When I was at about 7, we moved to a new house. . hall of mirrors , twisted . sleep at my room alone, cementary . good observers I always considered myself an excellent observer. I sensed things in the air and was overly sensitive. No warning sign could be left unnoticed. Now, I know the reasons. NPD trauma makes us detect all kinds of dangers as this is what we used to do. The face of the parent was something we had to read very carefully in order to survive. I had to be an adult in a kid’s skin. . all people are fools What I was thought at home was that all the people were morons. For each and every neighbor, father’s colleague and even family member, there was something negative to say. Stupid, dull, uneducated, greedy, needy and all trying to exploit us. Everyone is inferior. In one way or the other. Every time someone visited us it was perceived as a “home invasion” and guests were seen as “intruders”. Now, this clearly seems to be “projection”. I don’t remember talking about helping someone, but how to avoid being asked for a favor. My father who used to be “normal” (until he finally stopped), was seen as a “goofy” person who does favors to all those pesky people who exploited him (unlike my mother who was so superior not to let them). It is wise to be egoistic and it is dumb to be empathetic – this is one of the lessons I was getting at home. If you give, you can only lose. People are a disappointment. All of them. Including us – me and my father.
. lies of all sorts Lies were everywhere. Small to big. Necessary or not. Everything could be fixed by a lie. Lies were a secret protocol. Life was not real and based on giving, loving, caring and helping, but to constantly hunt for supply. A game where every move was a lie to gain something. Lies to conceal, lies to make promises, lies to control, lies to get empathy (supply) and lies to get away after wrongdoing.
Mother controlled everything. From what we ate, to what father was supposed to wear the next day, to what we did. Even if dared to change, it was sabotaged. It’s so typical of NPD that oftentimes this manipulation and control is not noticed as is delivered as making one not really want to fight. With time it feels that rejecting and not following means fights. Control meant various things like for instance overhearing phone calls. Whenever there was a phone call and father picked up the phone, she was alerted, on toes and even not able to conceal she was doing everything to overhear. She just had to. People were out there to exploit us and my father was a fool, so she had to be “the brains”. She had to wear the trousers. Of course, she projected. No one has exploited him as she has. A parasite and host relation. “In a relationship with a narcissist, you have 100% of the power. The narcissist has zero. But the genius of the narcissist is to convince you he has 100% of the power. And you have zero.” (S. Vaknin). . no protection One basic expectation in any relationship is to be protected. Friends don’t gossip and don’t tell bad things about each other. Just opposite, they tend to protect one another. They say good things or they stay silent. I was amazed one they to observe how my wife was doing her best to explain why my daughter couldn’t say something correctly. That was so charming and sweet. There was no need to, but it was almost instinctive. If we are as one, we can’t let us be hurt, like we don’t jab a dagger into our own heart – so unnatural. We deny, we explain and we even bite if needed. That is what good mothers do, don’t they? I remember whenever there was something imperfect about me or my father, it was always stated precisely and openly in front of others. When I was a student in primary school, I was not that great at gymnastics. She was always saying “he can’t do this or that” (rolls). I knew it was true but wished she had not said it. There was no ideal picture of me painted. Always a cold, precise view. All the flaws indicated. Like the teacher (which she was) hands off a grade to a student. She completely lacked empathy and this “feel” of how what she says can be felt by the other person. Words could hold anything. It mattered only if regarded her. Not if others. Can you hurt a table or a seat? Would you care? . the dogs Can a person be good if she can leave a beloved pet? I can’t imagine it leave my dog and go on vacation. I’d not sleep at night. Would hear banging screams. Probably I so loved dogs and it was a moment of pristine relationship with a live creature that doesn’t judge me. To this day I treat animals as children and my dogs I always call a “daughter”. . the house no one visits With time, people stopped visiting us. I am amazed by why it took so long. Guests were seen as invading pests, so if they did visit us, it had to be done so they back off and never come again. I remember asking family members to pay for a stay (like in a hotel) which was explained as “so normal”. Of course, I am sure no one was ever invited. It can be explained easily. Visits mean doing something for others which is what my mother wanted the least. More importantly, a visit was others potentially seeing how it all looked from inside. It was a threat to a carefully sustained false vision of “the family”. Control is control. . holidays are doomed One of the apparent patterns was that every holiday (especially Christmas Eve) was a day we all knew would end badly. Instead of enjoying the time together, it was filled with tension. For many minor reasons like preparing meals, irritation when something was not perfect. Regardless of how it all went, regardless of the moments of normalness, what was inevitable was in the end it had to be all ruined. Mother’s mood had to be imposed on us. If there was one person who was feeling good, he had to be made feel the same. Our joy was unbearable to her. With time, it had become a pattern. It looked as if we wanted to get to the final act quickly, so we save us the whole journey… I remember countless times I lied in my bad staring at the wall. That was my personal hell chamber. Microfractures and scratches. Holidays are supposed to be the feast of family. This was no sacred thing in my house. The family was “the flower step on”.
. unpredictability, eggshells . how I was seen/said