The Grief of Acceptance

     Today a person in my primary support group reached out in an effort to identify why she was feeling so much sadness and low worth.  She has been on no contact status with her abusive mother for four weeks now, and this is the third time doing it over the past several years.  Resuming contact in the past was in hopes that things would be better, and she is realizing that that hope has been in vain.  The first time she cut off contact, she grieved the loss of a mother.  The second time, she claimed her identity as a person. This time she felt a deep sadness whose origins she was having difficulty identifying.

     There are so many layers of grief that come with this territory of saying "No more!" and letting go.  As I was reading comments from other members reassuring her that what she is going through is normal and part of the process, it occurred to me that another aspect to the grief that she is feeling this time might have something to do with finality--an acceptance on her part that her mother is not going to change.  I think there is a sense of hope that we as survivors instilled in ourselves from a young age that things COULD change.  For me that hope stemmed from a basic belief that all people are essentially good, and thinking that if I could only get it right then I could have the carrot my mother was always dangling in front of me but never really allowing me to have (her acceptance).  It was also part of how I survived--it was too frightening to consider as a child that my mom was that dangerous and that that's just how it was.  Feeling that it was my fault and that I could therefore fix what was wrong felt much safer, although it was terrible for my self-esteem.  Realizing that what was  essentially wrong had nothing to do with me but was her stuff has been freeing, but has also brought grief as I've worked on accepting that it's not fixable.  It is a harsh reality to accept that you really never had a mother in the sense of what a mother is supposed to be.  It is hard to accept that you were really never loved because this person simply does not love--her overriding emotion is a need to feel superior to everyone else, her own children included.  Because of this we never received the true love and nurturing that a child is supposed to be able to receive.  Grieving that loss is huge, and acceptance that it will never be what you always held out hope for brings another layer of grief.

     I'm learning to sit with grief and sadness when it comes up.  I'm trying to do that without distracting myself through food, shopping or keeping myself ridiculously busy.  I'm trying to learn to allow myself to just "be."  Doing this isn't easy, but when I have done it I have learned a lot about myself and gained better understanding and insight to myself as a person.  I've been able to make sense of why I feel the way I do about certain things or why I have certain behaviors or responses.  And those things in turn have helped me to grow as a person.  I have so much less fear and anxiety than I had even six months ago and it feels really good.

Circus? No Thanks

     I have a LOT that I need to catch up on, but today I'm going to do a couple of posts concerning conversations that happened today.

     One thing I am really happy about in regards to my healing is how much stronger my boundaries have become.  As a child of a narcissist, I was taught that I had no rights and that anything I wanted or needed were secondary to what my mother's wants and desires were.  This extended past her and to everyone around me, through the ways that she defined my role in the family.  Often I was given the message that I was selfish if I didn't give younger siblings what they wanted, even to the extent that my privacy was invaded. Some of my siblings, and one in particular was a "master mind" at this, caught on to the game so well that they learned to manipulate situations in such a way that they got away with things and managed to get me in trouble in the process.  If I would try to defend myself I was chastised because they were younger than me, and how dare I pick on the younger kids like that?

     As I matured I tended to gravitate to friends who were either "friends," meaning that they were controlling and took advantage of me, or to kids who were shunned by my peers.  I felt sorry for the latter and wanted to be kind, but I think that in a way I also felt more comfortable.  I was in a little bit better of a place than they were and they weren't as difficult to interact with as the majority of the kids.  With the kids who tended to take advantage of me, I can see where having a parent who treated me the way she did conditioned me to gravitate to those kinds of kids and yearn to be accepted by them.  When you have a parent who dangles acceptance like carrot in front of you constantly, that becomes normal to you and so it becomes a familiar thing that you are drawn to outside of the home.  For the longest time I couldn't figure out why as I've gone through life I've always managed to find myself in the position of either being used for what someone could get out of me or often feeling like a "third wheel" and being overlooked.  As I have learned more about narcissism and narcissistic abuse, it has helped me to understand that dynamic.

The more I have pulled back from interacting with my mother, the stronger my boundaries have become. I've spent quite a bit more time alone over this past year, outside of my own husband and children, as I've become unwilling to put myself in situations where I am used.  It's been very interesting to see the people who have naturally dropped out of my life because I am no longer the girl who says yes to everything and is so desperate for approval.  In some instances it has been hurtful, but it has also been gratifying to me to realize that I recognize characteristics in people now whom I would be better off staying away from.  I've realized that the relationships that have dropped out of my life really weren't worth having in the first place.  I would rather have a small, genuine group of people around me than a large number of people who are insincere and only have their own interests at heart.

     Every now and then I almost get pulled into thinking that a small interaction with my mother is safe, and every time I do I end up sorry.  I'm no longer having the violent physiological reactions to the things that do occur, and I'm so thankful for that.  But it always puts me in some kind of compromising situation, and I'm just better off not going there.

     Today I saw a quote that really grabbed my attention.  I think the context it was given in was intended to be different than how it struck me, but WOW!!!  It was powerful in the way I saw it:

"Entertain a clown, become part of the circus."

     
I'm going to copy this and put it on my refrigerator and/or make some kind of art project out of it to hang somewhere (hello, tole painting--we really need to become acquainted again).  It really says it all when you put it in the context of what the consequences are of engaging a narcissist.  No matter how good and pure your intentions and no matter how well-behaved you are, you will become part of their circus.  And I'm much happier not being a part of the show.

Evidences of Healing

     I probably should have updated the blog here a lot sooner than now, especially with what a downer my last post was.  I didn't realize until a couple of months ago that I had gone so long without posting and have meant to update, but time has gotten away from me.

     I have seen a lot of progress since I last posted, and to start things off I want to share a couple of things that I shared in a support group back in April.  The things I posted about had actually happened a couple of months earlier, so happened right after that last blog post.  After that it has seemed that my healing process has sped up in so many ways, and there are good things happening.

     First I started noticing that I was handling certain situations better than I would have in the past, or that things that once freaked me out weren't doing that anymore.  Then I noticed that where boundaries are concerned, I wasn't having to overthink how to respond in certain situations; I was just automatically responding in healthier ways.  This told me that the things I've been learning and working on had become more integrated.  It has been a cool feeling after the fact to be able to say, "Wow, I handled that really well," and as time has gone on there has been less of a physiological response.  At first, "handling it well" was eliciting kind of a panic letdown response.

     Right around this time I had two things happen in rapid succession that blew my own mind. LOL  The first happened when I went back to an exercise club after avoiding going for quite awhile because my mother goes there and 1)  I didn't want to run into her and 2) I didn't want to deal with question like, "How is your mom doing?"  I finally decided I needed to quit shooting myself in the foot and went back during a time I knew she wouldn't  be there.  As I was signing in the owner said it was good to see me, and then asked how my daughter is (in regards to the health challenges she has been dealing with).  Then she said, "I've been keeping up that way because your mom keeps me updated."  Before I knew what was happening I said, "Huh, that is so weird because she doesn't even speak to me."  She got a little bit of a startled look on her face then leaned forward and with a lowered voice said, "Well, sometimes your mom has kind of an attitude."  I said, "Actually, she has an attitude all. the. time."  And you know what?  I had an awesome workout and I now have a much more comfortable relationship with the owner than I ever have before.  I realized after that incident that I while I do need to use wise judgment as far as how much to say, when and to whom, I don't have to live in fear of every single person on the planet judging me if I don't keep up my mother's fake little facade.  The owner has been so much more relaxed and congenial with me; I don't know if it's just that my manner has changed and I came across as a lot more "Leave me alone," than I realized before, or if it has more to do with her own personal experiences in dealing with my mother.  I suspect a combination of both.  Anyway, it felt awesome to just call it like it was and not go along with the statement about my mom keeping her updated, because anything she would be saying would be her making stuff up or telling what she might have heard through someone besides me.  I am so done with that crap.

