being the first one in my family to go to college. I don't remember being excited that I'd landed an internship. I didn't go out and celebrate when I got a job in my field. I just sort of bumped along, doing one thing after another.

Today, I'm proud of how hard I worked and what I managed to accomplish back then...while working to support myself and my education because my self-absorbed parents refused to shell out a single dime. During my college years, my father refused to loan me $50 between paychecks. My mother never sent a single box of cookies, a sweater for the colder climate, a card to cheer me through finals.

Now I think I finally understand why I never felt any joy over any hard-earned accomplishments:

1. When I tried to tell my narcissistic father about anything I'd done, he didn't hear anything I was saying and quickly cut me off, interrupting, so he could get back to his favorite topic...himself. When people asked him what I was majoring in, he had no idea. If asked the title of my job, my father couldn't say.

2. When I tried giving my self-absorbed mother updates about my milestones in higher education, she'd say, "Uh uh, how nice for you," in a mocking tone which reflected her anger that I'd chosen to go away to college and "abandoning" her. Then she'd pass the phone to my father or hang up. I stopped calling her after the first year. I gave up.

My achievements were either met with disinterest or a cold, punishing silence. Later, when I graduated and tried asserting myself by disagreeing with one of my father's endless opinions, he'd call me a "nobody know-it-all who thought they were better than everybody else just because they went to college."

So now I get it. I really get it. I didn't feel a sense of accomplishment because my own parents could care less. Every time I did something worthwhile, the price was a pound of flesh. I believe I became numb...to joy. The most I could muster was a wan smile and, "yeah, that's nice," but there was no reward...and at the time I didn't have a firm enough sense of self that would allow me to feel any pride. My initial motivation at success was to find a way to live as far away from my parents as possible. In my mind, if I failed, I'd have to move back home. There was no way that was going to happen.

When I finally (recently) emotionally detached from my narcissistic father...and didn't have his voice or the voice of my mother running in my head...only then was I able to feel satisfaction in simple things like earning a good grade, mastering a new skill, cleaning the entire house, getting through a to-do list. That's how powerful narcissistic parents can be...they not only suck your energy...they also zap you of feeling like you accomplished something...even when you have.

Warning Others About a Narcissistic Parent & When YOU are Sick

2010-01-22T08:28:00.000-08:00

Susie left a comment on the post, When Your Child Has a Narcissistic Parent...which offered some excellent advice that, frankly, didn't occur to me. (Check out her entire comment in earlier post)

She wrote:

I have cancer and my N-parents love to push the envelope/get attention during my visits. So, I simply told the staff about them and that I do not wish to have them in the room with me. The staff made up some excuse and when my N-father tried to barge in during my treatment, the staff threatened to call security because he would not comply with "policy".
The key is just to get people's attention. They become more sensitive to the behavior when you say, "My ex-husband is a narcissist who displays very inappropriate behaviors. *explain and identify behaviors*. I wanted you to know in case he acts inappropriately in front of me, the other staff, my child etc. If _____ happens, this is what you say/do:_________" More often than not, when people hear the word 'narcissist', they will help shield you from the destructive behavior of the N-parent. Just remember, the only things you can change are: yourself and your environment. You cannot change a N-person!

First, I'm sorry to hear that you are dealing with cancer. As if having that isn't enough, it must be especially challenging not to have parents who can give you - for once in your life - honest-to-goodness love and support. Barging in on your treatment? If it wasn't so awful, it would almost be comedic...given that you are a grown woman. There's something very symbolic in there about extreme control and acting as if you're a helpless little girl of five.

There's a lesson for all us in how you handled that situation...by taking charge and protecting yourself. (Oh, that's what that looks like...some of us may say...lights finally going off...it's not trying to be nice and complaining to our friends about the parental behavior...it's bold, it's direct, it's firm...and damn, it's straight-up acting like an adult!)

I wrote about this before, but once upon a time, I was going through the whole biopsy ordeal and made the big mistake of telling my father. He was greatly upset. Not because he was worried about me, but because I might die and then who would take care of him. That's exactly what he said. Then he kept calling to find out the results and repeatedly said, "You don't know what you're putting me through!" as if I'd conjured the breast lump just to freak him out.

After that, I finally...finally believed that the parental well was as dry as my husband kept telling me. I guess I'd always thought that if I ever got sick...with something serious...my narcissistic father would be there for me. Somehow, my dire situation would (magically) transform him into a father who cared about his daughter and put himself second. But my father was so damaged...so childlike and self-centered...that he would never be able to do that.

So after that, I stopped telling him anything. If I ever developed a disease - I vowed - I'd keep it a secret. If I got a flu, I denied it. I simply couldn't stand to hear his reaction.

My cousin, who has a narcissistic mother, always downplays whatever illness she has because her mother seems to become even more difficult and histrionic when my cousin has the nerve to be sick. The result is that my cousin's arm could be hanging off and she'll cheerily tell you it's a flesh wound. She's dragged herself to work with pneumonia. She's trained not to think of herself and, sadly, this has extended to her own health.

For some of us - okay, me - it takes an event like being told, outright, by your parent that your real value is the service you provide...the attention you give. What other way is there to interpret that statement? You are finally faced with the butt ugly bald truth of your pathetically futile, one-sided relationship with your parent. There's no excuse like, "my father just has a hard time expressing himself...inside, he really loves me." It's profoundly shocking to learn your parent doesn't love you, at all, "even in their own way,"...an expression I have come to despise because for narcissistic parents, it's just a lame excuse posed by ignorant friends and family who have no idea what the n-parent is like when other people aren't around.

That said (OMG...Curb Your Enthusiasm had a great take on the whole "that said" phrase on one of its most recent episodes w/Jerry Seinfeld)...finding out that your n-parent could care less about you is very liberating...the first step toward true detachment if you are still struggling with denial about your parent(s).

Catching Up on Your Comments

2010-01-21T18:43:00.000-08:00

I've begun catching up on the comments that some of you left while I was away on my long, unintended absence.

I've started at the top of my inbox and working backward. Since I plan on getting back to everyone, it may take some time.

Anybody see the movie Squid and the Whale with Jeff Daniels as the narcissistic father? I think the movie does an excellent job of showing just how lonely (and twisted) life can be for the children of self-absorbed parents.

Your Child Has a Narcissitic Father (or Mother)

2010-01-18T19:35:00.000-08:00

A woman left an anonymous comment asking for advice because her son's father is a narcissist.

Readers...please feel free to share your thoughts.

I suspect one could spend a tremendous amount of time and energy trying to limit your child's exposure to the toxic ex-spouse, but due to the custody agreement, that might not be possible. (If your ex is anything like the Michelle Pfieffer character in the movie White Oleander, he'll relish any opportunity at child-free time.)

If there's not much you can do in that direction, then I'd do everything I could to provide a safe, loving, nurturing haven for your son, a haven where he is free to express and explore his feelings, to develop his identity without manipulation and guilt, a place where he can recuperate and regain his sense of self...a place where it's all about him...where he can be respected.

I'd read all I could about the art of "mirroring" your child. For example, if he cries because he fell, instead of telling him to quit crying and that it's just a little boo-boo when it's a broken arm (not that you would!), say that the fall must have really hurt and carefully inspect the damage. If he says he hates his first grade teacher, nod and ask why he feels that way. Sorry. You probably know what mirroring is but, just in case.

I believe it was the psychoanalyst Alice Miller, author of Drama of the Gifted Child, wrote somewhere (of course, now I can't find it...damn) something to the effect that the impact of a narcissistic parent could be offset by another parent, another member of the family, a family friend. I found this an extremely hopeful and powerful statement. You may not be able to control your toxic ex-spouse, but you can try to become the best parent you possibly can by practicing mindful parenting.

Sliv in a comment wrote that the father of her young child lies, steals and cheats to get his way. I have to admit, I have no direct experience with that kind of diabolical/malignant narcissist, but I suspect that as the non-narcissistic parent, you'd almost have to go into mirroring hypermode to counteract the damage.

Having never had a parent who mirrored, this was something I had to learn how to do with practice, finally achieving some level of competence just in time for the fun teenage years, when you're just dying to give advice and that's the last thing your kid wants to hear (five words strung together constituting nagging). So even if you have the lousy luck of having narcissistic parents and, maybe not surprisingly, a narcissist for a spouse or ex-spouse, it IS possible to improve one's parenting skills by educating ourselves and making a mindful effort!

Back...Refreshed...Ready

2010-01-16T17:21:00.000-08:00

Sheesh. I'm shocked an entire 1.5 years have passed since my last post. Never intended to be away for that long. In fact, I had every intention of returning...quickly.

The best part about blogging is reading and learning from your comments, so I was both astonished and thrilled to find that some old readers continued to share their experiences and that new people have found their way here in my long absence. (Welcome newbies! You are not alone! And you're aren't crazy)

It will take me some time to catch up on all the comments...and the kind, supportive emails that some of you have sent.

So here's the explanation of what caused me to disappear:

My (narcissistic) father got the boot from his assisted living facility. Unlike people with Alzheimers who, for the most part, continue to be mobile, my father has Lewy Body dementia which finally confined him to a wheel chair...after a period of repeated falls. That, the incontinence and his extremely difficult behaviors became too much for the facility to handle 24/7.

I may not like my father - and have finally come to accept this - but I realize that I don't have to love him...I just have to act as morally and as responsibly as I can...which meant finding him another place to live where they would take good care of him. Pronto. So of course I freaked out. If a pricey assisted living facility couldn't handle him, what the HELL was I going to do? After a month of frantic searching and scrambling, I found a board and care run by an amazing Latina woman. Spotless! Homemade meals! Just a few residents! He liked the new place much better...all around a big improvement. It took me a couple months to quit worrying that the owner was going to call and say she and her staff couldn't handle him because he's so mean. WHEW.

Then I got caught up in the whole college tour thing ....then my daughter graduated HS...then I went back to college myself to retrain...then we got daughter settled at college...then I wanted to spend time with my younger daughter who was devastated because her sister and boyfriend left for college at the same time....and on and on...

Suddenly, I actually had a life that - for the first time in YEARS - didn't include phone calls from my father that made me feel horrible or guilty or depressed or furious. His dementia had progressed to the point where his moods seemed to stabilize and he became much, much less needy...probably because he was growing more disengaged.

The last year has been a reprieve from the sentencing that was handed down at the time of my adoption placement...when I landed a needy, childlike narcissistic parent and a self-absorbed adoptive mother. Oh, the freedom! The joy! I didn't have to think (much) about him. I could enjoy my children and my husband. I could go out to dinner and not worry that he'd left numerous, unpleasant messages on the home phone. So I've been taking an unintended break from the whole narcissistic parent thing.

For those of you saddled with a narcissistic parent, you know what I'm talking about...the burden of their existence. So we take our breaks where we can.

There have been some surprising, interesting triggers, though, over the last year and I'll write about that next time.

Since my schedule has changed, I plan to post about once a week...so if you leave a comment, it may take me a bit to respond.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Update

2008-07-24T10:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks for leaving comments, dear folks.

I've read them and hope to respond next week...as well as posting about Stockholm Syndrome.

My time and energy have been channeled into helping one of my teenagers through a rough patch. And if you've ever had a challenging teenager, you know what I'm talkin' about.

Back soon.

In the meantime, here's wishing you strength and inner peace.

Overcoming Hypchondria

2008-07-02T11:17:00.001-07:00

While I'm doing a bit of research on the next post about Stockholm Syndrome and whether it applies to some of us adult children of narcissists, I'd like to the answer the following question posed by an Anonymous commenter:

"Yes, I actually got here by googling elderly narcissistic parent with dementia....I am in a long Groundhog effect loop with a narcissistic mother and hope to add lots and lots of comments. Right now though, I want to ask you about your getting over hypochondria?? How??? I could really use some help."

Well, heck, I'm probably just as qualified as some advice columnists out there, so I'll give it a whirl. Which means I'm hardly qualified.

First, some thoughts.

--Both my self-absorbed parents modeled hypochondriacal behavior. My mother spent a lot of time in bed with various ailments and a bad back. My father went to the emergency room. A lot. I think I picked up on their fear of illness, even though I rarely got sick myself.

--For most of my life, I've repressed anger and resentment toward my parents. Secretly, I hated them, but pretended to be loving and dutiful. I believe that in order to distract myself from my real feelings, I became riddled with anxiety and became a raging hypochondriac.

In order for me to stop being a hypochondriac, I had to admit I loathed my parents. I had to be honest. I had the luck of having mental health insurance. I spent a year with a therapist and just talked. For the first time in my life, I was allowed to express myself without being corrected, interuppted or yelled at. Much of my anxiety was released. More was released when I finally set some boundaries and began to stick up for myself.

But the hypochondria had got out of control.

It had become a HABIT. The repeated breast-checking for lumps, the constant nagging worry that every little ache and pain meant some horrible, lurking cancer had a life of its own...a thing that fed on itself and was eating me up. If you have hypochondria, I don't have to explain to you what it's like.

But there was something else, too. Something linked to feeling UNWORTHY. Like I had no right to be happy, to exist, to breathe or be well.

Every opportunity for joy I ruined with worrying about a possible disease.

So I had to break the cycle.

Don't laugh. I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn't check for breast lumps. I started off with small increments of time: an hour. For an hour I wouldn't think about any of that stuff. When I finally succeeded, I stretched it to two hours, then three, then four, and so on until I'd reached a day. The days eventually reached a week. In the beginning, I had to distract myself with projects or forcing myself to be in the moment with my children, my husband or watching a movie.

I repeatedly told myself, "I am worthy" and I "deserve to be happy." I forced myself to go to the doctor regularly and in between, gave myself permission not to fret. That sounds easy...the deciding. But it isn't. The most important aspect to this was the decision to embrace my worth. To value myself. To allow myself to be happy and joyful.

I honestly feel that if I were actually to get sick, now, I'd be upset, sure, but I'd fight whatever it was. I wouldn't want to let it control or define me. The hypochondria was masking something I was terrified to face.

If this sounds too simple to be true, please believe that this worked for me. It simply took a lot of practice and mindfulness to break an awful, terrible habit.

If you've dealt with hypochondria and would like to share any thoughts about it...or how to overcome it...please leave your advice!

Narcissistic Parent Reaction to YOUR Illness

2008-06-23T10:10:00.000-07:00

Okay. Some poor soul found this blog by Googling, "narcissistic parent reaction to my cancer."

I can just imagine that reaction.

And I can just imagine how that reaction is dragging you down at a time when you've got enough to think about.

While I've not had cancer, I once had to have a biopsy. I made the mistake of telling my narcissistic father. This was before he developed dementia. I told him because I was scared. I guess I thought that this would be The Event that he'd pull it together and offer comfort and reassurance. Wrong. Instead, he demanded to know who'd take care of him if I died. I could go on. But I won't. He had no empathy. He then hounded me asking the results of the biopsy. Not because he was worried about me, but worried that I wouldn't be available to help him in his old age. I then had the additional burden of trying to reassure him. This was long before my father was diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder.

