Mom's Surprise Visit

I suppose it wasn't as bad as its potential.

She called from a nearby truck stop and asked for directions. My dear spouse, not knowing what else to do, gave her the directions.

In retrospect, the visit was simply to show off her new toy. This time a new vehicle. She wanted attention and affirmation. It's a long-standing pattern I've fathomed just now. It's a pervasive theme, in fact; I'm dumbstruck it's taken me this long to see what was in front of me all along.

In a perverse way, it's soothing to know that because I, as a person, don't exist to her she'll not likely be back until the next time she has some special toy. While it is possible that she'll seek attention for other things, I've learned how not to give encouraging attention.

She's found another dear, sweet family member on whom to attach herself. This lovely lady has physical and emotional abuse in her background, and I worry about her. She's a grown woman, though, and has a husband I highly respect, so hopefully she'll be able to navigate her way through.

I fear a family funeral is in the near future. Several family members aren't doing well. I've not done a lot of thinking about how I'll handle these sad events. I very much want to show appropriate respect and love for my loved ones who die. There is, of course, the great potential that she won't bother to tell me until well the event. If this happens, I'll deal with it as best I can.

Forgiveness Without Repentance?

This is likely a repeat for me, but often I need a reminder. Like many Christians, I've heard countless messages about forgiveness. Some pastors contend that forgiveness is as much for us as it is for the one who wronged us. We feel better if we forgive regardless of what the other person does, and it allows us to go on with our life. Others say that because God forgives us, we must forgive others irrespective of whether the other person is sorry. It took years for me to find a reputable organization that shared my view:

Unconditional forgiveness is canceling a debt to all those who intentionally offend us, whether or not they own up to what they have done. Offering forgiveness without repentance, however, does not follow the biblical model of forgiveness (Luke 17:3,4).

I yelled aloud when I first read this. Someone else *does* get it. God forgives us when we repent -- why would he set an example and then expect us to do something entirely different? The logical answer is (and, for all Christianity's detractors, I contend Christianity is ultimately logical), He doesn't. In the same way God doesn't willy-nilly forgive us our sins, we're not expected to do the same for those who wrong us.

I find this particularly important when considering narcissists. Because a narcissist is never truly sorry they wronged someone, only sorry they were caught, forgiveness doesn't enter the picture. This is why, too, forgiveness *is* conditional on repentance. Repentance doesn't simply mean one verbalizes (or writes) an apology, it means the person agrees that the action was wrong with no qualifications or excuses, decides to rectify whatever they can, and then doesn't do it again.

Once I received a letter from a narcissist that said, roughly, "I've forgiven you for what you've done. Let's see if you can do the same." Beyond the fact that I have no idea what I did, and therefore can't repent of it, the other person doesn't doesn't offer an apology, and in fact, uses the issue of forgiveness to manipulate. When I think I've been too hard on this person, I go back and reread this letter. The letter, a representative example of communications with this person, helps me remember.

Forgiveness is a good thing. Without it, life would be a pointless exercise in physics, chemistry and biology. Forgiveness is also a valuable thing, much too valuable to be thrown around as a freebie. My forgiveness cost Jesus his life. His sacrifice on my behalf should serve as a reminder of just how precious forgiveness is.

Three Little Words: We'll Talk Later

The New Pastor has been with our church a while now. Not unexpectedly, the first few services he wasn't used to our church's normal order of worship. There were a few slight rough spots. It was not a big deal -- except, I was sure, in the mind of the narcissist. After all, an entire congregation was watching. Ouch.

The church staff are known to make friendly jabs at each other during Sunday services. This past week, it was the new pastor's turn to be on the receiving end. A comment was made about the rough spots. Anyone else would have taken it as a moment of friendliness that just happened to mention the understandable mistakes by someone new. The new pastor's quiet reply of "we'll talk later" was obviously not a continuance of friendly repartee.

