Beyond Narcissism
Trigger Warning:
The unknown author addresses painful family dynamics involving narcissism and its abusive effects. Please proceed to read with caution.
I want to say first that I am not a psychiatrist, psychologist, or social worker. My only credentials are that I survived narcissistic parents. My father was a full-blown narcissist, and my stepmother’s narcissism fully emerged after their divorce.
The last time I recall having loving thoughts about my father, I was about ten years old. Up until that time, I adored him. The beer he drank had to be the best because he drank it, and the cigarettes he smoked had to be the best because he smoked them.
My father was in the military and often away. After I was ten years old, he was home much more. Every so often, I would have adoring thoughts about him until he said something. Soon, I no longer had loving thoughts but constant thoughts of what I had done wrong and how I could fix it—the foundation for a co-dependent.
The name-calling for my brother and me was constant. Fortunately, I was old enough to know that my actual name was not stupid and other colorful names. I could list what went on in our family, but if you have or had a narcissistic parent, you already know what went on.
As children of narcissistic parents, my brother and I left our household thinking that we knew how the world worked. We have had many heartaches finding out the world, by and large, did not work that way.
I wanted to be happy and normal, but I had no clue how to do that. Life, however, will teach you if you are willing. I attracted people who were demeaning, unsupportive, and abusive. When there was nothing more to get from me, they vengefully left or disappeared. At the time, I didn’t realize their disappearance was a good thing.
I married a man who was slightly different from my father. Maybe he was somewhat different because now, as an adult, I didn’t have to tolerate his treatment. The only good man I met; we had no chemistry whatsoever. We decided to end our relationship.
I stopped dating for a very long time. During my brief marriage, I had a daughter. I began to see that the men I chose were not people I wanted her to be around or for me. The break was sorely needed and would benefit my daughter and me in ways I could not imagine.
I began to recognize that what I learned about life was not what I should believe about myself or take into the world. I was miserable, and doggone, I would find a way to be happy. Sure, there were some evil thoughts, but who would care for my daughter? The idea of leaving her to my stepmother was not what I wanted for her. My stepmother, all during my daughter’s childhood, tried to talk me into leaving her with her. It was not an option.
After I started learning what life could be, I began to wonder, am I a narcissist? From my experience, I carried many of their qualities from them into my adult life. How could I not? That is how I learned life operated. What was worse, after I had had some healing, I could see what I passed on to my daughter. And, no, I was not a narcissist. Co-dependent but not a narcissist.
I couldn’t change my parents or explain to them how I and people were not the scum-sucking slugs of the earth they thought they were. I learned long ago that there was no way I could convince them this was not true. I had to be content to know that I wasn’t.
After several decades of not seeing my father, he had a detective locate me. I was disheartened to hear him asking me to come back into his life. As I had lunch with him and his companion, I began to realize I had changed, but he had not.
We continued the relationship for several decades until he died. In the meantime, I learned from my brother that he was talking badly about me to him. And saying things I had not done. The divide and conquer ploy.
During my healing journey, I kept hearing about forgiveness—something I certainly couldn’t do earlier in my years and didn’t want to do. But as I healed, forgiveness became important. I had hoped forgiveness would change things. My brother told my father he forgave him. My father was touched—he didn’t change his attitude or behavior toward him, but he seemed to appreciate his forgiveness.
I thought about it, and I, too, told my father I forgave him. He exploded. Being a female, who was I to believe he had anything to be forgiven. In his mind, the kind of female I was meant I was abhorrent. His actions supported his beliefs. But as I said earlier, forgiveness has become important to me.
What helped me to forgive was realizing that they, too, had been treated abusively by their parents and/or family members. That realization released a heavy load. Their actions did not result from their disgust for us.
I realized that forgiving my father wouldn’t change our relationship. I still wouldn’t trust him with my daughter, and he still wouldn’t see me as I am, but I no longer needed him to.
With my stepmother, I think she tried to tell me something, but she had suffered a severe stroke and could not speak. (Of course, I’m only guessing she wanted to tell me something.) A few months later, she passed away. There is no resolution there.
There was no resolution with my father either. I lived with my father during the last three months of his life; he continued to attempt to divide my brother and me. He no longer called me names—he wouldn’t dare. Due to aging, there were crazy accusations he made to me directly and to my brother about me. His actions from time to time angered me, and I quickly attempted to release the anger before it grew into ugly feelings and thoughts. By this time, I had learned there was no use in explaining or arguing, but I attempted to address whatever the situation was maturely. I don’t think I could have done so if I had not forgiven him. In a situation like this, I don’t think forgiveness is a one-time event. I know I had to forgive him daily and remind myself that his actions didn’t have any validity on who I was.
I write my thoughts here on the importance of forgiveness. Seeing my life on the page doesn’t convey the pain, struggle, and anguish it has taken to get to today. But in pain, we all exert a tremendous amount of energy to survive it. We might exert the same energy to change and transcend the worst we’ve been taught.
Forgiveness removes much of the ugliness narcissism instills. Forgiveness doesn’t change what I experienced; it didn’t change them, but what I experienced could no longer stab me with every thought. Some of the effects have diminished or gone away completely. The “no one would like or love you” I now know was never true, and fortunately, life has shown me otherwise.
Some will continue to be a part of me, but I know how to counteract it. Whatever the ramifications of what happened to them were passed on to us and would end with us. Whatever I pass on to my daughter, I will continue to attempt to correct or leave her to work through her healing process.
I hope this is helpful. With so much of the pain gone, what I went through has helped me to navigate life instead of being governed by it.
Much peace.
Anonymous
**Please note:
Permission was granted to publish this article on behalf of the author.