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. 

Senseless and Shocking things narcissistic parents steal from their kids

Hello my friends. Today in my quest to heal CPTSD from narcissistic parent abuse, I'm considering all they stole from me. Necessary things that every kid has a right to. These were stupid, senseless thefts because they are things only I can use and that are of no use to them, and yet, they steal them anyway. I'm taking inventory of all the things I don't have and all the gaps where critical things should be that aren't. Because I was denied, deprived and of them or had them removed from me by four very arrogant, selfish narcissistic people who I called parent. Here's a partial list of things they took. 

My self. Seriously, they took away my identity by enmeshing themselves in me and coercing me into roles they had no business making me fill. Like surrogate spouse and parent, to each of them and to all their successive children, and servant to their "families" which I was also excluded from. And scapegoat for all their self-created stupidity. So that I didn't know I existed as a fully separate individual. I only knew what I was expected to be. And then not even that because their double standard rules changed constantly. 

My ideas and opinions. Because I was deprived of identity, I also was made to know that I wasn't allowed to have any thoughts outside of theirs. The asinine old saying "when I want your opinion, I'll give it to you" pretty much summed up my life in narcissist parents' regimen. It was expected that I would think for, about and like them constantly. My every thought was to be "what does Jack want?" and also "what would Jack think of this?" and also "what burden can I carry for Jack so that he can coast irresponsibly through life? Like I was his indulgent mother and duty-bound child and his possession. All of which are complete contradictions and impossible to do one of, let alone all three. That's the hypocrisy of both infantilizing and parentifying a child. 

My childhood. And now multiply that by FOUR arrogant narcissist parents all expecting whatever they wanted of me, simultaneously. AND add to my list of obligations their five successive kids who I was beholden to as well. Imagine my utter bafflement. How can one person parent nine kids let alone if four of them are adults who are supposed to be parenting her?? AND who also boss her around and treat her like unpaid staff. They wanted all the perks of parenthood (or what narcissist parents believe are perks) like control over ownership of and dogged loyalty from the kid, but did none of the actual work of parenting. 

My ability to expect. I didn't live in a home but a store. Every little thing had a giant price tag. You want a place to sleep? You'll have to bunk up with the babies because we don't feel like taking care of them. They waved things in my face like "we feed and clothe you, so now you have to..." No you didn't actually do any of those consistently or well. You made me homeless many times. And a tent or squatting with other people or sleeping on an unheated porch hardly counts as a roof over my head. The dog ate better than me. And you enumerate these things as if they're enormous favors you did me and not just what parents have to do. And funnily enough, you don't rub this in your other kids' faces. 

My ability to want and need without shame. I defer to others all the time because I was taught that wanting and needing was for other people to do and me to fulfill for them. I was scolded for asking for things. So I quit asking and needing and wanting. I just surrendered all that to them. And oh did they weaponize God. There is no gaslighting like religious gaslighting. God expected me to be a servant. I was property. Just me. Not any of them. Self-care was selfish. For me. They quoted scripture at me as if applied only to me. I never stopped to notice that the quoters weren't living anything the Bible said. Till the scales fell off and wowza did I see how ungodly selfish, arrogant, immoral, entitled, manipulative and exploitative they were. But it's too late now. I still can't do for myself without feeling really guilty. 

My understanding of my right to be me. Which is kind of like identity theft but more. With gaslighting, reinventing reality, indoctrinating me in their deluded self-serving cults, they confused me about basic things. Like the fact that we are all born individuals, regardless of what deceptions they want to spin. You literally cannot take a person's personhood. But I didn't know that because being for other people was all I was ever allowed or taught to do. 