I have no idea what actually happened behind the scenes and I like it that way. I've spent more time than I care listening to the rantings of a narcissist who believes he's been slighted. When it came to his job, its impact was felt for weeks and even months. I feel for the pastor's wife and children.

I am comforted, however, in my belief that if there were anyone able to handle the workplace ramifications, it's our church's senior staff. They're not wishy-washy. They know where they stand and why they stand there. Given that the common wisdom is there's really no way to reform a narcissist, perhaps this guy has a chance to experience the one surefire way of reform: God's grace.

Walking A Tightrope

Being an adult child of a narcissist (ACON) with children is a lot like walking a tightrope. Much of the experience I would draw up on how to parent, I have to seriously question and often throw out. So many seemingly simple things like how to hold a birthday party, or even more serious things like what is appropriate behaviour for a child in public.

It's even struggling with things like breakfast. When I was a child, breakfast was seen as a hassle. It was something done only for me and it was obvious it was a pain. Breakfast was either a chocolate poptart on a chocolate instant breakfast (made with premixed powder and milk). By the time I was 8 or 9, I was making my own breakfast usually after my parents left for work. This experience left me feeling that I should always make breakfast for my children, that to do anything else was selfish and wrong. It's taken a while for me to see that it's not terrible for my children to pour themselves a bowl of cereal once in a while, or for my child who enjoys cooking to be given the freedom to be the one to make breakfast.

The hardest of all, though, is the whole issue of boundaries. Being wary of selfishness, I have difficulty identifying when it's OK for me to say no. I don't want to expect their lives to fulfill my needs, at the same time, I don't want to spoil them into thinking the world is all about them either. It feels like I'm walking a tightrope.

Sometimes I wonder if it's as common for people with narcissistic behaviours to skip generations as it is to inherit them directly.

The New Pastor

I met The New Pastor this past weekend. It was his first church service with the congregation. I also read his CV. You've heard it said if something seems too good to be true it probably is? It seems to apply here. Everything is just a bit....too much. I stand by my first comments after reading his of his accomplishments and credentials: there's something wrong here.

After meeting the man, I don't feel any better about him and I *really* tried. Call it intuition, vibes, a gut feeling, or whatever, but when I feel this way it's nearly always turned out to be right. Something was just not right.

I was so troubled in my spirit -- I couldn't believe this was the man God had called to our church. It all seemed impossible. I trust the people who selected the man, so how had this happened?

Then I remembered prayer. (OK, so I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer....) After worshiping God, pouring out my heart to Him, praying that His will be done, I still felt uneasy. So, I prayed for God's help, for His reassurance.

I was turning to the appropriate scripture passage for the sermon, preached by the pastor who will be the new pastor's boss, when God spoke to me: "who better for this man who troubles you to serve under than this man?". Answer to prayer is so sweet! Over the past months, this "boss" pastor has boldly preached his way through very challenging parts of God's word. He's pulled no punches. He's faithful preached The Word, even when it flew in the face of political correctness, even when it made him less than popular. I couldn't imagine a man more capable of shepherding this new pastor. God is indeed remarkable!

Although my spirit was no longer troubled about this new pastor, I now knew that his boss would need much prayer for he had been given a challenge.

Looking a Chinese Gymnast in the Mouth

The controversy about the age of some of the Chinese woman's gymnasts appears to be going nowhere fast. I first heard about the questions regarding the youthful appearance of the Chinese gymnasts while watching the preliminaries, specifically just before the one who looks the youngest to me smiled. That was all I needed to see.

I'm not a dentist (nor did I stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night); however, I am the parent of a 10 year-old child who has EXACTLY the same gap in his teeth. According to our dentist, our child's a bit early; the age is usually 11.

Certainly there are other ways the young gymnast could have lost her teeth, due to an accident or dental work, for example. Could a qualified dentist tell the difference? My guess is yes. My guess is also there's no way any of this will make one iota of difference.

