So it’s my birthday - another trip around the sun.
My 35th! Eeek!!!!!
I replied to all my text messages and emails with generic witty enfp comments. No one knows where I am really or what I’m doing in life. My facebook is a fabulous narrative of generic landscape pictures taken in various countries and random shared links but no personal information. Everyone thinks I’m living the life! Ha ha.
Turning 30 didn’t bother me in the slightest. I had the world at my feet. Turning 35 is a whole different story. It’s not the number which bothers me more than the physical reality.
I’m supposed to have my life ‘together’ by now as time is running out (goddamn you DailyMail). Media says I’m supposed to have a successful career, a devoted husband, a house in the suburbs and children. The DailyMail points out oh so helpfully that female fertility plummets at 35. My facebook timeline is filled with high school friends’ family photos and baby bumps.
In reality my life was a lot more stable when I was 25; I was financially stable and had a good career. I graduated top in my high school year, finished a prestigious masters and travelled a lot. Now I’m ‘in between’ jobs, in between countries, have not much money left, and, the thing which secretly hurts the most, I don’t have any children yet or feel that is an option at the moment when I am not financially independent.
I doubt many people know how much I ache inside for the solid opportunity to be a mum. I have mastered the air of a ditzy travelling hippy intellectual. I look younger than my age. I have a better body than most in their 20s. I’m confident, resilient and have been through more in life than anyone ever realises.
I want to make decisions now that set me down to path to getting me what I know I have wanted so much in life and what I do deserve.
Most of the time I feel hopeless and and resign myself to the fact that I will probably never have a family. Sometimes I let myself get in touch with the secret desire in my heart but it is so strong that it terrifies me that I’ll never realise it. I want so desperately to grow to be the person I would have been if I had been raised in a different family. The dynamic of a family with a narcissistic mother is truly exhausting and I am only starting to feel free of it.
So that’s my confession for the day.
Tomorrow I’ll get my shit together like I always do. The world doesn’t need a wallower. I just remind myself it’ll be a great chapter in my memoirs. Ha ha.
yeah i know- what a random post. but it’s 12am and it’s relevant enough to still be on my mind
there are two kinds:
(1) the kind that becomes fixated on fulfilling the prophesy of their parents critiques of their worthlessness
And (2) the victim player who becomes more fixated on promoting the monstrosity of their parental figure and significant others
when these two come together it may seem great having commonality of experience, but imo it’s a romantic relationship doomed to fail
Oh, to be rich and popular. Brian Blackwell was an intelligent 18-year-old college student from England with dreams of becoming a successful surgeon. To classmates, Brian was a model student, was well liked and was a professional tennis player. He was also quite wealthy. The only problem was, he was neither a tennis player nor wealthy. Diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder, Brian built up the illusion of a lavish lifestyle in order to impress his peers. In order to build and maintain this façade, Brian applied for 13 different credit cards and numerous other loans, all in his father’s name. When his parents finally confronted their son about all of the money he had spent, instead of admitting his wrongs, he decided to beat them with a claw hammer before stabbing them to death, all to maintain his illusion. Immediately after the murders, Brian took his girlfriend to New York City and Barbados, racking up £30,000 in charges on his dead father’s credit cards. After his parents’ bodies were discovered over a month later, Brian, who initially denied involvement, ultimately confessed. He’s currently serving life in prison.
I’ve been reading a lot about various types of abuse lately. I am in the mood to write some sort of blog post to put on my real blog addressing some of these issues… but I don’t know where to begin or what the real topic of my post would be. :P I want to write about some of my very specific experiences being abused as a child by my mother. I want to write more theoretically and philosophically about power and abuse cycles and what we need to do to protect all people from all sorts of types of abuse. I want to write about victim blaming in cases like my own. I want to write about the complexity of my dad being a victim of my mother’s abuse, even after he’d been separated and essentially “common law” divorced from her for over a decade! I want to talk about specific types of abusive actions. I want to talk specifically about cluster B personality disorders like NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder) and BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) in many abusive people, and I want to better understand so many of these issues. I want to talk about reading these non-fiction books that have flaws - flaws of sexism or assumptions or not-even-studied hypotheses being treated as likely true. I want to talk about statistics and how flawed and misleading they can be, and how difficult it is to make sense of these things. I want to talk about how the US court system is ill-equipped to handle abuse, but I’d be so out of my depth that I wouldn’t know where to begin. I want to talk about how my experience as a survivor of abuse has affected my life, my desires, my choices, who I am as a person today, but I feel like my experiences were much too minor compared to the horror stories I read about, and I’m not even sure the abuse I faced did damage me much in the long run. I want to do something tangible in the world to help children who are being abused the way I was, and of course all of the people abused in much worse ways too, and I don’t even know where to begin.