Of course, not all narcissistic parents would behave in such a way.

My self-centered mother turned my few illnesses into her dramas. How worried she was when I broke my arm or had to have a suspicious forehead lump removed when I was a kid. What I was putting her through, how terribly upset she was. Yet, she refused to stay overnight with me in the hospital because it was too uncomfortable and boring.

A serious illness has a way of pulling off the the mask of the narcissistic parent. To our surprise, there's nothing much there. Just lack of substance. But maybe, just maybe, the person who Googled this topic found their narcissistic parent actually supportive? I suspect not.

Ewww...I Feel Violated

2008-06-17T09:26:00.000-07:00

I have no recollection of being sexually abused by my narcissistic father.

In fact, I can't even remember any physical inappropriateness, like Enilina can. Her father used to bite her. (Please see her comment to the previous post)

Yet, the idea of any physical contact with my father is simply repulsive. If he kisses me on my cheek, it's all I can do not to run to the bathroom and wash my face. I sit as far away from him as I can. There is a picture of me, about five, and n-dad in our backyard. I'm in a bathing suit and we're standing on some steps. He's grinning at the camera. I'm unsmiling and my entire body is angled away from him. It looks like I'm poised to vault over the banister to escape, but I can't because he's got one hand on my arm. (Next post: Stockholm Syndrome...thanks to Roxtarchic for bringing it up!)

In an earlier post, I mentioned that my cold, self-absorbed mother did douse my private parts with alcohol when I was tenish. No idea why.

As my parents aged and it became clear that somebody had to tend to their failing bodies, I knew one thing. It wasn't going to me. Sure, I'd take them to doctor's visits, manage their medical care, daily care and finances, but I wasn't going to be the one giving sponge baths and changing adult diapers. It would have been like submitting to a daily, physical assault.

But I've often wondered WHY I'm so repulsed by my parents, especially my father. Maybe it has something to do with what Cinder Ella wrote:

"The whole thing about sexual weirdness...I've felt some of that, too. I've pretty much written abuse off as nonsense in my case, but there were other weird things. I suppose it shouldn't be surprising considering that to the narcissist everything is about them, why shouldn't that include sexuality?"

This is as good a theory as I've heard.

N-dad has no filters. Whatever is in his head rolls off his tongue, without benefit of a single gasket.

Since he talks, non-stop, some of that chatter probably included stuff of a sexual nature or, at least, inappropriate for the ears of a sensitive daughter. I can remember him talking, in detail, about his bowel movements. When I protested, he'd say, "But this is about me. You need to know this." He seemed baffled that I wasn't interested. This happened decades before his dementia. As he aged, his conversations became more scatalogical.

After my mother died and he began dating (which I encouraged), he wanted to tell me about his sexual conquests. I'd get up and leave the room.

Before my mother died from complications due to Alzheimers, her caregiver said my father had taken to complaining about his sexual frustration. He'd follow her around the tiny house and complain how he hadn't had sex for ages because my mother was no longer interested. I had a serious talk with my father. While he did stop complaining to the caregiver, he began complaining to me instead. Again, he was baffled that I wasn't interested. When I tried to explain that it was inappropriate and, more practically, what could I possibly do about it, his shoulders sagged and head drooped in a parody of the hangdog victim. "I can't never do anything right," he moaned. "Everybody is against me." (No kidding. He actually says stuff like this)

The point is, my father shoved every part of himself on me. And some of those parts were were his bodily functions and frustrated sexuality. And while I may not have been sexually abused, it still made me feel dirty. Violated. My narcissistic father had crossed some boundaries because, in his world, there are no fences.

I'd like to hear from you: your stories (long, medium, short) and thoughts and theories.
And so would some readers of this blog...who expressed their interest in this subject. Roxtarchic said it would be like opening Pandora's Box. So let's bravely open that box and see what flies out!

The Parent Who Could Not Listen

2008-06-06T09:39:00.000-07:00

Of all my narcissistic father's behaviors, it's his total inability to listen that I have found the most troubling.

Joanna Ashmun described it so well:

I have observed very closely some narcissists I've loved, and their inability to pay attention when someone else is talking is so striking that it has often seemed to me that they have neurological problems that affect their cognitive functioning.

When a person says something to my father, if you can manage to finish your sentence without being interrupted, it's almost as if they hadn't spoken at all.

There is no acknowledgment of what was just said. There is no appropriate reaction. If you tell him you have the flu, he will tell you that everybody around him is sick. If you tell him his granddaughter broke her arm, he will not ask if she's in any pain or if she's wearing a cast, but he will tell you how terribly upset he is because you allowed her to fall off the swings. When I told him I had got into the dream college of my choice, he didn't register the news. Then he wanted to know why I was packing to leave.

I remember, as a child, trying to tell n-dad about something important that happened at school. I had been first to finish one of those SRA reading boxes filled with short stories. Since I had such trouble in math, I was delighted to excel in at at least one subject. I remember him saying, "Oh good for you," in a distracted sort of way before he began chattering away about something else.

I learned right then and there that what I said was simply not important. That I was not important. That I must be at fault, somehow. That I must be inarticulate and boring. I developed a very poor, tentative way of expressing myself, as if I had no right to speak at all.
In a conversation, I'm usually thrilled with a 20 percent share.

A lack of reaction when one speaks also makes you feel invisible. It's the most profoundly disorienting experience, to be in a "conversation" yet not speak or be heard.

And even though you may come in for a scolding or mocking, the n-parent who can't listen will also not offer pearls of wisdom, reassurance or practical advice.

Later, when I began going to medical visits with my parents, the nurse or doctor would usually take me aside and ask if my father had always been like that. "He doesn't seem to be registering anything I say," one doctor observed in frustration. "Does he have ADD?" another nurse asked.

When my Dad was in his early seventies, I thought he'd benefit from the expertise of a geriatric specialist, so found him a new doctor. He immediately noted n-dad's incessant chatter and that he couldn't seem to engage in a normal conversation. "Is this behavior new?" he asked. I assured him that's the way my father had always behaved. He wondered aloud if my father might be slightly autistic. Eventually, he'd use n-dad's inability to listen as a criteria for dementia.

So that's another way to look at interacting with a narcissist who can't listen. It's as challenging as dealing with a poor soul struck with dementia.

What Others Think of Us

2008-06-03T08:01:00.000-07:00

When an anonymous commenter drifted by and called me an ungrateful daughter, I wasn't surprised.

In fact, I'm surprised it took almost three months of blogging about narcissistic parents to get that sort of reaction.

Because, in real life, that's a totally typical response if you dare break the Honor Your Parent code, even if you had lousy parents who neglected or abused you. You're either told to "buck up" or "get over it" and/or forgive them. Apparently, venting about one's abusive parent is offensive in the extreme to some people. It upsets their delicate sensibilities of how a good daughter or son should behave. We are not to have feelings. And we are certainly not allowed to express them. How dare we?

While this is sort of interesting, what's worth discussing is what people in real life think of us adult children of narcissists who have distanced ourselves from our toxic parents and how that impacts us.

We know the whole story and have made decisions accordingly. Outsiders can only see a small part. And because many of us children of narcissists have developed people pleasing tendencies, displeasing or disappointing people can really sting.

In fact, in the past, I've fallen all over myself trying to prove what a fabulous, responsible daughter I am. It was quite a show I put on...all for the benefit of neighbors, family friends and family members who didn't even like my father. Hah! The very same people who criticized me for placing him in an assisted living facility never called or visited him once!

Basically, I felt guilty as hell for being repulsed by my own father. This is something I've only recently been able to admit to. Because what kind of daughter has those sorts of dark and sinister feelings? An ungrateful, monstrous daughter. Naturally. I didn't like what those feelings said about me, so I pushed them away. Denied them. And became a raging hypochondriac instead. (I was also suppressing an incredible amount of anger, because my adoptive n-parents made me pretend I was their biological child.)

When I say hypochondriac, let me clarify. I did not seek attention for my imagined ailments. I mostly fretted about them 24/7 and nearly drove myself crazy with worry that I was dying of some as yet undetected disease de'jour.

Still, even though I drove my parents to doctor's appointments and brought over covered dishes of food and eventually took over managing their affairs, I heard through the grapevine that people were perplexed I wasn't doing more. Why I didn't visit more often. From their perspective, they saw a couple with an adopted kid who later bugged out of town to go to college and then basically disappeared for more than ten years, only to return after n-mom had been diagnosed with Alzheimers. I looked like an ungrateful lout who'd abandoned her badly aging parents.

This stung. Really, really stung. Because back then, I really cared what people thought of me. My entire persona was based on the good, dutiful daughter, until I couldn't stand it or them anymore and fled. When I returned, I resumed that role. And immediately became extremely anxious and hypochondriacal. Can anyone say Xanax? I self-medicated just to get through a visit with my parents.

It is with the greatest of effort that I am able to continue caring for my aging narcissistic father without falling into the trap of trying to prove to total strangers that I'm a fabulous, loving daughter. Because I'm not loving. Sometimes, it's more than enough to behave responsibly and morally. And I'm NOT judging those who've cut off their toxic parents. Believe me, if there was anybody else except me in nfather's life, I'd take that route, too. Sometimes, what we can do is what we can do. Plain and simple. Not caring about what others think can help set us free.

My Father the Leech

2008-05-31T18:19:00.000-07:00

I'm going to share this story because it's a pretty good example of the elderly narcissist at his best.

This is a pretty typical interaction for my father. While this happened when Damned Old Dad was in his early 70's, it could have happened when he was a much younger man.

So we're at a restaurant: Dad, me, my husband and two daughters, at the time 5 & 7. This is almost a decade before he developed Lewy Body dementia.

We're waiting for a table. Instead of passing the time paying attention to his granddaughters, n-dad starts looking around and notices an attractive, composed professional looking 40ish woman. She's alone. My father leaps up and sits down next to her.

"I just lost my wife," he announces morosely.

The woman nods and offers her condolences. He launches. He tells her about my mother's Alzheimers, his loneliness, his whole life story. Just like that. He leeched onto her and expected this perfect stranger to offer him undivided attention and sympathy in a happening restaurant. It never occurred to him that she probably had a hard day and was hoping for some down time. He chattered on, hanging his head for maximum impact, without asking the lady her name or where she was from. Surprisingly, she didn't seem annoyed.

I was stunned. When we were called to dinner, I walked over to her and apologized. Some might say I didn't have to do that. Some might say it was none of my business.

In the past, n-dad pissed off or offended so many people that it often fell to me to smooth things over. At least, that was the (desperate) role I took on. The first time I remember this happening was when I was a kid and n-dad told some new parents their baby looked like Khrushchev. Their faces fell. I spent the rest of the wedding carting that baby around, gushing he was the cutest thing I'd ever seen.

I was every bit as embarrassed by n-dad's behavior at the restaurant as I was when he dissed that poor baby.

So guess how the lady responded?

She shrugged and said it was no big deal. She explained she was - HAH! - a shrink and used to dealing with "people like that." Then she dug out a card from her purse and handed it to me. "You can come see me some time," she said with a smile. "To help you deal with him."

I didn't do it. Not because I didn't want to, but because we were moving hundreds of miles away. That was ten years ago. I wish I would have pursued this issue much sooner and more seriously.

I spent much of those ten years catering to my leech of a narcissistic father. I allowed him to ruin family vacations and family time. I failed to understand that I'd become a people pleaser who always looked to others for validation instead of looking within. I too easily accepted the opinions of others. After identifying my father as a narcissistic personality and figuring out how to deal with him and me, I've become a much, much happier person. Gone is my own personal struggle with anxiety and hypochondria (more on that another time). And even though he continues to be needy, his needs are much easier to handle now that I've learned to say those magic words: "no," "I will when I can," and "I have to go because the girls/husband need me." Also, just because the phone rings and it's him, doesn't mean I have to answer. I actually learned to use voice mail!

Were We Abused? Part Two

2008-05-28T14:45:00.000-07:00

Came back from an unplanned extended weekend getaway and now coming down with flu. (So I'll be keeping this short)

To everyone who commented, thank you. I read each and every opinion and learned much. I'd like to respond to each one individually, but this time, I can't.

To some people, it seems very clear that they did suffer emotional abuse.

I wasn't so sure. Probably because saying so made me feel guilty. But after reading the ANDREW VACHSS article that appeared in Parade Magazine, I definitely think so. http://www.vachss.com/av_dispatches/disp_9408_a.html (Thank you for the link, Katherine Gunn!)

As the child of narcissistic parents, I was emotionally abused.

That said, of course, not all of us will come to the same conclusion. I just want to make it clear than I respect whatever conclusion you've come to on this difficult subject. Like Ella, who wrote that she thought she had really bad parents, but they weren't necessarily abusive. (I hope I phrased that correctly!)

Reading Vachss' description helped me see my parent's behavior more clearly.

When my father wasn't talking my ear off or seeking my attention, he mocked and belittled me. He mocked me for having opinions that differed from his own. He used to say things like, "You think you're so smart, don't you?" Later, when I went to college, he'd say, "So who cares if you went to college? You're nothing but a little know-it-all."

When I tried to tell him about myself, he'd immediately lose interest and begin talking about himself. To the point that, to this day, I've never been allowed to finish one complete sentence.

My narcissistic father didn't know how to parent. He'd never seen it before. His alcoholic father beat him. His mother worked long hours to support them. He was a latch-key kid.

Occasionally, n-dad would get weepy watching me interact with my kids, saying he'd never got that kind of attention and he'd never got help with his school work, and his parents had never shown any interest in him. In fact, he sounded jealous of his granddaughters and often, competed with them for my attention. It never seemed to occur to n-dad that he was a father. That he'd never helped me with my school work and shown any interest in me.

My mother specialized in cold punishing silences that could go on for weeks. I'd do something that displeased her and she'd retaliate by pretending not to see or hear me.

As Vachss wrote, "A parent's love is so important to a child that withholding it can cause a "failure to thrive" condition similar to that of children who have been denied adequate nutrition."

So yes, I see it more clearly now. I was emotionally abused.

Were We Abused?

2008-05-21T08:32:00.000-07:00

Anonymous Bob asked:

"Nina, don't you think that your relationship with your n-parents could be described as an abusive relationship? That's what I think about my parents. Look at this: My childhood sucked. No love, just ice cold mind games and manipulation. When I see her today I get this trigger thing going on so I can't really meet her without going crazy. So I avoid her.Here's my hypothesis: being a child of narcissistic parent(s) *is* actually abusive and as children of narcissistic parent(s) we share the main symptoms of physically abused persons like triggers, avoidance, etc. We were emotionally and spiritually abused!"

Yeah. Pretty much. But it's funny. And hard to think about, clearly, because both my adoptive, narcissistic parents thought they spoiled me rotten. Probably because they both grew up woefully poor. So the fact that they fed me, didn't slap me around (well, my mother did a few times), rarely drank, gave me birthday parties and paid $89 a month back in the seventies to send me to Catholic High School qualified them for sainthood.