     About two days later I was in the Walmart parking lot getting ready to leave.  This lady parked next to me and slammed into the passenger side of my van when she opened her door and was about to go on her way without even checking for damage.  I was kind of stunned but then rolled my window down and said, "Excuse me, did you just hit my van/'  She stopped and said, "Yes ma'am, just a little bit."  I said, "Is there a dent in it?" and she then checked and said no.  Then I asked her if she would have checked it if I hadn't said anything and she said, "Yes, ma'am."  I then said, "Okay then," and rolled my window back up.  And then I was like, "What did I just do???"  Once upon a time I would have just let her go on her way and then been upset for the rest of the night.  Totally did not see that coming!!!

     Besides these events being huge in and of themselves, what really stunned me was how automatic and spontaneous my responses were.  They were instant and the thought process was completely in the moment.  That told me right away that I was making a lot of progress internally.

     I have more to write about, but that seemed like a good way to get back on here and say howdy. :)

Who Am I, Anyway???

    I have really been struggling with depression lately.  There are a lot of factors playing into it and I know this is just part of the process.  Lately I have just felt so despondent and like things are never going to get better.

    I am still working through spiritual abuse issues, and expect that this will be an ongoing process.  As I mentioned in this post a little bit back, I am working through a book called The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse. I have to take it in chunks because so much resonates with me; I can't plow through it.  I will probably go back and read it a second time after I am done with it, keeping a notebook with me to write down thoughts as they occur to me as I'm reading.  I'm amazed at how the authors nail on the head so many of the feelings and internal struggles I have had all of my life, including conflicting feelings about God and feeling so much guilt over having those feelings that I have felt paralyzed and that I needed to up my outer performance in order to be in good graces with Him.

    As different things have come to my mind regarding my parents' treatment of me, I've realized how often my dad really was very unkind to me.  Some of the things he would say to me were really mean and things that I don't believe any father should ever say to a daughter.  For a long time I've seen my dad as the "Good Parent" because my mother is the one I had to deal with most of the time.  My dad had a fun sense of humor and I think he meant well in a lot of ways, but the more I learn about abusive family systems it is so plain to me that he was a classic enabler as far as my mom was concerned.  I turned to him so many times in tears, wanting him to help me and protect me, and he usually just backed her up and I would get a lecture on what I had done to deserve the treatment I got (based on what she would tell him).  There were so many times that he made me responsible, through both reactions and things he would say to me, for his and my mothers' emotional well-being; like if they were unhappy it was my fault.  I guess I really had some nerve deciding to be born (maybe they should have used birth control awhile longer before deciding to become parents if having that responsibility was going to make them so miserable).  I wasn't celebrated; I was tolerated.

    I've been watching parts of the Winter Olympics, and love watching the figure skating.  I think it must be such an amazing feeling to have parents who are so supportive of your dreams and desires, and who encourage and believe in you.  One of the skaters I watched from Thursday, from Italy, is a former Olympic contender who almost didn't come back after some devastating losses from previous Games.  She decided to come back one last time at the urging of her mother, who told her to just skate for the joy of skating.  I didn't see the short programs but her long program was beautiful and an absolute triumph.  They showed her mother hugging her afterward saying, "Do you see?  Do you believe now?"  What an amazing feeling that must be!

    Something I am feeling so keenly is grief over what might have been.  How different could my life have been if I was adored and encouraged, instead of torn down and humiliated on a regular basis? What if I had been born to parents who weren't so injured themselves that they would have nurtured my self esteem instead of screaming at me that they couldn't understand why my self-esteem was so low?  What if my feelings had been validated and I would have been listened to when I was hurting?  What if I hadn't had to fight to make every single opportunity for myself that I got? What if I had felt God as a loving, empowering force to joyfully embrace instead of this supreme, angry being to be feared any time I made a mistake?  What if I could have been free to just discover myself without all of the constraints and fears that were drilled into me, and could have been allowed to be the joyful little being that I naturally was instead of being seen as someone who needed to be broken?  What if I hadn't dealt with so much trauma that I wasn't constantly walking around in a daydreamy haze and could have actually comprehended the things going on around me and interacted in a normal way with my peers? At my age (I am 47), I am feeling like all the pieces that are coming together are too little, too late.

    In a lot of ways, I feel very lost.  I don't really know who I am. I'm realizing with more and more clarity that almost everything that I involved myself in, including talents/abilities I cultivated, I did in an effort to be accepted and to fit in somewhere.  I'm not sure I even really know what my true nature is because I had to use adaptive behaviors to survive by the time I was three years old.  I had to gauge situations for volatility and then chose behaviors that would serve my well-being in the best way, and many times what I chose was extreme opposites:  either super-perform for oohs and ahs and applause, or to try and be invisible.  The way I latched on to religion was a way to be a "good girl" and not get into trouble, and since there were nice teachers there who liked me for being well-behaved in class and knowing all the answers, that was somewhere that I sought approval from.  Now that the scales are falling from my eyes and I'm looking at things as they really are and how they have truly fit into my life, I feel a kind of nothingness.  I don't know what defines me. The way I am chaffing at the bit as far as church goes is getting me increased isolation as well, because this is not desirable behavior in a church member.  If I were to freely speak my mind to other church members whom I have considered to be my friends, they wouldn't want anything to do with me because I would be considered to be falling into forbidden paths that lead to "apostacy," and therefore a bad influence. So really, if I were being outwardly truthful about how I am feeling, I would probably lose most of the friendships I have.

Intuition/Feelings of Warning vs. Plain Old Worry

    One of the things that has been baffling for me to distinguish has been identifying whether I'm getting true intuition/guidance from higher power or just being a paranoid worrywart when I get a feeling of warning about something.  Usually my gut feelings are pretty much right on, but I have had a few times where I've absolutely been wrong (at least from anything I've been able to determine from what is visible).

    In my last post I referred to an incident of "mom-worry."  This happened several weeks ago.  I wasn't sure what to make of it afterward.  I had a hard time trusting my initial feelings of unease for a long time and would second-guess those feelings, which I know now put my children in harm's way (like letting my mom have access to them because of wanting to give her a chance to be a grandmother to them and have her be a significant part of their lives) more than once.  My counselor explained to me that your body is designed to let you know when there is danger, but when you are abused you learn to not trust that and it gets screwed up.  I can totally see where it first got messed up because of my mom's games and cruelty; it was further damaged by various kinds of abuse from other people, as well, when I was young.  For most of my life I heard, "You're so suspicious/paranoid/over-reactive," so as an adult when I've had those feelings my first inclination, if not impulsively freaking out unnecessarily, I've second-guessed by telling myself I'm just being a worry-wart.

    With the incident that happened several weeks ago, I turned out to be wrong.  The conclusions I drew were really scary and when I acted on the push I felt to go and check on the person I couldn't find them and it made things worse for me internally.  I had the biggest adrenaline surge and truly thought there was an assault going on; even after eating I felt like my blood sugar was low.  I had not had this drastic of a response in a really long time; after the fact it reminded me of another time just before my daughter's 3rd grade year when I thought I was prompted about something where I think it turned out that I was wrong.  I have felt completely lost on how to distinguish when that is going on versus when action is called for.

