From the perspective of an ACON (Adult Children of Narcissists) and a DONM (Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers), I could literally write a book on my experiences. In all honesty, anyone who grew up in a disordered household headed by a narcissist will have innumerable stories they could tell. The tales we can tell are our own but, sadly, the majority of them are incredibly similar at their root level. They all generally boil down to narcissistic behaviours and how they domino out to everyone in their orbit.
If I were to go to a more personal level and summarize my life as the child of a narcissist into its most basic form by using a few examples, it would be this:
As the family scapegoat, I felt from a very early age that my mom and I simply didn’t ‘jive’. The connection just wasn’t there. Being female, and through no fault of my own (from stories recounted to me, this appears to have started when I was just a baby – for example, being told many times over the course of my life that she wanted to throw me against a wall because I cried when I had colic), I triggered her own deep-seated issues, which caused her to target me and resulted in a lack of a bond between us. This woman adores, supports, encourages, brags about and idolizes my younger brother. It’s not as though she is incapable of those things. Ironically enough, when he and I have made similar decisions in our lives as adults, she has raved about how wondrous his choices were but somehow managed to find fault with all of mine. Although this narcissistic behaviour became abundantly clear to me many years ago, it was incredibly confusing when I was younger, and led to me accepting her nonsense and losing any self-esteem or confidence I may have had. This was my mother. My dad went along with it. I believed her to be the all-knowing and wise person she claimed to be. If she deemed me a disappointment and a failure, then she was probably right as far as I was concerned. That’s what narcissistic abuse has the potential to do to a person when they don’t have a knowledgeable support system or awareness to lean on.
Throughout my childhood and into my teen years, I was pressured and expected to excel at everything I did while, simultaneously, a cloud of low expectations hung over my head. My mom expected me to be the best (because in her mind this would make her look good to the outside world) while at the same time telling me I was “just average” (she’s big on labelling, especially when it comes to intelligence). To add insult to injury, no matter how well I did in school or other pursuits, it was never good enough for her. An ‘A’ on a test would result in her questioning why it wasn’t an A+. On occasions when an A+ was awarded, apparently it was obvious to my mom that the test was too easy and likely everyone in the class did well on it. Or sometimes she surmised that the teacher must have favored me and therefore the mark wasn’t truly representative of my (in her opinion, limited) abilities and was undeserved and, in fact, unfair to my classmates. The same judgments were a constant for any of my other pursuits, including sports and, especially, music. She always heard that one little mistake and, in her opinion, that ruined the entire performance. That one error would be blown out of proportion and zero credit would be given for the thousands of correct notes and other musical elements that go together with them. Looking back from an adult’s point of view, I realized that from a young age I began focusing on the negative and not looking at my strengths as a direct result of my mother’s constant judgments and criticisms as well as the almost complete lack of encouragement and support. One mistake became catastrophic in my mind.
My friends were also constantly being critiqued and negative comments made to me about them. In her mind, I never chose the ‘right’ friends (or partners as I got older). She would literally suggest the people that I should spend time with (people she felt would be “good friends”) and would badger me about it on a regular basis. There would be comments made by her that my chosen friends were abusive (ironic, isn’t it?!) and that I needed to “get a backbone” and “stand up” for myself. One time when I had a falling out (temporary, thankfully) with a friend (which, by the way, was instigated by my mom and her constant prodding), I shared with my mom just how upset I was that I felt I had lost my best friend. Rather than comfort me or say something supportive, she started crying and told me that she thought she was my best friend and that what I said had hurt her deeply! Within a couple weeks, though, she was talking about how many years she and her “best friend” had known one another!
One moment that is very vivid for me after many years was the time that I told my mom that I was feeling depressed. After getting this out in the open, I started to cry because I was feeling emotional. She slapped me across the face, told me to “snap out of it” and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Needless to say, that was truly a lesson in not sharing my feelings that has stuck with me since then. Working through it has been a process but is well worth it.
In terms of my family of origin (FOO), it was dysfunctional from day one. My dad, bless his heart, is a lovely man who is loyal and kind to a fault. Does he see my mom for who she is? I don’t know for certain. I’ve seen glimpses of awareness over the years but his enabling behaviour continues regardless. However, I do understand the reason for this. My mom has a strong “you’re either with me or against me” mentality with everyone in her life. If my dad even slightly appears to side with anyone but her, days or sometimes weeks of misery rain down upon him. Her vicious griping is equally as undesirable as her cold stares and silent treatment. I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid all of that. I get it because I’ve lived it, too. He has spent decades working/escaping more than he was home so I’m sure it’s nice to look forward to downtime rather than dreading it. But it’s also really difficult for me to have always been the scapegoat (my golden child sibling was, of course, rarely held accountable for anything), the black sheep, the one “in the wrong” no matter what, the one whose perspective was not allowed to be heard. As an aside, I had an absolutely wonderful grandmother who lived nearby who was supportive, loving, caring and an amazing friend. Without her … well, I wouldn’t even want to imagine how much more challenging life would have been. Although we rarely spoke of my mom or her behaviour (it’s quite likely that she had never put a name to it, and she was also someone who didn’t speak of others behind their backs), my grandma was there for me and that was what mattered.
Fittingly enough, the final narcissistic straw for me that led to many and continuing years of low and rare contact (never in-person or by phone) with my parents was, after several months of ridiculous drama, my mom pressuring my dad to the point where he informed me that I had “been the problem in this family for XX years” (the X’s represent my age at the time). Yes, folks, apparently my just being born was an issue and, in fact, the very reason our family was so disordered. After all that, I was then informed by my mom that my dad wouldn’t have said that (it was said in front of a witness) and that I needed to apologize. And that situation from start to finish is something that really sealed the deal for me in recognizing that I genuinely was not and had never been “the problem” in my family, no matter how much my narcissistic mother needed to label me as such in order to avoid dealing with or having other people focus on her many serious issues and the trouble those had caused within our family unit. Before I could walk, talk or be independent enough to even cause a problem for anyone, I was negatively labelled and that continued on because my mom needed it to and my dad felt that he was required to go along with it or else be made miserable (yes, he had choices but his blind loyalty and trying to protect his own peace traditionally came and still comes first). And then to be be informed that I had made up my dad’s words to me and should apologize … well, that was added to the already large stores of strong evidence that my mom holds neither herself (I don’t recall her ever sincerely accepting responsibility for her actions or giving a genuine apology for anything) nor anyone who acts on her behalf accountable for anything. Shifting the blame is typical behaviour, particularly blaming the family scapegoat.
So, obviously this is an incredibly shortened version of a small number of my experiences within a narcissistic family. There are hundreds, maybe thousands more that I could write about but it would take me well beyond the scope of a website post. Since becoming aware of my mother’s issues, how it impacted my family of origin, and how it has deeply affected me on more levels than I ever thought possible, I have read, researched and taken in everything possible on the subject of narcissism and its far-reaching impacts. I have worked diligently on my own recovery and committed years ago to helping and supporting others in doing the same. I also firmly believe in educating people in the realm of narcissism awareness so that some might be spared from being victims of the damage caused by individuals with this personality disorder. Difficult as they were, my experiences have made me the person I am today and also placed me in the position of being there to help others who find themselves in the grips of narcissistic abuse and/or attempting to recover from it.
Until next time,
Heather Natural Clarity Coaching naturalclaritycoaching.com na********************@***il.com Natural Clarity Coaching on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn and Twitter
