How narcissist parents' undermine confidence and embed self-doubt in their children

Hello my friends. Today in my quest to heal CPTSD from narcissist parents' abuse, I'm exploring how these abusive parents undermine confidence and plant self-doubt in their children. I'll also show how they foster chronic low self-esteem and insecurity, which renders the adult child unable to make decisions without paralyzing fear, anxiety and guilt. I know they do this because I lived under a reign of terror from four malignant narcissist parents. So without further ado, here are some of the many dirty tricks narcissistic parents use to cripple their children. 

Cruel double standards. I don't even know where to begin detailing the many ways they double deal with the child. Suffice it to say that any wrong thing they do to the child is right. For them to do. Any good thing the child does is wrong. They demand service from her and it's  never good enough. Meanwhile they deprive her of basic life  necessities. And NEVER serve her. And any good or right thing the child needs or should have, is not only withheld, she's selfish to need it. If she sings in the shower, she's fishing for compliments. But dad playing his violin is serving God. If mom's boyfriends attacks the child, it's all fine. If the child resists, she's disobedient. 

Parentification AND infantilization. Yep, both. Like Cinderella, who might be the OG scapegoat prototype, the narcissist wicked stepmother and ugly sisters make her both wait on and care for them (parentify) and play subservient idiot child (infantilize). And like our heroine, neither slipper fits.  

Exaggerating the child's normal childhood behaviors into horrific crimes. The child moves, looks, says, does THINKS (yes they read minds) something, anything, NOTHING, that sets the narc off. My dad once beat me for je ne sais quoi. Literally, I don't know what. I've raked myself over the coals for years because I've never dared say dad was the problem. But he was. But then, if confronted, they...

Minimize, dismiss and lie away their own truly horrific behavior. They blame the CHILD because THEY threw a hissy fit and made a fool of themselves. The child is "showing off" or "holding grudges" "pouting" etc, etc, if she reacts in any way other than humiliated. Even crying gets her scolded for being "too sensitive" or "overreacting for attention." 

Constant questioning. Not to find answers or because they want to learn. Oh no, these aren't humble people. They know it all. Including your mind and motives. They question your choices and poke holes in your ideas to run you into the ground. To make you feel bad or stupid. They interrogate to break you down, like you have some kind of guilty secret to hide. Which after awhile of this inquisition, you start to think you do. 

Constant nagging, patronizing and heckling. They pester the child with endless chores, "duties" and responsibilities, most of which aren't age appropriate or are someone else's job. All of which are too many for one adult let alone child. No one else shares the load, not even the adults. I lived with "mental load" as a child. They don't help but they do find fault a lot. They condescendingly nit pick over tiny flaws in chores they never lifted a finger with. I had to mop the floor on hands and knees and scrub with a toothbrush, the baseboards. My bossy, hypercritical stepmother had ridiculous standards for me but she never got her fat self down her HER hands and knees. They repeat ad nauseum your list of expectations like you're too dumb to have heard the first 900 times. If you say, "I know" you're being "lippy." They make you question your own abilities with this incessant hounding. All you do is never good enough. There's always "room for improvement" and if you did get it perfect, they won't tell you because they "don't want you to get a big head." While they are arrogant and big-headed AF. 

ALWAYs the servant, never the served. My stepmother met me at the door with a list of chores when I first "was allowed" to live with them. In their house. Not mine. Not a little celebration, no welcome home, just a bunch of backbreaking, exhausting work she didn't want to do and never would have done if it was her having to. It was made clear that my residence was conditional and I had to do to earn my keep. 

Fake clairvoyant. They feign the ability to read your mind to undermine your confidence. To make you auto-gaslight and second guess yourself. They hint at being able to "read" the dark reasons for your actions, such as how you "said yes but didn't mean it even though you did it because you didn't do with a true servant's heart even though you did do it you still got it wrong because you did it for attention not in humility.." Wha-wha-WWhattheactual???  How could I possibly have done all that and how would you know and WHY would slander me like that? Isn't it enough you got your shit done for you?? But, no, it's not. They must extract maximum suffering from you. You can't even smile because they twist it into you looking down on them?? It's like voodoo-y seance--y ESP-y with the googly hypnotic eyes.  None of which they really can do, just so you know. It's just smoke, mirrors and paranoia. But sadly, because you are a child, you believe them. Because charlatans don't need to be proficient at it, with children. They just need to be sick SOBs.  

Expect mind reading. So having said that, though they can't read minds, they expect you to. You must divine by some prescience, what they need, want, expect of you at any given moment.  They should not have to tell you. Because you should just KNOW his majesty's wishes. Actually you do a pretty good job because HRH is always on about himself and his needs and wants. But because they're always moving the target and rearranging the hoops, you don't. And you fall. My child, this is done on purpose just so you WILL fall.  This will keep you humble, always striving and enslaved to them. 

God's little Gestapo. I've called this God's KGB before too. Now, the fake clairvoyant is bad enough. But at least they know they're frauds on some level. But the batshittier ones, like my parents, believe, or try to make you believe they have a higher calling, a divinely-led insider knowledge. They are initiates of some secret society. That the almighty has given them dispensation to ferret out dirt on people. As God's little Gestapo agents, they machinate and speak in strange mumbo jumbo, they say you can't understand because you're not Chosen. (thank God for that!). They're not trying to make you repent. Narcissist Christians don't want that. Because then you'd be in their little club and they wouldn't be special anymore. No, they do this for good old garden variety public execution. Smacks very much of witchfinder general.  And as in witch trials, it's all nuts and nonsense. 

Assigning sinister motives to innocent things. And like the witchfinder, if they can't find dirt on you, they make it up. They plant evidence. They concoct the most lunatic explanations for perfectly rationale  things. It's absolutely demented. But if no one tells you that, you think you're the demented one. 

DARVO. Which sounds like a 1970s drug and which in a way, is. DARVO is (when confronted) Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender. And the purpose, like a drug is to mask. It is laughable how lightning fast the offending narcissist can switch costumes to attacker then victim. Just like they were expecting and prepared for it. Dayum, Lady Macbeth, slow clap off the stage! 

Shell game with facts. And this is the real reason for all their covert ops. It's a big blame-shame-game cover-up they play to divert suspicion and censure off themselves by throwing it on someone else. Yanno, skunk smells it's own smell first kind of thing? 

Inappropriate and impossible expectations. Continually shifting demands. Pity parties. Vicious backstabbing. Nasty, surprise attacks. Dangerous set-ups. I just lumped all this ewww into one bullet point. I don't have the oomph to elaborate on each. They can speak for themselves. And you very savvy people don't need elaboration. You get it, sadly. Except just one word on the..,

Surprise attacks. Just, wow. You hear of people in Britain preparing for dawn raids during the war. But who expects their parents to launch a TET Offensive against their kids, huh??? And yet, they do. If I wanted to, I couldn't begin to detail all the sneaky nasty offensives they launched. And why? Why take out your kid? What good did it do you? You still died alone and afraid?? 

Maybe we need a key change here? Nawh, it's still very minor. 

Cutting out the legs from under the child. Narcissistic parents can't handle competition even from their kids. That includes us just being born. And other people loving us. They're seethingly jealous of us and we didn't even know we were competing. We were just happy and thinking mom was too. But oh no, if mom's pissed everyone will suffer. And mom's always pissed, jealous and resentful.  They do this to "cut you down to size" because you're so conceited, they say.  So they amputate the child's supports so she can't stand alone.  And then they laugh at her. 

