The Golden Child

I've blogged before about my role as The Golden Child as well as the other roles that I played in my narcissistic family. My narcissistic father raised me to be exactly like him. He trained me to think like him, like the same things he liked, behave like him, and to look down on those he looked down upon. Think clone.

Being a clone was a great ride. Until, just like in the science fiction movies, I became self-aware. It took me until I was in my 30's to get to that point. By that time, I had graduated from university and worked in my "chosen" career for a decade.

Until that time, I lived my life as the perfect clone of a narcissist. I behaved in the nasty way he did. I looked down upon those he had taught me were unworthy. I sought a career in an area that met his approval. I took a large portion of my understanding of what was good from his teachings. I knew that these were the correct ways of behaving and thinking and being because I knew that my narcissistic father was right. He had told me so.

The only chink in my clone armor was my Christian faith. How I reconciled my faith and my clone behaviour is still puzzling to me. The most likely reason lies in the immaturity of my faith, combined with my earthly experience of an angry, autocratic, judgemental father colouring my understanding of Father God.

Then reality hit. Suddenly I could see being The Golden Child as the curse it truly is. I had no idea who I was -- something with which I still struggle. I didn't know what *I* liked, only what I was taught I was supposed to like. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, only what I was taught I was supposed to do. I didn't know how to evaluate other people's behaviour, my own behaviour, or even how to live life itself, in any way other than within the strict framework which I had been taught. *I*, my self, my human person-hood, was hiding all those years, pretending to be the person I was taught I was supposed to be. All those childhood experience of trying things, forming an opinion, finding what I liked and those things in which I found special satisfaction, they didn't happen. The learning and growth that comes from it didn't happen either. My scope was arbitrarily limited and I made the best of what I was allowed.

My childhood compliance that served me so well at the time, is now an adult challenge. As I strive to find what *I* like, the results are fascinating. I enjoy the creativity of art, playing my piano, making things with my hands, all things I was taught were a waste of time and entirely worthless.

Being The Golden Child certainly had its advantages at the time. I bought years of approval from my narcissist by being who he wanted me to be. I also lost years of my self by being who he wanted me to be. Given a time machine and the choice, would I make the same choice? I have no idea.

The Narcissist's Only Child

As I read the title, it's unintended irony gives me a chuckle. Since in a narcissist's world there are no other people, just people-tools to be manipulated for the narcissist's pleasure, the narcissist is his/her only child. But that isn't what I meant.

Several times now, I've read comments from other adult children of narcissists (ACONs) about how being the only child of a narcissist would be an added challenge. Without siblings with whom to relate, compare, commiserate or whatever, a big chunk of perspective is missing. The thought was new to me. I very often felt alone as a child, and in a very real way, I was. Yet, there are many good examples of ACONs with siblings who were also very alone because their sibling was The Golden Child and/or narcissistic themselves.

I don't know how it works for other only children raised by narcissists. In my childhood family, I played many different roles, sometimes simultaneously. I was The Golden Child, a source of pride and honor to my parents because I excelled academically. I was The Scapegoat, the lowest rung on the ladder to which the responsibility for every bad thing fell. I was The Therapist, the one who would listen and empathize. And, all this seemed normal. Even today it's impossible for me to conceptualize that it could have been any other way.

Would having a sibling or two have changed my situation for the better? That can't be known, but it does make me wonder: was part of the reason I so desperately hated being an only child because, as the child of a narcissist, I was so alone?

Father's Day and Tim Russert

It's another one of those holidays. Father's Day. This one is especially weird for me because I was the golden child, a "daddy's girl". I now hate the association I have with that phrase, but it doesn't change what was.

Father's Day was always such a pain when my father was alive. Gifts were either a resounding success or a miserable failure. There was no inbetween. The success was difficult to achieve. The thought never counted. But none of that is new to anyone who's anyone who's had much contact with a narcissist.

Perhaps that's why much of the coverage of Tim Russert's death makes me so uncomfortable. I've never read his book "Big Russ and Me". Given the descriptions I've heard of it, I likely never will. Reading about someone's tribute to their father sounds too painful. Someone made a comment today about Tim Russert's father being his hero and followed it up with something like, "as I'm sure all our fathers are to us". Uh, no. It's not even close. I'm not sure people with narcissistic fathers can begin to comprehend the concept. I certainly can't.

As I near Father's Day, I'm relieved my father is not alive. Were it so, this holiday would become a sham. It's hard enough for me to comprehend how to teach my children about honor one's father without factoring being a hypocrite into it.

So, what does one for whom Father's Day makes as much sense as does Groundhog Day do to celebrate fathers? Beats me. It's much too far beyond my comprehension.

This is where, too, I get caught in the fifth commandment:

Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.

Exodus 20:12

How does an ACON honor their n-parent? Do I honor them by cutting off contact? Does that change if I continue to pray for them? What about if I continue to teach my children about their good qualities and try to avoid why we don't ever see grandma and/or grandpa? Is continuing contact and doing my best to help them honoring them?

I don't claim to have any concrete answers. I'm flying blind in this. Some claim that honoring one's parents ends when their actions become/are seen as evil. I haven't yet found a way to reconcile the fact that we all sin -- we all commit evil acts. Even after we accept God's gift of salvation, we still sin. Christians are called to witness to the lost...how then can I justify cutting a parent out of my life? Right now, I can't.

Father's Day is full of things I don't understand. I'm thrilled for people for whom their father is their hero. It must be an incredible feeling.

I'm saddened for Tim Russert's family. Father's Day will likely never be the same for them. Yet, even in that, I hope that Big Russ and his grandson have memories of heroes, and honor and respect. Even in poverty, an ACON can rejoice in other's riches.