Today, I told my Mom that I’m under a lot of pressure and I feel like everything is my fault.
She said to me that
1) it isn’t,
2) not everything is my fault,
3) not everything is about me.
Then I told her how when Micah broke the washing machine, her reaction of “Well, don’t let him wash clothes.” was her blaming me.
I also told her that when I had to drop a class because someone I didn’t even know was late to relieve Micah from his job, so he couldn’t take me to school, so I missed a huge exam that her reaction was “You should have been planning on taking the bus anyway.” was still totally her blaming me.
I got off the phone an went crying to Micah, who was half asleep so he totally didn’t get it. When I went back to my phone, Mom had texted me “I’m sorry. Sometimes I don’t get things that are obvious, and I need to be told when that happens.”
This is the only time ever I have “talked back” to my Mom, and she admitted she was wrong.
When Dr. Robin Berman was first establishing her own practice, she intended to work solely with kids—until she realized that she couldn’t do much for little ones without re-parenting the grown-ups. Per Dr. Berman, who …
I just came across this article and it described a lot of what I’ve done to free myself from the burden of my mother’s unrealistic expectations. Despite the myth that adoption is ‘for the children!’ I think the bastards on tumblr have pretty well established that adults who adopt do it for themselves, and there’s a lot of narcissism in wanting to be told they’ve ‘saved those children!’, and not a lot of understanding that you can’t expect your adopted children to be similar to you in the way that biological children are. This isn’t a statement of judgement, just of fact. We spend a lot more time finding ourselves because we’re surrounded for so long by people who want us to be like them. Anyways, maybe this will be useful to some of you as well. All the best!
If you keep telling your children that they are loved, cherished, special, safe, intelligent, full of potential and beautiful they will grow with that.
However if you keep telling and showing your children that you find them bothersome, unloved, unwanted, in the way, a mistake, just like they’re good for NUTHIN daddy guess what they absorb and grow with? Exactly.
It can also work the other way. I have a relative who’s mother treated and behaved like her daughter was better than everyone else because she had light skin and long hair. She grew to be a jealous, lying, vindictive, envious spoiled brat. She’s in her 40’s and she’s still a bad minded narcissistic bully.
The point is what you put in to your children is what they put out.
So I’ve been reading articles that say that parents can create narcissistic children. Then I’ve read responses that say it’s white people creating narcissistic kids and that black people don’t have that but that they should raise children feeling empowered.
Now I totally see it and it got me thinking, I’m not black and I’m not white, I’m brown. Blacks and Browns share a history but have different experiences in some ways over lapping. Anyways being that I am brown I feel left out from this movement to love your color and love your self. I’ve realized that my parents think I’m a failure and my mom is no way proud of me even though I am a college graduate with a 3.4 average and I got through college with scholarships, I’ve had leadership positions, I’ve published in a newsletter, I’ve been to conferences, I have done so much to get here….and yet my whole life I’ve been seeking their approval and I haven’t gotten any. My mother makes me feel like shit because she says she isn’t proud of me because I’m not successful, for her being successful is having loads of money, dating or marrying some white guy and being a lawyer or doctor or some thing of that kind, any thing below that is shit and you haven’t met her standard. I feel horrible because my parents have fucked up my self esteem, they make me feel like shit because I chose to follow another path, because I find happiness in different things, my parents don’t applaud me nor do they cheer me on.
And I know that like me there is an entire brown community feeling this way, many of them end up on the streets, dropping out of high school because their parents don’t support them, because their parents shit on them. I don’t know if it’s cultural but I know it’s shit parenting, and it needs to stop!
I want my parents to celebrate my every achievement however small it is, I want them to say they are proud of me, I want them to be proud of my siblings, I want them to feel good about what they do and I want them to feel like every step they take is important but not as important as the next because they’ll keep growing and achieving and not have to get therapy and not have to deal with depression.
I cry myself to sleep sometimes, I hate myself for not being a lawyer, for not going to an Ivy League school (which they couldn’t afford and yet they expected it) I hate myself for loving history and art and not finding a job yet, I hate myself for being a failure even if deep down I know I am not…and yet my parents are there to remind me that I’m no one.