Sabotaging good things. Narcissist parents are masterful at making shitshows of normal things. They drum up drama like a majorette. Unprovoked, they'll make vicious comments at a family dinner. They start fights at an Easter egg hunt. They humiliate the child at her school performance. My dad screamed at me at Christmas for going to the bathroom to try on my new sweater. After asking permission. And then told me to quit crying. He insulted me at graduation because "it's only a piece of paper." When all the other dads were hugging their daughters and almost bloody crying with pride. He said my solo was 
showing off. They leave everyone mouth gaped at their crazy behavior. But no one says anything. 

Warped, self-serving lies presented as reality. You might think I'm a little dense and maybe I am. But it took me till I was 60 to learn that narcissists are proverbial liars. And that my parents, especially my mom, lied every time she opened her mouth, pretty much. Or near as damn all, because if a person lies most of the time, you should assume it's all the time. They don't lie to protect their child but their own trashy ways. 

Draconian punishment. Narcissist parents love the upper hand, literally. My mother enjoyed smacking me in the face for no particular reason. Oh she said I was mouthy or whatever, but if that's the case, how come this constantly fawning, self-loathing kid has no memory of it? If I'd done something wrong, you can be sure I would. 

FOG: The narcissist parents' modus operandi is to maintain a continual gaslighting fog Fear Obligation and Guilt in her family. Everything is about her. If mother is upset everyone must flock to her aid. They OWE her, supposedly. 

Petty, immature, passive aggressive posturing. There is no low a malignant narcissist parent won't stoop to to get his way. He pouts, whines, tantrums, sulks, gets on his imaginary high horse, Lord's it over. Nobody actually did anything to him except give in. He sees to it that his children, especially the scapegoat, toes the mark, humors his vanity, plays the game and let's him win. 

False sense of power. Because everyone gives in, the narcissist thinks he's won. The great and powerful Oz fancies he has us all in our place. But we don't play along because he outsmarts us. He's just makes such an exhausting pain in the ass nuisance of himself that we give him his way so he'll shut up an go lay down. The only one who can't see what a fucking travesty he is, is him. 

Confusing and unsettling. Narcissist parents do and say bafflingly weird, disturbing icky things just to disturb their child. It's not accidental, it's intentional. They know it will upset their child and they get off on that power. 

Chaotic out of nowhere behavior. Narcissistic parents rule by chaos and confusion. My mother changed boyfriends more than most people change sheets. She would spring some crackheaded thing, like surprise, we're moving, on me with no preparation. I've had the rug pulled out so often that the floor under me is polished. She always managed to do this just when I was feeling okay to put the other foot down. She once threw a pie in my face at her company picnic. Come to think of it, she's thrown a lot of figurative pies, too. Just to see me gasp for breath. I think she found it funny to traumatize me. 

Manufactured stress put on the child and ONLY on the child. They deprive her of resources so she's tired and more malleable. They put waaaay too much work on the child leaving her barely enough time even for homework. They set impossible deadlines only she has to meet. They do time motion studies and set ridiculous standards for her that no one else has to let alone could, complete. 

Abrupt, arbitrary, extreme changes in the child's life with no warning or involvement of the child. My parents were legendarily irresponsible and self-servingly chaotic. It wasn't failure but unwillingness to launch. My mother says she never grew up, like that's a charming trait. It isn't. It's  hell to live with. She tells everyone she can't be held responsible and that others should just accommodate. Both my bio parents believed it was their right to live as they wished and everyone else's job clean up their messes and do for them.  Primarily their scapegoat child slave. 

Rumor-mongering. The parents pit people against the child with spiteful smear campaigns. Just for being. They spread lies that the child is too sensitive to their harsh criticism and too critical of their very wrong behavior. (Both are nonsense and couldn't coexist). The child is so browbeaten she wouldn't say boo to a goose. And she wouldn't know where to being finding fault with them because everything they do is selfish, manipulative and irresponsible. 

Terrorizing, threatening. Life for a child of narcissistically abusive parents is dark and foreboding. Nothing is just happy. Peaceful. Everything is weaponized, twisted and unsafe. When you live with your sleep-around preacher mom, her deadbeat boyfriend, her 15 y/o pregnant just had abortion about to have another psycho foster kid, her 26 y/o Vietnam drug addict boyfriend, a porno addict uncle and his pregnant girlfriend (living in your bedroom), plus assorted foster children YOU at 11 are supposed to parent, well, life ain't nothing like the neighbor's. It's a bloody paranormal. And that was just one little scrap in my crazy quilt life. 

Make the child look cuckoo. Please,  my friends, help me here. Leave me a comment if anything I've shared sounds off or weird to you. Because all this, THIS that I share, I can't begin to describe. I feel like a nutcase. I couldn't make it up if I wanted to. And yet it sounds, I don't know, not fake but surreal. I see all these images of life back then, so Mountain Dew, Hostess, Jif happy normal. But all I remember is hell and shoved in it. Seeing but not seeing, only feeling. 

Random rage fests. If you want to get everyone's attention (and scare the shit out of them), pitch a surprise bitch, was my dad and stepdad's motto. Target the already nervous, anxious child. My mom's and stepmom's weapon of choice was their passive-aggressive self-pity parties, thrown just because. A. These worked wonders at keeping me always on my toes, ready to jump in and save. I attended these events with presents, of care-taking, sympathy and fawning. 

Pretending their abuse is normal (gaslighting) and the child is abnormal if she protects herself. Which I rarely did, so no fears there. My mother would hit me for being "mouthy." Though as I've said before, I've no idea what I could or would have said to warrant a crack in the head. I didn't learn anything except fear and flinching. Then she'd cry on my shoulder how grama once slapped her. Then I slapped my daughter's face, not because it felt right or because "what's good enough for me is good enough for you" idiocy. I did it because my mother told me to and mother is always right. And then she accused me of doing what she told me to do, saying it was abusive. For me to do, not her. Two sets of rules. And then lied and said she never did hit me. I was making it up. The mind boggles at how quickly her stories change. 

Betrayal. Taking another child side against you and not even listening to yours, always. Then shaming you publicly for having a side. Twisting what you said or did into bad things. Lying about you. Setting you up. Making fun of you. Making you out to be some kind of demon when you're just a kid (you believe their version of you, over your own common sense, by the way) Reporting you for doing things you didn't do but she did. Always believing bad about you, even when the person who said it is a liar and it's in his best interest to lie about you to protect himself. Lying about you and calling you a liar. 

"Calling out" the child on things the parent actually did. I'll take to my grave things my kids did, not because they were terrible things. They're just kid stuff. But they might get misread. And they're no one's business. And mostly because they're my precious bebe. You do that for them. It would have been nice if someone had felt this way about me. But no, they called me out, like it was some fucking gotcha moment. Mufu, that is seriously nasty shit.  To call her out in general is messed up, but on things you did yourself?  Wow. Hell holds a special place.  