On the flip side, the stories they told about me are...telling.

Every single story they ever related portrayed me as an insufferable inconvenience.

When I was one, I refused to stay in my crib and climbed out to be with them. My Dad likes to recall what a pain in the ass I was and how they could never watch a T.V. show without me butting in.

How I'd whine and complain about staying with my grandmother (every single weekend) because they went clubbing and wanted to sleep in late. Apparently, I couldn't understand why they needed a break from those strenuous five days of caring for an only child.

How I invited kids over and got the house messy or trampled through the ivy in the backyard. How I was always nagging them to go over to a friend's house.
How I abandoned my mother to hang out with friends and later, go to college.

So basically, after a lifetime hearing how good you've had it and what an ungrateful bastard you are, one must disregard their version of events and learn to respect one's own memory.

But like Anonymous Bob, I too have the same response: avoidance. After I'd finally left home, I couldn't stand to be around them.

When I visit my elderly father, I stay as far away from him as the room will allow and try to avoid touching him. If I do, I have to force myself not to cringe.

When he was younger and came to visit, he'd follow me around the house, talking, talking, talking. His endless chatter felt like an assault. I wanted to scream, "Get away from me, leave me alone for God's sake."

Okay. I know many parents get on their kid's nerves. But this is different. It's just not normal to react to one's parent like they were a zombie in Night of the Living Dead. Unless you were in an abusive relationship. Then it makes more sense. It's just not the kind of abuse that most of us have heard about it. There's much less general information, it seems, about emotional abuse.

And for the record, I think my both my parents were very ignorant and emotionally crude people, driven by their unconscious need for unconditional love and attention.

But I'd love to hear from you. I'm sure Anonymous Bob would be interested, too. As the child of a narcissist, do you think you were emotionally abused?

EMOTIONAL DETACHMENT IS POSSIBLE

2008-05-14T18:14:00.000-07:00

Emotional detachment is possible.

About a year ago, I was a wreck.

The phone would ring and I'd feel sick just thinking about my father on the other end of the line with the complaint de jour.

Before, there was the year when he kept having panic attacks disguised as heart attacks and spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital, requiring my attention.

I spent nearly every evening fuming and stewing about what he'd said, how he'd said it. I was furious, depressed, resentful and above all, trapped. Okay, I still feel trapped. But less so.

Reflecting on the past, trying to understand it, writing about all of it and learning that others have had similar experiences, too, have done me a world of good.

I can actually have a terrible encounter with my father, then forget about it ten minutes later.

"He's such an asshole," I'll say, then go back to whatever it was I was doing.

Now, I won't even bother describing, in great detail, to my husband what awful thing just happened. Because I don't want to let my father ruin a perfectly good meal or movie or time with my husband or daughters.

I managed to accomplish this with a great deal of PRACTICE.

Stewing and fuming, I'd concluded, had got out of control.

So I started with small chunks of time. I would force myself NOT to think about my narcissistic father. After a bad encounter, I'd let myself FEEL. I'd get angry or sad and sit with it for a while, respecting my feelings, but not allowing them to completely control me. Then I'd say, that's enough stewing. Time to move on.

I've also become better at anticipating problems and taking precautionary measures.

For example, my narcissistic father was winding up for mother's day. A week before, he started calling me daily to wish me happy mother's day. With each call, he'd become more maudlin...saying what a wonderful mother I was to my daughters, but that HE'D never had that kind of childhood because his mother had allowed his father to beat him. HE'D been a latchkey kid. And on and on. So I knew, for sure, that his attempt to take the spotlight (again) would be upsetting and triggering, so I asked my husband to answer the phone that day. I also didn't call my father on Saturday, the day before, just in case. I was able to have a lovely mother's day with my daughters...at the horse races!....without letting my father ruin it.

I'd allowed him to ruin so many important occasions: going away to college (first weekend spent at hospital w/hypochondriacal father); birth of first child (trip to hospital due to his "bad" back); birth of second child (taking care of mother w/Alzheimers b/c father hadn't told me about her illness).

No matter the occasion, I was never allowed to enjoy it. To be in the moment. My father always had some problem or drama that required my attention and involvement.

But it's soooo much better now.

I'm not nearly the quivering mass of spineless jelly that I was a year ago.

And I'm REALLY glad I'm doing this while my father is still alive.

I'd like to end with a comment left by Anonymous Bob...which made me think about this subject in the first place:

"if I was to wait for my mother and father to die before I could have a good life or start working with myself I would be giving my parents power over my destiny. I would continue to be at their mercy like I was when I was a kid. Why should they control how I feel? Isn't this what we're trying to get out of - our parents controling our lives? When we were children we had no choice, but when we're older we can say "no, I will no longer let my parents control me".

Enduring...Not Enjoying...Our Parents

2008-05-12T12:02:00.000-07:00

A couple narcissistic parent survivors made some comments I'd like to quote here, as they really got me thinking.

The first has to do with getting together with our narcissistic parent.

Long before I figured out that I wasn't just cold and selfish and a defective daughter, that my parents were self-absorbed in the extreme, I'd feel sick with dread at the prospect of spending time with them. It's one thing to read about this in a book. It's another to have adult children of narcissists describe in detail what that feeling is actually like.

I think Roxtarchic captured the reaction especially well when she wrote:

"i know how that "due at his side for dinner" feels... i bet everyone who visits here, feels it all to well... the dread, the sickening in the pit of your stomache, my shoulders would tense to the point of snapping and my sciatica would trigger... it was a whole body "revolt" trying to prepare itself, like a warrior going into battle, gearing up for the inevitable episode... other people visit w/their family... we have to endure."

Of course, having had to endure such a parent over such a long period of time, it's not unusual that some of us begin to ask...why the hell do people like this live so damned long?

To be honest, it's something I ask myself with increasing frequency. How long is my father going to remain on this earth? I'm all tapped out. With every day that passes, I'm becoming less available to emotionally caretake him. I'M getting older and I'M becoming less patient, less willing to give and not receive after a lifetime of getting the short end of the chi-chi stick.

So it was with great interest that I read the following theories, which I'd like to share with you:

Enilina wrote:
"My Christian friends like to say that God is giving these people the time and the chance to repent and change themselves. In their less generous moments they say God doesn't want these people in heaven, and neither does the devil in hell. I say that the mean people live longer because they've dumped all their negative feelings onto someone else so their own body doesn't have to deal piles of stress.

The question of why mean people live so long reminds me of the old saying “the good die young,” and like most old sayings, has a basis in fact. Take for example the military: top performers are usually the ones who get put in the most dangerous/critical jobs because they are the top performers, so they die faster than their less impressive contemporaries. So the natural selection process is that the best people rise rapidly or die, leaving less experienced and less capable people at the lower ranks. I believe the real world is also a reflection of this."

Roxtarchic wrote:
"i think mean people (esp narcs) live so long because they let it all out, w/out any filters while the more human of our species tend to bottle it up... hold it in... or back at the very least (& then there's the whole spite factor that oughta carry em a few years at least)"

Loathing Life With Father

2008-05-05T07:52:00.000-07:00

There are some things that aren't discussed in polite company.

Things like loathing your own father or mother.

But it happens. You don't want to loathe them. You just do. And for damned good reason.

So when an Anonymous commenter stopped by and wrote the following, the feelings resonated, even if the experience did not:

All of you are lucky. My Dad expects a visit at least every other day and he is never grateful, kind or welcoming. He is ALWAYS miserable and complains incessantly. The ONLY thing he wants is to move into my home with my husband and children since my Mom passed away in February. He will not let it go and continually calls to tell me he is going to commit suicide since he can not be alone -- he MUST be with me in my home. Of course I have a full time job, my kids go to school and my husband works full time as well. He needs aides and he is the meanest man I have ever met. I have a feeling he will out live us all even though he is 90. My life has become a daily horror with him.

Later, she called him mean and petty and, I believe, a bully.

I'm betting he was always this way. Maybe just worse with age. Not all old people DEMAND to live with their adult children and families. Not all old people want to impose themselves in such a way. A friend's mother found her own assisted living facility and checked in without fuss. She didn't want to BURDEN her kids.

But what of the relationship between parent and adult child before? Even when there was a loving and warm relationship, caring for an elderly parent in one's own home is filled with challenges.

But if the relationship was marked with a lifetime of physical abuse, emotional abuse or neglect, WHY would a parent at the end of life feel entitled to such personal sacrifice and care? In the case of the narcissistic parent, it's because they are truly disordered. I firmly believe this.

Not that poor Anonymous is even considering taking her bully of a father into her own home, but I just want to mention another unmentionable: incontinence.

When you loathe your parent, having to change their adult diaper is the ultimate violation. I know because I had to do this for my mother, who developed Alzheimers. She didn't repulse me in the same way my father did and still does, but such a close and personal act left me shaking. I felt like I'd been assaulted. It was a degrading experience. It took me right back to the time when, for reasons unknown, my mother held me down and poured alcohol on my private parts.

People with dementia, and many old people, need 10-15 changes a day. I can't imagine - for a single second - how I could survive a single day changing the diapers of a man I loathe. And with men who have no boundaries, I also have no doubt there would be a sexual aspect to this. Several times, he told me his nurses changed his underwear so often because they "wanted him." (Permission to laugh)

Here's another taboo topic. Why do the mean people live so damned long? My amazing, wonderful, funny, sweet uncle was healthy and self-sufficient until the day he keeled over of a heart attack at 82. My kind, loving aunt lived on her own. She died suddenly of flu at 79. And then there's my narcissistic dad. Triple vessel coronary blockage, Lewy Body Dementia, incontinent, wheel chair bound...almost three years in an expensive assisted living facility...and still making life a misery for those around him. It just seems so unfair.

Anonymous, I know you didn't ask for advice, so feel free to ignore it!

I sense you are scared of your father, which is totally understandable.

But since you are so miserable already, you may want to consider the following. A former therapist once advised me to quit being such a doormat and tell my father if he treated me badly again, I wouldn't call him. This was such a novel idea that it was positively shocking. I couldn't imagine myself standing up to my father in this way. But I finally got up the nerve the next time he was verbally abusive. I let myself get angry and let him have it. To my surprise, my father backed down. I felt GREAT!

As for those awful phone calls from your father, may I suggest that you not subject yourself to them? Don't listen to them. Delete them or ask your husband to. The suicide threats are extortion. Of course.

I think you should seriously think about taking a break from him. Explain to the staff that you need some mental health time off and won't be calling or visiting. It sounds like you can't take much more. The head nurse at my dad's facility totally understands these sorts of situations and was very supportive. Your father sounds similar to a horrible old woman who tormented her daughter, who visited regularly. The daughter was an absolute mess. So I feel for you. I do!

Take care of yourself. He'll be miserable and mean whether you visit. Or not.

Are Most Old People Like This?

2008-04-29T19:41:00.000-07:00

So my narcissistic, elderly (81) father calls and leaves a message.

I'd just talked to him the day before and was planning to give myself the night off because I'd already spent much of the day running errands for him and dealing with his bills and paperwork.

So he rings about fifteen minutes past the time I usually call him and he shouts into the phone: "Hi, it's me! I was just calling to see if anything happened to you and if you're okay. DON'T FORGET ABOUT ME!"

When I play the message back, I feel like the walls are closing in. Like I can't breathe.

His plea may have been made out of lonely desperation. But for me, it's the last thing I want to hear.

So here's my question.

Do many/most old people behave like this?

Okay, okay, I know my father is a narcissist and manipulative. But I can't help but wonder, how typical is this needy sort of reminder?

Relating to a Narcissist

2008-04-28T09:57:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I realized there's probably a big difference in the way people react to a narcissist.

There's the way WE - adult children of the self-absorbed - react.

And then there's the way others react.

My narcissistic father called and my 15-1/2 year old daughter answered the phone.

He asked her what she'd done that day.

Normally, she'd say something like, "Not much," because she's learned he's not interested in what she has to say, and then quickly hands the phone to me.

But she said he sounded eager and chatty and welcoming, so she TRIED to explain that she had standardized testing all day and how boring it was. She must have managed to utter a sentence before he cut her off. That's when I heard her say, "Never mind. Mom!" She thrust the phone at me with an oh-well shrug.

I don't think for a second she lost any sleep over it. I asked her about it later, and she said, "He's just like that." My husband has met plenty of kooky, self-centered people over the years and it's more a source of amusement to him because he just thinks they're weird and not worth his time. This is pretty much the same reaction of some of my friends raised by non-n parents.

Then there's me! When somebody ignores me, interrupts or in some way doesn't acknowledge me, it's more than just annoying. It touches something very deep inside. It pulls apart the edges of a wound that won't quite close.

My Narcissistic Father....The Drama Queen

2008-04-22T08:03:00.000-07:00

I wouldn't say my narcissistic adoptive father is a hypochondriac. (I was - now completely recovered - but that's another post)

He uses both real and imagined illness to get his way. And to get attention.

By the time he actually got sick, I'd already had it.

The first time I can remember him pulling a You-Did-This-To-Me-Stunt was back in the late sixties when he and my mother finally broke down and took me to Disneyland, which was less than 15 miles away. I must have been around eight. My mother had a bad back. My father suffered from a highly selective inner ear disturbance which could make him dizzy, depending on just how badly he didn't want to do something. I wanted to go on the rocket ship ride, but couldn't ride alone. They tried to talk me out of it, calling me stubborn and selfish. It was the one ride I really, really wanted to go on. About a minute into it, Dad started shouting and gesturing wildly and people started screaming below and the ride stopped. We were carted to the medical station, where the staff got an earful about how I'd done this to him because I was so selfish and stubborn. The day at Disneyland was cut short and, once in the car, my Dad perked up and ate a hearty meal that evening at his favorite restaurant.

Perhaps the biggest drama - the one that fills me with resentment today - is the one that took place the weekend I moved to college. I have no idea why I let them go with me. After all, I was footing the entire bill. They'd refused to loan me a dime. Getting into the college was perhaps the most important thing that had ever happened to me. But I was not destined to enjoy or relish the experience. My father got stomach pains the afternoon of our arrival. Sure enough, he wanted to go to an emergency room. My mother blamed me. I had made him sick because I was cold and selfish for leaving them. So I was forced to take him to emergency while my mother went shopping. And spent the next 24 hours at the hospital as the doctors ran tests. Of course, nothing was wrong with him.

Fast forward.

My father, showing signs of Lewy Body dementia, is (forcibly) checked into an assisted living facility.

The transition is a nightmare. My needy father turns into a sniveling, voraciously needy wreck...calling me up to a dozen times a day. When the head nurse says I need to put my foot down and quit answering the phone, assuring me she'll take care of him, he fakes a heart attack.

By this time, I am so trained to think that any non-compliance on my part is enough to (almost) kill an adult man that I feel guilty as hell trying to belatedly erect what is commonly referred to in the self-help literature as, "boundaries."