Narcissistic Mothers and Their Children | Mental Health Matters
Narcissistic Mothers and Their Children
Interview granted to Samantha Cleaver for YourTango.com
Q. What are some common ways that a mother’s narcissism can affect her daughter’s relationships?
A. Depends on how narcissistic the mother is. Narcissistic parents fail to recognize and accept the personal autonomy and…
Since the beginning of time, raising a “perfect” child has always been an aspiring, yet unattainable feat for most parents. But in the age of never-ending innovative technological advances, social media, celebrity worshiping (aka stanning), and a 40 hour work week, raising that perfect child has unfortunately been thrown an ADHD curve ball you didn’t see coming. How can we allow youth to have short-term fun without hindering their long-term goals?
If you answered “by overvaluing their accomplishments”, you can throw that idea out the window since that only produces narcissistic children. Why not just make your child’s dream something tangible? A vision board can create a roadmap to who and where you WANT to be. Pictures reinforce and focus your mind into implementing action steps towards realizing your goals.
Vision boards can be updated and revised periodically. Therefore, if your 3 year old’s dream is to be Mickey Mouse, let him be Mickey Mouse!* At that age, you’re not teaching your child that being a talking mouse is okay, but you are teaching them a very valuable and absolutely necessary lesson of visualizing and working towards a goal.
How To Make & Use a Vision Board For School/Home
On your board, glue inspiring pictures and/or quotes (from photographs, magazines, internet, etc.) that symbolize the experiences and dreams you want for your future. Make it neat and focused. Others should be able to look at your board and understand where you want to go.
For school: have kids cut out and glue pictures of good classroom behavior, good grades, subjects/sports that want to do well in, and where they want to be once school is over (examples: top of the class, ‘A’ student or have an ‘A’ in a specific subject, advancing to the next grade, making a sports team, etc.). Place it somewhere they can see it everyday.
Instead of putting all their dreams onto one board, make multiple boards for the different facets of their life (academic, personal, career, etc.). Make this a family bonding experience by having everyone make their own boards together!
BE CREATIVE. HAVE FUN. INSPIRE TO ASPIRE.
By Nakechia Gay
*Disclaimer: I do suggest sitting down with him once he’s 9 and explaining to him that’s only a part-time job at Disney World. At that age, I’m pretty sure he won’t mind re-doing his vision board and possibly removing the Barney stickers.
forgive is never to forget. But to remember is not necessarily to
2. Pathological narcissism is a life-long pattern of
traits and behaviours which signify infatuation and obsession with one’s self to
the exclusion of all others and the egotistic and ruthless pursuit of one’s
gratification, dominance and ambition.
3. Narcissus is not in love with
himself. He is in love with his reflection.
4. The narcissist is an actor
in a monodrama, yet he is forced to remain behind the scenes. The scenes take
centre stage, instead.
5. The narcissist ages without mercy and without
grace. His withered body and his overwrought mind betray him all at
6. Children, to the narcissist, are both mirrors and competitors.
They reflect authentically his constant need for adulation and attention. Their
grandiose fantasies of omnipotence and omniscience are crass caricatures of his
7. In the narcissist’s surrealistic world, even language
is pathologized. It mutates into a weapon of self-defence, a verbal
fortification, a medium without a message, replacing words with duplicitous and
8. The narcissist’s lies are not goal-orientated.
This is what makes his constant dishonesty both disconcerting and
incomprehensible. The narcissist lies at the drop of a hat, needlessly, and
9. The narcissist holds his sycophantic acolytes in
contempt. He finds his fans, admirers, and followers repulsive and holds them to
10. The narcissist is never whole without an adoring,
submissive, available, self-denigrating partner. His very sense of superiority,
indeed his False Self, depends on it.
11. The narcissist identifies being
loved with being possessed, encroached upon, shackled, transformed, reduced,
exploited, weakened, engulfed, digested and excreted.
and narcissistic abusers hate it when other people are happy. Besieged by
gnawing inadequacy, the narcissistic abuser does his best to destroy everybody
else’s celebratory mood.
13. Raging narcissists usually perceive their
reaction to have been triggered by an intentional provocation with a hostile
14. Deep inside, the narcissist hates himself and doubts his own
worth. He deplores his desperate addiction to Narcissistic Supply. He judges his
actions and intentions harshly and sadistically.
15. When narcissism
fails as a defense mechanism, the narcissist develops paranoid narratives:
self-directed confabulations which place him at the center of others’ allegedly
As the narcissist I am, at least one kid has to be named after me. It’s just got to happen. So Anthony or Antonia, respectively. After that, I’m open for any other names. I’m partial to Italian names, though, for obvious reasons.