My Momma Only Raised One Dummy...

...and, he still lives with her -- or so the irreverent saying goes. The "he" is my dad. He died nearly six years ago. I have yet to miss him.

Those may sound like the words of a monster, an unappreciative child who doesn't realize how good s/he had it. There are times I think that's me. Other times, I'm not so sure.

In no way am I qualified to say for certain, but judging by research I've done, my dad was a narcissist. He was controlling, grandiose, insecure, rage-filled, demanding, vengeful, a perfectionist and a liar. That's not to say he didn't have good qualities or that he was a monster. He was who he was and none of the rest of us existed except insomuch as how we effected him. I have no idea how he grew into what he did.

My journey to understand how being raised by a narcissistic father shaped who I am started six months ago. I've discovered a lot about myself in this short period. The discoveries have helped immensely, even while they've been painful. I am who I am, but that doesn't mean I must remain stuck here.