My boundaries. I don't mean the figurative kind. I literally mean the perimeter of me that separates me from the rest of the universe. I have often said that I don't know where others stop and I begin. It's like I'm a gas with no shape of my own. And a lot of people in my life didn't respect where I began and they ended either. They blatantly stole, lied, cheated, gate-crashed and usurped from me. My mother once barged right into my husband's and my bedroom, while we slept, demanding to be fed. My dad brought his dog INTO MY HOUSE and let him attack my cat. Who later died of his injuries. They have no more respect for me than the carpet they on which they tread. They've gotten so used to plowing me under they do it without thinking. When it would actually be easier to walk around, they walk over. And grind their heels in my face. 

The deed to me. They own me, they think. They don't. It's impossible to own a person. Yet they've deluded themselves so long they've begun to believe their own lies. I was their property, like a dish. And so they use and abuse as it suits them. Notice I don't make the parallel to being owned like an arm. They would never hurt themselves the way they hurt me. And I've gotten so accustomed to it I don't question why I let them.  In fact,  I let anyone ride herd and take what they want as I watch helplessly like a little ghost in the corner. Unseen, unheard. Needless to say, life was a shitshow of shit that happened that shouldn't have and good stuff that should have, that didn't.

A clear deed to me. I didn't own the deed to my life but I sure paid on it. I believed because I was told that I came into this world inheriting all their debts. That I was born to pay endlessly into their coffers. I was taxed for being. And I was never given a damn receipt for any of it. The debts just mounted higher no matter how much I paid. I was never able o take the things I bought and paid for. It's like making payments for a lifetime on a house you can never move into. I did not know that children aren't under obligation to anyone, least of all, their parents. But parents are under contract to their kids. They signed up when they had me. I see confident people all around me who seem to get this. They may or may not be giving but when they do, it's not out of some misplaced idea of indebtedness like me. 

You know what pisses me off the most? These are such cruel, senseless things to steal from a child. What do they want with them anyway? Her needs, wants, life, self are no good to you. You're one person. You can't use them. Only she can. It's not like you can move into a kid and possess her.  But in a way, that's exactly what they managed to do. They pirated me and coercively controlled everything with their lies and twisted reality.  Gaslighting and brainwashing are extremely effective tools when used on a child who knows no other way. It's going to take a lot of fumigating to get rid of all the toxic gas they poisoned me with. I don't expect to be able to cleanse most of it, if I'm honest. There's just too much damage. But I will keep scrubbing. 

I owe my future generations a healthier me and I owe it to me, too.  

 

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Shocking things my dreams teach me about narcissistic parent abuse

Hello my friends. Today in my journey to heal from narcissistic parent abuse, I'm taking a closer look at and listen to my dreams because I think they have lessons to reveal. Here are shocking things my dreams are teaching me.  For background, I experienced abuse, neglect, endangerment, parentification, abandonment, exploitation, invalidation, scapegoating, bullying and gaslighting about it all by four narcissistic parents (two bio, two step) all my life. Literally, to their deaths, they continued and continue to torment. That's a malignant narcissist for you.  

Also, for context, I don't dream like normal people, occasionally and kind of vague. Mine are shockingly intense, terrifying, exhausting, bizarre, complicated and continual. I dream every night multiple times. I wake more tired than when I went to bed. I have done this for as long as I can remember. None of my dreams are peaceful and are all more nightmare than anything. 

So that in itself teaches me that I have CPTSD (complex post traumatic stress disorder), dreams and nightmares being a manifestation of PTSD and CPTSD. My brain has been damaged by narcissistic parent abuse. From infancy I was indoctrinated in their cult of selfish, arrogant, hypocritical, cruel, Machiavellian double standards. Right was wrong for me and wrong was right for them. They enmeshed in me, stole my identity and coerced me into enslavement to them. 

They owed me nothing, they said, while I owed them everything. By them, I mean both parents, their new partners and all their children. By nothing and everything, I mean just that. Basic care was not given me, including food, safety, parental care, clothing, a roof over my head, a proper bed. I was forced to co-sleep with their children as if I was the parent. I was lied to, stolen from, cheated and conned all my life. Self-care was selfish, I was taught. My duty was abject groveling, dogged obedience and selfless service with no thought for me. God expected all this of me. It was all I deserved, they said. 