There won't be looking any Chinese gymnast in the mouth any time soon. Their "gift" to the world of gymnastics has been accepted. This "gift" reminds me of the Big Lies my favourite narcissist would tell. Everyone involved knew they were lies, but for various reasons, usually fear, we all agreed to "believe" the lie and thereby not tip our precariously balanced life. So, the various governing bodies serve as enabler to the Chinese to provide them international narcissistic supply. Bully for them.

Preacher Guilty of Road Rage

I know nothing about this preacher other than what's in the article. I'd like to say I'm surprised the man is a pastor but, sadly, I can't. I'd also like to be surprised that people attend his church, but having seen it for myself with another man and another church, I can't say that either. What does surprise me is the number of warning signs of narcissism that such a small article contains.

Thomas Howell, founder and preacher

By itself, this doesn't seem all that narcissistic. Many sincere people found and serve in organizations who aren't narcissistic. But this man's position does mean he created a place for himself where people would follow him, see him as an authority figure, listen to his sermons as being messages from God and, in general, hold him in high esteem.

[The other person involved in the incident] testified the preacher pulled up alongside her car, pointed a gun at her, called her a name and asked if she knew who she was messing with before threatening to shoot.

Apparently Mr. Howell believes his position, the one he created for himself, is such that he should be treated differently. Then, there's the matter of calling her a name. The article doesn't report if it was an expletive, but it seems logical that the name wasn't something polite like "ma'am" or "miss" or even "hey lady". Mr. Howell is again claiming a position of superiority over this woman. Lastly, there's the threat. Mr. Howell seems to believe that he has the right, the position, to determine this woman's punishment and to carry it out. Is this beginning to sound like a so-called God Complex to anyone else?

Next "[t]he cars chased each other through parts of Clifton, Avondale and Walnut Hills." During this time, the other person involved in the incident reported that Mr. Howell pointed the gun at her several times. I'm not familiar with the area, but it appears Mr. Howell had some time to think over the situation, reconsider his actions. Following the car chase, he repeated his initial threat:

He said, 'You don't now who I am,' called me another (name) and said ... 'I'll shoot you.' "

This belief that he is extra special is obviously strongly held since he repeats it. The chase ends when Mr. Howell parks his car near his church and the other party runs to a nearby store to call 911.

When police arrived, Howell told them he had a gun - it was in a holster strapped to his hip - and he had a permit to carry it.

Following the typical narcissistic pattern, when confronted with a misdeed, change the subject.

Howell denied to police and at Monday's trial that he ever pointed his gun at her. In fact, he said he never removed it from his holster that day.

Then, when he can't successfully change the subject, lie. But more on that below when the case goes to trial.

Then how, the judge wondered, did [the other person involved in the incident] know that Howell - a man she'd never met before - had a gun.

Oops. Big logical fallacy here. But, you see, when one is in a position of ultimate power as the founder and head of an organization, one's words usually aren't questioned so making sure one's lies are plausible doesn't matter.

I may know nothing about Mr. Howell other than what I've read in this article, but I do know that his deacons/elders should remove him from his position. This assumes that the deacons/elders actually have any power to do so, and I suspect they don't.

The other thing I know about Mr. Howell is that he needs lots of prayer. For a man who leads First Commandment Church of the Living God, it appears he has problems not only with the first commandment, but also at least the sixth, ninth, and tenth.

Letter to My Burden

Dear X,

It's been years since we've been in contact. I still think of you often, but likely not in the way you'd assume. I don't hate you. I don't yearn for your approval. I fear for your soul. I pray for you often.

I can only guess what life was like in your house when you were a kid. I would guess, though, that perhaps you never were enough in your earthly father's eyes. Was it hard to gain his approval, maybe even his attention? Was it hard to every do it "right enough"? I fear you tried to live to a measuring stick on which only the super-human could even register, let alone measure up.

Was it hard being the youngest? Everyone else had more experience, would develop capabilities before you, and you were the one who was behind. With gaining accolades being so important, did it seem impossible to find something to achieve that someone hadn't done before? Something that was your very own, worthy of approval? The idea of love gets pretty muddled when it's mixed with accomplishments, when much needed attention is based on what you do, rather than who you are.