Force the child to ask permission for everything. To think, need, feel, want, decide. Then demand endless dogged service from her. I did not know till my husband told me that normal kids do not need to ask permission for everything. Not from parents and certainly not from a damn step-parent who she is waiting on hand and foot. She doesn't have to obey her lazy, jobless stepdad because it's "his house, his rules" because it's not his house. It's not his girlfriend's either. It's paid for with his girlfriend's daughter's child support. Her abusive stepfather does not have authority to demand anything of the child and certainly cannot kick her out of "his house." 

Making conditional what were my basic rights as a kid. I'll just let that marinate in its own juices a bit.

Brain damaging her so she thinks she's unable to cope without them. She must take all her cues from them because she's too stupid to decide for herself. Jesus Christ, they parentified you, which is a fancy way of saying make you parent them. Answer to and for them. Cover for them. Change their diapers. Wipe their faces. But yet somehow,  they also make you think you need them for the simplest of tasks. How, HOW?? (We need a revolution!)

Painting the child like some kind of monster. Malignant narcissistic parents make up stories about their kids to portray them as evil and themselves the long-suffering parents just trying their best. Nothing could be more bullshitty. The parents are the ones doing all the nasty shit they say about their child while she just tries to keep her head above water. 

Controlling everything even and especially things they have no business controlling or actual control of. They just make her think they have power they don't. Good God, there are not enough bottles of wine in this world to make it make sense. 

Seizing assets. Literally stealing, usurping and then wasting or ruining them. Narcissistic parents don't just waste their money. They insist on controlling then "speculating with" their kids as if it is their own. They feed the kid a line of BS that she's unable to manage so they'll have to manage for her. And they screw everything up. Because they're not able to organize a cheese roll let alone their own lives let alone anyone else's. They are inept. 

Bullying and coercive control. Everything about these people is bossy, pushy, autocratic, harsh. They say they have to be this way because it's the only way the child will cooperate. Cooperate,  hell, there's no cooperating with them. There's just rigid, militaristic obedience. 

Playing the hero. Narcissistic parents treat the child even in adulthood, like she's feeble. They don't look after her, mind. They never have. If she's feeble it's from harassment, exhaustion and depletion. They mess her up and then stand back tutting oh what a mess she is. Then they swoop in, not to help or rescue but to take charge and then gloat. 

Force her to live in awful situations. Life with my parents was very much like a POW camp. No rights, basic needs and rights (privacy, time to do homework, rest and sleep) spun as privileges. Everything had to be earned. And no matter how hard I tried I never earned it. They were completely transactional when it came to expectations for me. Things no child should be expected to do. The family dog ate better. Yet they reneged on their responsibilities. They withheld things that they owed as just basic parental duties. All I ever heard about were my duties to everyone else. Never anyone's duties to me. I was family when convenient and unpaid staff most of the time.

So what all this accomplishes is to create a pre-emptive fear of failure. As the child grows, she is  increasingly more anxious about making the simplest of decisions or performing the easiest of tasks. She feels obligated to obey parents long after she is no longer under their control. Yet she feels responsible to them to cover all their bad choices. She fears displeasing parents even when she is well into adulthood. There's a nagging confusing vague sense of impending doom. That somehow, no matter how sure she is of the rightness, of having her facts straight, of having done it all just so, it will fall apart. 

Her narcissistic parents have steadily and surely broken her down, weaponized her resilience to heap even more pressure on her, drained her resources, deprived her of necessities. They, who are well rested and well nourished have loads of energy to keep up the barrage against her which she hasn't the strength to resist. They have orchestrated such toxic and frightening scenarios that every day feels like a fight for survival. A struggle to avoid drowning in despair but also to keep up appearances. Because God forbid anyone actually see and acknowledge and try to do something to help her out of the hell they're keeping her in. 

The malignant narcissists' goal is to steal all the child's light and power and what they can't steal, they damage. This renders her useless, or makes her feel she's useless for anything but service to them. Boom. There it is. Their endgame. Pathetic. Because spoiler alert. They don't ever acknowledge or apologize. They die and take your pain and shame to their damn ( I wish we had more swear words, more rocks) graves. If you get an apology be wary, be VERY wary. I got one once. It ain't worth the paper to blow your nose on. It was a lame joke that made it all so much worse. Because now I know she knew what she was doing and she didn't care. 

Addendum: I know, each of these is becoming its own self-contained Sheol. Sometimes these articles get away from me as awful memory collides with awful memory. Over and over again. Each gets longer and longer till sometimes I wonder if can ever stop. I wish I could stop the nightmares, the dry socket ache, the soul cancer sick pain. Please believe I'm not trying to trauma dump or scare you. For the first time, ever, I've been saying what happened. What has been buried under, cleared away, paved over, built on, for going on 60 years.

How narcissist parents' abusive double standards and gaslighting broke my brain

 Hello my friends. Today on the path toward healing CPTSD, I'm looking at how my narcissistic parents' abusive double standards and gaslighting about it all, broke my brain. That's not a figure of speech. The adult brain of a traumatized child shows physical damage from the corrosive cortisol and adrenaline from constant stress and chaos. We are dry drowning in all the fear, obligation, guilt and crisis they flood us with . Our coping abilities are crippled from neglect, deprivation, hypocrisy, manipulation, selfish demands of parents. We are always confused and haunted by all the manufactured chaos and weaponized anxiety our parents put on us. We become hypervigilant. 

We bring this damage with us into adulthood. We are chronologically grown up, but the wounded child within has never been able to escape and develop. She is trapped inside us because she was never allowed to be, to need, to want, to express herself, to live. We lack identity because it was stolen from us by greedy, demanding people who took advantage of our youth, dependence and vulnerability. Everything is backwards and upside down for us. Because we were being harmed by the very people who were supposed to be protecting us. We were serving, nurturing, defending, caring and doing all for our parents what they were supposed to do for us. They said I owed them everything. But they owed me nothing. I was an endless slot machine, paying out with nothing being paid in. 

And one of the most disturbing things they groomed me to think I owed them was taking their burdens on me. I sacrificed my all, on their altar. I gave it all away to them. And I took responsibility for all their actions. I was pretty  much born an adult, never being permitted to act or grow like a normal child. And I was born their parent, always expected to not only do for them but also cover for all their foolish, selfish choices. 

And to make it even more baffling, I was also their child, not in the caring for way, in the possessive way. They owned me, body, mind and spirit. I was endlessly repurposed into whatever each needed at the moment. And because they were divorced and remarried, that mushroomed into four people, plus their new kids, that I had to wait on. And the demands were ever-changing, without warning. And I was just expected to know what was expected and provide it. 

So I had to think like an adult and parent when I was a kid. Like a parent, I had to excuse their behavior. And that's strange for many reasons. Because parents don't excuse as in ignore bad behavior. They have to correct it. But I could never do that. I couldn't even say that what they were doing hurt. I had to be completely on board with everything Jack, Ginny, Nancy and Bill did not matter how dangerous it was to me. Because I had to also be subservient and under their rule like a child. I had to say it was okay by me when it wasn't. I couldn't even defend myself, let alone call them out. And then when things went wrong, I was taught to exonerate, excuse, explain away, expunge, justify and then accept responsibility for it. 

I was both savior and scapegoat, servant and slave, surrogate parent and spouse. I carried them all, all my life with them. And now I've cut ties, and two have died. Which by the way, I've heard how I'd miss them when they were gone and regret missed opportunities. False. I don't miss them any more than I'd miss an abscess. It's so much easier without them around. I don't regret missed opportunities because there never were opportunities, only expectations. And I never let them down. What I miss is me. I want my childhood, peace of mind, and self back. 