And in my dreams, I replay these experiences every night. But what has confused me for so long is that they aren't direct memory dreams. They are weird new scenarios with faces and places changed. But the feelings they induce are the same. And that is a huge learning curve for me. That what I'm dreaming is a reenactment of past traumas. I never saw that till, after having told my husband of yet another disturbing dream, he said "those are memories." Like the shell-shocked soldier, my mind goes back to my own personal Battle of the Somme, every night. 

I'm also learning that what I experienced was so caustically toxic that it scarred my brain. And that it really was as terrible as I DON'T recall. Or maybe I should say didn't recall for the longest time. My memories are kind of a jumble sale of clutter with no order or system. I've been auto-gaslighting myself and defending their actions for so long that I've been able to compress memories into little manageable bricks. And thereby stack them to create a tidy firewall around my memory. 

But when exposed, these blocks explode into ginormous uncontrollable, messy all-encompassing nightmares. Which my dreams both expose and are composed of. All the ick and goo and trauma and crazy just come apart in my dreams. And I'm completely and unilaterally and categorically overwhelmed by them. Just like I always was overwhelmed by in real life. But by ignoring the pain I was able to somehow navigate. Again, like a soldier who survives in battle what is unimaginable in real life. And because it's unthinkable, he rehashes it nightly in dreams, endlessly trying to make sense of the senseless brutality. 

Because our core, muscle memory remembers. And our dreams care about us. They want us to avoid what hurts and heal from past hurt. They provide the clarity that our gaslit minds cannot see. They show us what really happened, how bad it really was and how incredibly awful we felt and still feel about it. My dreams are trying to teach me what I need to know to come to grips with trauma. 

And what do my dreams show me? A lifetime lived in servitude, coercive control, belittling, bullying,  irrational demands, dangerous expectations and abuse by narcissistic parents. In my dreams, as in life, I'm ALWAYS overburdened with work put on me by others. I'm having to clean people's homes, care for countless children, cook for them, and do countless confusing tasks that no one has even explained just expected me to know. I'm in unfamiliar, scary, unsafe, unsanitary, filthy, horrible places trying to do all this. Night after night, I dream that a child is hurt or killed on my watch because I can't be in all the places or do all the things they expect me to be or do. It always happens before I even realize that I'm supposed to be caring for them. 

It is so overwhelmingly confusing and exhausting that I can't even begin to describe. I don't have words just unbearable feeling. It wearies me just thinking about it. It's like a movie in fast forward and I'm hurtling through one awful experience after another, under the control of many unfamiliar people all of whom have an endless list of commands and are always upset and angry with me. There's never an ending, with any closure or completion, just on to the next list of strange demands. 

And I am always, always ALWAYS kowtowing, obeying and trying desperately to do whatever it is they want. And failing. And it is always hurting me. I'm apologizing and feeling so ashamed and guilty. I wake up sweating, cringing, screaming, crying, whimpering and terrified. And I realize that this is because, like the soldier, I am reliving each night, the chaos and horror. And the hell they called Suvla Bay, I called home. Like my husband said. These aren't dreams. They are memories. And I see that, after pulling my hands off my eyes and out of my ears, he's right. I dream chaos because I never lived anything but chaos. 

Having said all that, there is one ray of hope in this Pandora's Box.  Since he said that, I've been looking at my dreams more closely. The dreams aren't getting less stressful but they are getting clearer. I'm actually able to remember the events instead of just the chaos. I'm more able to trace back and see where they are coming from. I'm digging down to the roots under the surface. And I'm seeing how narcissistic parent abuse conditioned me to behave and how my dreams are begging me to see the abuse behind them. They are also making me see that the dreams aren't what is so bizarre. It's my actual life that was so disturbing. The dreams are just dramatized recreations with actors portraying my real experiences. 

