Because I’m a very bad little girl…

As a kid, I hated eating lunch at school. Just hated it. I hated sandwiches. I don’t know why I was so finicky about them (I certainly am not now). Something about eating a sandwich that had been sitting in my lunch pack for 4 or 5 hours was completely disgusting to me – like it would have been spoiled or full of germs. It was just a phase – all kids go through phases, right?

So I wouldn’t eat them. Mother would be disgusted with me when she would find her sandwich uneaten in the lunch bag. My not eating her sandwich was my disrespecting her. It didn’t matter if I liked it or not. I was damn lucky to have a mother make such nice lunches for me and I had better eat every last bit. It was so confusing – I wasn’t doing this to hurt her. She wasn’t interested in the real reasons or helping me get over this phase I was going through. She was only concerned with how I was hurting her. So, I started stuffing my sandwiches into my milk cartons. She wouldn’t get her feelings hurt and I wouldn’t have to choke down a sandwich.

She told the principal – a strict nun, who paroled the school yard with a bull horn, that I wasn’t eating the wonderful lunch she prepared for me. One day, Sister L caught me and yelled at me across the courtyard. She continued to yell at me until the bull horn was right in my seven year old face. I then had to eat my mashed up sandwich from the milk carton. All the other kids got up and when to recess, I couldn’t leave until it was done. I had to show Sister L the empty milk carton before I could even go back to class.

Sister L notified my mother about what I was doing. I got a horrible rage the whole way home. Once I got home, I hid in my closet. I could hear her going on about how hard she worked on my lunch and why didn’t I appreciate her hard work. How dare I try to deceive her. Why was I being so disrespectful?

She found me in the closet and demanded an answer. I cried out “Because I am a very bad little girl and I deserve to die.” I’ll never forget the look on her face. A little shocked and somewhat amused – but mostly satisfied. She started to laugh and continued laughing out of my room and down the hall. I stayed in the closet fully believing what I had said, wishing for the ground to swallow me up so I wouldn’t have to face the yelling, the bull horn, or the women behind them ever again.

Mom comes back in to my room, still chuckling. She has a skeleton sticker and she shoves it into my hand. “See OAD. You’ve got to start eating your lunch or you are going to end up looking like this.” I’m still upset and I remember staying in my closet for a long time, probably until my dad came home from work and I really felt safe enough to rejoin the family.

What strikes me as odd is her seven year old daughter feels so bad and worthless that she actually believes she deserves to die, and instead of addressing the self esteem issue she laughs and makes a joke out of it.

It all goes back to the disproportional reactions. Absolutely, I should have been held accountable for not eating my lunch, but it shouldn’t have been turned into I wasn’t eating my lunch to attack her. I can’t imagine a single child who would think this way about their mother. A child’s world centers around their mother – all they want to do is to love and please them. Accusing a child of such treacherous intent is anxiety provoking. We failed the most important job we had – and we didn’t even mean to do it.

I envision a more appropriate response would have been my mother asking me “OAD, what is it that you don’t like about your lunches?” I would then explain that I think they are full of germs because it had sat in my lunch box all morning. She could have then explained where germs come from and how my food is safe. Maybe that conversation would have led into what I might like better for lunch. And I would have said peanut butter and jelly, because it is not as germy as chicken salad. And may she would have countered with – what about turkey because that is a little healthier --- and so on until we compromised something that made me comfortable and let her be the mother.

An Unexpected Reaction

Sanctuary for the Abused recently reposted an Anna Valarious (of Narcsissits Suck) article on rage. It is called “Disproportional Responses” and it triggered many memories for me. I could fill pages of blogs with examples, but one instance has been particularly eating at me. So I’m throwing it out to the web universe hoping for some relief.

“He keeps you off-balance by his disproportional reactions to minor affronts. He rages suddenly over what seems like nothing. It is nothing. That's part of the point. He punishes over the tiniest infractions to throw you off balance by confusing you. You gently disagree with him on some minor point and he throws a giant tantrum. Or you may have no idea what you did, but suddenly you have an enraged beast going for your throat. You start walking on eggshells around him. You never feel completely relaxed in his presence because you never know when or where the next outburst will come from.”

Anna Valarious, Disproportional Responses

When I was a high school senior, I had gotten accepted to my college of choice – in Texas. Previous to this I had arranged an interview when the recruiter when he came to town and letters of recommendation from my teachers and my uncle who was an alum. I re-took the SAT three times to get improve my score enough to get scholarships. It went well and I had a scholarship, a grant, and I could get financial aid to pay for the rest. I was ecstatic!