The nurses calls saying she's pretty sure he's faking, but called 9-1-1, anyway. Then she calls back, giggling, saying I'll never believe what had just happened. She and other staff had surrounded my father and gave him lots of comfort and reassurance while they waited for the paramedics. He perked up. He sat up and began joking and laughing. When the staff saw he was okay, they began to drift off and my father got up and acted very agitated over the "abandonment." So she said, half-teasing, "You know, _____, the paramedics are almost here. Should we tell them to go home?" or something like that.

And you know what he did?

He flopped back on the bed, clutched his chest and began to gasp.

The dementia had impacted enough of his judgment to allow him to carry on with an old act in front of an observer. But it was an old and tired act. And to have it WITNESSED by a third party was incredibly satisfying. Finally, independent confirmation that he was a faker! The nurse said she'd never seen anything like it! She said, later, that my father was possibily the neediest, most difficult resident she'd come across. Bonus!!!

Knowing my parent is such an emotional con artist isn't enough to totally throw off the burden of responsibility I feel toward my troubled father. I feel less burdened. Less responsible. But not, unfortunately, totally free. At least not yet. But it's a state I'd like to achieve. Desperately.

I know some readers have left comments about health and manipulation in the last post, but feel free to leave your stories, observations or thoughts on how to Get Past Guilt.

How My Narcissistic Father Got That Way

2008-04-17T08:36:00.000-07:00

As my 81-year old narcissistic (adoptive) father descends into the last stages of Lewy Body dementia, he once again talked about the cruelty of his own father.

He began telling me about his no-good-lazy-drunkard of a father when I was very young. How he'd endured neglect and beatings and cigarette burns, until he forced his father out of the house when he was finally old enough. His father died on Skid Row in Los Angeles.

My father could never believe that his own father treated him so badly. This has haunted him throughout his life. This and the fact that his mother didn't stand up for him.

My father seemed to crave sympathy for his suffering. He desperately needed somebody to acknowledge the pain he'd endured as a child. So he turned to his own child to do that for him. His wife, my adoptive mother, wasn't a very patient person.

The older I get, the more convinced I am that the sympathy I developed for my father's terrible childhood experience got in my way of realizing that he had neglected me. That our roles had reversed. That at some point, my father began to use his bad childhood as a Lifelong Hall Pass excusing him from parental duties. That whatever he had survived had somehow entitled him to taking and taking and taking from his only child. It was as if he had never really fully realized that he had become a father himself. It was as if he was still that wounded 12-year old boy, looking for attention and comfort.

One of the oddest things about my aging narcissistic father is that he never seemed to acquire the ability to reflect upon his own life, to make connections between experiences had and lessons learned. He did not grow any wiser with age. He was and will always be that 12-year old kid.

Damn Liars!!!

2008-04-15T16:28:00.000-07:00

My narcissistic father lied. Often.

When he didn't want me to take classes at a nearby college, he said a rapist was on the loose attacking young women. (Not true)

He told people he and my mother had paid for my college education. They hadn't. Not a single dime.

He complained he'd given me so much money he didn't have enough for his own retirement. I'd been financially independent since 18.

He used to tell people - right in front of me! - that I was his biological child when I knew darned well I was adopted. Then made up all sorts of bizarre stories to explain why I didn't look like them or why I was an only child.

He told me he was diabetic. He wasn't.

He faked having chest pains and demanded emergency help -- repeatedly -- when I'd take a night off from calling him.

I can't remember if he lied like that when I was a kid, although I think he must have and it was just one of the many reasons I didn't feel comfortable around him. I figured it out when I was a teenager, but never told anybody. Not even my best friend. It was just too weird. And if your own father is that strange, what does it say about you?

When I finally got up the nerve in my thirties to confront him, he gave an awful, evil little laugh, but didn't apologize or explain to my satisfaction. Basically, he said he wanted what he'd wanted, and I was being so stubborn, so he had to do what he had to do.

Catching him out on a whopper did NOT deter him.

I'd like to say, folks, that the lying goes away when the narcissist develops dementia.

But in the case of my father - who has Lewy Body Dementia - it has not.

This continues to astound me.

He's lost control of his inhibition, his legs, his bladder and most of what little judgment he had to begin with, but he's maintained the ability to lie. Old habits do die hard.

Do, please, feel free to share your favorite Damn Liar stories and thoughts on this disturbing behavior.

Trajectory

2008-04-14T07:49:00.000-07:00

I think I'm witnessing something scary. Something ominous. A relative, Sue, is evolving from a self-centered woman into one of those narcissistic parents that drove us to the blogosphere in the first place.

An attractive, fit woman of 50 who spent most of our "conversation" talking nonstop about a) all the fabulous, organic meals she makes; b) how super intelligent and tall her 4-year old son is, thanks to her excellent parenting; c) how hard she works out and how hot she looked when she got all dolled up to go out and how heads turned! and d) again, how her son is smarter and taller and more charming than other kids and how she gives him daily doses of imported, organic fish oil for his brain.

Perhaps the most pathetic part of our talk came when I confirmed that my youngest teen is a size O, when Sue asked if she was still tiny. Sue immediately responded that she, at 50!, was only a size 2 and then when on about the amazing muscle tone in her upper arms.

That floored me.

That a 50 year old woman would feel the need to compete, on some level, with a teenager.

I'm predicting that Sue is fast developing into the type of mother who sees her child as an extension of herself. She's already very controlling and is overly invested in his "intelligence" which is a direct result of her parenting skills. When he dances, he's going to be the next Timberlake or when he sings in the car, he has perfect recall of the lyrics and can carry a tune. Woe be the kid if he turns out just an average student or refuses to wear the Ralph Lauren chinos she buys him. I don't think she's a full blown narcissist. She's not without empathy. But I got to wondering.

In some people with narcissistic tendencies, does having a child push them right over the edge into a narcissist?

As her son gets older, she's talking more and more about his intelligence. She honestly seems to think he's somehow different than other kids. Destined, at the age of 4, for the Ivy League (of course, she wants the best for him). Recently, when he had a tantrum and screamed he hated her, she threw a tantrum, too and called me crying, looking for reassurance. How could he hurt her like that? she wanted to know. After all she does for him! And I felt sick. She didn't seem to grasp that he's four and was probably tired and pissed off he had to clean up his Legos. She didn't grasp that it's her job as a mother to stay calm as best she can and comfort him, no matter what.

Is this how it happens for some people? A rather self-centered parent who knows she is aging begins to tap into her child as a new source of validation?

GIVING Gifts: A Triggering Exercise

2008-04-11T08:03:00.000-07:00

Believe me, I've given my fair share of lousy gifts.

But over the last decade or so, I've turned it into something of an art.

My MIL - the recipient of many a quality purse, Nordstrom jacket and Gourmet Gluten Free Treat Basket, says I always manage to give her the very thing she wants, but wouldn't dare buy herself because of cost. This, of course, makes me happy. She has secretly given me what I want: acknowledgment.

However....

After years of buying carefully researched toys and clothes for my nephews, I unintentionally missed a birthday. None of these gifts were ever acknowledged by my SIL. In fact, I had no idea they'd ever received them. Then my SIL sends a furious email to the family members who'd missed her son's birthday.

This REALLY upset me. This started one of those loops that keep playing in your head. The unfairness of it! She'd never sent my kids (her nieces) anything or most often forgot to call. She never acknowledged mine, after I had acknowledged hers for nearly two decades. In fact, I've spent my entire married life buying my SIL stuff that reflected her tastes that she never acknowledged.

This was followed by an episode with my brother-in-law. He calls to ask if I'd do something special for his wife's upcoming b-day and gives me a not-so-suble reminder that his son's b-day is coming up, too. This I knew. I'd bought his gifts months ago and stashed them in the closet with all the Christmas gifts I'd bought everybody during the summer.

So I do all that. Then I call on her b-day and make a big deal of it and she goes on about her Big Party and all the cash she got and my nephew's Big Party with designer cupcakes. No acknowledgment of the gifts. When I finally got up the nerve to ask my BIL if my nephew liked his stuff, he said his kid had got so many gifts he didn't know which was which. Then they forgot my b-day, that same week. Then they forgot my daughter's. And I felt like crap.

So what was I doing?

What was I expecting?

Why had I chosen to spend so much time choosing just the right gift for people who are incapable of acknowledging me? What kind of strings had I attached to these gifts? (I swear I've never given a Bunny Mailbox, chunky sweater or cheap jewlery.)

There's so much talk of unconscious repetition in the literature of psychology.

Was this what I was doing?

Every time, I felt invisible.

Every time, I felt like Always the Giver...never the Receiver.

And they acted so ENTITLED. Like that was my Role. I exist to support and acknowledge others. Which is very upsetting to the adult child of a narcissist, who has played that role forever and is sick to death of it!

Maybe my biggest fear is that my own unpleasant reaction is itself a narcissistic wound/trait and, if it is, I MUST cut it out, like an infection...before it spreads.

What is sorely lacking is an internal compass that others seem to have, but I don't.

Some friends think I'm crazy and say I should quit spending so much time on ungrateful louts.

But then I think THAT would be acting like a narcissist, so I continue. See? Get that?

Really Bad Gifts

2008-04-08T07:41:00.000-07:00

I can't remember exactly which book about narcissistic parents talked about the tendency of the n-parent to give really bad gifts. Gifts that are more about the n-parent than the recipient. I didn't think this applied to me, mostly because my parents didn't give me gifts after I stopped liking dolls and Operation! On birthdays, they'd stick some money in a card and that was pretty much it.

But then some commenters came along and wrote about how their n-parent gave them some gift that didn't reflect them in the least bit. Often, the gift had strings attached. The gift was used to control or extort gratitute or something equally unpleasant.

I was kind of surprised that Really Bad Gifts was such a common theme.

We all get bad gifts at one time or another. The Father's Day Tie or the I Love My Teacher Mug aren't notorious for nothing. So what's the big deal? Now that I've allowed myself to think about it, it's more significant than I thought. And how I've reacted (okay, overreacted) is worth noting because Gift Giving has become a Really Big Hang-Up. And I need to get a grip.

In brief, my narcissistic parents stopped giving me Wrapped Gifts way before I hit 13. Except for those obligatory back-to-school shopping trips, my mother never bought me a single cute sweater or one darling blouse. She returned home loaded down with discount shopping bags filled with stuff for her, but for me? Nada. (For once, I'll let my full blown narcissistic father off the hook. He's a guy.) When I started working full-time after I graduated high school, I began buying her gifts. Cute sweaters. Darling blouses. Perfume. All of which she gushed over. She wasn't ungrateful. After working for several years, I took her to Hawaii.

And then I decided to go away to college. By now, you must be absolutely sick-to-death of this story, but for the sake of newbies, my self-centered mother stopped talking to me. I got the Cold Silent Treatment for leaving her and declaring my independence.

During my years at college, my parents did not send one single We Miss You card. Not one check. They did not send one care package. Not one Cute Little Jacket for the colder, Northern California temps. Nada.

Fast forward to the arrival of my oldest daughter. No cute little onesies for her, either. Just a check to help buy the layette.

Fast forward six more years. My mother has Alzheimers. My father drives her over for a visit to see the grandkids (also known as respite care, which meant chasing after my wandering mother while watching a 4-year old and 6-year old). N-dad arrives carrying a pink cake box, which I open later, after they've gone. What I see inside makes my stomach turn. The top layer of the cake, a German Chocolate affair judging by what was left, was nearly gone. It was like somebody had stood over it and picked off most of the topping with their fingers. So the whole thing was mostly covered with weird, bald patches. WTF?

I called n-dad. "Oh, that," he said in a no-big-deal-voice. "Your mother did that. She got into it before I could stop her. But it's okay. It's still good enough to eat."

Translation?

Good enough for me. A cake with the topping picked off by my mother's undoubtable dirty fingers is good enough for the only daughter. Who knows? Maybe all children of The Great Depression are like this.

So it's no surprise that I've developed some really Big Hang-Ups about Gift Giving. Since this post is already long enough, I'll post about that later this week. Because it's something that has actually driven me to call my therapist in the middle of the day for an emergency phone consulation. Yes, that's how bad this is. That's how weird I've become, folks. And here's the funny thing. I'm just, like right now, making the connection between how I was treated (or not treated) and how Gift Giving has become so ridiculously endowed with way, way too much meaning!

And it's all rooted in acknowledgment. Or the lack of it.

In the meantime, please feel free to share YOUR Really Bad Gift stories, your theories and your thoughts on how it might have impacted YOU.

Got Narcissistic Parent? That Empty Feeling

2008-04-07T07:57:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth, a commenter, asked readers of this blog the question:

Do you feel empty inside? I guess what I mean is that I feel like I am missing a piece of the puzzle, everyone else has it except me. I sometimes feel like an outsider or a fake trying to pass myself as a normal person. I don't think others can understand the hurt and pain we've been through.

Here are the answers (shortened a bit in some cases, sorry):

Enilina: That missing self growing up, I remember being mystified by the void within me and would go literally wandering around town by myself (and dog) for miles, kind of in an awake-dream daze. At least it made my dog happy to walk so much. So yeah, bloomed really late in college but even then it took a long time to catch up, still catching up. It's like I don't "get it" for the longest time until something click one day and then I get caught up with everyone else and even get abit ahead. But then I fall behind everyone else again and I have to study extra hard to repeat the cycle.

Chi Girl (daughter of divorced, n-parents): I was a pretty messed up individual and, needless to say, many of my close interpersonal relationships were problematic. I usually choose narcissistic partners apparently to recreate and fix my childhood. I had always felt like an alien visiting a hostile planet until recently.I 've been in Pyschodynamic psychotherapy for one year and finally learned how to feel my own feelings. This continues to be quite an emotional rollercoaster for me. My shrink says that narcissistic people (me) often think of themselves as special or different from everybody else. Each week my shrink likes to report his opinion on the progress or maturity I've made in becoming less narcissistic myself; he thinks I have amazing insight and that he enjoys working with me. Even sticking with my shrink has been hard because I don't really know how to depend on or feel dependent on him even though I like and respect him. Thanks mom and dad!! Also, my parents didn't think it necessary to meet or have relationships with my extended family so trying to learn about them in my 20's and 30's has been painful. The whole clan [paternal and maternal] is narcissistically inclined. I feel like God has played some horrible joke by placing me in this situation to see how damaged I could become. I'm learning to be happy about and to appreciate myself, my current friends while living in the present moment. None of it has been easy, but I guess no one said it would be. Finding my therapist and showing compassion towards myself has helped tremendously. I'm, also, glad to have found your site. It's so good to know I am not alone, which is a major problem for children of the self-absorbed. Many of us have some immature narcissistic traits but are not full blown patholgical or stable narcissists so there is hope for us yet:-)

Liesel Elliot: I've pondered this empty feeling for such a long time. I sometimes look at my husband who was raised in a loving, kind family and I wonder what it feels like to be loved. Oh sure my husband and son love me, and I certainly love them - but I have this tendency to feel emotionally detached. I know that I was not allowed any emotions when I was growing up. When I first arrived at college I cried and cried because I had not been allowed to cry at my parents' house. It was scary then and I felt like I was never going to stop crying, but I realize now that it was probably a healthy thing.I wanted to mention one other thing in regards to the "empty feeling". Many times as a child I would have these episodes of feeling as though I was trapped in a bubble and floating. I couldn't feel. and it felt as though no one could reach me. These episodes always happened when I was terribly depressed and they terrified me, because of course, I couldn't tell anyone what was happening. I know now that it was some sort of dissociative state, but at 15 years old I just thought that all the things my mom said about me were true.Like Elizabeth, my mother would also rant and rave for hours to break me down emotionally, and I think this is connected to the dissociative states. But you know, my mom says now what a wonderful child I was, and how I never gave her any trouble!