But even with none of them in my life anymore. They're still in my head and in my nightmares. I still feel responsible for them all. I feel all the guilt and shame over their actions, as if they were mine. Literally, my brain is so damaged that I am constantly confused. My memories are shot to hell by decades of gaslighting. And it's that gaslighting plus the double standards that caused the trouble. My dream now gaslight me that I actually did the wrong things they did. 

So how did my narcissistic parents manage to substitute me as the sacrificial lamb? Therein lies the power of gaslighting. By indoctrinating me that I was the problem and the cause of all theirs problems they were able to Frankenstein my brain. They did crazy, outlandish things no one does let alone a parent. They were so insane that no one would believe it happened. And my devilishly cunning and deceitful parents knew this. 

They purposely broke my ability to process all the shit they did. They wrote false narratives which they implanted in my head. They lied and brainwashed and got me all mixed up. And because a vulnerable child can't face the fact that their parents are actually the child's enemy bent on destroying them, the child has to protect herself. So she lets them spin lies painting themselves as victims and her as the perpetrator. 

And being a very conscientious child, I worked for the rest of my life to make up for all the bad things they said I'd done. I let them endlessly use me because in my gaslit mind, I created the problem. And they took full advantage of this confusion on my part. No amount of service could fix this. They kept me dancing by withholding love and forgiveness. Now I see I did nothing that needed forgiving. But they did. And again, my young mind had no ability to conceptualize arrogant, self-centered, cruel manipulation on such a grand scale. By parents. 

In my confusion and exhaustion, I somehow misfiled experiences in the wrong memory drawer. I put their wrongdoing in my drawer. I took on myself, their wrongs. My broken mind remembered their actions as my own. I just realized that last week. I'm 61. So for six decades those recollections have lain in the wrong drawer, toxifying. My dreams have been trying to properly sort them. Night after night, they show me endless images of myself, horrified and ashamed but I'm never shown what I did to feel this way. My dreams also show me in impossibly difficult, unsafe, gross situations with endless inappropriate demands. I thought the former was memories and the latter were consequences. 

Now that I look closer, I see it's the other way around. The former dreams are consequences of my parents' cruel brainwashing. that I'm never shown what I did because I did nothing. They did. The shame I'm remembering is theirs. Not that I've never done wrong, obviously. But I don't dream about that because I've recognized, admitted, humbled myself, apologized and made amends. I dream about wrong that was done to me because the guilty parties have never done any of that. I think my mind is trying to help me see that it is not my fault what happened to me. 

 And the dreams of being overburdened, made responsible for everyone and everything, being abused and neglected, well, those are memories. 

  

What to do when you've tried everything else to stop being narcissistically abused

Hello my friends. Today I'm doing something I don't know if I've ever done before. I have a long history with narcissistic abuse both from parents and husband. I have done and tried everything to make them stop. I have talked till I'm hoarse. I've explained why it hurts. I've screamed and raged. I've cried. I've hit myself. I've blamed myself. I've let them blame me. I've threatened. I've driven off crying. I've slammed doors. I contemplated and threatened suicide.  I've rolled over for it. I've allowed it and showed them how to treat me. I've rationalized it. I've excused, exonerated, tolerated, turned a blind eye to, ignored, pretended it didn't hurt. I've retaliated. None of it worked. 

I've dysregulated when they were dysregulating so they wouldn't feel solely responsible. I've cleaned up their messes. I've body blocked it so my kids wouldn't see or hear their dad and grandparents ripping me apart.  (They still saw.) I've humored, placated and soothed the perpetrators like fractious children. I've parented my parents and husband. I've defended. I've made an idiot of myself to shield. I've made everyone think I'm the problem. I caused their shitty behavior. None of it worked. 

I've prayed. OH HOW I'VE PRAYED. For strength and patience. For them. To be released from anger. To be shown what I can do to fix it. And I've kept going back, again and again, allowing them to do it again and again. Because I am terrified of abandonment. Because I've been abandoned. And they know this. My husband knows my back story. He says he feels sad about it. And still, he weaponizes it, doing and saying things he knows will trigger these fears. So I keep giving in and giving them what  they want. And still it keeps happening. 

The thought of standing my ground terrifies me. I've let them rage at me. I've believed their bullshit about how it's my problem. How it's not abuse but a fight. I've let them call the shots, dictate terms and tell me how I'm supposed to respond to their behavior. I've let them define what God expects of me. How I brought it on myself. I've let them gaslight me. I've let them "make peace" on their terms, when they "were ready." I don't even know what it feels like to be ready myself. I just play by their endlessly changing double standards and hypocrisy. Playing the roles they've assigned to me. 

I've let them gaslight me about how I should be thinking and feeling about God, when they who are the only face of God I know, are acting insanely unloving. I let them tell me (gaslight me if I'm honest about how it feels) that there is a God who loves me and how I should be so grateful for that. What they know but seem to ignore is that I've been doing this relationship with God thing a long time, longer and  more genuinely than any of them. But I let fair weather pretend performative Christians tell me what  I'm supposed to be doing.  I just accept they know better and their shaming is my just desserts. I believe their lies. 

But what's different today is that I'm being honest. I'm taking the blinders off and acknowledging all that happened in its naked ugliness. I'm not trying to explain to my husband anymore what he's done, why it hurts, etc. I'm explaining it to me. I'm owning my own feelings, not what I'm told I feel. Or at least trying to figure out what those are. This is foreign and frightening. My stomach feels sick thinking about it. 

But part of the sickness is the realization of  how much time I've wasted trying to repair and make up for damage that other people have caused. People who have no intention of stopping. People who plan to continue doing exactly the harmful things they do and who will not stop till it's a problem for them. People who do not care about me. I'm accepting that and expecting nothing. 

I've refused all my life to accept that the harm that was being done to me was being done. I covered for my parents and my husband. Because they said I had to. Well, I don't have to. I'm not going to fix what they broke. I don't owe them anything. I can quit playing the game any time I want. I can stop letting them make up rules as they go along. I don't want to care about what they do anymore. I don't want to be hurt anymore. I don't want to play supporting actress to their shitshows anymore. I want out. 

It's a bitter pill to swallow that I can't trust people who I should be able to trust. People who proclaim to love me yet who do nasty things out of the blue. For shits and giggles. So what do I feel about it? Not angry. Aware and exhausted. I can't fix what I didn't break. They're just going to keep breaking it. I'm going to let myself sit with that awareness and exhaustion. 

I want to do what I want. I want to call the shots in my life. It's about damn time I did. If I screw up, oh well, I'll burn that bridge when I come to it. There's a betting chance the only one hurt by my screw ups will be me. It's a lot better than being screwed over all the time. Oh and I'll be determining what constitutes screw up. And why am I so worried about screwing up? Because they've gaslit me that this  is all that will  happen if I do it my way. Yanno what the H with their nonsense. It may very well turn out that I make a huge, glorious amazing success of it!

How people perpetuate narcissistic parent abuse and childhood trauma

Hello my friends. Today, to heal from narcissistic parent abuse, I'm going to explore how people perpetuate the cycle of abuse. I'm also looking at why and how our trauma brain overlooks this. And how ignoring what is actually abuse itself, causes more pain. Some people mean to and others may not. But it still hurts all the same. 