Now, I had an idea of how sharing this information with my family should go. My friends were making plans to go away to college and their parents were supporting their choices. Additionally I had seen enough movies of this milestone event. The senior opens her college acceptance letter and her family rallies behind her, swearing they will do everything within their power to make this dream come true. And if the parent wasn’t exactly thrilled about the choice, they had a rational conversation with their child about the realities of the decision.

Um… I didn’t exactly get this reaction to my good news. In fact, my dream quickly turned into a nightmare.

No sooner did I read the acceptance letter to my parents than my mother started in on me.

“You can’t go away to college! You can’t even take care of yourself! You won’t even call in your own prescriptions. You’ll die of an asthma attack and no one will care because you won’t have us around!”

I told her, well I guess I’ll learn to take care of my self! She came in closer. I was now pinned between the wall and the dresser of my room. Her hot, angry breath in my face and she said “We don’t have the money to fly you home for the holidays. You would be stuck there and you can’t come home.”

At this point I am crying. She is yelling in my face, crushing my dreams and my self confidence. I felt so trapped. I wanted to get away. I shove past her and ran out the room. I hear her yelling after me:

“Call the police! Call the police! She pushed me! How dare you lay your hands on me!” My father and sister rush to comfort her. Luckily no one calls the police. I stay as far away from her as possible as I gather my emotions. She as usual ignores me for the next several weeks – save for a few smart ass comments to pick at my failing self confidence.

For years I’ve dwelt on the fact that I shoved her and that I was the abuser. She would bring it up time to time to remind me of what a horrible daughter I was. And then she would go on and on about what a stupid idea it was for me to go away to college. I surely would have perished all alone on the floor of my dorm room because I was so incapable to take care of myself. Oh and how lucky I was to have a mother who cared about my well being so much to dish me out a heaping helping of hard love.  She, after, was the reason I had a college degree at all.

“By confusing you, he gets to feel sane. By fragmenting your reality he gains a sense of wholeness. Yeah, it's twisted.”  Anna Valarious, Disproportional Responses

The fact is, I didn’t want to shove her, but she was so intimately in my personal space, breathing down on me. No she wasn’t physically hitting me, but emotionally she was giving me a beat down. Not an excuse, but I just couldn’t see another way out. Well I suppose sinking down to the ground and curling up into the fetal position would have been a more desirable option for her. For me – all I wanted to do was escape her angry outburst and get my head back on straight. I was so confused why something so positive had been turned around to be one of the worst moments of my life.

I felt like such a fake. At our high school honors night, I was called to the stage a number of times to be recognized for the scholarships, grants and high test scores I received. My church youth group congratulated me on my acceptance to TCU. Everyone just assumed I was going there. I stopped explaining that I wasn’t going there after all – it was too hard and painful to explain why I had to stay.
What my mother told me and what was going on in the world around me was such a contradiction. I saw my friends going off to college. Why did they get to go and I had to stay? Money didn’t make sense. In fact, considering the grants and scholarships I had gotten for TCU, it would have been cheaper for me to attend there. Why was a plane ticket home from Texas too expensive, but paying my dues for the first semester in the sorority was not? Or for that matter, my mothers and sisters plastic surgery procedures that occurred during that time fram.  That could have paid for each and every plane ticket home.

Oh wait... my bad - the plastic surgery was to help their self esteem....  Aparently getting a college degree and gaining the confidence to provide for yourself doesn't provide the same results...  Where is my head?

I’m still paying my student loan for my undergraduate degree. Not only did I not get to choose the college that gave me more money, I ended up having to pay nearly every dime for the one that appeased my parents.

It would have been nice to have my mother and my father rally behind me and tell me they would do anything within their power to make my dream come true. Even if that wasn’t true – couldn’t they have sat me down and had a rational discussion about money, and their perceptions of my responsibility level? Did I have to be yelled at me seconds after opening my expectance letter? Did the end goal have to be beat me down so much that I would just do what ever she said to make the yelling stop and her talk to me again?

In the end, I am grateful for the path I am on now. If I went to TCU, chances are my husband and I would have never met or our beautiful son wouldn't be here with us now.  I am damn lucky to have the degree I have and to have gotten the career oppertunities I have.  For that I am grateful and I wouldn't change a thing.  That said, I do realize now I would have excelled if I got to choose my own destiny.  My success has nothing to do with the "tough love" my mother forced down me as much as it had to do with my determinatioon to succeed and live my own life.

I suppose that independent spirit is the reason my mother and I often fought.  I kept fighting to follow my own path while trying to keep her happy. This is part of the reason we completely broke – there was no such thing as having both. Trying to maintain both made me crazy. While walking this tight rope, disturbing behavior would emerged that further supported my being crazy and her being the voice of reason.  As long as I believed that - I was trapped.

edited 3/1/2010

Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice

I have been making a concerted effort to not always read self help books. So lately, I have taken a break – finally reading Twilight and re-reading an old favorite of mine –The Grapes of Wrath. Even though it is suppose to be a break, my “awakening” has made me super sensitive to the way even fictional characters behave. I dare to say that this is the first time I’ve really understood the emotions and intricacies of relationships beyond what is explicitly written.