Heatherrainbow: Yes. Always the outsider. Always trying to fit in. Always never quite doing so. Always people pleasing and sacrificing of myself. That's probably the part that is missing.

Nina: Ever since Elizabeth asked this question, I've tried to be more aware of what I'm feeling when I'm around other people. By nature, I'm a friendly person who can talk to just about anybody. But in groups, I definitely feel like I don't know the rules of social engagement. Am I talking too much? Not enough? I just feel awkward. Like everybody else knows how to behave, but I don't. I suspect much of this has to do with the space - or the lack of it - that I was allowed growing up. Talking or expressing myself makes me feel guilty because when I did talk, as a child, I was interrupted constantly. Or mocked. But we children of narcissists are human, too, and long for human connection...so when we fail to connect after a lifetime of failed connections....it only adds to our sense of alienation and that empty feeling.

I AM My Father's Keeper, Dammit...

2008-04-01T18:23:00.000-07:00

(Will post Got Narcissistic Parent? That Empty Feeling, later this week)

I am my father's keeper. (It's April Fool's Day. Oh, the irony!)

Nothing drives this home more than spending your entire morning trying to figure out which brand of adult diapers is more cost effective. Mmmm. The brand carried by Target...or Costco? (Costco. Definitely. $19 savings per 72-count).

Okay, the fact that I know that adult diapers come in packs of 72 and the cheapest fastest way to ship 'em is just further evidence that I have become my narcissistic father's keeper.

In a way, I always was my father's keeper. The emotional caretaker of this poor, uneducated, man-child who was badly abused by an alcoholic father in East Los Angeles.

There may be a cultural aspect to all this. Many first and second generation Mexican-American families parentify their children, often out of necessity because they don't understand the language or how to get things done in the U.S. Sometimes, teenagers are expected to work and contribute to the family income, while trying to go to school. Later, daughters are expected to caretake their parents as they age.

The dilemma is that parents are living much longer than ever before. But longer doesn't always mean better. It may mean a slow, agonizing descent into chronic illness and dementia.

And because Our Parents Generation didn't exactly take care of themselves, times being what they were, many weren't even able to take part in the Quid Pro Quo of helping take care of the grandkids. I had my first child at 30. My adoptive mother was in her early 60's and never babysat once. Her erratic behavior turned out to be Alzheimers. (I'd never leave my kids with my narcissistic father. Ever.)

My neighbors up the street, both in their early 30's, have two babies. Their mothers, God Bless Them, take turns taking care of the kids while the parents are at work. Five days a week!

It's hard not to feel a tad envious. Instead of getting help from my parents when my daughters were babies, I was flying across the country to take the car keys away from my mother because my father was too chicken to do it. Of course, I'm not blaming my amom for getting Alzheimers, I blame my father for not handling it and turning my Introduction To Being A Mother into a Double Major of Motherhood-Badly Aging Parents fiasco.

That was, gulp, almost 16 years ago.

My self-centered father now has Lewy Body dementia and I'm still Taking Care of Business. This is a bit of a whine, yes, but I do have a broader point: The other day a neighbor asked if I was working, knowing I used to work full-time. And I mumbled and said, no. Hah! Damn right I'm working. I spent the last week filling out health care forms, arguing over erroneous bills, checking on my father's investments I've made on his behalf, talking to the nurses at the assisted living facility, blah, blah, blah. Literally, that's all I've done. This whole caretaking thing is taking a big, fat chunk of my life. I might as well admit it. Quit minimizing it. This is what I do, folks.

I have a New Job. Not one of those Green Jobs the newspapers go on and on about. But a critical, emerging, Job of the Future: Aging Parent Manager!

Come Ye Children of Narcissists: A Question

2008-03-27T08:05:00.000-07:00

Elizabeth asked an important question in the comment section that I thought was so interesting that I'd pose it to you, dear reader.

After you've responded, in the comment section, I'll lift them out and add them into a separate post. Not only is this much easier to read, it's more interactive and the more voices, the better.

So here's Elizabeth's question...which she addresses to everyone here:

Do you feel empty inside? I guess what I mean is that I feel like I am missing a piece of the puzzle, everyone else has it except me. I sometimes feel like an outsider or a fake trying to pass myself as a normal person. I don't think others can understand the hurt and pain we've been through. It feels so good to have feedback from this site. I glad I found you Nina, now I am not so lost!! get it??!!

Oh yeah, I get it!

I started this site because I felt lost and was trying to make sense of what had happened and I knew I couldn't do it alone. Yes, I did therapy and yes it did help and I learned some important coping tools, but I found that I needed to hear from others who went through the same thing.

Yes, I often feel empty and like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle. Like an outsider. And like a fake.

Here's some reasons why I think so. As yet another, separate post, I think we should address what we can do about it.

--We were not allowed to develop independently of our parents and what efforts we did make in that direction were discouraged.

In my case, my interests were mocked. I was mocked. I was mocked for being a book worm. For having opinions of my own that differed from theirs. For being "a little know it all" because I attended college. For having wild, thick hair so different from my adoptive mother (like I could do anything about that). For basically being me. Translation: I'm not okay the way I am. To survive, I had to pretend to be someone I was not. I had to wait until I moved far away to begin figuring out who I actually was. Which means I am a very, very late bloomer.

--We were not allowed our emotions. We were not allowed to be upset or needy. Maybe never.

My adoptive father says I was the perfect baby. He says I never, ever cried or whined. He says I wasn't like other obnoxious, needy babies. It never occurred to him that this wasn't normal. Why cry if there is no one to comfort you? If I was scared by a bully at school, I was blamed because I was a sissy. If I was scared by a dog, my mother would thrust me toward the dog and my father would make fun of me for being silly. If I fell down, I was told it didn't hurt, even when I broke my arm. When I cried because a boyfriend broke up with me, my mother slapped me and sent me to my room because I was being ridiculous and I'd scared her.

There was no one to talk to. No one to listen to us. No one to give us reassurance or constructive advice. We were either ignored or our worries and hurts minimized or dismissed. What else could we do, but deny those feelings of fear or discomfort or whatever. As a result, I suspect, we went numb. Other people around us, somehow, seem more real. We feel fake. Because we've had to fake.

--We don't feel loved or valued. Just needed.

This, perhaps, is one truth that's been the hardest to face. My narcissistic father is incapable of love. He doesn't know me. Not at all. How could he? I am 47 years old and have never, ever been allowed to finish a single sentence. Under torture, he couldn't tell you my favorite color, book, movie or anything about me except that I'm married and have two teenagers. When I was working, he only knew - vaguely - that I worked in news, but had no idea where or what I did. He does not value me...I'm just the person who will listen to him.

--Annihilation hangs over us.

If I dared to be me, my mother used the cold silent treatment that could last weeks. She stopped speaking to me for a year when I went away to college (because I betrayed her by leaving). The cold, silent treatment started when I was very young. If I didn't want to wear the clothes she picked out or wanted to have a sleepover or if I spent too much time reading and not paying attention to her. Which was terrifying. When you're little, you can't afford to have your mother freeze you out like that. It feels like death. (By the way, I had no idea this was abusive behavior until I read the work of Alice Miller, author of Drama of the Gifted Child.)

At first, my father seems like an affable, goofy, strange guy. But he's turned on every single person he's ever met. The second someone does something he doesn't like - meaning they demand their fair share of the conversation - he drops them and says all sorts of vicious things about them. I can't help but think if I really defy him in any way, he'll do that to me, too. And that's scary. As much as I can't stand the guy. Narcissistic or nightmare adoptive parents or not, they were the only parents I had.

Maybe we feel so empty and alone because...we WERE all alone most of our lives.

I Can't Stand My Father

2008-03-24T08:01:00.001-07:00

Here's the truth.

I can't stand my narcissistic father. I can't even explain, properly, how much I loathe him. How much I am filled with dread at the mere prospect of spending a half-hour with him.

I've always hated for him to kiss me. I sit as far away from him as possible. I think he's weird and sort of creepy. After a couple of minutes in a room with him, I want to escape. I feel absolutely no warmth or affection for this man and his endless chatter.
He makes my ears hurt and my skin crawl.

It is some comfort that he's not my biological father. Maybe that explains it. Some social worker back in 1960 decided that I'd become his daughter. Maybe that's why I have never, ever felt like I was actually connected to this guy, who was badly abused and neglected as a child. This boy-man whom I was forced to emotionally caretake. (My mother told him to keep his mouth shut during the homestudy)

Somebody once suggested that he may have sexually abused me as a kid. That while I may not remember it - I don't - that the body never lies and the revulsion I feel may explain why I can't stand being around him. I don't know. I just don't know.

Maybe it's because I don't feel safe around him. How can you feel safe around someone who is so relentlessly needy?

I think it's possible that I might have cut him off if I'd been his biological child. For those of you who aren't adopted, it may be hard to understand how much we adoptees internalize all those messages that we should be grateful for our adopters...even if our adopters are not nice people. That we should be forever grateful for being "rescued" and, at least, "you had a home and weren't raised in an orphanage."

My self-centered adoptive mother constantly called me, "ungrateful"....after all she'd done for me. Once I asked, "Like what?" and she listed all the regular chores of motherhood, like fixing dinner and driving me to school.

I think this has made it harder to detach from my narcissistic parents. Besides being trained to serve, I was trained to be grateful.

I'm not asking any of you non-adopted folk to weigh in on this, but I'd really like to hear what sort of reaction YOU have to your narcissistic parent(s).

The Narcissist as Grandparent

2008-03-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

It's painful to watch a narcissist "interact" with their grandchild.

Mostly because there's not much interaction.

And what little there is is so brief and shallow that it hardly rates as a true encounter. More like a hit and run.

Not only do you feel bad that your poor kid doesn't have a real grandparent and is missing out on such a special relationship, you can't help but be reminded that's exactly what you had to deal with for most of your life.

It's like getting to watch reruns of a TV show you always hated.

In the case of my n-father, he's always talked about how much he cares for and worries about his granddaughters. Yet, yet....if he asks how they are and I say, well, one of them is actually very sick, he'll immediately interrupt and begin talking about how sick he'd got earlier that day. He'll never ask what was wrong with her or call again to find out how she's doing.

When my girls were still small, he'd compete with them for my attention. He'd pretty much ignore them and talk over them if he had to. He never asked them about school or what they liked to do. He never suggested that we take them to the zoo or the park. If they tried to perform a dance or sing a song, he'd smile and clap, then lose interest after thirty seconds and wander away.

It was scary to watch.

As my girls got older, they stopped trying to interact with him. They learned to smile and nod and didn't waste energy trying to engage him in any way. As teenagers, they'd exchange exasperated looks and sometimes, when he was "inappropriate," they'd burst out laughing. What was most astonishing was the patience the girls showed him, the adjustment to his odd behavior. They made no demands of him at all. They learned to listen, as I did, and find the quickest escape route. They've never expressed any anger or disappointment in their grandfather. Maybe it's because they have so little to do with him.

When we visit him at the assisted living facility, they do so with grace. Unfailingly pleasant. Cheerful. Supportive. And very, very distant.

Withering (Narcissistic) Minds & Tax Time

2008-03-18T09:40:00.000-07:00

This marks my third year as Power of Attorney for my narcissistic father, who has Lewy Body dementia.

The one thing that remains intact, absolutely unchanged is....of course!...his narcissistic behavior. He is exactly as self-centered as he was when he was in his prime at 40! (Except now he expects me to eagerly listen to his adventures in the "poo poo room" as he calls it)

As tax time and the deadline for sending in health care reiumbursement claims are fast approaching, I have spent the last several days shuffling through paperwork, making phone calls, sending faxes and filling out stacks of annoying forms.

Taking over someone's life is complicated and time consuming. It's a job.

I just hope there's some money left over after he dies. At least there'd be something to go toward my daughters' college education and that would make me feel like there was some justice. That he'd contribute to my kids when he refused to give me a cent of financial help.

Basically, I spend my days trying to look on the bright side. The upside.

I try not to dwell on the fact that this is my fifteenth year of dealing with aging parents. I try not to think that this represents one-third of my life.

The fact that people are living longer is rather alarming. It's one thing if people can live longer and stay relatively healthy. It's another if they are sick and frail or develop dementia. Like both my adoptive, narcissistic parents did.

And then I read this bit of alarming news today:

"...the federal sponsored study concluded that 22 percent (of elderly Americans ages 71 and over) have begun to see their mental faculties decline, which translates into 5.4 million people.

"It's a huge number," said Brenda Plassman, a psychiatrist at Duke University Medical Center who led the study being published today in the Annals of Internal Medicine.

Combined with a previous estimate that 3.4 million Americans have full dementia, such as Alzheimer's disease, the new findings mean that more than one-third of people ages 71 and older have some diminished mental functioning, the researchers said. About 25 million people in this age group live in the United States."

Every time I read something like this, I shiver. Because I know a certain percentage of those people are self-centered, crazy parents like mine. And that some middle aged person, like me, will be faced with the dilemma of what to do with their (badly) aging narcissist.

Surrounded by others who felt loved and nutured by their parents, by those who'd do anything for their aging mother or father, it's hard not to feel like you're a complete ingrate or loser...until you snap out of it and remember just how much your parents were never, ever there for you.

But once you've accepted the responsibility of your parents, acknowledging their failings isn't exactly inspiring either. It just pisses you off as you sit there, up to your ears in paperwork or fielding their sixth needy call of the day.

It's hard not to feel alone.

Until you realize that other people, like yourself, are having similar epiphanies and experiences. And it makes you feel less evil, more human, more sane.

I'd like to share with you what an Anonymous Commenter wrote....most eloquently...that perfectly captured the Aging Narcissistic Parent Dilemma:

"So, you also come to the crux of why I, and so many other children of N's, hit the wall when we get older and start to understand how much we did not get when we were kids.

You feel like a bank account that should start out full ... yet your parents make withdrawal after withdrawal until you are sentient enough as a teenager to know that you are absolutely empty and know you don't even have feelings of love any longer. Even so, you continue to extend the credit, go on with your life as a young adult, and even tolerate your parents a little bit more (mostly because you don't have to see them every day anymore - what a blessed relief).