So here's an example. In last night's dream which is very pattern to my other dreams just with different places and faces, I was told to do something by someone I didn't know. And I did it unquestioningly.  Didn't know 'em from Adam but was perfectly willing to line up and sign up for whatever they said.  Story of my life. 

In this dream, a random man told me to watch his random children and handed me three dollars saying that's what he'd pay me. But also that I had to use it for the kids' lunch. No specified time he'd be back, where he was going or why in God's name I should take care of his kids. And he left me in an unknown city with unknown kids to feed on three dollars. I was totally bewildered, worried sick and helpless. I had left my car and cellphone behind for whatever reason and was trying to take all these little kids on a bike. 

But in this dream, unlike the others, I was not alone. A woman suddenly appeared out of  nowhere (people do that a lot in my dreams) and asked why I was taking care of kids I didn't know. And why I agreed to do it for 3 bucks. Then she showed me that one dollar was actually just a coupon for some store. So two bucks. And I thought to myself. Hmm, good question. Why am I? Well, for one thing, if I walk away, who will take care of the kids? Then the friend said: That's not your problem. They're his kids. You can leave. It's your dream and not real. And, still feeling very guilty, I...did. And they just disappeared and then I woke up. 

This is a pivotal difference in my dreams for several reasons. This friend's appearance interrupted the usual cycle of events. Normally, whoever it was that told me to do the impossible thing would return randomly and be furious that I hadn't done whatever impossible thing he expected. I would be accused of being selfish, unreliable, abusive, arrogant, all manner of bad things. There would be no one to speak up for me to him. To tell him he was out of line and if he wanted an impossible task done he could do it himself. Because no one ever did in my real life. No one corrected my narcissistic parents when they made irrational demands and then character assassinated me. And when no one defends you, you believe that it's all true. 

But because someone showed up for me, the father figure did not come back. Did not attack me. My dream showed me that he wouldn't because he was afraid of exposure. Someone would see his actions and set me straight. And that is something narcissist parent bullies wilt under--their child having a champion. Someone who sees the shit the parents are doing and isn't afraid to call it out. Thank you, God, for truth tellers. 

Upon waking, I still felt the shame and confusion. But I was able to connect the dots back to all the times I have done just that. Rolled over. Catered to. Danced attendance upon.  Whatever I am told, no matter how impossible or crazy dangerous it is to me. I don't even think about it. I comply. That is one of my trauma responses, give in and give them what they want. At any personal cost. Like the stranger who told me to watch his kids. Not asked. Told. I realize I was rarely if ever, asked to do things. I sometimes wasn't even told. I was EXPECTED to divine what they wanted and do it. Like a bloody mind reader. 

But now,  this dream has created a chink that I can see through. Maybe not perfectly clearly, however there is a light at the end that I can move toward. A way out. A reprieve. Like the mysterious friend said, they're my dreams. And they're just dreams. They were my reality but they are not anymore. I can do what I want. I don't owe anyone anything, least of all blind obedience to hurtful, exploitative, cruel people. 

So this would be a good place to end this post. But I do just have to reiterate one thing and that is how bogglingly extreme this feeling of FOG (fear, obligation and guilt) is, both in dreams and real life. And what that teaches me is that I am not irresponsible, unreliable, immature, selfish, etc. I am too reliable. Too mature. Too dependable. Too others-centered. I think it's also telling that the most terrifying thing to me, about my dreams is that something will happen to the people I'm supposed to be caring for. If I'm so neglectful and selfish why is their safety my first concern? Why am I so reluctant to leave kids untended, even in my dreams?  

What that says to me is that maybe, the real abusive, manipulative, irresponsible, selfish and dangerous people were the ones coercing me into doing all these impossible and inappropriate tasks in the first place. And maybe that I was the only one who actually cared about and for their children. And that's why I still feel endlessly responsible for kids that only exist in my mind. Maybe I have an extra dose of integrity that makes me try to keep them safe from their own parents. 