    I asked for suggestions on this and got a lot of good responses. Collectively it was generally agreed that it's better to act on those feelings when they come than to ignore them; better safe than sorry.  Most of the time there is probably a reason you are feeling that way, and better to not beat yourself up for the times when you are wrong.  One of the members said that when she has total peace about something then she knows it is her true intuition, the whisper from her Higher Power whom she chooses to call God, that is working in and through her.  When she has anxiety, doubt, fear, feeling of unrest then she knows it's her PTSD.  A lot of the other posters agreed with her.  I remember the first time many years ago when I started to realize that maybe I was having far more fear responses than "promptings" that something was wrong or not to do something when I was sitting in church one day and during one of the lessons they said that fear is never of the Spirit.

    Still working through this, and it will probably take me quite awhile to get it right.  It's hard to wrap my head around how getting a prompting regarding someone being in danger, etc. wouldn't involve a feeling of fear or similar negative feeling, because in those instances something is wrong.  I can't see how that would involve a feeling of peace.  Added to the mix for me is the fact that I really never felt a sense of everything being okay as I was growing up because there was so much emotional upheaval on an ongoing basis.  I was always stepping on eggshells; if I didn't tread carefully I was in for it.  So it is really hard to not view the world around me with anxiety, some amount of fear and distrust, etc.

    If you feel so inclined, I would love comments about this (and any other post).  I think this is an area of common difficulty among those of us who deal with PTSD, and it would be great to have additional thoughts and insights so that we can all learn from each other.  So if you feel so inclined, feel free to chime in on comments (this is always welcome on any post, so long as comments are respectful).

Helpful Remedy For the "After" of a Panic Attack

    I meant to post this some time ago.  I asked for help with managing adrenal letdown several weeks ago after an incident of mom-worry that ended up not being what I thought it was, but the conclusions I was drawing in my head were so frightening that I had a LOT of adrenaline pumping.  The adrenaline letdown I had after that was a doozy.  Even several hours later, after eating, resting, drinking water, etc. I was so lightheaded and had the hardest time focusing on anything.  The altered focus, etc. was still evident a few days later, and I was so fatigued.  This is one of the things that led to me going back on medication, which I talked about in this post.

    Any way, the suggestion given to me was to take an epsom salt bath  with 4-6 cups salts (I misread and have used 2 cups salts and this has been beneficial) in the hottest water you can stand.  Soak for at least 30 minutes.  This is a proven way to increase cellular magnesium as well as sulfate--both of which neutralize and then detoxify the adrenaline.  Take a glass of water in there with you and be sure to hydrate.  She recommended soaking for 45 minutes before bed, which helps you to sleep well despite the earlier stress response.

    I haven't done it with the larger amount of salts, but I find that I am taking epsom salts baths at least 3 times per week lately.  It's become almost an auto-pilot response to feeling anxiety lately LOL. I also add about 5 drops of essential oil into the bath; I love rose oil an have also used lavender, lemon and sweet marjoram (separately).  It's amazing how much better I feel just being in the water, apart from adding anything else to it. I've noticed this whenever I get into a swimming pool--I feel my whole body relax. Don't know if that's because I'm a scorpio or what, but I'm totally a water baby.

Onions, Juggling Balls and Exposed Wires

    I was just glancing at the subtitle under the name of my blog here, where it says, "Working Each Day Toward Wholeness."  It seems a little ironic for how crappy I'm feeling today, but I'm also reminded of a time in my life several years ago that was very dark, and how I realized that progress can look very different from day to day, and that applies to what our best is, as well.  My best effort on one day may look outwardly like I have a lot on the ball because of getting many "checklist tasks" done, finishing projects, having a full work schedule, etc. but yet another day my great accomplishment is that I'm vertical and moving.

    It's great to understand that and I'm glad I came to that realization that long ago, but the lack of consistency really frustrates me.  I am the kind of person who likes to be busy and out there, but I swear that most of my adulthood has been such a struggle that way.  When I was younger, especially during my college years, I was busy ALL THE TIME, often overextending myself and keeping too many balls in the air--and in a lot of ways I was great at it.  Now it feels like all my balls fell to the ground and occasionally I find one and am able to to toss it up and catch it for a bit before becoming so exhausted that I don't even have the energy to remember where I let it land when I'm done with it.

    Today my nerves are shot.  I haven't gotten a full night's sleep in about a week; I'm often getting to bed too late (even for me) and then only sleeping for about 6 hours.  When night comes I feel a compulsion to stay up, even if I am tired, and my anxiety level is pretty high.  During times like this I become fearful of driving, worry more about my family members' safety when they are out and about, etc.  This past month the anxiety has been worse than it has been in years, and when it rears up this way I feel immobilized.

    Honestly, in some ways it feels like I have regressed by 5 or 6 years.  I have to keep reminding myself that I am in a healing process and that it goes in layers, like peeling an onion (Shrek would agree with me).  You peel back one layer and work through the stuff you find underneath it, and then after a period of time it's pretty cleaned up and you feel better.  Then the next layer starts cracking with the stuff underneath it that needs to come out and you have to deal with that.  Fortunately, my experience has been that although it DOES NOT FEEL LIKE IT SOMETIMES, that next layer doesn't start cracking until your system knows you are strong enough to handle it.

    This spiritual abuse layer I'm working on is brutal and is really doing a number on me.  I was given the recommendation to read the book The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse by David Johnson and Jeff Van Vonderen and started it this past week.  It is excellent and I felt a lot of comfort when I started reading it, just in the introductory pages.  As I'm going through it, though, so much is resonating with me and a lot of stuff is coming up.  This is scary territory for me, given how intertwined in my upbringing religious tenets were.  I'm very much going against the grain by looking at this squarely and actually stating my feelings, so on some levels it feels like rebellion (which in and of itself is not allowable if you want to be a faithful person and be in favor with God).  Scary stuff. In some ways I feel like I don't even know who I really am and it's very disconcerting in a lot of ways.

    I was in the car driving home a little bit ago and reflected that I feel like the end of a set of coated wires where all the wires are exposed.  I feel like all my nerve endings are exposed and raw.  It's icky.  But I'm determined to see this process through, rather than go back into denial, stuff my feelings with food or start getting busy to distract myself.

An Explanation of Dissociation

    I just did a response on another site to a person who had questions about what dissociation is.  I'm pretty well versed in this, as I dissociated a LOT as a child (interpreted by adults as daydreaming at the time) and learning about this was important to my recovery efforts several years ago.  Since I put quite a bit of time into giving the information I thought I would reprint my response, along with some additions, here; I'm sure that I would have done a post on this at some point, anyway.

    Dissociation is a very common response when someone goes through trauma.  You almost always find this phenomenon in someone who goes through sexual abuse, but the abuse doesn't have to fall into that category to cause dissociation.  A person who dissociates originally does it while the trauma is happening because otherwise it is too painful and/or frightening, horrific, etc. to stay present in the moment.  It's a survival mechanism that enables the person to go on.  One reason it enables the person to go on is that it allows them to "forget" what happened.  Another word for this is compartmentalizing, and there are varying degrees of severity. Everyone dissociates to a degree--anyone who has missed an exit on the freeway, for example, because of their mind being somewhere else has dissociated and this is why they miss the exit. Another example is getting lost in a good movie.  These things would be on the bottom end of the spectrum.  On the most extreme end you have multiple personality disorder, where the person actually assigns identities to different functions and/or emotions, and these become sort of their own entities within the person because of the way the brain wired itself to do that.  In order to access the different functions they have to switch.