I recently picked up a Kindle, adding a whole new dimension to my obsessiveness – as now I can highlight what I find notable and download it to my computer for further analysis and quoting.

I have quite the file on Pride and Prejudice.

Admittedly I found the book boring at first, but I was determined to get through it. It is a classic after all! The first chapters consisted of balls, landing a husband, and gossip. Oh it really was painful for a while! But then as I read I discovered the Bennets are not much different from people I know in real life.

I don’t want to spoil too much if you haven’t read it. The story focuses on the second eldest, Elizabeth Bennet, a girl who prides her judgment of other people’s character. She is frank, honest, and values virtuousness. She believes one should marry for love. She values her family and views their quirks as annoying, but not necessarily harmful. She has every appearance of being a sensible girl.

Elizabeth is closest to her older sister, Jane, who also possesses many sensible qualities. I found her to be less candid than Elizabeth and softer spoken and compliant. Being the oldest at 22, there is pressure from her mother to marry soon and marry well.

Mrs. Bennet is the 18th century definition of a narcissistic mother. Her behavior towards her husband, her daughters and others rubbed me the wrong way throughout the whole book. She is concerned about appearance, her status in the community, having more fortune and more to brag about than her neighbors. She nags, cries and gets angry at her husband so he will do her dirty work. She is not concerned with relationships at an emotional level, but only how knowing that other person will reflect on her. She is extremely agitated at the fact when her husband dies, their estate will be entailed to his cousin and she will be forced out. Therefore, she is obsessed with getting one of her five daughters to marry the cousin so she can still live in her grand house.

Mr. Bennet is a man who values peace and quiet. He does not want any trouble and will antagonize his wife when she makes her requests of him. Although he may passively resist at first, he will usually end up doing what ever is demanded of him. When it comes to standing on his own to take action, he is resistant. When his daughter Lydia gets into trouble, Elizabeth and Jane find him wondering off into the woods instead of dealing with the matter directly.

The Bennets have three other daughters. Mary is not very social and prefers to study. She is the forgotten child. Lydia is their wild child, and a creation of being her mother’s golden child. She is charming and manipulates to get what she wants. She believes herself to be superior to all her sisters, acts very irresponsibly, and doesn’t concern herself with on how her choices reflect on herself or her family. Kitty is impressionable and idolizes Lydia.

Elizabeth was the most relatable character to me. She starts out seeming to understand the world and people, but her scope is very small. Interactions with newcomers to their town offer a new world of understanding beyond what she has known. Every perceived notion she has about people’s character, including her own, is tested. She is forced to concede her family dynamic is not ideal. Her connection to her family puts her in a difficult situation as she finds herself juggling her duty as a daughter and discovering her own path to happiness.

Here are some quotes I found of interest. If you haven’t read the book – some of these are spoilers!

Mrs. Bennet on getting Lizzy to marry her cousin to save their home:

"Lizzy shall be brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but I will MAKE her know it."

This is an example of jumping to conclusions and blame shifting. Mrs. Bennet just found out that Lizzy friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas, is going to marry their cousin, Mr. Collins. She is furious since this means she will now lose her house upon her husband’s death:

Mrs. Bennet was in fact too much overpowered to say a great deal while Sir William remained; but no sooner had he left them than her feelings found a rapid vent. In the first place, she persisted in disbelieving the whole of the matter; secondly, she was very sure that Mr. Collins had been taken in; thirdly, she trusted that they would never be happy together; and fourthly, that the match might be broken off. Two inferences, however, were plainly deduced from the whole: one, that Elizabeth was the real cause of the mischief; and the other that she herself had been barbarously misused by them all; and on these two points she principally dwelt during the rest of the day. Nothing could console and nothing could appease her. Nor did that day wear out her resentment. A week elapsed before she could see Elizabeth without scolding her, a month passed away before she could speak to Sir William or Lady Lucas without being rude, and many months were gone before she could at all forgive their daughter.

Here’s a situation many of us could relate to – a NM tirade:

“Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any attempt to reason with her or soothe her would only increase the irritation. She talked on, therefore, without interruption from any of them…”

And later, after Lydia brought disgrace on the family:

“Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes' conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage; blaming everybody but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of her daughter must principally be owing…

…they all left her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper, who attended in the absence of her daughters. Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold her tongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged it better that ONE only of the household, and the one whom they could most trust should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.”