And at the bottom of it all, at the very root, is the one child I was never able to keep safe. And that little girl is me. It's just possible that the children in my dreams represent all the ages of younger me, who was in constant danger, through narcissistic parent neglect, abuse and abandonment. Maybe that's why walking away feels so frightening to me. It's me walking out on myself. 

So the friend was right as far as it went. I don't have to do whatever someone else tells me to do, on their terms. I can choose to but also set my own terms. I DON'T OWE ANYONE ELSE ANYTHING AND I NEVER DID.  But I do owe me. They owed me and never paid up. They just took and took, much more than I ever gave. And now how I'm going to set about making up to little Marilisa, for all that was taken from her, I have no idea. 

But I do feel like I've gotten some traction from the realizations today, at least. 

People and pitfalls to avoid on the recovery journey from narcissistic parent abuse

Hi friends. Today in my quest to heal from narcissistic parent abuse, I'm going to out some people that have tripped me up so we can all learn what to avoid on our recovery journey. Some of these human traps seem innocent enough. But our trauma brain says something is wrong. Listen to that. These innocuous seeming people put up purposeful stumbling blocks to sabotage our wellbeing. (Hint: think malignant narcissists much like the very people whose treatment of us, we're trying to heal from.)

The feigned friend.  Do you know anyone who claims to be your friend yet makes you uncomfortable?  They fake sincere compassion so you tell them things which you then find out they gossiped about. Or they say mean things that hurt but because they're "nice and friendly" you figure you just misunderstood.  Or they didn't mean it that way or some other auto-gaslighting. They use the guise of friendship to get what they want. Once when I snapped at one of my kids (because I was pregnant, exhausted and burned to a crisp emotionally), my would-be friend seized on my low to say sarcastically "you think it's hard with four kids, wait till you have five." I never found out because I lost that baby. But I did learn a lot about ex-friend that day. 

The faker taker. Being told that self-care was selfish, we traumatized kids are very vulnerable to being played. Our hearts are too big and our arms too open. We are easy prey to weaponized vulnerability. I recall meeting a woman with four children who seemed to want friendship but she had a sob story a mile long. I actually saw clearly what she was, but my trauma heart felt guilty about turning her away. I ended up giving her more than I could afford. And instead of being grateful, she complained and demanded more. And then had more kids she couldn't care for. With people like this, we find too late that they don't care about us, just themselves. They're only interested in what they get from us. And they know how to use guilt to get it. So often, I've fooled myself into thinking that a friend was helping me. She wasn't just was just using me. 

The friendly neighborhood fix-it man. This person seems nice and helpful. They seem to care because they want to fix. But they don't want to aid the situation they want to fix you so they can be seen as some kind of hero savior.  They are avuncular, patronizing, infantilizing, condescending and VERY invalidating. They put down everything you do on your own initiative. You can't do anything without them, their approval, and pretty soon, if you're in their clutches long enough, their permission. They leverage your childhood suffering, abuse and neglect (!) to get narcissistic supply. Think Ibsen's "Doll House." I had a chiropractor like this. His shaming and invalidating pushed me damn near over the edge and it took me decades to get him out of my head. 

The social climber. These are the folks who one-up (or down) everything you do, success or failure. They're the story toppers. If you succeed, they diminish it. They get ahead by leaving you behind. Ever notice how when you're down, they're up? And when you're up, they're down? Because they literally are. They climb you like a ladder. They ascend up your failure to make themselves look taller. And they descend down your success for pity and attention. Oh poor Janice how dare you share something good when she is obviously having such a rough time? Janice wasn't having a bad time until she heard you were doing well. Then she became the most pitiful thing in the room. I felt so much guilt over shit like this. 