And then, say in your 30's, just when you feel like you have put in enough work on your own to build your personal emotional bank account back up to a healthy level - ironically, that's just when your narc parents are going into decline. No one else is paying attention to them as much anymore, and you are their fallback N-Supply, as the books say. Your N-parents are fabulous and desirable and witty and clever and amazing, all the way up to the top of the hill, where they become lonely, needy, sick, old ... all the way back down the hill. It's quite a shock.

You have really worked hard to put together a life you love, despite your parents, and are even possibly in an emotionally stable place ... only to find out that your parents have penciled you in as their Sherpa as they maddeningly meander down the other side of their own mental mountains.

You reach the point where are just like, how much more do I have to give? And then, the answer becomes even more important when you have your own kids, and you are like, how much time that I give to my parents, am I taking away from my own kids - ?"

Thank you for that, Anonymous Commenter!

I love that...."penciled you in as their Sherpa!"

That's gonna get me through the day. No kidding.

Chaos and Crisis

2008-03-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

Somebody found this blog by Googling, "elderly narcissistic parent crisis."

Which got me wondering about the possibilities:

a) Was the self-centered parent having a crisis?

b) Was having a narcissist for a parent the crisis?

c) Did the parent become impossibly self-centered with age or dementia?

d) Was the adult son or daughter having a tough time caring for or making arrangements for their aging parent because said parent was narcissistic?

Having absolutely no idea, I'd like to talk a bit about d).

When it became obvious that my father was no longer able to live safely by himself, it seemed like he did everything imaginable to make a tough decision as miserable as possible.

That some aging folks actually plan or cooperatively participate in planning for their future needs is an idea so strange it's right up there with aliens. Two friends told me about their own mothers, who researched the various possibilities, then moved themselves into assisted living facilities because they didn't want to be a burden to their kids. Sheesh. One of these old ladies even bought a condo in one of those fancy schmancy places so she could give it to her daughter for her future use. Double sheesh.

My narcissitic father?

He took no responsibility for helping me figure out how to make it possible for him to stay in his own home. He'd only say he didn't need any help. That I was exaggerating his need for care. Yet, I was the first call he'd make when he needed help.

He refused to move into an assisted living facility. He threatened to throw himself out of the car if I drove him there.

He refused in-home help of any kind. When I insisted on at least a part-time housekeeper, he threatened to kill himself.

He refused to move into an apartment close to me, his only child, so I could help him maintain his independence. I repeatedly offered help with meals, cleaning and transportation to and from the doctor. He said he'd kill himself if I made him move out of his house.

He refused to compromise in any way. The man simply wouldn't budge.

Then I got the blame.

To everybody else, it must have seemed I was the World's Worst Daughter because I found out he went around complaining that I'd abandoned him after all he'd done for me.

He began to fall down, had his driver's license taken away (another post! OMG! the stress!!!), and things rapidly fell apart.

Have I mentioned my father is a hypochondriac? If he's feeling anxious or if he's upset that I missed calling him at the appointed hour, he begins having chest pains and calls 9-1-1. (Another post! OMG! the stress!!!)

Of course, he expected me to leave my children and fly 400 miles to solve the probems he'd created by refusing all offers of assistance.

Then the phone calls started.

He'd call five, six...seven...up to ten times a day with one crisis or another. This went on for two long, miserable months. I was a nervous wreck, always expecting the phone to ring, not knowing what was going to happen next, but unsure how to solve the problem.

Then I remembered what happened to my poor grandmother.

My narcissistic father failed to take responsibility for her when she developed Alzheimers in her early 90's. Until then, she'd been remarkably healthy. Long story, but I found out that the police had threatened my father with charges of elder abuse and neglect after she'd been mugged during one of her wandering spells, and so I stepped in and took over. I'd only recently moved back into the state and couldn't believe my father had neglected his mother, whom he professed to adore.

So that got me thinking.

I was going to have to get tough. Even if my father pitched a fit, I was still going to have to take responsibility and make the right decision. I certainly didn't want to be charged with elder abuse or neglect. Which was likely because my father was out telling the world about just what a lazy, good for nothing, neglectful daughter he had! It didn't matter if my father was willful and stubborn as all hell.

So tough I got.

I found a top-notch assisted living facility and said he'd need to move in or else he was completely on his own. And I meant it.

Now I look back at that time and shake my head. I felt like such an evil, awful person at making him leave his home. I gave myself no credit for trying to come up with other solutions. For trying to persuade him to accept help. All I felt was Guilt, Guilt and More Guilt. Of all the dark times, this was probably the gloomiest. But finally, in he went and I've never regretted that decision. Not for one teeny, tiney second.

How Did We Survive?

2008-03-12T09:25:00.000-07:00

If you have a narcissistic parent, there will come a moment when you realize just how WEIRD he or she is and wonder....how the hell did you survive childhood?

So last night I was talking to my 81-year old father (okay, I didn't talk, I was listening), and he was telling me how the director of health services at the assisted living facility has it out for him.

This is not surprising because he tells her she has a fat ass and is getting as a big as a door. Just to be clear, this isn't dementia. He's always been like that. The man has no filters. He pretty much says whatever he's thinking - no matter how rude or crude - and says it's not his fault. He's just pointing out the truth and if people are offended, that's not his problem. I clearly remember my horror at a wedding when I was ten and my father, 45, told proud parents of a bald, chubby baby boy that their kid looked like Kruschev. No kidding. The parents were crushed. I spent the rest of the wedding carting around that giant baby, making a fuss over him, to make up for my dad's blunder.

Anyway...my dad has a long history of thinking people have it out for him. They do. They don't like him because he's rude, interrupts and can only talk about himself. But I couldn't resist.

"Why doesn't the nurse like you?" I asked.

"Because she doesn't like to hear nice things about me," he explained peevishly. "She ignores me when the other nurses give me compliments. She only pays attention to me when she's mad at me."

This isn't dementia. I wish it were. Sadly, this is an example my father's childlike behavior and view of the world. I can remember, with crystal clarity, wishing that I had a real man for a father and not someone so hopelessly juvenile. He'd go on tirades about the guys at work who had it in for him, who didn't like him...all said in the manner of a little boy excluded on the playground.

And it struck me...how did this pathetic, needy half-man ever take care of me?

I remember him complaining that when I was around a year old, I kept climbing out of my crib and how it drove him crazy. Then he'd explain how he'd have to stop whatever he was doing and stick me back in. Or how I drove him nuts because I kept asking to go to Disneyland and he finally took me, but got sick on a ride in the first hour. So for years I got to hear how my selfishness had cost him. Rides home from dances, the occasional trip to the mall, even back-to-school nights were all evidence of his selflessness.

I used to wonder if my dad wasn't sort of retarded. I even asked one of his doctors if they thought he had a super low IQ or had some sort of mental deficiency that would help explain why my daughter, then 13, seemed more mature than her grandfather had ever been. Nope. But one psychologist finally figured out that he had narcissistic personality disorder, probably because he'd been badly abused as a kid.

I spent a lot of my adult years feeling sorry for him. For making excuses that benefited my father, while dismissing the way I was neglected and treated.

When I imagine myself alone with him as a vulnerable child, I'm horrified.

How did I survive him?

How did we survive parents so incapable?

Relentless Negativity

2008-03-09T19:29:00.000-07:00

Although I try to keep my phone conversations with my elderly narcissistic father brief, by the end of the week I can hardly bring myself to call and check in. By Friday, I'm in desperate need of a break.

Every single conversation, somehow, is negative.

Today, he complained about a fellow resident whom he called old and ugly with a big parrot nose and wrinkles. Apparently, he finds her looks personally offensive.

Yesterday, he complained about one of the nurses who has a high voice, like a little girl. He asked her why she couldn't, "talk like a woman for God's sake!" He finds her voice personally offensive.

If it's not one thing it's another. Every day brings another complaint or tirade or drama. This isn't age related. He was always like this. And try as you might to insulate yourself, cumulatively, it ends up dragging you down. All that relentless negativity.

However, because we don't talk for all that long, I tend to minimize the impact of our talks. Surely, I tell myself, you can spare a lousy couple minutes a day talking with a poor, old lonely man without falling apart. Buck up baby, I tell myself. It's not like you visit him in person all that often or spend hours on the phone with him. It's just five minutes a day. And it's not like I have to exert myself. He does all the talking. All I have to do is dial and listen. Still, I dread calling him and have to remind myself, quite sternly sometimes that he may be a narcissist, but he is a human being and all humans need contact. So it's the least I can do as his only child. Buck up and chat for a bit. Sheesh. No biggie.

So I was explaining all this to my therapist. How guilty I felt when I took a night off calling. He is, after all, alone in the world. No friends or other family. If I don't call him, no one else will. He has no contact with anybody outside of the assisted living facility. How pathetic is that?

Much to my surprise, the therapist called this a Very Heavy Burden. That I should give myself not only a day off, but a week off, maybe longer. She called contact with him "toxic" and that I was, in effect, slowly being poisoned. Or something like that. I was so grateful to be told that I wasn't a selfish monster that I felt like bursting into tears with relief. My therapist told me this more than six months ago and I'm still calling my father almost every day. Now my rationale is that his health is rapidly failing and he's not going to be around forever, so I oughta call. And I do. And feel awful afterward. Is it the martyr in me? I suspect it's Guilt. It's probably also co-narcissism. How I've adapted and how I enable him or something horrible like that.

As always, I'd LOVE to hear from you.

And by the way, I'm not looking so much for validation or support for my situation, but rather to hear about YOUR experience with your narcissistic parent and how you may have adapted or enabled and, hopefully, dealt with the challenges that you've faced.

The Comfort Factor

2008-03-03T07:39:00.000-08:00

If you're trying to figure out if you have a narcissistic parent, there are lots of nifty checklists in self-help books to help you do just that.

Basically, you score your parent on a whole bunch of different traits. Things they do or say or don't do.

There's one I'd like to add.

Would you, could you....ever go to your parent for comfort if you ever had a problem?

How would they react if you did?

How would you feel after you confided in them?

I never, ever would have taken a problem to my mother or father.

I quickly learned, probably as a young child, that no comfort would be forthcoming. In fact, I discovered I then had the additional burden of reassuring them it wasn't a big deal and that they shouldn't worry. Later, I realized that any drama I might have would turn into their drama.

Some examples:

***When I was around ten, I had to have a growth removed from my forehead. This required an overnight stay at the hospital and a biopsy. My self-centered adoptive mom carried on saying, "You don't know what you're putting me through" and generally making a fuss about how terribly worried and upset she was because the growth might be cancerous (it was not). Apparently not worried enough to stay overnight with me at the hospital. This she refused to do because it was, "too boring" and uncomfortable. Adoptive Dad had the good sense to realize this made them look like bad parents, but he couldn't make her stay although he tried. They even argued about this. He couldn't stay because he needed a good night's sleep because he had to work the next day. It fell to me to reassure them that I'd be fine by myself. I presented a cheerful face to them and the nurses.

***When I was around sixteen, my much beloved first boyfriend broke up with me. I held it together long enough to escape into the house, where I burst into tears. Amom rushed into the living room and asked me what the hell was wrong. So I explained. She was furious. About as angry as I'd ever seen her. How dare I scare her like that? She thought I'd been raped, the way I was carrying on. Then she slapped me. And sent me to my room. "For God's sake, he's just a guy. Get over it." Any mention or tear shed for him earned me an angry lecture. So I had to hide my misery.

***Fast forward to middle age. I mentioned to Adad that I was acting distracted because I was worried about a biopsy I'd just had and was waiting for the results. He panicked. "What's going to happen to me if you die?" he demanded. "You're all I got!" I asked if he shouldn't be more worried about his poor granddaughters who would be left motherless. He said, "Forget them, they have their father to take care of them. If you die, I've got nobody." So much for any comfort. He then called, repeatedly, to ask for the results of the biopsy...which only added to my stress. When I told him my good news (negative), he said, "Thank God!" and said, "You don't know what you've put me through," then announced he had to hang up and take a nap because he, "could finally relax."

See how this works? Or didn't work. No comfort. No reassurance. No sage advice or wise words to help their child through a tough time. There will be no hugs or cards or phone calls to say, Just Thinking of You. They will not ask, What Do You Think About All This? or Gee, You Must Be So Worried." There will be no acknowledgment of your pain or whatever challenge you face. There is only them and what they "are going through."

Maybe this works differently in other dysfunctional homes with a narcissistic parent. Don't know. Maybe the kid gets a free pass when it comes to illness and the child finally gets some quality attention. I have a cousin with a narcissistic mother. She dealt with this by never admitting she was sick, even if she was staggering around with the flu. She even "worked sick" and dragged herself to school sick as a dog.

As always, please feel free to leave a comment if you have any observations or any experience you'd like to share.

Groundhog Day Effect

2008-02-29T09:47:00.000-08:00

Consider this a cautionary tale for those of you considering taking care of your aging narcissistic parent.

By care I mean taking responsibility in some significant way. This could mean personal caretaking or managing the care of your elderly narcissistic parent.

You may have no other choice, due to finances or other family dynamics.

You may decide it's your moral duty to do so, like me.

Beware of the Groundhog Day Effect. It's nearly impossible to avoid.

Remember that movie with Bill Murray about the weatherman who finds himself repeating the same day over and over again, the day that he was forced to cover the much hated assignment of the stupid yearly Groundhog Day event?

Well, taking care of your impossibly difficult aging narcissist may mean that you'll find yourself living the same day over and over again...some event in your past...triggered by something your aging narcissist says or does.

Confused? Here's how it "works" for me.

My personal Groundhog Day is set in 1983. Since my adoptive mother cut me off emotionally and financially when I went to college (having betrayed her by leaving home to go to school 400 miles away), I had to pay for all my college expenses. This meant working nearly full-time while carrying a full load of classes.

Once, between jobs, I found myself so short of money that I didn't have enough to eat. Desperate, I called my adoptive father for a loan of $50-75, which I promised to pay back. He never sent it. He never called to say it wasn't coming. He just left me hanging. He avoided my phone calls. Later, he said my adoptive mother had threatened to divorce him if he sent the money. He held the checkbook and could have done so secretly...or sent cash which she couldn't track. Since he's a big liar, I'm not even sure if this is the truth. The fact is, he failed to help the one time I asked.

Fast forward 25 years.

Once a week, I get a phone call from the same man asking for chocolate covered raisins. Which I send promptly. If he doesn't get them in 2-3 days, he begins calling at all hours. He demands to know what the hell happened because he's waiting. He says he needs them. Desperately. He can't live without his fucking chocolate covered raisins.

See how this works?

He wants his candy...which I faithfully provide...when he couldn't even loan me, his only child, a lousy $50 bucks because I was hungry. For food. So everytime he calls asking for the candy, it's Groundhog Day! I go right back to 1983 and recall how he let me down. Over and over again.

I'm just warning you, that's all. About the sheer perversity of some risks associated with caring for an aging narcissistic parent. Beware the Groundhog Day Effect.