So the people who do hurtful things in our adult life, may or may not be narcissistic abusers. Or even narcissists. But I would contend that in some ways, that makes it worse, especially if they exploit our past trauma for their own ends. If they know our story and then do the very things that were done to us, like gaslighting, invalidating, dismissing, shaming, scolding, humiliating, scapegoating, it makes our childhood trauma infinitely more difficult. It reinforces to us that this is all we deserve and should expect from people. 

I will agree that it isn't anyone else's fault what our parents did to us. They can't fix our past. But they can avoid making our present worse. And while I said it isn't their fault, it is their problem if  we are in a relationship with  us. We take on each other's issues, to some extent, as soon as we join up with them. We aren't responsible for them, but we are responsible to them just as they are responsible to us. We are accountable. 

So it behooves us to consider very carefully who to hitch our wagon to. If the person shows signs of bullying, manipulation, selfishness, arrogance, entitlement (narcissism), the best thing to do is swipe left. If these are showing up in the honeymoon phase when they're on their best behavior, it won't get better as they get more comfortable. But for most of us, it's not that simple. The dating years are decades gone. 

So what do you do with someone who pushes your childhood trauma buttons, years into the relationship? Well, first, consider what you are bringing to the equation. I don't mean what have you brought on yourself. I mean what preset responses are being activated? What childhood triggers are being set off that neither of you recognize?

You may think you've told them your story and that they get it. But no one can relive with you what you experienced. They will bring their own issues, possibly trauma and perspective to it. What may feel like rubbing salt in wounds may be exactly what you need to heal. If you significant other loves you, he will very likely also be your truth-teller. The one who points out the narcissistic parent abuse in your life. 

If you're like me, you didn't see the abuse till you were much older. Like in your senior years, even. They had decades to normalize to you their scapegoating, abuse, neglect, endangerment, abandonment, exploitation, invalidation and gaslighting about it all. But your loved one didn't live with that. They didn't grow up with the lies, spun narratives, double standards and hypocrisy. 

And also, bear in mind that they are not you. They don't know your experiences but that may be a good thing in some ways. This may give them clearer perspective to see your experiences for what they were, unlike poor little shell-shocked you, who has grown up minimizing and excusing them. They can see the bullshit your parents do and call it what it is. 

The thing to watch for is how and when they call it out. If they do it immediately after doing some hurtful thing to you, no, this isn't truth-telling. It's weaponizing your past trauma to deflect blame away from themselves. After being caught cheating, saying things like, "well, it's not as bad as what your parents did. At least I didn't abandon you." After raging at you, saying "it's not like I hit you like your dad did." 

Another thing to note is that there are people who specifically target traumatized kids because they know they are vulnerable and therefore, easy targets. They're like victim vultures always quietly circling, looking for wounded, helpless people to feast on. Initially, they make you feel special and loved. They act supportive. This is the love bombing stage. But then they begin doing creepy things to isolate you from real support. 

What they want is to have you all to themselves. They want sole rights to your soul. They may act angry when someone else hurts you. This isn't because they are protective of you. They are jealous and want first dibs on hurting you. They're mad someone else got to you first. Then they start the devaluing process, cutting you down, "tenderizing" you so you're more malleable and dependent on them. 

It's nauseating. I experienced so much of this type of thing from people outside my family but worst from family members including my narcissistic parents and their new partners. My mother would seize on anything my dad or his wife did to me, not to defend me but to capitalize on it. She'd play the "pretty one" the good cop. Her purpose was to further abuse me and let her boyfriend/husband abuse me. 

But by positioning herself as my hero-saviour, she could do it clandestinely, under the guise of helping me. I see  now what I didn't see then. That she wasn't helping me she was helping herself. She never cared if people hurt me unless there was something in it for her. The few times she showed any concern, I recall, it was never about me. She was mad AT me for inconveniencing her and for not saving myself for her exclusive use. A thoroughly damaged kid was no good to  her. She needed me somewhat functional to be of service. But not too functional or I might see through her. Ergo the deprivation. 

When the neighbor kid sexually assaulted me, she told me to shrug it off. Then hooked up with the kid's dad. I never really understood  what a horrible knife in the back that was, only the sickening feeling I had. She actually had me feeling sorry for her because she was a "poor, single mom" who was just looking for love. I didn't get that she was gang-banging me with the very people who had so harmed me. 

I also see that she never did take proper care of me. She would whine to me about how awful my dad was to her. And then go out of her way to endanger and abandon me. And then shame me for being sad about it. And then excuse it because, well, your dad doesn't take care of you so I have to and I get tired, you know. So of course I have to run around with other men. I have needs too. Which would make me feel all the fear, obligation and guilt she was putting on me. 

And then there was the extended family's response and how that made the abuse so much worse. More on that later. 

How extended family ignoring my narcissistic parents' abuse made it worse

This is part two of my series exploring how other people make narcissistic parent abuse even worse. This time I'm looking not just at those outside the family but the extended family itself. And it is probably the most painful thing I've written about to date. I'm under no illusion that I was ever really part of my parent's and then their new partners' family circle. In fact, it's kind of stupid of them to even call themselves my "family." I had no family after they divorced. My circle was busted wide open. Divorced kids (yes I said that intentionally) who are the only children of the original marriage are often, forever after outsiders, excluded. We're "stepchildren" as if we're the broken ones. Even our real parents, who are actually the broken ones, treat us like we're just cracked off dangly twigs rather than full members of the family tree. 

Except for when our narcissistic parents need us. Then we're expected to do things for them because they're our "parents." Even though they don't act like parents or care for us. They demand all kinds of irrational, inappropriate, hurtful, ridiculous and impossible things of us under the guise of family. But we still aren't. They make it up as they go along, flipping the script to suit themselves. They write hypocritical, double standard rules for us. They owe us nothing. We owe them everything. We're family it's convenient for them and cut off when we're inconvenient. 

It took me a lifetime to see this. Because of course, I was a child and my parents gaslit me. But now that I see, I'm asking why extended family didn't see. And if they saw, why no one stepped in. Why did they just go along with my parents' nonsense? And that's the worst part of all. Because while I got the message loud and clear that my parents' didn't owe me to include me in their lives, I thought at least I was part of the extended family. Now I'm not so sure. 

I see now it was never about me and what I needed. It was only about my parents and what they wanted. They were never on my side, but they sure expected me to be on theirs. None of the four people who called themselves my parents ever were. They all dumped on me and then blamed me. They broke down my resistance with neglect and abuse which they then blamed on me. They did this so I would cover for them. And shoulder the blame, shame and responsibility for her actions. And it worked perfectly. I willingly participated in my own gaslighting. It wasn't long before they were blatantly hurting me and openly laughing at me. 

And what I now want to know is, how and why did the extended family manage to overlook this? My parents' were literally, in everyone in the family's faces with their off behavior. The evidence was obvious. But we all just lined up and signed up for their reality shitshow. I was so confused by the smoke they blew up everyone's collective asses that I didn't see any of this till I was almost 60. 