The brave "truth" teller. This one also goes by "I'm just saying" or "I say what everyone thinks but is too afraid to tell you."  Or I'm just brutally honest."  Nope. They're just honestly brutes. Hear and heed what they are really saying. It's not true it's their agenda. They don't speak for others, they just want you to think they do so you'll feel whatever bad thing they want you to feel. Usually ashamed or humiliated or foolish. And no, they aren't "just saying." They're mocking, gaslighting and shaming. They are tiny minded sadists who like hurt people for fun and personal gain. Run, don't walk away from them.  

The clairvoyant currier. This one takes "truth" teller nuclear. He proclaims to actually read your mind and motives, to know you better than you know yourself. Not only does he speak for "everyone" he does so ex cathedra. God evidently appointed him mouthpiece, to tell you all the bad things about you "for your own good." You should be grateful he deigns to read your mind and save you from whatever terrible thing you're supposedly doing. Learn to see the red flags this bullshitter waves. 

God's little KGB agent. These people have a self-appointed mission which they will gaslight you is from God, to weasel out wickedness and sin. In other people. NOT in themselves. Their fact finding mission is a cover for their own very flawed selves. And they only find what they go looking for. Oddly they never really uncover really big issues (like cheating, scamming, lying, cruelty, abuse, child neglect, endangerment). They never see those because they don't go looking. Or they want to cover them up. 

The blind guide. See also hypocrite, double standards, Pharisee. These people do exactly what they preach against. Arrogantly, blatantly. And with the same breath, they'll castigate you for what you very likely aren't even doing.  It just makes a good blind for them. And if you flush them out, they'll cry victim. 

The deaf diviner. This is the one who, after you've  just poured your heart out (don't do this with any of these folks), proves she wasn't listening (or was listening for what she could exploit) by completely twisting it around. They make snap judgements without knowing any of the facts. They bypass trial going right to execution. Like the KGB agent, they claim special God-ordained powers of divination that require no thought. They get it all wrong but you don't know that because you are used to believing other people know more than you. 

The oversensitive insensitive. This one is audaciously unkind. He will go out of his way to humiliate you publicly. He can never say a kind thing to or about you.  And thinks his cruelty is funny. And calls it "speaking his mind" and sometimes even speaking God's mind. For your own good, mind you. And if you respond in any way, you're "too sensitive." BUT he's the only one entitled to be nasty. If you say even the most innocent of thing to him that he chooses to take wrong, he goes into a narcissistic rage and DARVO's all over the place. 

The shaming showoff. These people have no love. Just arrogance. My dad believed that, despite being functionally illiterate beyond a few basic Bible verses, with no training, knowledge, research, study or preparation, he could just open his mouth and wisdom would come out. And everyone should flock to hear him. He would walk into unfamiliar churches and just stand there waiting to be ushered up to the pulpit to preach. Or play his violin which he did very theatrically. And then called me the attention-seeking showoff. Which I also believed and let hold me back from using my talents.  

The agent provocateur. These people make it their calling to "out" other people. They collect intel and ferret out dirt, the majority of which is exaggerated or flat out lies. They plant evidence. They set up gotcha traps just to "expose" people. My mother and her husband who are both pathological liars claim they can always "spot" liars without them even saying anything. Well, it takes one to know one. They are also corrupt bent coppers who do this specifically to bring people down. They exploit, extort and blackmail. ESPECIALLY  their kids, their little fall girls. You only find out later that none of what they "had on" you was true. But it was a curiously very accurate portrayal of them when you recall that they did these things regularly. But they're so loud it's hard to drown them out. 

Why do we trust these snakes in the grass? Because you don't see until you get some distance between you. The longer you stay connected the more they brainwash. And they are so damn malignant, brainwashing a little child who they are supposed to protect. You thought they were your parents who loved you. Ha. More fool you. They were your downfall and doom. And you're left bruised and confused. Traumatized kids have a bad habit of believing what people say rather than what they do. We think they mean well even when they clearly show us otherwise. That's why I said initially that they may seem innocent. Because we were groomed ignore warning signs that healthy people know to watch for.