    Somewhere in the middle is probably where a lot of abuse survivors fit.  If you have repressed memories that are difficult to access, you probably dissociated and that is why you can't remember or only remember fragments.  I fit into this category. When I first realized that I dissociated I was so mad.  I told my therapist at the time, "I can't believe I did that; I am so stupid!" Because I could see where it played into my being so spacey growing up and it causing me other problems.  I was like, "I am an idiot for doing that."  My therapist said, "You are NOT stupid.  It takes an extremely intelligent and creative person to think of doing that.  The ones that don't dissociate from these experiences are the ones that end up insane or in prison.  It is a great tool for survival, but not so much for blossoming."  His point was that I did it because it was needed, and now we could work on retrieving and healing so that I could blossom more as a person.  It does stunt your development to an extent.

    The cool thing is that if you did dissociate, you can utilize some really cool tools in recovery that you can be really good at BECAUSE you have the ability to dissociate!

    When dissociation has happened to cope with abuse, it will also happen during recovery as your subconscious brings things up and your conscious mind tries to process and access.  Reminders of the time can trigger a dissociative  response, as well--the taste of something that you were eating or liked as a treat at the time, fragrances that were in the air, a person who resembles the abuser or coming into contact with the abuser him/herself, a photograph, etc.  It can feel very surreal.  There are things you can do to ground yourself--some examples are deep breathing, keeping a polished stone in your pocket that you can rub when you  feel yourself drifting and you need to stay present, etc. are examples of things you can do.  For more ideas, consult your therapist since s/he will be familiar with you and your situation and can help you determine techniques that are best suited to you.

    There are a few books I can recommend if you are new to this information and want to understand it better.  Healing the Child Within and Memory and Abuse--both by Charles Whitfield--and Homecoming by John Bradshaw.  I personally think everyone on the planet should read Healing the Child Within because EVERYONE has an inner child that is wounded in some way, and often grownups function from that wounded child mindset, even if they aren't consciously aware of it.  Think of how many parents are raising extremely entitled children these days because they are filling voids that they felt as children and giving them everything they want, for example.  When I first did Inner Child work I became a little alarmed when I realized I had more than one.  I was afraid that it meant I had multiple personalities, but that is not the case.  What I was seeing in my mind was myself at different ages when certain key things happened and I tucked them away.  I can honestly say that Inner Child work has been the most beautiful part of my healing process.  It can actually be a lot of fun as you find ways to nurture your Inner Child, giving yourself the love, acceptance and enjoyment that you needed when you were that young.

I do think that it is a good idea to utilize the support of a good therapist if you deal with dissociation, especially if you aren't aware of doing it or are having trouble managing it.  During periods of time where repressed memories are surfacing, it is so helpful to have that extra support and guidance.

When Mothers are Jealous of Their Daughters

    I was perusing Dr. Karyl McBride's blog (she is the author of the book "Will I Ever Be Good Enough" about daughters of narcissistic mothers) today and ran across this article.  This is an issue that has colored an awful lot of my relationship with my mother.  It was really baffling having this dynamic as I was growing up and I had the sense a lot of times that she was jealous of me, but then I would think, "Who do you think you are?  You think you are THAT great?!!" because it just didn't make sense.  Now on hindsight and understanding the narcissistic angle, it makes sense.  It's still strange to me and so, so sad.  It hurts a LOT during your grownup years to have a mother that on one hand put an incredible amount of pressure on to be a performer and make a good impression, yet have that same mother tear you down when you do have successes. There are a lot of things that I can bring up in regards to this, but I mostly wanted to share the link for others to have access to here.

    I will say this:  I've come to understand over the past year that my mother was jealous of me, even as a tiny little girl.  She wanted to be everything to my dad and when I was born and she saw how much he adored me, she was jealous.  To her, I was taking something away that was hers.  I think it is very possible that she felt pressure from my dad to get pregnant when she did, and I don't think she was emotionally ready (maybe she never would have been truly ready, I don't know).  As I've mentioned before, I am the first child.  I was born a little over a year after they were married. I've heard the story many times that my dad would come home from work to find her playing with her dolls and he said, "You need a baby."  I don't think he meant it in a mean way; he probably thought it was cute and that a baby would fulfill whatever need was associated with her playing with dolls.  I have had a really strong sense, more than once, that when I was born she saw me as competition for his affections.  I think this affected not only the way she treated me, but how my dad responded to me.  He probably felt like he needed to reign in how much affection he showed if she lashed out at him. I also have a memory of her smothering me with a pillow when I was very small.  I don't know what induced the rage, but I have had the sense that when she snapped out of it and came to a realization of what she was doing she realized that if my dad knew he wouldn't want anything to do with her.  So I believe that other than jealousy, there was also this thing where every time she looked at me she saw her guilt.  She used to say weird things to me as I was growing up, like babies have no memory; you can do anything to them and it just hurts for a minute and then they forget.  I can't help but wonder if that was a kind of reinforcement for me to not remember the incident.

    There are quite a few things in this vein that will probably come out in future posts, so I won't ramble on and make a list of jealousies here.  Here is the link to Dr. McBride's article:

Mothers Who are Jealous of Their Daughters

Refreshing Change

    Tonight my husband went to the airport and picked up our niece and nephew, from his side of the family, who are visiting from out of state.  We always love it when his sister's family comes to visit.  It's always fun spending time with them, with none of the drama and backbiting that goes on with my side of the family.

    This is how awesome they are.  I am tired and didn't have the energy to run around getting the house in perfect order.  I used to stress about that any time we were going to have company because I would get so worried about making that "good impression."  I guess all the stuff we have been dealing with over the past several years has just worn me out. LOL  My attitude now is basically, "You can take me as I am or not, I really don't care."  And you know what?  They totally don't care.  I made a nice dinner, homemade soup and spinach/strawberry salad, and they were so appreciative, asking if there was anything they could help with.  I apologized for the mess around the house and didn't need to.  It feels awesome.

    It's nice having family that we actually enjoy spending time with. The only part of my side of the family that I have that with right now is one of my brothers, primarily my sister in law.  At Thanksgiving we had that brother and his family over for dessert and games, and we had a blast.  I remember looking around and noting that everyone was genuinely having a good time--every person in the room had a genuine smile on their face and I remember thinking, "THIS is what it's supposed to be like."  It's always like this with my husband's sister's family, too.

    Nice to have a little breather. :)  Now I'm off to play Killer Bunnies and have some apple crisp with ice cream!

Spiritual Abuse and Making a Good Impression

    Since today is Sunday and once again I did not go to church, I decided to address some more aspects to the spiritual abuse I experienced in my home growing up.  Maybe if I get it out in writing it will be one less thing swimming around in my head.

    As I mentioned in my previous post here, I grew up in a community that was almost exclusively the religion I was brought up in.  Because of this, everything revolved around the structure the church provided in regards to church on Sunday, activities during the week, etc.  As I've looked back on that experience I've been so struck by the fact that the most important thing to both of my parents truly was how their children made them look.  I was told on numerous occasions that how I acted would make an impression to everyone I came in contact with as to what kind of parents they were.  I was expected to act, look and perform a certain way. I frequently heard remarks like, "What do people at church think of us now?" and it was usually over really petty, stupid things.  This was such a pervasive thing that I really didn't act like a normal kid. I became a very compliant, good little girl who could never do enough to please and who was extremely hungry for adult approval. So little positive reinforcement was given to me at home that when a compliment was given to me by a teacher or any adult, for that matter, it meant so much to me that getting compliments became the basis of my self-esteem.  If I didn't get compliments I felt terrible about myself.