But what boggles me is how they had everyone else so hoodwinked. The entire family, who were nothing like my scamming, cheating, morally bankrupt, dangerous, deceitful and twisted parents, were somehow taken in by them and turned a blind eye to it all. Never once did anyone confront my parents or even reach out to ask how I was coping. No one even acknowledged their awful behavior. Once my mother told me that "her parents" (my grandparents) "didn't acknowledge her children with her second husband." And that God didn't either.  

They were what was called back then "illegitimate" children. which is a terrible word. I see now that she told me this to get pity which I gave. She was also mad at me when she said it. She made it seem that I somehow got "favored" treatment as her only legitimate child. And that I stole from her other children what they really deserved. Interestingly, she has spent the rest of her life trying to even this score at my expense. She has stolen all manner of things from me, particularly what my grandparents gave me. 

I now believe she twisted my grandparents words as she did so often. Or just lied. But if they did say something, it was probably meant to indicate not disapproval of her children, but of her and her lifestyle. But then, I ask, why did they not say anything to me, if they cared so much? Why did no one tell me that what my parents did was wrong? At least so I'd avoid the same mistakes. Why did no one call it what it was? Or maybe they tried and I couldn't hear it. I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I'd have remembered if they did. I wasn't that far gone into my parent's cult. 

And this is what I do. I make excuses for people, my extended family included. They didn't know. My parents were good at hiding it. No they weren't. They were obvious. Or maybe it was because I always stood up for my parents. I never said what was really happening. Still no excuse. Because a caring person listens not just to what the child is saying but what she isn't. Especially if you can see with your own eyes how she's being treated and that she's covering for them. You don't let her fudge reality and except her version. Especially too if you know right from wrong which my extended family surely did.

The family was never on board for my parents' divorce, let alone second marriages and a bunch of kids. And not just because it violated their religious views. They were good, caring people who knew how this would hurt a child. Or so I thought. Now I wonder if it wasn't just because they were embarrassed by how it hurt their reputation. I don't want to believe it because it means I have to accept that literally no one cared about me. But what other explanation is there for why they seemed perfectly fine with all the crazy I was living with? 

They knew full well how irresponsible, selfish, arrogant, exploitative, entitled and deviant my parents were. Hell, they'd bailed all four of them out numerous times. They had been victimized too, though nothing like me. Yet they acted like nothing was wrong when it came to me. It's like they thought these awful people were just somehow completely good parents to me. And even if they were victims too, they were adults and I was a child alone. 

Sure my extended family were loving and caring. But no one ever acknowledged to me, that what my parents and their partners were doing was wrong. Not one person reached out to help. They just accepted my fake smile at face value either because they were too lazy or unconcerned. They didn't do anything to hurt, but they also didn't do anything to help. 

And those omissions spoke louder to me, I see now, than any love or support my family gave. It's gaslighting by silence rather than words. And what it told me was that my parents were right. It was my fault. I was too sensitive and too critical of them. I was the angry, wicked, immoral, disobedient, selfish one. I deserved to be treated like shit. Their lives were blameless, upright and just. It was all happy normal and perfectly okay that I was miserable. The problem was me. And I learned my lessons well. 

In some ways, the extended family's abandonment and betrayal of me (and neither are too strong of words) was as bad as or worse than even what my parents did. They clearly didn't love or care for me. But people who really do love you, who ignore how your parents are hurting you do the most damage, I think. You trust and believe them. Their silence implies consent. It validates, excuses and exonerates parental abuse. 

What conflict teaches me about childhood trauma from narcissistic parent abuse

Hi friends. This morning, I got into a conflict with my husband (or was kind of dragged into it). And I realized that conflict, as in how I cope with it, has a lot to teach me about childhood trauma from narcissistic parent abuse. It underscores what teachers like Dr. Ramani, Patrick Teahan, Danish Bashir, Jerry Wise and Dr. Les Carter have been saying about how victims of narcissistic abuse trauma respond. Here are some lessons I learned. And the great  news is that I must already know them better than I think because, this time, instead of going into the downward spiral of rumination, shame and anger, I felt calmly detached, grounded and confident. 

But first, some background. My husband is not a narcissist either clinically or by nature. He does exhibit some arrogant, bossy, callous and entitled tendencies but this is always when he is exhausted. He works 12-hour nights and it's after one of these that I see the behaviors come out. Today was one such time. It started innocently enough. What happens is that he will read something at work and share it with me when he comes home. Normal for people on a normal schedule. 

However, being that we're at opposite ends of our day: I'm just waking up and he's sleepy and ready for bed, it never goes well. We should just learn to only talk about the cats or some innocuous subject. But it's easy to forget because the subject matter seems safe. And we should know better because we're both intense, intelligent people and so what we read is serious, not lighthearted. 

He was talking about Catholic anarchy and Dorothy Day and how what they preach resonated. Which I've been saying for at least 40 years. He freely admits to being an anarchist and Catholic but he could never hear Catholic anarchy without getting triggered and going off on a rant. He has always struggled to juxtapose his faith and his politics. And I get that. But I was just a tiny bit annoyed that what I'd been saying for decades had been dismissed and it was only when he heard it said by someone else, that he accepted it. 

Then he made the point that Dorothy Day did not consider herself a feminist. Feminism has always been a sore spot for me because I consider myself a spiritual Christian feminist.  Things churches, ministers and most other Christians and even my husband, gently, say are in compatible. You know the old "you can't call yourself thus and such and still be Christian." nonsense. I was publicly scolded by a former friend at a Christian camp just for saying I agreed with parts of humanism. "How dare you say that! WE" must NEVER say that!!" She said. And so I kept quiet and felt ashamed. Because she said to. One of my trauma responses is to always believe I'm wrong and someone else is right and it's gotten me into many dangerous situations. 

But yet I've wrestled with this all my life because I believe that many seemingly dissimilar ideas can coexist quite effectively, in this thing we call life. I see many contradictions in our holy books. In fact, I believe that feminism is an outgrowth of Christianity. Because Jesus  proved himself a feminist. And actually my own husband is a feminist in that he champions the cause of women at every chance. 

But he balks at the use of the word. Not just for him but for me. He doesn't like it when I call myself that because that term "left a bad taste in his mouth." When I refer to it, he talks me down, corrects and even chides me. So I have to either keep quiet (while he is on his feminist soapbox, yes it's that hypocritical) or get into an exhausting, irritating endless cycle of debate which always ends in anger and tears. I don't dare to say certain things for fear of setting him off. 

Funnily enough I had just yesterday listened to a talk by Dr. Ramani about how narcissists wear us down and we give in. I know, you're thinking, he's a narcissist and I'm in denial. And as obvious as that seems, it's not. Because I know him better than anyone. This comes from a bullheadedness to be sure. And poor listening skills that need an upgrade. Mostly, it comes from both of us being overtired. Me from terrible trauma nightmares and him from a wonky schedule. But we have always cut ourselves short and held ourselves to standards we don't have the resources to meet. We try to keep up a normal life when we don't have one. 

So conversations devolve into crazy because we're not thinking clearly. Or they did till today when I realized something. This is historic with me, to be shamed and scolded. I'm used to a harassing parent riding herd over me and me capitulating to keep them happy. And here's where the childhood trauma responses come in. 

I realized today that I amend or keep quiet about my every thought, idea, belief, even needs and wants, because they often anger or are inconvenient for someone else. The fact that I earlier wrote that "I don't dare say certain things" in indicative of childhood trauma response. It speaks to a child who was continually under the thumb of bullying adults and who lived in constant fear of punishment. Not for doing terrible or hurtful things. JUST FOR HAVING NEEDS AND WANTS AND IDEAS!  

