Resurrecting The Dead

For me, part of being raised by a narcissist was learning that in all things my narcissistic father is Right. His choice of music is Right. His choice of television programs is Right. His philosophy of life is Right. His opinion of me, his child, is Right. As a kid who was I to question that? So I learned it, lived it, trained myself to love it.

Part of becoming an adult was the realization that I had nothing that was mine. The things I liked, believed, etc. were his. I had learned them, rote, much like my multiplication tables. Behind them was only the passion of knowing that I was taught they were Right. As it is taught, so let it be done. *gong*

When I was 16, I discovered that spiritually I believed something different than my parents. This caused me to be rejected by my self-absorbed, self-righteous parents. In making my own spiritual decision I had, unknowingly, committed the unforgivable sin against a narcissist: I had made up my mind for myself. I was flabbergasted when the swift slap of renunciation seemingly came out of nowhere. At that time I was truly naïve. The thought that there was something amiss with my parents child-rearing philosophy never crossed my mind.

Now, I find myself on a life journey to think for myself. At age 43 I have come to the startling discovery that I don't know what I like. It's been a difficult exercise to discover those things which are my own passions. It's meant digging back into my childhood and find things that I very much wanted, but for whatever reason were deemed unacceptable. It's meant finding those things that I didn't even dare acknowledge to myself that I liked for fear that simply in liking something I was trespassing the unwritten rule that Daddy is Right.

This self discovery closely ties into goals. I must know what I like to set goals and I must know ways to reward myself for achievement. It's something that's been sorely lacking in my life. It's certainly played a part in my recent stagnation. When I have no idea where I'm going, I have no idea when I've arrived and the journey becomes meaningless.

Person 101

Being a person is a scary thought. Having my own likes and dislikes, not adopting those that I'm "supposed to". I never really learned this. I liked what was right in the eyes of my dad. He knew what was right; he told me; I liked it. It was all quite easy: hair that looks like "this" is good; hair that looks like "that" is bad. All of life was categorized and there were always Good Reasons for what was good and bad.

Unlearning that mindset wasn't actually that hard. After a few examples that disproved the Good Reasons, a reasonable, critical eye could see how arbitrary the rules were. Still, it took well into adulthood for the process to begin.

Figuring out what I, as a person, like has been difficult, though. It's all too easy to get caught in the prescribed goods and bads. It's also all too easy to just adopt what someone around me likes.