    My parents were both raised in poverty and they both experienced abuse in their homes.  My father was raised in the religion I was brought up in.  My mother was raised in a small mining community that was more diverse and although her dad was a member of this church, he was not a practicing member and my maternal grandmother belonged to a different denomination.  She and the kids were baptized into the church when my mom was ten.   In listening to my mother over the years, it is very apparent to me that as she looked around her, coming from poor financial circumstance, she wanted the kind of lifestyle that she saw in others around her.  For whatever reason, the members of this church were more affluent and had nice things.  They functioned better as families.  I really feel that my mom's decision to be an active church member was because she wanted to LOOK LIKE those people.

    An experience that illustrates the need they had for trying to impress other people to the extent that they did happened the day after I was baptized.  I was baptized at the age of eight on Saturday and was confirmed a member the next day at church.  The confirmation is done in the form of hands placed on the person's head and a blessing being given.  We had Sunday School before the general congregational service, and after I picked up my younger brothers, ages 5 and 3 1/2, from their classes, we went to the chapel to sit with our parents.  Our parents weren't there.  As we stood waiting and looking for them, our ecclesiastical leader noticed that we were feeling worried, came over to us and told us we could come up and sit by him on the stand and watch for them.  Right before the service started my parents showed up at the door.  My brothers and I were so relieved that we excitedly jumped out of the seats we were in and ran off the stand and up the aisle to them.  My parents were furious because we ran through the chapel in front of everyone and embarrassed them.  They found seats for the service and during the service I was confirmed as planned. When we got home my parents yelled at us about the fact that we ran in the chapel and what must everyone think of them for their children to be so irreverent.  Not one acknowledgment of the fact that we were SCARED that our parents weren't there and church was getting ready to start, or that we were relieved and happy to see them. They could have seen it as humorous, or allowed themselves to feel very loved as they saw their children racing over to them.  They lost sight of the fact that this was supposed to be a special day for me.  I should have been hearing, "We're so proud of you.  This is such a special day for you.  We're thankful for the kind of girl you are," but instead I was shamed and belittled and by the time the night was over I was convinced that every other person we went to church with had been completely horrified by my terrible behavior. During episodes like this, the only solace I had was to go to my room where it was quiet and hug one of my dolls.

    This experience did so much damage to my perception of how others saw me.  I am sure that there were amused smiles as people saw these three cute little kids rushing to greet their parents and that that's all it was. I seriously doubt that anyone was scandalized and I don't think people saw me as a stain on the family name, but I thought that was the case.  This also affected my spontaneity and fueled my need to second-guess my actions all the time.  I was so self-conscious after this episode; I hadn't realized I was doing anything wrong (which I wasn't) and so it really made me feel like I must naturally be a bad person to have not thought through the fact that running in the chapel was irreverent; I knew this but I was so scared that my parents weren't there that my relief at seeing them made my feet fly. I was one of two or three children being confirmed that day, and when it was my turn to go up to the stand I felt that everyone looking at me was thinking how embarrassing my conduct had been as the meeting was starting.

    As an adult, one of the ways this comes back to haunt me is when I see children on these occasions being treated with love and tenderness, and see the approval and pride on their parents' faces. Which is how it is supposed to be; I'm not resentful of the child being treated that way.  Sometimes these things trigger back the bad memory and I feel that humiliation and rejection all over again.

Malice vs. Ignorance; Hard to Tell With a Narc

    Yesterday I took part in a discussion that ensued from the following quote: "Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity." (I personally prefer the word ignorance over stupidity.) The person opening the discussion asked if we could think of situations with our narcissistic parents where this may have applied to more than the narcissism itself and I found the discussion very thought-provoking.  It was pointed out that often people act out, ignorant to the way their actions are affecting other people.  Also that early in parenthood, mistakes are made in ignorance because the person thinks that that is just the way things are done because that's the way their parents did it.  An example that was used was the overuse of spanking and how for a lot of people that was just the go-to response when a child misbehaved.

    When narcissism is part of the mix, you do experience many instances of things being done maliciously and so it's easy to lump all the bad experiences into the same category of "malicious."  As I thought about this it brought to mind a few bizarre experiences I had with my mother that didn't make sense to me at the time, and I've been reminded of the phenomenon of the narcissistic wound, well explained at this link:

 Narcissistic Injury

    With someone like my mother, any perceived threat elicits a rage response.  It doesn't matter whether that perceived threat is real or not and it can come from something that has absolutely nothing to do with them.  My mother is like a wounded animal who has so much personal unresolved pain but if you try and get too close to her, she'll strike out at you over what she PERCEIVES to be an attack.  Sometimes she is malicious but I think a lot of her acting out is rooted in always being on alert for attack.

    Looking at the overuse of spanking as an example--in my mom's case, she took personal offense to my husband and I choosing other methods first when discipline was called for with our children.  I never said, "You were a bad mom for spanking me," but she took it as a personal attack that I was choosing to simply do something differently than how she did it.  The same thing applied when I chose to nurse when I had my first baby.  She had no desire to nurse, and often made derogatory remarks about women who did when I was growing up.  Nursing is something I wanted to experience, and so that is the choice I made and she had the same internal response to that as the one I described about her having at us attempting to discipline our children differently.  When my husband called her to tell her the baby was here, one of the first things she asked was if I was nursing.  He replied that I was and she asked how it was going, with this tone that made it really obvious that it was a given that it was a horrible experience.  He said, "It's going really well and she absolutely loves it!"  She said nothing.  It seemed to bother her that not only was I trying it but that it was going well.  When we came to visit (we lived out of state) she treated me like I was dirty for nursing my baby.

    I had a really bizarre experience when we first moved back here to where I grew up and lived with her while we got settled (biggest mistake ever).  One day my daughter, who had just turned four, was acting up. I looked at my mom and said something along the lines of, "I promise we don't encourage this."  I addressed the issue with my daughter by telling her she needed to stop (we had chosen as parents to do that first as kind of a warning, and then if the behavior persisted we would do a timeout or whatever).  I had to go downstairs for something, I think I was making the beds, and all of a sudden my mom was down there in my face, very angry.  She had a lot of malice in her voice when she said, "With that situation upstairs were you insinuating that I was a terrible mother because I spanked you?" and proceeded to scream at me for about 10 minutes.  When I tried to clarify and defend myself she just got angrier.  I was completely bewildered at how she came up with that because I wasn't insinuating anything personal to her.