You did become Someone, though, didn't you? There are news articles and photographs and quotes and Internet sites that prove that. Is it enough? I'd guess not. There's always something else, eh? A project to complete, a VIP to please, financial goals to meet, growth to be shown, innovation to achieve, progress, results....maybe that will be "enough". But it never is. Is it?

I'll even go so far as to guess your career choice was dictated by a desire to please an earthly father. His Legacy looms large. Too large. His standards are impossible, his favour unattainable. You're striving to fill a bottomless pit that will consume every part of your life you dedicate to it.

My friend, the stress shows in your body. You're physically paying for this struggle. Your wife is paying. Your children are paying. Dearly. You have foisted on them the same standard of perfection that was foisted upon you.

I pray for you often, X. I commit to do so for as long as I have breath. This side of eternity, I may never know whether you've thrown off the oppressively heavy weight that you and your family carry. God graciously holds my curiosity and hope for me. I leave you with a prayer for


Peace in God's perfect love,
Ella

What's My Line?

I worked with a man who, along with his wife, had adopted eleven children from the foster care system. Each of the children had his or her own challenges. Some had been abused; some had learning disabilities; some had emotional problems. His wife had professional training in helping special needs children and they felt it was their calling to care for children who so badly needed a loving home. Theirs was a full and active house!

He would occasionally talk about the differences in his children's needs and the need to know how to handle each child individually. One that made a great deal of impact for me was how different children needed different kinds of discipline. For some children, "the look" was enough to communicate to them. For others, words or loss of privileges was needed.

I'd never seen human beings as that unique before. My world had been one-size fits all. With an egotistical, judgemental father, whatever he said was Right. Everything else was Wrong. Period. End of Story.

It's this need to cater to the specific needs of a child that has me puzzled when it comes to calling the way narcissistic parents treat their children abuse. It strikes me that perhaps what would be abusive for one child, is not for another. Yet, this idea of relativism bothers me, too. It's a slippery slope.

I'd like to think somewhere there's a pat answer, one that is reasonably concrete. I fear that I'm wrong.

My Compass Needs Calibration

As I read accounts written by other ACONs about their parents, events of their life, and familial relationships, I find myself thinking, "yeah, and...?". Many, many times I find myself wondering why some parental action would be odd/wrong/narcissistic.

I've decided I need to recalibrate my relational compass. My spouse grew up in a challenged household, but certainly not one devoid of parental love for their children. These same actions would NEVER happen in my spouse's FOO. NEVER. EVER. In a million years. In a million googolplexes of years. My mother-in-law and father-in-law often had trouble relating to things that happened with my parents. Now I know why. True to form, I always assumed that my family was normal and my spouse's atypical. It's something I still can't seem to wrap my mind around.

To Still A Mockingbird

I awoke just before sunrise this morning. I'm blessed to have a balcony off my bedroom and I wandered outside to enjoy the beautiful morning. All was quiet. Occasionally I could hear a car pass on a road on the other side of our woods. Birds of all kinds were singing their songs. A hint of colour was forming on the horizon. What an incredible creation!

I was lost in the birds songs when I heard an odd click behind me. I went back to listening to the birds, then I heard the click again. When I turned around to see where the noise came from. All I saw was a mockingbird standing next to a chimney on the roof. There just happens to be a nest in the chimney.

The bird clicked again, and then flew to a tree on the edge of the woods. There the mockingbird began to make an incredible racket. I enjoyed the fruit of it's distracting technique. I lost count at somewhere over a dozen different calls. It was quite impressive.

It's only been a bit over six months since I first learned of NPD. I still tend to see interactions through a lens coloured by the discovery of narcissism.

As I listened to the mockingbird's cacophony, I reflected how it was protecting it's young. It was behaving like a good parent should. My parents protected me from harm, sometimes this required great effort. Yet, I don't think of my parents as good parents. (Even typing that feels uncomfortable, but deep down I know it to be true.)