Prepare to be Triggered

2008-02-25T18:58:00.000-08:00

This is an ad created by Ogilvy and Mather, India for The Indian Association for Promotion of Adoption & Child Welfare.

In case you can't read the small print, the ad copy says, "Adopt. Receive more than you can give."

For an excellent analysis of the ad, from an adoptee's perspective, please visit http://www.harlowmonkey.typepad.com/ and read her Feb. 15th post and the interesting exchange of comments.

This ad may have been created to capture the hearts and minds of prospective adoptive parents (especially the crazy needy ones), but what it does - brilliantly - is capture the creepy, disturbing, skewed relationship of a parentified child caretaking her narcissistic parent.

The Downside of Staying in Contact

2008-02-22T08:28:00.000-08:00

There is a downside, a big one, to staying in contact with a narcissistic parent (or friend, etc.)

No matter how much progress you make emotionally detaching. No matter how successful you think you are at creating boundaries. No matter how deeply you understand the dynamics of this extremely dysfunctional relationship. No matter how clearly you can articulate how you've adapted to your narcissistic parent or how you've unwittingly enabled him (or her) or what you've done to make sure you didn't end up a full blown narcissist yourself.

There's still blowback.

And I swear, some days, the wind blows so hard it knocks you right off your feet.

Because staying in contact with a narcissist costs you. At least, there's a direct cost to me.

The other day, I had a double serving of the narcissists in my life.

First, a self-centered friend who launched into her current tale of woe for our entire lunch.

Later, my adoptive ndad who talked about his day and the weather, but didn't allow me to say more than three words together. Which is what he always does. "Talking" with him is a weird experience. You might as well not be there. If he asks a question, he doesn't allow you to answer it. He'll cut you off as soon as you manage to utter, "Uh" and switch to another topic. If he asks how the grandkids are doing and I say, "They're really sick," he'll not express any concern or ask any questions, but he will tell you how he's managing to avoid getting sick at the assisted living facility.

Anyway....here's the blowback. The next day, I literally felt like I didn't exist. That there was no me. I felt empty. Invisible. Ghosts don't have interests or personal projects or goals they must work on. It was like I was floating through the day. I got nothing done. I could not work on my book. I couldn't even neaten my desk. I took a nap I didn't need because, I suspect, I was trying to disappear.

While I have progressed to not feeling churned up or angry after dealing with ndad, he still exerts such a powerful, primitive pull that I am dragged right back to where I don't want to go. (By the way, I stay in limited and controlled contact because I am an only child and act as his power of attorney. And since he's a narcissist, there's not one other single person in his life.)

Today, I snapped out of it. I'm feeling more like myself, less like a vessel. This gives me some hope. Maybe when he dies, I'll finally be free. To be me. As for that self-centered friend, I'm conducting an experiment. I'm not talking to her for a bit because I want to maintain this positive mood. I plan on writing today and I don't want anything to disrupt that. I want to observe how time-off from the narcissists in life impacts productivity.

Now What? The Other Narcissists in my Life

2008-02-20T09:58:00.000-08:00

My second serious boyfriend was a narcissist. I realize that now. Years after we broke up, he was diagnosed with biopolar disorder and wrote me a 12-step letter of apology. I met him shortly after starting college because, I guess, after shedding my controlling, self-centered adoptive parents, I needed someone to boss me around. Maybe all that sudden freedom from tyranny was just too scary. So I invited a super critical tyrant into my life. Not that it was all bad. He was hard working and brilliant and showed me how to succeed in college. Sort of like having Henry VIII as a college mentor.

The friends I chose to make after therapy to deal with my issues stemming from having narcissistic parents differ wildly from those I made before.

This was highlighted this past week.

My non-narcissistic friend called and we chatted about all sorts of things. Back and forth. Books, movies, vacation plans, kids, blah blah. I hung-up feeling good and looked forward to talking with her again.

Had lunch with a narcissistic friend hoping things would be different this time. She spent the entire lunch talking about a serious problem with her son (which she wouldn't have if her narcissism hadn't prevented her from getting the help he needed while still in high school).

The thing is, she always has a problem. If it's not her son, it's her daughter or her husband or something at work. Whatever is going on her life is a crisis and I willingly listen without saying much myself. She does have some good qualities. Occasionally, she will listen to me and say nice, supportive things. But the relationship is basically 90-10 in her favor.

The dramatic question is....can this relationship be saved?

Should I even try to?

Can it be rebalanced....like tires? Assert myself more. Demand equal time.

After being with this friend, I'm churned up or worried on her kids' behalf and we're right back to the crux of MY problem. The fact that I feel I owe this "friendship" my effort instead of scaling it back and protecting myself and working more earnestly to find non-narcissistic friends.

One of the things that has made me stick with her, oddly, is my fear of cutting her off because that might make me like my narcissistic father, who cut people off the second they displeased him. Because they failed to give him the kind of attention he demanded. Maintaining relationships, even unhealthy ones, means I'm not like my self-centered adad. I'm terrified at the thought of having narcissistic traits and the cutting-off of friends is something adad did all the time, throughout his life. So every time I take a take a step in the right direction - pulling back from this narcissistic friend - I give in and make one more lunch date or walk date....hoping I'm wrong. That I've exaggerated her self-centeredness. But it's just repeated.

To boot, she zinged me. I told her, pleased, that I'd been invited to join a decision making council at the high school. My competitive, narcissistic friend said she'd belonged to such a council at the elementary school and back then, it was considered an elite club and not just anybody could join. She then said it must be easier to "get in" now and that they must have trouble finding members.

Humph! My reaction? I just sat there like a dummy and said nothing. Later, I fumed. But made excuses like...I'm just too sensitive. "She probably didn't mean it that way."

This isn't the first time she's zinged me. She's done it plenty times before and the problem is NOT HER. IT'S ME. Many other people would not tolerate this behavior. Me? I'm still thinking I can fix it. Which shows I've got a lot more personal work to do.

Trapped in the Mirror

2008-02-15T10:25:00.000-08:00

My therapist, who specializes in helping adult children of narcissists, recommended, "Trapped in the Mirror: Adult Children of Narcissists in Their Struggle for Self," by Elan Golomb (1992, Harper, in paperback).

He thought I might find the detailed and very personal case studies interesting. And I did. It was fascinating, in watching a train wreck sort of way, to see how each adult was damaged by their self-absorbed parent.

For the record, I highly recommend the book even though I think it sort of fell apart at the end.

The title, however, is BRILLIANT.

I came to admire its stunning accuracy this week after several conversations with my narcissistic adoptive father.

First, he called from his assisted living facility to say he'd caught a cold. I offered my usual sympathy and comfort. But he'd called, mostly, so I could HEAR HIS VOICE. With a slight rasp brought on by the cold, his voice had become deep and throaty. He wanted me to hear "how sexy" he sounded. Then he went on and on about how he'd never liked his voice (too thin) and how'd he always wanted a sexy voice, etc.

In the past, he's
--boasted how desirable he was to other women
--boasted to my husband about his sexual conquests
--told me about his bodily functions and when I protested, he said, "But this is me! I want you to know about this! It's important that you know!"
--sent pictures of himself and later asked for admiration
--told me how other people are nobodies and what he'd do if he were in charge

For most of my life, I was trapped into reflecting my father back to himself. There was no me. I simply existed as his mirror. Growing up, I thought this was perfectly normal. That this was the job of the child. To provide emotional support and comfort to the parent. It would never, ever have occurred to me to go to my adoptive father with any problem. I never asked for advice or sought reassurance. It would have been too selfish. The one time I admitted that I was nervous about a biopsy, he turned it into his drama. How upset I had made him. And who, he demanded, would take care of him if I died? When I asked if he wouldn't be worried about the prospect of his granddaughters without a mother, he said, "Forget them! They have their father to take care of them! What about me?"

And that has always been the Big Question.

What about him?

The Price of Good Elder Care

2008-02-09T20:04:00.001-08:00

Has this occurred to any of you?

That the price of good elder care is prolonging lives way beyond natural expectation?

If I'd hired average in-home care for my narcissistic elderly adoptive father, chances are he'd be dead by now.

I'm sure of it.

But since he's in a top notch assisted living facility, his life has been saved numerous times.

Today he almost died.

He almost died a couple weeks ago.

He has Lewy Body dementia and has trouble swallowing. He nearly choked to death. Once on soup. Today on bread.

It was a terrifying experience for him. He said, "Oh God, this isn't how I want to go. I want to die in my sleep!"

The nurses saved him by doing to the Heimlich. Twice now. If he'd stayed home, even with help, he would have been dead by now. By forcing him into a high quality assisted living facility I not only did the right and moral thing, I've prolonged his life. Beyond it's natural limits. He's miserable. And so am I. This is one of the unintended consequences of the top notch assisted living facility.

Validation

2008-02-08T08:43:00.001-08:00

Not every blog reader has time to read through the comments.

Once in a while, (often, actually) someone leaves a comment that is especially insightful or meaningful and I think, gee, I hope everybody reads that.

So I decided to copy and paste this comment - written by Anonymous Bob - and share it with you. (I hope he doesn't mind).

We were talking about what an enormous difference it makes when the adult child of a narcissist finally gets third party confirmation that their parent is impossible.

"Yes! Because when somebody validates the truth about our situation, about our parents or our history, a truth we may have felt but a truth that we couldn't understand or admit intellectually because we were busy trying to adapt and conform to survive there will be a release of the tension between our feelings and thoughts because finally our intellectual understanding and our feelings are at least a step closer to being in sync!

I'm starting to think that this may be the most important thing in healing from having narcissistic parents. Maybe we can't change our parents but we can finally find the truth about how things were - we can have our experiences and our feelings validated."

(emphasis mine)

A Doctor Gives Advice

2008-02-04T08:16:00.000-08:00

At one point, my (adoptive) childlike, narcissistic father became so difficult, that I decided to take matters into my own hands and find a geriatric specialist. We needed help.

The question? Should I allow Adad to continue living in his own home as he insisted, despite the ominous warning signs of a failing memory, repeated falls, a dirty house and near empty refrigerator? Adad refused even part-time help of a housekeeper or someone to check up on him. (I live 400 miles away). The neighbors were getting pretty fed up. He kept calling them for help, the very same people he'd treated with disdain.

I flew in for the appointment with the geriatric specialist.

I was running a bit late, maybe five minutes. As I ran up the stairs, I could hear my father practically shouting. He was explaining, at top volume, that he was miserable and his bladder was out of control and he needed to be seen immediately. It didn't matter that there was a waiting room full of people. I saw people recoil. They held their magazines up close to their faces or acted engrossed in their children, hoping to avoid him. Adad had the look of a man casting about for a sympathetic ear. When he saw me, he didn't ask how my early morning flight was or if I had time to eat, he immediately launched into his own tale of woe.

After the appointment, I was to meet with the geriatric specialist only once.

His advice?

Find an assisted living facility for Adad. Immediately. He was no longer able to live alone safely. He was showing signs of Lewy Body dementia, a disease that affects the frontal lobes (and impairs judgment). He strongly advised me not to attempt to hire caretakers. A single caretaker, he warned me, wouldn't last a day with my father. Adad was a lethal combination of neediness and rudeness, he observed, and I'd spend all my time replacing caretakers.

"People like him," said the doctor grimly, "are at much greater risk for elder abuse. Better spread around the joy, if you get what I mean. People who work at an assisted living facility or nursing home are trained to deal with difficult personalities and it won't be just one person caring for him, it will be many, so he won't burn them out as fast."

The doctor then went on to express his concern (annoyance) that my father hadn't answered any of his questions because he talked nonstop. "Was he always like this?" he asked.

"All his life," I said.

"So that's not the dementia? He always goes on and on like that? It's like he wasn't hearing me at all."

"Yes," I said. "I'm 43 and I've never finished a single sentence in my life."

He shook his head. In wonder or disgust I'm not too sure.

I was filled with joy. This was my first outside confirmation that Adad was not just a difficult person, but a nearly impossible one. I wasn't crazy! I wasn't selfish! I wasn't to blame for not loving this man who had adopted me! The doctor, a geriatric specialist, clearly loathed my father after a twenty minute appointment! The dislike was right there on his face to see. What he did not understand was that Adad was and is a childlike, narcissist.

Not even this geriatric specialist would put up with Adad. He dropped him as a patient.

Luckily, Adad has become less offensive as his dementia has progressed, but I've noticed the new doctor spends the bare minimum of time with him. Finding good care for the aging narcissist is a real challenge.

The Aging Narcissist Dilemma

2008-01-31T08:38:00.001-08:00

What do we owe our parents when they grow old and need help?

How much of our time and energy and money should we expend on their behalf?

Do we sacrifice our own retirement savings? Compromise our children's college funds? Do we work less, bank less in order to save money on such places as costly assisted living facilities?

Some parents did a better job than others saving money or planning for the future. But even these wise parents could not have predicted they'd live so long or need so much daily assistance. To those who need but can't afford institutional help, the task and responsibility may then fall to their adult children. That "help" can quickly become an unmanageable burden on the only adult child.

This is a dilemma that more and more of us will face.

The U.S. Census Department has some alarming stats on our elderly (65 and over) population.

--The rate of growth of the elderly population has greatly exceeded the growth rate of the country as a whole;
--the number of persons 65 and over would more than double by the middle of the next century to 80 million;
--the oldest old (85 and older) are a small but rapidly growing group and are projected to be the fastest growing segment of the elderly population (from 1964 to 1994, this group increased 274 percent)

This is obvious, but the U.S. Census Dept. also points out that the need for personal assistance with daily activities increases with age.

If you enjoyed a loving, warm relationship with your aging parent, this is still tough stuff. You have a marriage, children, a mortgage, a career or...you worked hard all your life and was looking forward to some time off. Instead of gardening or traveling, you find yourself sticking close to home to care for your aging parent.

But if you are the adult child of a narcissistic parent? A parent who emotionally neglected you? A parent who may have been emotionally abusive? A parent you can't stand to be in the same room with? A parent who barks orders and gets nasty the second they don't get their way? A parent, who in fine health, needed to be the constant center of attention? A parent who sucks all your energy and leaves you none for yourself?

This is what I'm worried about, folks.

With all those rapidly aging parents out there, a fair number of them are narcissists.

But societal expectations of elder care do not take this into account. It is assumed that the parent fed, clothed, loved, supported and nurtured the child. It does not easily admit that some parents were simply incapable of parenting a child. It does not account for the fact that some people have spent their entire lives parenting their parents and now that the parent is old, the child has grown up and is worn out and fed up.

I suspect many adult children of narcissists "wake up" or get a clue when they approach or hit middle age. Right around the same time their narcissistic parent begins showing signs of needing help.

Only WE know just how bad things were in our own homes. Only WE know how we were neglected.

Yet just try telling someone, even a good friend, that you aren't willing to sacrifice yourself to your aging self-centered parent by changing adult diapers or giving them a shower. Go ahead. See what happens. You are likely to get a stern reminder that your parent fed you when you were little and changed YOUR diapers and did the best they could, making you feel like the world's biggest asshole.