So what I did today was off the charts different and uncomfortable but so important. I stood my ground, calmly. I didn't JADE--justify, argue, defend or explain. I spoke my truth, clearly. My husband kept reiterating that he didn't think of me as a feminist. Then he said I'm not saying you can't call yourself one. Call yourself a cat if you want. Supposedly, he wasn't trying to tell me what to think. He was just explaining what I really thought. He was helping me understand myself by "translating" it correctly. He said he had a right his opinion and that I should listen to it. He said aren't you even interested in hearing my point of view? He tends to pick a bone of contention and gnaw it to death. 

He wouldn't admit, if confronted, to being as arrogant as that but he was. Fact. He has a habit of saying rude, haughty things that come across exactly how they are said. Rude and haughty. If confronted, he both backpedals and doubles down. He expects that by reiterating his opinion over and over again, others will finally get him right. And change their minds to his. What we get is that he not only is rude, he means to be. That's the communication fail, assuming that if others don't agree they misunderstood you. I understand perfectly and I just don't like what you said. 

Then he gets hurt that people took them wrong. He expects that people will cut him slack and just divine that he meant it nicely. He's not above-it-all like a narcissist, more confused and a little sulky. Which yes, is a bit covert or vulnerable narcissist. But recall I said it happens mostly when tired. So not in a clear head. Anyway, it's not my purpose to diagnose. 

I'm in this marriage for the long haul and I just want to get as healthy and free from narcissist parent abuse as possible. But regardless, it's frustrating as hell to live with, whether you grew up in trauma or not. So I'm extra proud of myself and grateful to my higher power for being able to stay glued through today's episode. 

And while I didn't JADE, I did state facts and express feelings. I called his behavior what I've always felt it was but was too afraid to admit. I said it felt patronizing to be told what I thought. Reinventing someone's reality is gaslighting. Paraphrasing their words is diminishing them and invalidating, especially given that he knows my back history of being chronically invalidated. Which he has participated in, with behavior like this, if I'm honest. 

He has often said that he needs to put my words into his own words. And I said that they require no translation. They stand alone and  I stand by them. He said that he didn't mean that. I said the fact that he continually does this implies otherwise. It says he thinks my words are of no worth without his imprimatur. Or that other people won't understand my crazy ideas unless he's there to mediate. I also said the cat remark was condescending and sarcastic not helpful. 

To his statement that he had a right to his opinions, I agreed. That they were just that. Opinions. But about his question, didn't I want to hear his opinion? Didn't he have a right to express things in his own way? On my own opinions, no, not really. It's unnecessary. The last thing I need is someone redefining what I think or telling me how I should think. And how can you anyway?  Who are you to dictate what is in another persons' mind? Just figure out what you think and leave me to do me. 

Then he said he wasn't faulting my ideas, just clarifying. But in clarifying he was actually contradicting. He said I didn't really mean what I said. Then proceeded to tell me what I really think and feel. (!) To which I said, my ideas don't need clarifying. And if they do, I will clarify them. And by clarifying, you mean correcting. Because what you said was diametrically opposed to what I said. 

Then he said I could believe what I wanted. To which I replied yes, I can and I don't need permission. Which is what making such a statement like feels like to me. A reminder that I need validation of my right to be. About feminism leaving a bad taste in his mouth, I said, how could it? You weren't even born when it began. He also said he didn't see the need for it. Well of course you don't. You're a man. You didn't live with the tyranny and double standard. 

Which is also weird because as I said, he is a feminist in his support of women's rights. But I have noticed that he thinks he has to hear things said his way. Ideas have to be presented to him in a way he accepts for them to be valid. And he is incredibly hypocritical, without realizing it. He would get very upset if I challenged, corrected or reinterpreted his opinions. 

And about this notion of opinions. Do I think everyone is entitled to an opinion on everything? No. Not if you know nothing about the issue. Nor if your opinion includes expectations for others. Nor if you think you opinion should be given precedence over everyone else's even those who actually know and are affected by whatever it is you think should be done. Nor if you think your opinion matters more than mine. Have all you like. I just won't be listening. Just as I wouldn't expect anyone to care about mine. Which gets us back to the feminism thing. It's just my opinion that the goals are correct. I don't expect anyone who disagrees to change theirs. So why, then is it so important to change mine? Altogether I think opinions, especially uninformed, ignorant ones, are given far too much airtime. 

Case in point. Husband will say strange, simplistic things like, "well I just don't think there needs to be feminism. We should all just play nice." Agreed. But we don't. We also shouldn't need unions cuz employers should play fair. Or equality initiatives cuz all are equal or support groups cuz everyone should be nice  But they aren't, so we do. Which when he is advocating for something, he understands. But if it's someone else, like me, he feels the need to weigh in and adjudicate. 

So when he reads something that resonates, regardless of the fact that I've preached it for years, it's like it was just invented. Like he never heard me. There's that problem with listening skills. I think it's also easy for him to fall into dismissive mode. He plays devil's advocate a lot, even when we think alike. He contradicts a lot. And then is surprised when it annoys me to be defending what we're supposedly on the same page about. 

And then there's the problem of his very good judgement. Yes, I said problem. Confident and astute people are annoying AF to live with because, not because they're right. They're just so preachy about it. They make a person who has been taught insecurity even more insecure. They make us second-guess ourselves all the time. Because they, without meaning to, second-guess us. My husband may just be questioning himself in my presence but it sure feels like he's questioning me. 

In the case of him contradicting, I think what he does is to take exception to something for probably a good reason. His red flags about feminism may be somewhat legit. He has a very strong sense of discernment. He sees the big picture. I'm just not sure he always knows what to do about it. So he soft soaps by saying undermining, passive-aggressive things because he doesn't want the person to feel undermined. I don't think it's done out of malice. But it feels really sneaky, demeaning and confusing to someone who doesn't live in his brain. And definitely to someone who was gaslit, demeaned, put down and devalued as a child. And it's a little deluded to think that your thoughts are the only way to think. But since I was denied the right to think for myself, I assumed it was because I was always wrong. I'm very susceptible believing know-it-all. 

So what I did this time was to not let it trigger all that. I didn't attack or blame. I didn't feel angry. Just clear and justified. And honest. I didn't back down from statements I'd made. It felt very freeing to put in words rather than kowtow and suffer in silence. He said, in a kind of rude, backhanded way, sorry I pissed you off saying these things. (So he knew what he said was inflammatory and argumentative). Instead of saying, I'm sorry I was an argumentative know-it-all. And that's where I fell a little. I let him "ping" me. 

And here's another thing I learned about my trauma responses. Sometimes they include acting dysregulated when I don't feel it, just so someone else who is dysregulating won't feel alone. I replied in an annoyed way I didn't feel, "yes you did upset me." This is a weird form or fawning or presenting that I do. I take responsibility for their choices as if I'd somehow caused them to act this way. So the person who is pissed off, can call it a fight we both participated in, not a one-sided problem.  

However, to explain that no I wasn't upset and it was him who caused the friction, would require more of me defending myself. Which is part of the problem. So I found a workaround that required neither defending, arguing nor backing down. I said, "I misspoke when I said I was upset. I appreciate it because it's shown me that I need to stick to my guns and why." 