On reflection my mockingbird was only behaving according to its God-given instincts. It wasn't trying to distract me away from its nest out of love for its offspring. There was no reason involved, perhaps not even a decision per se.

So where am I going with this? I have absolutely no idea, but I know I will look differently at animals as they parent their young. They go through the motions, but it has nothing to do with love.

Stolen Childhood

That sounds harsh. It is. Yet more and more, as I reflect on my childhood, I see a big hole that normally would be filled with parental love.

As I think of what a stolen childhood is, my first thoughts go to children in impoverished areas. Their lives are plagued by not enough of life's necessities, perhaps not even enough to sustain life itself. Their childhoods are spent working to get food, or clean water, or shelter, or to survive without them. When I think of a stolen childhood in these terms, I had more than enough.

But...

Years ago when I was moving into my first house, I spent a day papering the kitchen cupboards with a good friend and my mother. Having company wasn't my idea, but that's the way it turned out. It also turned out that my good friend, M, didn't know that my mother was going to be there. M's mother had died two years earlier. Later, M she told me she was uncomfortable with my mother being there. It reminded her that she didn't have a mother anymore.

M's perspective surprised me. M had been very close to her mother. There was obviously a very special bond there. M might not physically have a mother any longer, but she carried her mother's love in her heart. I physically still had a mother, but love was a missing element of the relationship. To me, there was precious little value in having a mother. M had had a Mom; I had a biological parent. I'd gladly trade the latter for the former.

Well-worn as it is: "it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all" rings so true here.

OK, so what?

For human beings, life's necessities are more than simply the food, water and shelter that animals require. Humans need love. One morning at a Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) meeting one of the discussion questions was: Did your parents give you unconditional love? Everyone, except me, answered in the affirmative. The follow-up question assumed unconditional love as a given.

In fact, I'm not sure there is such a thing as conditional love, but that's another entry.

Approval was the substitute for love in my FOO. Approval was doled out, sometimes lavishly, when I (meaning my behaviour) was good and removed when I was bad. I was perceived in terms of my behaviour. My childhood was spent working to gain my parents' love, to be "good enough", to give my parents enough of what they demanded. My childhood was spent trying to fill a bottomless pit.

No wonder when I see children, I feel sad for them. Maybe childhood doesn't have to be such a hard thing.

The Other Parent

I think that narcissism is something The Other Parent "catches" if they stay in a close relationship with the narcissist. Narcissism can be seductive, after all, especially in regards to children. If they're not people, well then, it makes caring for them a lot less demanding, and potentially uncomfortable compromises easier.

I watched my mother grow more and more self-absorbed as time went by. It's certainly possible that her adoption of the narcissistic traits was an unconscious one, done in self-defense. Since she was only an object to her mate, self-care could drive her inward, and away from the child. Of course, narcissists are also good at pitting one family member against another. It was certainly true in our family.

While I do feel empathy for my Other Parent, I can't help escape the fact that she was an adult and I, a child. I had no way of defending or protecting myself from the influences of my n father. As much as she might plead her own helplessness, she did have options. There were a lot of cultural and familial taboos with divorce. Economically it wouldn't have been easy, either. Even a difficult option is an option.

Yet, all this empathy is tempered any time I ask about something that seemed odd, or was definitely wrong. I meet a wall of defensiveness and anger. There can be nothing wrong, the standard response goes, I don't know just how good I had it. Attempts at dialogue are futile.

Every time I contemplate my Other Parent, I keep coming back to the same thing: how could she not see something was wrong? Or maybe the question is more correctly asked: did she really think what was wrong was insignificant? The wall of defensiveness would seem to argue against that.

I want to see my Other Parent as an innocent bystander. I want to see her as another victim. No matter how I try, my Other Parent invariably looks more like an accomplice.