If you write to a newspaper columnist and try explaining your dilemma in hopes of finding support, forget it. You're in for a smackdown. You are more likely to be told you are an irresponsible, ungrateful jerk.

People who do not have a narcissistic parent don't get it. They have no idea what we're talking about. Don't look to them for any kind of support and advice. Don't even waste your breath trying to explain. They simply can't fathom the lifelong pain and loss of having a parent who couldn't see or acknowledge you. They can't understand the suffocating/smothering feeling you get when you are in contact with your narcissistic parent. They can't understand that just a casual encounter with such a parent can leave you churned up, for days. They can't fathom the toxicity of a narcissistic parent.

My advice?

Look inward. Do what you can. You can still act morally, while protecting yourself. Take responsibility if you must and can't avoid it, but outsource their care if that's an option. Don't do it to yourself. Don't even try. Don't feel guilty. Or try not to.

In my next post, I'll share some great advice I got from a geriatric specialist who spent some time with my Dad.

Until then, take care of yourself.

Narcissistic Parent & Failing Health

2008-01-28T08:37:00.000-08:00

One of the challenges of having an aging narcissitic parent is trying to figure out if they are just becoming more self-centered or showing signs of dementia.

Only time will tell. But that time will be hell.

It all began about four years ago.

My childlike narcissistic father, then 77, was suffering from bladder incontinence. The doctor tried various pills, but none worked. Ndad found out about the surgery called a, "rotorooter," and demanded it, against doctor's advice. I flew down for the consultation. The doctor explained that it probably wouldn't work and that at ndad's age and condition, the risk of complications were too great.

Ndad would not listen. He wanted that surgery and was threatening to schedule it. Since we live 400 miles apart and ndad is completely alone, I offered to arrange the surgery near me, so that he could stay with me afterward as he'd be too weak to stay by himself. (Having two kids, a husband, a house, a big dog and part-time work to also take care of.) This he refused. It wasn't convenient for him. He wanted to stay in the comfort of his own home. I then offered to arrange for homecare. This he also refused. I BEGGED him not to have the surgery. I WARNED him repeatedly that it was too dangerous. Finally, he dropped the subject.

After years of saving for a nice vacation, our little family finally was about to have one. A beach vacation that we were looking forward to, especially my husband who works like a dog. I gave ndad the exact dates of our vacation months in advance. Of course, he secretly scheduled his elective surgery for two days before we were set to leave.

While packing, I get a phone call from paramedics. Ndad had a complication and was being rushed to the hospital. I flew down. He was released the next day, but would not be allowed to stay alone. Much scrambling to find a good convalescent hospital. Once there, he told everybody he met that he'd be all alone because his only child was jetting off when he was so sick. I could have killed him. (This from the man who left me in the hospital by myself when I was ten).

My vacation had been ruined. I was practically sick with guilt and the stress of making last minute arrangements. When we got back, ndad had left dozens of frantic messages on our home phone, crying, saying he couldn't stand the convalascent hospital and demanding to be taken out immediately. I got off one plane and hopped on another. The nurse there told me he'd threatened to kill himself and had to be put on meds. Some people took me aside and scolded me for heartlessly leaving him alone to suffer.

Of course, ndad blamed me for everything. For the complication of his surgery. For forcing him into the convalscent hospital. For not taking care of him myself. For being selfish and screwing everything up. For selecting the surgeon who'd botched his surgery. He took no responsibility for anything.

Now this wasn't unusual. It was consistent with past behavior. When I went away to college, I got the blame for sending him to the emergency room because I'd made him upset and nervous. But it was different. It was....worse. It was the beginning of Lewy Body Dementia, a disease of the frontal lobes that impacts judgment. An almost ironic affliction. A man with little judgment can ill afford to lose the tiny bit he has.

Oh, and the surgery? It didn't work at all.

After a lifetime of dealing with ndad's strange and difficult behavior, things were about to get even worse.

The Mother Who Was Not There

2008-01-24T08:45:00.000-08:00

A middle-aged friend is suddenly having trouble with her aging mother.

Until recently, her mother was a very sweet and generous woman. When my friend has a problem with one of her teenagers or her husband, she drives over to her mother's assisted living facility and talks to her. Her mother, who has no dementia, listens carefully and not only gives great advice, but is very comforting and reassuring.

My friend is annoyed because her mother, now 85, is becoming difficult and more self-centered. The roles are reversing. She now has to listen to her mother complain. She must now reassure her mother. And it's driving her absolutely crazy. She resents the hell out of the fact that she is no longer being treated like the child. Her needs are not being met by her mother. My friend is at loose ends.

I told my friend she is grieving the loss of the mother-daughter relationship.

Later, it occurred to me that I NEVER had that relationship EVER. As an adopted "child," I had two mothers, but none. I had plenty of sympathy for my friend, but little for me.

We adult children of narcissists have to give ourselves a break. A big, fat break. We grew up without any emotional support and ended up not only alone, but dragging around heavy chains of guilt.

Narcissists Say the Damndest Things

2008-01-20T13:41:00.000-08:00

The other day, my (adoptive) narcissistic father called Martin Luther King, "a nobody."

I didn't bother to ask him why he thought this about the Baptist preacher, who was recently called a "universal role model" by Nicolas Sarkozy. I really didn't want to know. I could guess, but it's a big, fat waste of time and energy.

The point is, my father has said this sort of thing for as long as I can remember. That so and so is "a nobody," usually men who've somehow overcome adversity of some sort, like being a minority or poor.

My father really had it in for my first boyfriend's father. He too was Mexican, born poor and raised in East L.A. But he'd graduated from high school and had gone to college and had the audacity to become a lawyer. My father was extremely offended that this man had a bigger house and a nicer car (a blue Ford L.T.D.), but what really pushed my father over the edge, however, was that this man was quiet, dignified and reserved. "Who does he think he is, anyway?" my father would rage. "He thinks he's hot shit. But he's a nobody!"

I would gladly have exchanged my childlike father for my boyfriend's father in a heartbeat. In fact, I suspect I dated certain guys because I coveted their fathers, who seemed like men.

My father doesn't say this so much now that he's in an assisted living facility, but when he called King "a nobody," it reminded me of how much he used to say it. And how much I hated it growing up. It was a reminder that something was wrong with my father. That he wasn't like other dads. That he was more like a young teenager having a jealous fit than a grown-up. It made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. It made me seethe with resentment. My father caused me endless, excruciating embarrassment. It made me hate him.

The Other Narcissists in Your Life

2008-01-18T21:09:00.000-08:00

Once you come to terms (as best you can) with the narcissistic parent in your life, you begin to examine the other relationships in your life. With a more critical eye. If you've been trained to meet the needs of a self-centered parent, chances are, you have at least one other narcissist in your life. If you're lucky, your past life. Maybe an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend. Ex-husband?

Over the last week, I've realized that a friend I made seven years ago is very self-centered. She does most of the talking. I listen. I offer endless empathy and support. She hops from one drama to another. What she does offer is intelligent conversation and occasional support. But this relationship is way, way out of balance.

I'm struggling with how sad and pathetic this is. That this kind of one-sided relationship seemed so normal. Now it just feels so wrong.

Narcissism and Dementia #1

2008-01-17T07:39:00.000-08:00

When you have a narcissistic parent, it's even harder to figure out if they are developing dementia.

Are they just being self-centered? Again? Or is their latest behavior something more ominous?

My self-centered adoptive mother was always moody. Occasionally, she'd take against people and never talk to them again. Then my cousin called to complain, bitterly, that my mother was acting strange and had stopped speaking to her, for no reason she could understand. A part of me wanted to say, "Welcome to the club," because my mother had used cold, punishing silences on me all my life. But I didn't. Back then, I was still protecting my mom's image as a devoted, loving adoptive mother. A year later, after many other signs and symptoms, my mother would be diagnosed with Alzheimers.

Then there was my adoptive father. Of the two, he was the more peculiar. Childlike in his constant need for attention. A loner. A hard worker, who never hung around with the other blue collar guys because, I suspected, they couldn't stand his endless chatter and his negativity. My father could never just hang.

With him, everything was a drama. Trips to the dentist, a shot at the doctor's office, an exam at the Department of Motor Vehicles, Open House at school. These weren't just ordinary things. They were things that happened only to him. Routine procedures hurt more. The lines at the DMV were longer. Open House was held at night and he had to go to work the next day. You get the point.

Then here comes the confusing part. My childlike narcissist father, overall, was a highly responsible person is some areas, pathetic in others. For example, he lived frugally and saved money. He paid his bills before they were due. He bought life insurance and prepaid his funeral expenses, even picking his own casket and music. He gave me Power of Attorney when the time came. Arguably, these were all things done for himself.

But then there are all those messes I had to clean up because he constantly did (or failed to do) things that impacted others. This list would be very long, so I'll just give one example.

He brought my mother to visit a week after I had my second daughter. My mother had Alzheimers by then, but I didn't know that (we lived states apart). My mother was behaving oddly. Remote. Detached. She was useless. Dad insisted nothing was wrong. With two children under two, I had to cook and clean and tend the kids while taking care of both parents. Then Dad went off with my husband for the day (I asked my husband to get Dad out of my hair, his chatter was driving me nuts) and I was left alone with my mother and the babies. My mother went crazy. So I chased her down the street and called 911. Later, Dad admitted mom had Alzheimers, but said he didn't want to tell me or cancel the visit because he'd been looking forward to a break. It never occurred to him that I had just had a baby and was exhausted myself. That I could have used a break and help after a scary pregnancy fraught with complications.

That was typical, narcissistic behavior. My friends were shocked. They couldn't believe a parent would act this way. When they had their babies and their parents visited, they were treated like queens. At the time, I didn't even know enough to be angry or resentful. That was just the way it was. I do remember being unhappy, stressed and highly agitated, although I couldn't have said why.

But then there may come a time when your narcissistic parent begins to act in a way that is causing even more problems....

(to be continued)

The Lower Class Narcissist

2008-01-12T21:31:00.000-08:00

One of the things that confused me, at first, about who is a narcissist and who is not actually had to do with socioeconomic class.

I believed that a narcissist had to be smart or at least have money. That it was a problem associated with the educated and well-to-do. People who ran companies or sold millions of albums or acted or who were like those deranged, misguided, brilliant twins in the movie, Dead Ringers. But the criteria that seemed necessary was intelligence. I don't know where I got this idea.

My adoptive family is second generation Mexican-American. My adoptive parents didn't finish high school. They may have got through the 10th or 11th grade. They didn't read books. Ever. They were suspicious of higher education and mocked my plans for college. They lacked intellectual curiosity. Their conversation was very limited. Looking back on it, it almost seems like they weren't capable of abstract thought. It's hard to explain. But they didn't talk about ideas or make connections between past and present. They didn't say, "Oh, I read this today and it reminded me of..."

My adoptive Dad acted like he got stuck at the age of 14/15. My adoptive Mom around, maybe, 18.

They were ignorant. And poorish. And yes, self-centered. They both had in common childhood trauma.

My adoptive Dad was very childlike in his need for constant attention. He was, and is, totally oblivious of the effect he has on others. He does not see others recoil. He seems to lack self-awareness. When he's rude and offensive, as he often is, he blames others for being too sensitive.

My husband, a white guy, used to think my Dad's behavior was cultural. That the fact that he did all the talking and I did the listening was rooted in our Mexican culture. Then I explained that my friend's parents didn't act like that. They listened to their kids. Made them the center of attention.

Then I started reading about narcissistic parents. And read what other adult children of narcissists had to say. And it just sort of jumped out at me that many of these parents were just average people. That not all narcissists act grandiose or think they are the most beautiful or talented person in the room. It's about the attention they need and the fact that they were unable to meet the emotional needs of their children. That somehow, everything got screwed up and the roles got reversed.

While parents can be poor and undereducated, they can also be emotionally available and supportive. My adoptive aunt, for example. She never graduated high school and my uncle was a blue collar worker, too. But she was warm and wise and listened and was so acknowledging. She was a very empathetic woman.

Empathy. The lack of it is devastating to a child. Of any socioeconomic class. Narcissistic parents may say they care, and they probably do in their own way, but all the child (or adult child) can feel is the parent's inavailability. The inability to SEE them, HEAR them. The child wanders around like a ghost. Invisible. I read an article Elise linked to about voicelessness. I'd never thought of it that way. But that's exactly what happens. The narcissistic parent is so big, so demanding, so all consuming and, in my dad's case, so talkative...that the child is not able to express herself as she is. Only a part of her is accepted. The part that the parent needs. That's where the training comes in. The child is trained to listen or to give comfort or admiration.

Naricissistic parents may differ. A lot. But it's not just an affliction of the upper classes.

Hello

2008-01-11T10:06:00.000-08:00

Yes, that's me. Off to the right there, looking absolutely miserable.

Those are my adoptive parents.

My amom was controlling and domineering and self-centered. She made me pretend I was biologically hers because she, "didn't like to think of me that way." Meaning adopted.

Then there's my adad. Phew. Basket case. Diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder in his seventies after a lifetime of being a childlike loner. Emphasis on childlike. He needs constant attention. He talks constantly. I am 47 and I've never, ever managed to complete a full sentence in "conversation" with my adad in my life. This is not an exaggeration.

I was about ten in that picture. It was taken at an amusement park. It was one of the few times I got to go. My amom was a party girl and thought doing stuff like that was incredibly boring. The only time I got to go to Disneyland, we had to go home early because adad got sick on a ride. Then blamed me.

If I knew what I was in for later in life with those two, I might have thrown myself off the rollercoaster.

My amom used cold, punishing silences to get me to do what she wanted. These silences could go on for weeks. Once, for several years. She stopped talking to me when I went away to college because I'd left her. When I'd call and try to tell her about my thrilling new experiences, she'd say, "Uh uh, uh uh. Isn't that nice for you." Then she'd hand the phone to adad who would immediately interrupt and tell me all about himself.

Then amom developed Alzheimers. I managed her care for almost ten years, while trying to manage my childlike adad and caring for my two little girls.

Soon after she died, adad developed Lewy Body dementia. I am now managing his care, after forcing him into an assisted living facility.

I am entering my 16th year as the caretaker of parents with dementia. Some good news and bad news. Alzheimers turned my strong, cold amom into a compliant, soft-spoken one. The frontal lobe dementia called Lewy Bodies has made adad's narcissism even worse.

You'd think I would have figured out this whole narcissism thing decades ago.

But I didn't.

I've just figured it out within the last year or so, sort of by accident. On the way out of my adoption fog. I've chronicled that journey at www.adopteejournal-nina.blogspot.com.

I decided to start this blog because most of the people visiting did so after Googling, "narcissistic parent" or "narcissistic elderly parent" or some other variation.

If you stop by, please leave a comment. No need to apologize if it's long. I don't mind. I read and learn from them all, even if I sometimes run out of time and don't reply personally to every one.