    Here is another example:  My daughter, now a young adult, suffers from severe multiple food allergies and it wasn't discovered that this is what was causing her some serious, pervasive health problems until she was about 18, with the worst allergy not being completely understood or identified until she was 19.  Almost two years ago I went to lunch with my mom, and as we were eating I was telling her about what we were finding out.  I was really distressed because the extent of what was wrong was so overwhelming.  I had to relearn how to cook and was on a really steep learning curve for identifying safe food sources because of all the hidden sources one of the allergies presents.  My daughter was dangerously sick and I needed someone to talk to.  You are supposed to be able to turn to your mother during times of distress for support and comfort.  Instead she monopolized the conversation and started rambling about other people she knew who had had to have carpets, etc. removed from their home and I could hardly get a word in edgewise.  A little later in the conversation I mentioned that as I had studied and learned about her allergies I had started to make connections between some physical symptoms I had had for years that didn't make sense and possible undetected food allergies in myself.  I had testing done and I was correct. As I was sharing this with my mother, all of a sudden there was this cold silence and she stopped talking.  I was pretty bewildered.  She was cold for the rest of the time, including in the car as I drove to take her back home. Then it occurred to me that she was taking me sharing what I had figured out about myself as a personal assault on her parenting.  I was labeled a "picky eater" and was forced to eat food that I found repulsive, to the point that I sat at the table for hours sometimes trying to make myself eat the food on my plate.  I was then told I was a bad girl because I was being stubborn and was whipped and had things taken away from me.  As I made the connection on my food sensitivities and had my own testing done, I realized that I was intuitively turning away from food that hurt me.  This was an amazing discovery to me.  In sharing this with her I didn't accuse her of being a bad parent and I didn't get into all the whipping, etc. but I did mention that I felt that I was instinctively not wanting to eat food that hurt me.  From all of that, instead of having an "aha" moment herself (which could be beneficial to her because based on what I've experienced I think it is very possible she has food allergies herself) she became defensive and enraged that I would dare blame my problems on her.  This was the beginning of what has become a horrible two years of coldness and unkindness during a time when our daughter, as well as my husband and I, were in need of kindness, love and support.  I will write about this in more detail in a future post.

    My mother used to tell me all the time as I was growing up that someday when I was a mother myself, I would understand how hard it was and I would be just like her.  Well, I'm not.  And I guess it has bothered her that her prophecy didn't come true.

Scapegoat To Mountain Goat

    A friend share this link today and I thought it very concisely summed up the dynamics of the scapegoat role in the abusive family system.  As I read it I felt like I was reading about myself exactly.  I really like the insights into healing, and the visual of transforming from scapegoat to a mountain goat.  Awesome!  There are quite a few good blogs and websites out there on narcissism and the family dynamics that come out of that and I will probably compile a list of links in the near future, but wanted to share this while I was thinking about it.  It isn't an overwhelming amount of information and is a pretty easy, quick read.

From Scapegoat To Mountain Goat

Me and God

    How do people who have been through abuse view and feel about God?  Assuming that God is real, is it okay for someone who has felt largely abandoned and unprotected in so many aspects of life to figuratively give him the finger?

    Because that is how I feel sometimes.  I may have mentioned before (and maybe not, I can't remember at the moment and I'm not going to go through previous postings to see) that I was raised in a very religious environment.  The geographical area I live in is predominantly one particular Christian denomination, and the community I am in has the highest concentration of members. Since looking at my internal world honestly I have felt like screaming and running away as fast as I can.  In saying this, I am not saying that the religion I belong to is wrong and I am not going to go into the specifics of which one it is, because I don't want others to pass judgment based on what my personal experiences have been.  My life has been largely enriched by my church activity and associations, with certain meaningful experiences coming at crucial times in my life that guided my path in what I believe to have been the right directions for me.  These experiences brought wonderful people into my life, brought about the circumstances where I met my husband, and in general have shaped me into the kind of person I am.  There has been a certain protection in choosing to follow the standards of living recommended in the church guidelines, and I am thankful for that.

    But here's the thing.  And it smacked me right between the eyes at one point during this past year what a conflicted relationship I have with God.  On some levels I really hate him (sorry, God).  And then I feel guilty when I consider all the ways my life has been blessed and I have recognized His hand in events that have taken place.  And I feel guilty because I'm supposed to love Him.  And I do love Him. . .but, wait.  I WANT to love Him, but it has always felt to me like I have to earn His love.  That He loves me IF.  Or AS LONG AS.  Or UNTIL or UNLESS.  IF I am good enough.  AS LONG as I do what's right, exactly right. UNTIL I make a mistake. UNLESS I screw up, even if I don't realize I'm screwing up.  Oh, I have always felt that other shoe ready to drop.

    That defining moment that smacked me between the eyes was realizing how much I FEARED God, and how that fear had reached into every facet of my life and was ruling every single decision I made, even on a day to day basis with seemingly small and insignificant things that really should be no big deal in the grand scheme of things.  The stress of that has caused me so much anxiety, sometimes to the point of it being debilitating. And I realized that my whole religious experience has been colored by my mother's view, and that I have seen through her filter, which is very warped.  When I read verses in scripture, that "or else" comes out loud and clear to me, and it's my mother's rhetoric and tone that I experience in my head.  It took me quite awhile to accept the fact that there was spiritual abuse in my home growing up.

    I told my husband that if God is a God of fear, I don't want anything to do with him.  Fear and love can't exist in the same place and we are told that God is a God of love, but I have rarely felt that.  What I have felt most of the time is the fear and a desperate yearning to be worthy of His love.  I decided that I need space, or what someone described to me as "fallow time" in regards to church, so I can sort this out and stop seeing and hearing everything through my mother's filter. It's kind of a weird place to be in and I actually never thought I would be that person, but here I am.  And I think I am doing the right thing distancing myself from the organized aspect of church, even though this is new and sometimes scary territory for me.  In a way I am putting God to the test.  If He really loves me unconditionally, then He understands why I need to do this and isn't angry with me.  He wants me to feel His love.  And if church is triggering me (which it has been), then I need to not be there because I need to keep myself safe.  I am trusting that He will reach out to me in loving, joyful ways to help me along.

When I Saw Frozen. . .and Maleficent Made an Appearance

    I posted a little while ago about how much the Disney animated movie Frozen resonated with me.  I watched the Demi Lovato music video of the song "Let It Go" again today, and again found myself in tears.  I've made a mental note several times to write about my experience the day my husband and I went to see the movie and keep forgetting, so I'm doing it now while I'm thinking about it.

    My husband took me to see the movie on December 30, on the heels of what was a very difficult Christmas season and me crying a LOT the night before.  I felt so desolate.  Besides so many emotional issues, I also became very, very sick the week before Christmas and the virus I had lasted two weeks.  I have rarely felt so exhausted in every single way possible, and that's how I was that day.  So much of the movie spoke to what I'm going through internally right now.  So much with the Elsa character is what I've had to do emotionally my entire life.  I'm kind of obsessed with the aforementioned song "Let It Go."  And it made me wish I could shoot snow through my fingers. ;)  I love the scene where she sings the song and how transformative it is!

    Before the movie they showed a preview for Disney's upcoming movie Maleficent.  Can you say triggered? I want to see that movie but I need to make sure I am in a damned good place first.  I find it slightly terrifying that they are putting that character into live action.  Why, you might ask?

    I was obsessed with Sleeping Beauty as a little girl.  I was born in 1966, and so a lot of the storybooks I had were those huge Big Golden Books they had of the Disney stories back then; richly illustrated and columns of text on every page.  I couldn't get enough of Sleeping Beauty and by the age of 3 I had the entire book memorized, down to when to turn the page and where to focus my eyes.  I fooled a babysitter into thinking I could read when I was three, asking her if she wanted me to read her a story.  When my parents came home she said, "Did you know she can READ???" and told them how I had read her the Sleeping Beauty book. Anyway.  I loved that book and I loved the movie when I saw it at about the age of 5.  I realized several years ago that not only was I in love with the story, but I identified myself with the Princess Aurora character and in my little mind I identified my mother with Maleficent.  That is how scared of my mother I was.  When they played the preview for this upcoming movie I had tears rolling down my face. Great date, huh?