He didn't understand and I didn't hurry to explain. I'm not even sure I knew exactly what I meant. But I knew it was true. So I just left it there. He went into his usual haughty-irritated huff, saying well, I'll just keep my mouth shut. And then stormed off to bed. Which we both know he won't nor that I expect him to. But this time, I didn't reassure him. I just read it as written, said goodnight and I love you. And he calmed down. And you know what? I'm not ruminating, for once in my life. 

So maybe I did explain. But it was a different kind of explaining than I normally do. Traditionally, I explain why I do what I do, to defend. To win the approval I was never going to get. Because I always had to because my four narcissistic parents never took my side. They always jumped to believe the worst of me. They made up crap to paint me as the villain. This is not exaggerated. If anything I've downplayed it. I just wish it was made up. 

I'm sure that some at least of what I felt he was doing was from old experiences. But he does know my back story and has a responsibility as my husband to tread gently around old wounds. He needs to learn to pick battles and when to say nothing, if what he's saying is provocative or not helpful. He also needs to prioritize me more and quit taking me so much for granted. We are called in our vows to assist and support, not make situations worse. But that's for him to work out. I've always felt responsible to make things happen. I can't. I can just do my best. 

So it felt good to stand up for myself. It felt good to own my own ideas, unashamed. 

 

 

 

CPTSD from narcissist parent abuse feels like constant anxiety, insecurity, tension and confusion

Hello my friends. Today I'm unpacking my CPTSD from narcissistic parent abuse, by taking a good hard look at what it feels like.  All the time not just occasionally. In all circumstances not just a few. I think it can be summed up by saying that I am in a continually triggered state of trauma responses. I am never not a little or a lot anxious, insecure and tense. I do not know what relaxation feels like. I have probably only felt it a few times in my life and didn't know what it was then. I am in perpetual crisis mode, always prepared to be criticized, scolded, judged and found wanting. 

Actually though, having said I am prepared, that's not really accurate. I feel like I have to BE prepared but I don't know how because in my life with my narcissistic parents, attacks always came unprovoked and out of nowhere. And you cannot prepare for that. You can just flinch and freeze and fawn and hope for the best. You also learn to be very hypervigilant, watching for signs of parent disapproval and anger. And sometimes those are very passive aggressive and and so you miss them. You think that mom or dad is happy when  they are not. You don't get that their seemingly kind comments are facetious and sarcastic or not meant for you but someone else. 

The amount of criticism and fault finding I heard over trivial things, destroyed my sense not only of confidence but of identity in general.   I do not truly remember ever hearing a genuine compliment, that had no strings attatched or sting in the tail, from any of my four narcissistic parent authority figures. 

It's funny because I don't have a lot of memory of time spent with my parents. They were always off doing their own thing and I was left my own devices very young. It would not have occurred to me to expect a parent to be there for me, like normal parents are. But then, weirdly as soon as I did something they considered out of line, bam! Suddenly they were right there with all kinds of criticism. I'm not exaggerating. I don't remember what my dad did, where he went or even dinners with either parent. He was just occasionally there. Same with my mom. And when they were, they weren't happy. 

I walked on eggshells with both my bio parents even as a very young child. They were soooo easy to upset and annoy.  I've tried but I cannot remember what I did to upset them. I just remember having a sick stomach and waiting anxiously to be told how I'd let them down. I recall being 3 years old and being taken to church. Now when I went with my grandparents all was well but when I went with my parents which was not as often as you might think, I would be routinely taken out of church. I realize later that this was an excuse for my dad to get out of it. But he had this way of making me feel like I had been naughty. I would anxiously ask, "was I good in church?" He wouldn't answer. Just acted pissed off. 

I remember at 5, after they moved us to Alaska to go be missionaries to the Indians. I'm not kidding, this is how it was presented to me. We had no place to live the entire time we were there and squatted with people. I do not remember my mother ever preparing me a meal and I don't exactly know how we ate. Anyway they were doing something at whatever church we were in somewhere and I alone in a room where clothing was stored for the rummage sale. I was playing in the used clothes.  I held up a gold lame top to my chest and said sexy, sexy. I think I was dancing around. I don't know where I would have seen that but anyway just a kid thing. 

My dad, who happened to be there, usually he wasn't, looked in and saw me dancing around. He actually scared me because it was so  unexpected to see him. I don't know where he sprang from. He yelled viciously for me to quit acting stupid. He said that I was saying disgusting things even though I didn't know what sexy meant. I thought it meant fancy. I felt like he had kicked me in the stomach and I started crying in shame. Every time I think of that now I just feel this self-disgust. It's things like this had that have implanted very bad dreams and intrusive thoughts of being somehow trashy. 

My mother was always off doing something, I don't know what. I know there were strange men involved. I was left to wander alone. Sometimes I was left alone when she would go for days at a time. I remember feeling like such a burden.  When she decided out of the blue to divorce my dad, she just dumped it on me and then when I started to cry because I thought I would not see my grandparents again, she got angry. She told me I was lucky. I don't know exactly how. So I quit crying because I could see that it made her mad. And that was that. 

That was that, is kind of the story of My Life. I have had to process enormous and chaotic changes with alarming frequency. Since I was given no skills or assistance, I had no idea how to go about coping. I still don't cope very well because I'm more concerned with what's expected of me than how I actually feel about the situations. This is the constant state of confusion. Confused about how to think about or frame changes. And the changes are 99% of the time, dumped on me without warning. Major things that required discussion and input and support, I have just navigated alone. 

And then when I got married I had gotten in the habit of letting other people dictate how my life would be. It still fills me with panic to express a contrary opinion or ask to be included. About things that affect me and people that I am responsible for. Thank God I ended up with a husband who didn't weaponize that as much as he could have. I do not say no very well. I don't even know what I think about many things. When you are never given a voice or a choice or taught that you should have a voice and a choice, you don't develop the skills you need. 

All of my life, I've heard about everyone else's plans, wants, needs. And I thought it was my job to make that happen. They talk at me like I'm a wall. If I do make a decision on my own, I run it past everyone and her brother. I feel like I have to ask permission for everything. The other night, my husband was up late with a project and I was tired. I asked if it was okay if I went to bed. 

Even my loving unselfish husband does this to some extent. Probably because I've taught him to. Anyway, he has been talking about retiring for awhile. And I've been encouraging. And for the first time in my life, I realized that I could decide when to collect my social security as well. It sounds stupid. But despite working all my life, it never occurred to me that I would retire too. I've always been more backdrop than actor in the play of my life. 

I have spent the majority of my life shooting from the hip as it were. Hitting the ground running, with no preparation because things were just sprung on me. How can you possibly prepare for chaos? And the crazy shit that my parents put me through you cannot make that up! There is no rule book or guide book. The Bible that was always quoted at me has no insight into how to deal with malignant, self-centered, arrogant, manipulative, bullying, irresponsible, hypocritical, Machiavellian narcissist parents. 

Psychology doesn't have answers either. These people are beyond all boundaries of common sense and healthy interaction. Growing up with them, and then when they divorced, with their also narcissistic new folks, every day was a fresh ordeal. So I am left to maybe not make it up as I go along but kind of. Life is endless learning curve in which I don't know what I'm supposed to be learning.