Last week, I turned thirty-six. I’ve finally decided that I’m so done with the pain, denial, false guilt and sundry miseries resulting from decades of narcissistic abuse. I want to be happy. I want to be free.
Easily said. Less easily done.
I’ve been so unhappy for so long that it’s become a way of life. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve tried very hard to feel happy and not have “B.O. of the personality.” I’ve perfected the “happy” act. And there have been thousands of truly happy moments, good laughs and self-unaware times of bliss in my life.
I have everything to be grateful and happy about. A husband without peer, who I treasure more each day. (Happy 4th Anniversary, Honey!) Wonderful friends who’ve stuck with me through my highest and lowest moments. Two wonderful puppies who wag, lick and love unconditionally. A warm cottage. Reliable transportation. Work I enjoy. Food in the fridge and water from the tap. And at least sixty bottles of nail polish. What more does a girl need?
And yet…and yet…every day is a struggle to keep a smile on my face and a bounce in my step. It’s getting jolly old.
Click here to read the full article on PsychCentral!
There's a famous cliche: "If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is a frickin' duck." And if it looks like jealousy, walks like jealousy and talks like jealousy, it is frickin' jealousy.
Of course, I couldn't believe it myself! Who would? What normal parent would be insanely jealous of their own child?! I never expected it and I certainly didn't want it. But there it was: jealousy. As plain as the nose on my face.
It all started just after puberty. I was fourteen when Mom first accused me of trying to "be cute" (translation: seductive) for my own father.
Two years later, it was Dad who turned green around the gills.
Click here to read my newest Huffington Post article, Parents Who Are Jealous of Their Kids.
Get through Thanksgiving more or less unscathed, did you? Ran the gauntlet of the narcissists' curiosity. Turned a blind eye to the derisively raised eyebrows. Skillfully skirted the intrusive questions.
Well good on you! Kudos, high fives and champagne toasts. It's no mean feat to be the “dish of the day” surrounded by hungry narcissists and survive to thrive another day. Mazel tov!
But what now? A month extends before us. A month until we must again run the Narc Gauntlet. And for an unluckily high percentage of my readers, they'll be hosting this year's festivities. Got a minute in your frantic rush to find the perfect gifts, bake the perfect cookies and clean your already-spotless house? Cause we need to talk. Now.
If, like me, you too were raised by narcissists, then the mirror in which you see yourself is warped. It's like having psychological dysmorphia disorder. Or seeing yourself only in carnival fun house mirrors for a lifetime. The “you” you think you know isn't really “you” at all, you know. (Five uses of the same pronoun in one sentence. WOW!)
The real “you” is actually okay. Yes, that's right. You're OKAY!