Attracted to The Narcissist

One of the ugliest things I've learned about being raised by a narcissist is that I'm drawn to them. In all that is disgusting about narcissists, I find myself attracted to them.

Yeah, I know it's part of it.

Knowing helps some, but I really must figure out why, specifically, it is that I find myself drawn to them. I have no illusions about helping an n to change or to earn their love/respect/acknowledgement of my existence.

At least now that I know the attraction exists and know what that there's-something-about-this-person-that-doesn't-make-sense feeling is all about, I can steer clear.

I went looking for my "favourite" narcissist on-line today. I read recently a suggestion that when one looks at a narcissist to think of them as being two years-old inside. It helped immensely as I found photographs today. It gave me a good chuckle where there previously there was only discomfort. I remember a time when I came to that point with my narcissistic father. I watched him pitch a fit, a temper tantrum that every self-respecting toddler would have been proud to throw, and my eyes were opened. From that point on, his rages weren't nearly as scary. On the contrary, they were quite amusing. Imagine a grown man behaving like a naughty two year-old. If only I'd had a video camera....

I'm off to do a bit more searching for my favourite mentioned above. Hopefully the more chuckles I can get, and the more realistic comprehension that comes with it, I can become free of being haunted by people and places that remind me of this n.

Believability

On the way out of our favourite Mexican restaurant, a close friend and I were discussing waiting, mostly in regards to my children. Several times recently my children have had to wait for me to pick them up, as in they were the last children at an activity waiting for someone to come and get them. They didn't handle it particularly well.

I commented that their lack of grace when it comes to waiting is my fault and I need to allow them to have more experience with it, so it's not such a foreign thing. I went on to explain that my parents NEVER waited for me. Whenever it came time for my parents to come and get me, I could always guarantee that I would be, if not The Last, one of the last kids there. My parents were purposefully there 15-30 minutes after the scheduled end so they didn't have to wait, in the event whatever it was that I was attending ran overtime. I was, however, expected to be outside waiting for them whenever it was that they arrived. Penalty for not being outside at the appropriate time was a scolding and a warning not to let it happen again or I would no longer be allowed to participate. To me, this was normal.

I thought my friend's response was unusual. More like completely bizarre. He commented that some people believe that adults should not completely organize their life around their children, the children needed to wait. I was stunned. This friend knows about my parents, has seen for himself the level of self-absorption. It turns out that my friend thought I was seeking a philosophical discussion.

My friend's reply is fairly typical when it comes to mention something about my parents to people with non-narcissistic parents. I hear lots and lots of explanations and rationalizations about why my parents behavior wasn't so odd. It's not that I go around telling every human who'll listen about my narcissistic parents, yet even in groups of good friends where other people are discussing their personal challenges, it seems that when it comes to self-absorbed parents, there's a believability problem.

I've listened to good friends tell me about the abusive behaviour of their parents when drunk, but when I explain about my father's frightening rages when he accidentally misses his exit on a road trip, then there *must* be some good reason for it. Or, I must be exaggerating. Everyone's dad has a temper, right? Does everyone's dad slam his fist into the dash, loudly curse at my mother because she can't read a map, pound the steering wheel, crash his forearm into the door, slam on the break or the accelerator, and curse even louder at anyone who dares to breathe too loudly, all because he just missed Exit 24? Or wasn't in the correct lane to make a left turn, or the person in front of him was driving too slowly so he didn't make it through the light before it turned red?

Thankfully, the Internet has provided me with the perspective of other people who've lived through the same thing and know it to be abnormal. For many years I thought I was just being too sensitive, or maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. Maybe I *was* making it all up. It's sad but comforting to be able to read the stories of other children of narcissists. It's nice to be able to share stories and get a reaction beyond an uncomfortable silence followed by a change in subject, or an explanation of why the behaviour is acceptable or a "yeah, my dad has a temper/is selfish/is a pain, too". The Internet has provided me with a wealth of resources and contacts. It's made a world of difference in my life.

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.