Wow…first post.
Hi, everyone!
I’m sure this post will strike a chord with
many out there – who, like me, have suffered at the hands of narcissistic parents.
And I’m sure none of what I’m going to write next will make any sense to
anybody who hasn’t. It’s like the world is divided into two neat sections LOL!
My Story
As I was growing up, I was always under the
impression that my mother was a martyr who’d given up everything for my sake.
I was the sole source of pride and joy in her life, she said (even
though she had a husband, parents, sibling, in-laws and friends). She said she had given up
the best clothes, the best food, the only bar of chocolate that came to our
house, her career, her PhD – everything for my sake. Funny but
it never occurred to me to ask her, “Mum, if you regret giving it all up so
much why do it?” I sort of accepted the fact that she was making a heroic
sacrifice for me – and she never failed to remind me of it. Everyday.
My father wasn’t there for me. He used to
travel for his job most of the time. When he was at home, he’d be busy doing his own things. Or else he'd fight with Mum - about lack of finances, his job pressures, not buying her gifts for birthdays and anniversaries, not going out when she wanted to, taking me to the doctor or buying medicines when I was sick. Of course, I
learnt later that Mum was having an affair with my doctor at that time. Did that absolve my
father of his apathy toward me? I really don’t know.
I wasn’t allowed to bring friends over to
the house, and I wasn’t allowed to stay at my friends’ places at night (even
with parental supervision). I wasn’t allowed to stay back after school for
drama club or karate or music lessons, no matter how much I wanted to. I needed to come home at once, wolf down a ‘nutritious’
dinner comprising of cheap burger she’d ordered from the local joint (because
she was ‘too tired’ to cook) do my homework, run errands for her or just talk
to her for as long as she pleased and then go to bed at her appointed hour.
I wasn’t allowed to watch the telly. I loved
to watch the cartoons on Sunday. Mum decided to send me for piano lessons at
that time. I wanted to watch The Wind in the Willows, she arranged for me to
learn French precisely at that time. Now that I’ve moved back with her, she’s
made it clear that it’s HER telly and she’s going to watch it at her
convenience. And she always finds something to watch whenever I think of
catching a show. It might sound silly and petty…unless you’ve lived with
narcissistic parents. You see, I never ‘lived’ in a home. I only ‘existed’ in
somebody’s house like a ghost - except when I was expected to perform.
I was put under considerable pressure to
excel at school. Yet, surprisingly, the subjects I was good at always went
ignored. It was the subjects that I was bad at that got highlighted. It was in
order to ‘motivate me’, of course, and Mum said it keeping my ‘best interest’
in mind. She would call her sisters and friends and inform everybody how
worthless I was – of course, I would be present in the room and could hear every word of
it. She was ‘teaching me a lesson’.
My sister and I would virtually have to
jump through the hoops in order to get a rare loving word from our Mum (Dad
ignored us altogether). We weren’t allowed to voice our wants or opinions. Everything
our parents did for us was a great strain on them, be it something so simple as
helping us with school projects.
They wouldn’t feel guilty when splurging on
themselves – clothes, jewellery, shoes, purses, perfumes – yet when it came to
us, they were always ‘teetering on the verge of bankruptcy’. Even on those rare
occasions when they did buy us something expensive, they wouldn’t tire of
reminding us what a huge favour they’d done to us.
I had to give up important internships in
order to spend time with my Mum. I had to miss classes in order to go on tours
with her. And yet, she never seems to remember all that. It doesn’t matter what
I’d done for her – that was only my duty. What’s important is what she’s done
for me – in that, she’s exceptional.
The buck doesn't stop there. Whatever I’ve done in life, I’ve had to do
in the face of the staunchest criticism from my parents. In fact, my Mum’s
favourite quote is: “As long as you allowed me to take control of your life and
did everything I said your life was much better. Ever since you’ve started
taking independent decisions, your life’s become a big mess. Even now, if you
wish to succeed , start doing exactly as I say.”
When I introduced my boyfriend to my
parents (that he too was a narcissist is a subject matter for another post) they
promptly advised me to drop him. They didn’t know a thing about him and yet
they’d try to manipulate me night and day into giving up the relationship. Well…we
broke up last year and since then I’ve been severely discouraged to go out on
dates. “You don’t know what’s good for you,” is their standard response.
I’m currently unoccupied. I had to move
back with my parents after almost five years. From Day One they’ve informed me
what a great burden it is for them to shoulder my expenses.
The scary part is, somewhere I too believe
that I’m damaged goods. I look for jobs and yet whenever I see an opening I’m
filled with doubts and misgiving. “I’m not good enough”, “I don’t have any real
talent”, “They’ll surely reject me”…and before I know I lose the motivation to
even apply for the job.
I feel unworthy of being alive. I feel like
I need to earn a lot or do something exceptional in order to count.
I’m sorry if this post has become too
incoherent. It’s quite difficult to condense years of neglect into a few lines.
And when I try to do it, only the inconsequential bits get highlighted.
I can say how Mum and Dad would keep
playing the blame game and avoid taking any responsibility for their behaviour towards
us. I can go on and on about how they claim they’ve done everything…EVERYTHING keeping only our welfare in mind. How they’ve
dedicated their lives for our betterment and we, the ungrateful brutes, two
miserable failures unfit to live in this world, have only turned around and
pointed our fingers at them. That all we know is to blame our shortcomings, our
failures on them – because they are the only scapegoats available.
But I can’t explain why this feels so
WRONG, why it cuts to the core and manages to crush whatever little self
esteem we’ve managed to garner over the years through our own efforts. I can’t
explain why it suffocates me to be back into the same hell-hole where I grew up
with them. Why I can’t sleep at nights or why I feel numb inside.
I can’t explain unless you too are a victim
of narcissistic parents.
If all this sounds even a little familiar to you, please feel free to share your
own stories – it is always heartening to hear from a fellow survivor. My sister
and I know the feeling of isolation that goes with a painful childhood. If you
have a word of advice or even an anecdote to share, I’m sure it’ll benefit lots
of people like us who are going through the pain and trauma of having
narcissists for parents.