    My poor husband.  He tries so hard.  When he first came home with the preview for Maleficent saved on his iPad he was really excited to show it to me because he knows I love Sleeping Beauty. Part of my Inner Child nurturing has been collecting Sleeping Beauty figures and vintage items from when the movie was first made.  He has given me Sleeping Beauty figurines to add to my collection and last year purchased the Thomas Kinkade print for me.  He wasn't expecting me to look sick to my stomach.  Angelina Jolie plays the character and it looks like she is going to do a fantastic job, which makes it that much more chilling.

    Hubby didn't realize fully why it was so upsetting to me; to him it was just really cool that they were going to put the Sleeping Beauty story into live action.  We talked for awhile and I explained to him that as a child, when I would look at those pictures of Maleficent in my book, I saw my mother.  Some of the expressions I would see on my mother's face and the coldness I would hear in her voice at times, as well as the coldness I was treated with at times, matched. And as I learned about God and the devil at church, I associated the devil with Maleficent.  How much worse can it get in a child's mind than an adult who wants to kill a baby or a child?  It doesn't get scarier than that.  So if Maleficent looked like the devil to me and what she did felt like things my mother did, Mother=Maleficent=Devil.  To me I was living with the devil. And if I didn't do things exactly right she WOULD hurt me.

   So, yeah.  That movie is going to be spooky on some levels for me, but I expect that I will also gain some insights that will help me with my healing since the story is so significant to me.

    I did come away from Frozen feeling a sense of empowerment.  I wanted to get the soundtrack afterward but they were out at Walmart. We stopped by Barnes and Noble because there was a book I wanted to pick up.  My husband surprised me as I was going through the section of books I was in by handing me a clear bag with the deluxe soundtrack in it, and he had tears in his eyes.  I am blessed to be married to such a sweet, supportive man.  He had told me he was going to another section while I browsed and stopped by the music section first, where they only had three left.  I listened to it over and over again after we got home.

From One Scapegoat to Another; a Conversation About Narcissism

    A few days ago I was blessed to be able to draw on my experiences to help a friend.  I have to say that when this happens, it helps me to make some sense out of what I have been through.  Besides breaking the cycle of abuse that has existed in my family for generations, especially on my mother's side, the only thing that gives me a sense of purpose in it is when I am able to help other people who are navigating similar challenges through the things I've learned so far in my healing process.  I don't know if this gives me a sense of self-importance; I suppose that is in there to a degree, but if it is I believe it's largely due to the fact that I felt so insignificant and passed over for so much of my life.  Everyone needs to know that they are important, and when I am able to help someone it does fill that need to an extent for me.  I don't think that is all there is to it, though--I genuinely care about people and it truly makes me happy to see other people become happier, and if I am blessed to be a part of it the feeling is amazing.

    This friend was talking about some dynamics going on in her family that sounded very much to me like she is dealing with a narcissistic family system in her family of origin, and finds herself put in scapegoat role.  I've thought this a few times when we've talked and sent her some information several months ago, but I don't think she was completely ready for it.  This time she was talking about some realization she had made, including the fact that no one in her family truly cares about her enough to try and make relationships work. For a long time she's been wondering what is wrong with her, and I have to say that she is someone who I consider to be very lovely, talented, and a dedicated wife and mother who is very good at seeing the big picture as she guides her children through life experiences.  We don't live in the same immediate area, so most of our correspondence is in writing.  I kept having the persistent feeling that I needed to share information with her again (I had actually forgotten that I had already tried before). I wanted to be sure that I wasn't projecting my own issues into what she had shared and so didn't act immediately when I had that feeling, but it persisted and so I did, including some links for her to go to on scapegoating and the narcissistic family.  We ended up having some great back and forth conversation, and I decided to share here what I shared with her, since I haven't done a post on narcissism here up to this point. I've needed to get this out but it's very draining, so since I put all the time in to what I shared with her, it makes sense to use it for this post.  I'm not going to include her part of the conversation and am paraphrasing quite a bit on my part to fill in the gaps, but taking from that to illustrate some of the dynamics that have gone on in my family of origin. With that, I share the following:

    In order to fully understand why you are treated the way you are when you are a product of a narcissistic family system, it's important to understand the family dynamics.  I had some epiphanies last year from some realizations I had about the way my family of origin (FOO) functions and how that related to the treatment I have received over the years and continue to receive, especially from my mother.  Figuring this out gave so much clarity to the situation; up until then I kept thinking everything was my fault and was constantly put in the position of being the one taking the fall for things or feeling like I needed to make things right, even with no efforts being made on their part.  In my family, my mother is a malignant narcissist and my father (now deceased) enabled her behavior.  In some families that have this dynamic, it's the opposite and in some, both parents are narcissists.  They can't "function" without a fall guy to dump their trash on, which is the scapegoat role,  Narcissists are literally incapable of true love and compassion, because everything is about them and how they project themselves outwardly to the rest of the world.  Therefore, family members simply play an assigned role in making that image happen, and to stay in favor with the narcissist the family members revolve around him or her.  Everything stems back to staying in favor or avoiding certain reactions or consequences for not complying to the way the narcissist wants things to be.

    I will say that finding these answers provided a LOT of relief for me because I realized that most of the stuff I got shouldered with was not mine, but other people's stuff that got projected onto me.  This affected my self-concept and a lot of other aspects of my life, as well as groomed me for further abuses.  On the one hand it's very freeing, but on the other hand it's a lot to take in, as well, and there is grief that comes with acceptance. It's hard to come to grips with some of the dynamics of this system.

    A common thread in narcissistic parents is that they went through abuse themselves and often endured very hard circumstances. They were the "black sheep" or felt rejected in other ways, and thus they become obsessed with how other people see them because of their insecurities.  When they have children, they don't see the children as individual beings with their own characteristics, abilities, likes and dislikes, etc.  They see them as an extension of themselves. 

  There is a really weird dynamic that goes on with the scapegoating. Even from the time the child(ren) are infants, they are looking for signs of weaknesses or characteristics that they despise in themselves.  Even if the child doesn't possess those traits, the parent decides that they do and treats them accordingly.  It's a kind of transferrance and it's like the child becomes their "trash can."  They dump their projected rage, rejection, withholding of affection, abuse, etc. onto the child and they then feel better.  In my mother's case, she did this to me and then actually became a different person to my siblings.  She got a kind of relief from unloading onto me the way that she did.  I believe that in her case she may actually split off/dissociate so that it is literally like she is two people.  I can't count how many times growing up, after an incident with her I would approach her, trying to talk about what happened to try and clarify the situation (because she usually decided I was doing something I wasn't, or was told by siblings something like that because they figured out that they could get away with setting me up and telling her I was being mean or something and they knew she would fly into a rage at me without letting me explain myself), and she would look at me and say, "I don't know what you're talking about.  I didn't do that/say that."  Often with narcissism this is done deliberately to screw with the kid's head and make them doubt their judgment so that the parent can continually exert control over and manipulate them.  This is called gaslighting.  I think my mother does that and then takes it a step further by compartmentalizing it so well that she convinces herself that she never did or said what she did, and that is how she deals with guilt.

    There are a lot of people in the online support group I'm a part of whose narc parent is also Borderline. They are both personality disorders.  I'm not sure what the thread is that connects the two sometimes; it may be that since narcissism encompasses a spectrum, Borderline falls on there somewhere.  Sociopath is on the extreme end.

