Hi friends. I know this blog has become really heavy lately with all the sharing I'm finally doing. However, the abuse, neglect, abandonment, endangerment, exploitation, manipulation, parentification, shaming, scapegoating and gaslighting I endured from four narcissistic parents isn't light reading. It's hard, painful and constantly with me. The fact that I am only now at 60, talking about it, shows how insidious was the abuse and how effective the gaslighting. They had me believing it was all my fault. I brought it on myself. I still believe this to some extent which I why I blog and blog and blog.
Which brings me to my topic of the day which is the utter hypocrisy of histrionic and narcissistic parents. Mine lived in a fantasy world which they had gaslit me into going along with. Being an empath I fell right into that shit. Mommy doesn't want me around, so I'll go play alone. Daddy is depressed so I have to cheer him up (which was impossible).
But for all this parentification of me, all the expectation that I care for them, they were still the tyrannical control freaks. They did the bossing around of me (and let their new boyfriends and spouses do likewise) while I did the actual work of parenting them (nurturing, supporting, encouraging, waiting on). So that's one example of abusive narcissistic hypocrisy.
Another is that the things they accused me of doing were the very things they did. And when I did it, I now see, it was age appropriate (crying as a child, teen angst, etc.) They lied, cheated, stole, sulked, pouted, were catty, stormed, raged, humiliated and shamed as grown ass adults.
I just remembered in writing this post confessing how heavy it was, how my dad used to tell me to "lighten up." And not to be so "sensitive." God, I can still hear his sanctimonious, gaslighting voice. He. Of all people. Telling me a teen, to lighten up?? An adolescent not to be sensitive? You never gave me space to be a kid let alone a teen. Any frustration you may have seen from me was righteous frustration over you constantly expecting me to be surrogate spouse, parent, servant and scapegoat to your new family. It was exhaustion and despair, living in your awful regime, buddy, not disobedience.
And really, Jack? Too sensitive? You who are notorious for being the biggest snowflake in the room. And you are disrespectful, especially of authority. You treat everyone with arrogant condescension. You have literally pouted and ranted you're entire adult life, when you only think someone isn't giving you all the adulation you deserve.
And lighten up?? Really? You routinely told me how you would probably commit suicide at some random time, when I was 5!!!!! You feel no qualms telling everyone whom you know nothing about, how to live their lives. You spout scripture which you do not follow. You bind others up to burdens you do not carry. You are the judgiest of the judgey. Yet no one can even suggest that you reconsider taking your child to Alaska when you had no job or home there.
And you had the audacity to pooh-pooh other people's hard-won achievements. You actually make fun of people living by their beliefs. When I breastfed my children, you made disparaging comments because I guess you thought I was showing up your lazy wife who "couldn't" breast feed. You actually said "not every woman is a cow." Ass. When I graduated from college magna cum laude, you didn't even know what that meant. Yet you sniffed haughtily and said "college isn't for everyone." Then had the gall to suggest that I was vain. I was fucking proud for once in my life, and you should have been for me.
And this from you. You who with no training or church support declared yourself a missionary. And everyone was supposed to be so grateful they'd feed and clothe you? You who, without a license or degree felt entitled to walk into any church on a Sunday, waltz up to the pulpit and preach. You were so offended when they politely declined. You actually believed you were better qualified than a minister with a doctor of divinity. You also eschewed the beliefs of every denomination. Well if you were above organized religion, then why did you want preach in their churches? Because you were so concerned for their souls? Anghh. Wrong answer.
Because you like the sound of your own voice. You, like so many others of your right wing party, love to talk. Especially about what everyone else is, according to them, doing wrong. They love to nit pick at specks while ignoring the entire effing lumber yard in their own eye. You didn't care about their salvation. If you did, you'd have actually learned what different churches believed so you could have an accurate dialog. But when I took world religions, you were aghast that I would actually learn about other religions and damn my soul.
Typical of arrogant people who read about a fifth grade level, to assume they know best what the Bible says. You sort out what you don't like, such as scripture identifying what you are doing wrong and then pick a random, unrelated scripture and twist it to fit your particular agenda. You claim God's promise of forgiveness for yourself and than come down like fire and brimstone for others. You expect mercy and give damnation. You do not repent. You simply say you told God you were sorry. And continue to do the hurtful things with no remorse or change happily secure in your fire insurance.
You used to find fault with my singing, saying I was showing off. When you came to see the Shakespeare play I was in, your disdain was palpable. You actually made me feel dirty. Would it have gagged you to say good job? For all your suicide talk, you have no idea how miserable I was that year. How a little kindness would have helped so much. But nope, that memory has to be tainted with dad's disapproval. It wasn't because you were concerned about my studies. You couldn't have cared less.
And about this liking the sound of your own voice. This showing off? Well, if I did, I learned from the best. My histrionic, exhibitionist parents rarely ever did or said anything that wasn't theatrical. They both loved attention. My mother, also sans training, fancies herself a minster as well. She will do all kinds of weird things to draw attention to herself. Preferably making others uncomfortable in the process. Like going to a funeral and shouting Amen when she knows the church does NOT do things that way.
But she has to get eyes on her. And if she can throw some shade at others for not shouting during church, all the better. While the poor family whose church is it, hunch down behind their songbooks and hope no one sees them. But that's not about the church or its doctrine or habits. She does it to us and we're Catholic and her siblings who are Christian Reformed alike. It's not about praising God either. It wasn't with my dad preaching either. I realize that now.
It's about the jolt of narcissistic supply that they get when they are the center of attention. And of course, it's delusional too. People aren't awed. They are impressed with the holiness. They are uncomfortable. And often more than a little disapproving of the ostentation. Which comes full circle to the hypocrisy of narcissism.
My parents got very angry when they thought others were being "too critical." My dad chewed me out for this many times. Now bear in mind, I was the poster child for "good, biddable kid." I didn't dare to be anything but on my toes. I wouldn't even defend myself, let alone dare to question them. So where did he get that I was so critical of him? (same with my mom).
And this from Mr. Critical himself. Even his other sons admit that Dad has to be on top all the time. He will attack if you if cross any of his many invisible lines. He has ripped me apart verbally for asking to try on my new Christmas sweater at a party. He has physically beat me for not dancing attendance fast enough. If you tell a joke he didn't like he would insult and scold. Yet he would tell dirty jokes and laugh uproariously. You'd better too.
The creed of a narc is "we do things my way. You smile or frown when I say to. You build me up. I let you down. Unless I'm needing a hit. Then, I will find something to nail you on, even if I have to make it up. So that I can hang you out to dry in front of everyone. I get off on that.
You show off, I share my wonderfulness with others. When you say something it's shouting. When I shout, I'm just saying something. You find fault, I just give helpful advice. When you don't say something but I just think you're thinking it, I blow up. But call it Biblical correction. When I'm rude, nasty, attacking, snotty, obnoxious, it's just my way. When you're kind, I'll find a way to make it wrong. I'm never wrong and you're never right. It is my right to tell others how to live their lives but not my responsibility to live by my own standards. Rules, often arbitrary ones I just made up, do not apply to me, just you.
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