Hello my friends. This blog has evolved from how I lost 100 pounds to an awareness journey into my CPTSD from a lifetime of narcissistic parent abuse, neglect, endangerment, abandonment, exploitation, manipulative invalidation, scapegoating, parentification, toxic shaming and gaslighting about it all. Today I'm looking at the bizarre and contradictory trifecta of abuse that my histrionic narcissistic parents leveled at me.
But first, if you're new to the term narcissist, let me explain. So the DSM-5 has identified personality disorders called HPD (histrionic personality disorder) and NPD (narcissistic personality disorder) with characteristics of self-absorption, lack of empathy and self-awareness, exhibitionism and self-centered delusional fantasy issues. There are types within those. For the purpose of this blog, I'm not looking to diagnose whether my parents were clinically NPD or HPD (although I'm 99.9% sure they would be if examined).
I'm looking at the specific behaviors that they exhibited, which fall squarely in the category of narcissism. At first it was grandiose narcissism with some covert and malignant narcissism which really unfolded the older they got and the more selfish behavior they got away with. The histrionic behavior manifested in a pathological need for attention, exhibitionism and melodrama. I say they because both of my parents behaved as histrionic narcissists and then when they divorced, married other really disturbed people.
So, needless to say, self-centered people don't make very good parents. However, in the delusional fantasy of narcissism, they think they are amazing. Just like they think they are moral Christians with a God-given right to pontificate to others while living very (by their own standards) immoral lives. Mine gaslit me into believing that abuse, neglect, abandonment, endangerment, scapegoating, parentification, shaming exploitation and invalidation of me was all God's will. Which I'm sure you'll agree is insanely, off the charts damaging to the child.
The way a narcissistic parent views the child is what drives the abusive behavior. Or should I say, the role the triple role a child plays in this self-absorbed, delusional fantasy world. To a narcissist, a child is not just a burden and the problem, she is also a threat, but also, and this is so weird, a prop. A supporting role in the Mommy and Daddy show. And what do you do with a burden? Shift it onto others or in my case, ignore it. A threat you neutralize. My life was one unending role of schlemiel to the narcissists' schlimazel. The court jester to their ubermensch.
There is a constant clash of expectations to be a support to the parent but also a scapegoat. The child must know and feel guilty that she is in the way. She blocks the narcissist from reaching their true potential. She gets in the way of their "success." Note, this is all in the narcissist's fantasy. My mother told me that she could have been very high ranking person of prestige in the church they were in at the moment ( I forgot which one, there were so many), if it weren't for me. It was completely fabricated as so many other stories I was told, were.
My father felt no qualms spending the few dollars we had to go to LA to witness to the Manson girls and leave my mother and me, 6, homeless, without family or support in Alaska. My mother was on board with this as it left her free to continue cheating on my dad. Neither one of them paid much attention to what I did. I have no memory of meals and how I got to school. When he told me he was going, I put a brave face on and said goodbye because that's what he expected. He later defended his complete abandonment of me, and got some extra guilt mileage in, by saying that I didn't miss him anyway.
There is no winning for the child in this slippery slope. You are, at once, a burden which you should feel guilty for. You are a threat to them being always the center of attention and you should feel guilty for that also. And yet you are the prop, too. As a tiny girl, I got used to bolstering fragile parent egos. They said dance, I danced like there was no tomorrow.
I got used to walking a tightrope of shame and expectation. But not really. Somewhere in my heart was a small voice whispering that this was not good. When I heard it, I just assumed that it meant I wasn't playing my part. So I did better. And better. And they kept adding to the job. So I did more. And they added more. And I failed and was punished.
This endless tailspin has blown my brain apart. It has broken my heart irreparably. I spent the first 59 years of my life in almost total denial. It wasn't their fault. I deserved it. The weight which you can never explain to anyone because it makes no sense, it smothering. I have been so close to ending it so many times, I've lost track. And then there's more shame because according to my church, despair and suicide are mortal sins. So what the hell do I do???
I "know" not that what they did is and was wrong. But it doesn't help. The damage is done and it is permanent. I'll need to blog more about that. I will say this, though. For all I couldn't see what was being done to me, I can't not see it now. The chinks have turned into gaping holes in my parents' version of reality and the sun is pouring through, revealing the truth.
I'm hoping and praying that there may be some hope for this little girl lost.
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