    Realizing that my mother went through difficult things herself as a child caused me to stay in denial longer.  I tried to have compassion for her and tried so hard to see things from her point of view, to make things work, etc.  I spent so many years doing "detective work" to try and understand my mother's actions.  I went through phases where I put her on a pedestal, telling myself that I admired her for everything she had come through and so I couldn't judge her for how she acted; because of this sometimes I even justified or defended her actions. This was a HUGE misstep on my part.  Without realizing it, I put my children in harm's way because I didn't have strong boundaries.  I did myself a real disservice by believing that I shouldn't judge or trust myself, because in so doing it took me longer to assign blame for various things where it truly belonged. I'm not saying that I'm a perfect person who is without fault because I have made plenty of mistakes and bad judgment calls along the way, but on matters where I was victimized I accepted the blame for far too long.

    It is so interesting to me how clearly you can see the generational pattern in this.  Dr. Karyl McBride, who authored a great book for daughters of narcissistic mothers called "Will I Ever Be Good Enough?" addresses this and says that in order for the patterns to stop being handed down generationally, it takes someone recognizing what is going on, making the decision to not repeat the behaviors, and then deciding to do their healing work.  Children of narcissists often pick up some narcissistic traits (and it is normal for EVERYONE to have some) because of the rejection we experienced growing up and felt so keenly. We still have that sense of acceptance missing inside of us, and so it extends into many areas of our lives as adults.  It's easy to see why the pattern repeats over and over again otherwise.  There is such a strong sense of denial of the "elephant in the room" among family members that a lot of times no one acknowledges that there is a problem.  They don't want to rock the boat and so they play their part.  And then they do the same thing when they have their families, because that is what they know.

    When I was going through some of my darkest times in therapy a number of years ago, I had an experience where I had the words come clearly to my mind that I was sent to absorb the abuse and not let it continue through my branch of the family.  Knowing that has helped me to make some hard choices and also helped me to be willing to take a look at the way I was parenting and relearn, since I didn't have healthy patterns to follow.  When I read Dr. McBride's book I was really struck by the fact that she emphasizes breaking the cycle, because that has been my driving force.  I haven't done it perfectly but I have tried my hardest.  I'm thankful that I have more support and resources now to help me.

    Besides at least one scapegoat, there is also always a Golden Child in the narcissistic family, who is the "favored one."  I think this dynamic manifests in a variety of ways.  In my family, my mother absolutely has to have someone in the doghouse, and so we have all been vying for the Golden Child role.  She always has to be mad at someone.  I got sucked into thinking I was developing a close relationship with her back when we lived out of state when she started calling me regularly to "ask for advice" about one or more of my siblings. She would then go on and on about things they were doing that were upsetting her.  I felt complimented that she felt like she could turn to me and that we were developing this close relationship. It took me awhile to realize what she was doing, which was to pit us kids against each other and get someone to do her dirty work for her.  I think all of my siblings have experienced the same thing to some extent.  Being in favor is definitely an easier place to be with her, but then I realized after awhile that I only enjoyed that as long as I agreed with everything she was saying and took her side on everything.  I was never comfortable with the trash talking, but if I ventured to try and help her see possibilities from the other side or to defend whomever she was trash talking, she would get mad, like I had no business talking to her like that. When that happened I would find myself in the doghouse, probably being the one getting trashed.  I think I had the main scapegoat role growing up, with the brother just younger than me also getting a good amount of it as the oldest boy (I have four brothers after me and my sister is the youngest).

    My sister unequivocally has the Golden Child role.  She was the long-awaited girl after four boys and was the daughter do-over.  My mother is literally a different person with her than she is with me. I've noticed an interesting dynamic in the family where there are little cliques among my siblings and their families, and everyone likes to be around my sister.  She is awesome and gets along with everyone.  My sibs that put themselves out there as the "cool" ones include her in their interactions.  Both me and the brother just younger than me are shunned quite a bit, as is the youngest brother (who was bullied and teased by the other brothers growing up).  It occurred to me that on some level they probably aren't even aware of, being "in" with my sister puts them in a better position in the family because she gets the best treatment, if that makes sense. The ones in favor and the ones out of favor; the reverse of guilt by association.

    The past couple of months have been kind of grueling for me.  I've got a long way to go still, but feel that I will eventually be able to move into a place of joy.  There are members on that other group who have testified of that and have shared some great experiences. They had to go through the hard first in order to get there, though, so I'm finding it very strengthening to have their insights and support.  I'm very thankful to have the knowledge and additional resources that I have now to help me in my healing process.

"Let It Go" Music Video

    Have you seen the newest Disney animated movie "Frozen?"  I saw it a few weeks ago and wow, it struck a chord with me.  I found it to be very empowering, especially the song "Let It Go," sung by the Princess Elsa, who has had to hide behind closed doors to conceal her natural gifts.  Because of this, she has been afraid to let people see who she is and to "live out loud" in the full beauty and majesty that is her.

    So many people have loved this movie.  I think this resonates in a way with just about everyone on some level.  For me, as I watched her as she sang this song, I could imagine myself breaking through chains of fear and feeling free to simply be my true self.  My chains are fear of how my mother would react and letting myself be repressed.  Here is the music video; I hope you enjoy it!  The second link is the Demi Lovato version, which I also love.  I have great respect for her personal life's journey and the adversities she has come through.

Let It Go (Version played in the movie Frozen)


Let It Go; Demi Lovato

Back on Medication

    Over the years I have been on and off medications, not because of being unwilling to take them or being irresponsible, but because I have gone through periods of time where I have done well without them.  For me these seem to coincide with times that follow making significant progress in my processing of traumatic events and reaching another level of healing.  I have wanted to do without medications as much as possible.

    That said, about six years ago when things were at their worst with some really heavy-duty repressed memories that were coming up, I needed the buffer of the medications because of how traumatic the things were that were coming up.  Something is going with me again; I've been very triggered for the past several days and I haven't figured out what's going on yet, but I've felt myself spiraling downward again, feeling exhausted but avoiding sleep/not sleeping well, generalized anxiety and worry, etc.  The triggered state was at its worst on Saturday, and after the major episode I had the hardest time focusing on anything, from reading to attending to what someone was saying to me to difficulty verbalizing my own thoughts or formulating responses to things people were saying to me.  I haven't had this happen in a really, really long time and it took me back at least six or seven years to one of my darkest periods.

    I went into the dr. today and am going back on Wellbutrin, as well an anti-anxiety medication to use as needed for extreme anxiety, panic attacks, etc.  On some levels I feel really frustrated with this, but I also know it's the right thing for now.  Either my system is ready to release more repressed stuff or I am far more terrified at the prospect of initiating no contact with my mother than I have acknowledged.  I think things are headed that direction and just thinking about it makes me feel upset.  I actually wish I was living in a state of no contact; it's the process of getting there that I'm dreading.  Tomorrow I am also calling a therapist one of my friends recommended to me who is female, gets narcissism, accepts and "gets" what complex PTSD is and has helped my friend a lot.  I feel like I need the extra support as I go through the process of deciding how best to handle my particular situation.  Sometimes I've felt like shooting off a No Contact letter, but keep having the feeling that I need to do it with the support and guidance of an experienced counselor.

    Tonight I have felt so depressed and discouraged, like nothing will ever get better.  I have put so much work into trying to move forward in my life and to be a happy person.  I want a life of abundance and joy.  I've tried to put my personal hurts aside and look for ways to do good in the world and help other people.  Right now it feels like it's all for naught.  I've had times over the past few weeks that I've felt very self-destructive and like I just want to die. I feel like my family would be better off without me and that I am all the failures my parents told me I would be one day if I didn't measure up to certain things.

   So. . .back on the ride.  Here we go again.  And somehow I need to do this and not completely neglect my family.