Jane had fallen in love with Mr. Bingley, but he suddenly left and she is heart broken. Mrs. Bennet does not seek to comfort her daughter’s pain, but to pick at the open wound:

But as no such delicacy restrained her mother, an hour seldom passed in which she did not talk of Bingley, express her impatience for his arrival, or even require Jane to confess that if he did not come back she would think herself very ill used. It needed all Jane's steady mildness to bear these attacks with tolerable tranquility.

"Oh, that my dear mother had more command over herself! She can have no idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before."

"I begin to be sorry that he comes at all," said Jane to her sister. "It would be nothing; I could see him with perfect indifference, but I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My mother means well; but she does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what she says. Happy shall I be, when his stay at Netherfield is over!"

A thought by Elizabeth when introducing Mr. Darcy to her aunt and uncle:

“It was consoling that he should know she had some relations for whom there was no need to blush.”

Mrs. Bennet lamenting on how her unheard judgment about Lydia was correct and now they were doomed:

“but I was overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham, wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do."

Mrs. Bennet’s sense of entitlement when Lydia’s disgrace has been reversed when she thinks her brother paid off Wickham:

"Well," cried her mother, "it is all very right; who should do it but her own uncle? If he had not had a family of his own, I and my children must have had all his money, you know; and it is the first time we have ever had anything from him, except a few presents.”

Elizabeth standing up to Lady Catherine's orders to not marry Mr. Darcy:

"I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to YOU, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me…

Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude," replied Elizabeth, "have any possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former WERE excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's concern--and the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn."

After the proposal – Elizabeth was concerned with shielding Mr.Darcy from her mother’s verbal attacks:

During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation.

…yet, whenever she DID speak, she must be vulgar. Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all likely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could to shield him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep him to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse without mortification;

More entitlement, this time from Lydia in a letter to her now wealthy sister Lizzy:

"MY DEAR LIZZY,"I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half as well as I do my dear Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so rich, and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much, and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help. Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year; but however, do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not." Yours, etc."

As it happened that Elizabeth had MUCH rather not, she endeavored in her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind. Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice of what might be called economy in her own private expenses, she frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or herself were sure of being applied to for some little assistance towards discharging their bills. Their manner of living, even when the restoration of peace dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap situation, and always spending more than they ought”

What other fiction books have you read have the narcissistic family dynamic tied into it?

My Independence Day

Yeah, yeah – I know its not Forth of July. And I do want to wish you all a very happy Valentines Day. This day holds a different significance for me.

Mulderfan wrote me and told me January 10 was her independence day. Well, mine is February 14, 2009 and if you would like to see my declaration of independence and subsequent fall out, you can see it here: http://www.oneangrydaughter.com/2009/03/confrontation-part-1.html.

I want you to know above everything else I am doing this to ensure you and I can move forward on the best of terms. You are my mother and I love you very much. You need to know I do get hurt by your comments and actions though, and I’m no longer going to pretend like they don’t hurt

As I re-read the letter with a year of study in personality disorders and co-dependency under my belt, I would have written the letter differently. However the intent is there: Respect me as an individual capable of making my own decisions. When you don’t like my decision, respect me enough not to interfere or try to manipulate me into changing my mind. Above all, treat me, my family and my friends with the same respect they show you.

Even though I have taken control over my life, it is bittersweet. I feel like both my mom and I lost out on the opportunity to have a better relationship. I know if she has NPD, this will never be possible. All relationships are give and take. I can’t shoulder all the blame all the time and always is the one trying to make it right. I can’t walk on pins and needles never knowing what will set her off.

My dad and I have lost out on a relationship. My sister and I have lost out on a relationship. I have lost contact with my nieces and other family members. They have lost out on a relationship with my son and my husband.

If you were to explain this to them, they would say “OAD is the one who went away. We are still here. Someday she’ll come back.” There in lies the problem. They are still who they have always been and I have changed. I can’t go back and I can’t make them decide to change the dynamic they seem to need in order to exist.

I took a stand and said mental health, a healthy relationship with my husband, and providing a stable environment for my son trumps my relationship with my family. My mother, sister and father believe parents and siblings should come before all others. These are mindsets from two different realities and it is hard to reconcile them.

I can’t blame any one thing or any one person for the fall out. We all played our parts. I can blame personality disorder, but I believe personal responsibility still reins supreme. I just hope my walking away and decision to not to feed into the unhealthy dynamic, I can at least provide a better future me as well as for my relationship with my husband and son.

Appearance Authority

One of the most disturbing things my mother ever said to me was “You’ll never look as good as you did your freshman year of high school.”

I was completely knocked down. I was a junior in high school and one of my friends had told me I look like a Barbie Doll – in a nice way and that’s the way I took it. Maybe it was I subconsciously knew how much my mother valued her Barbie collection, or how for years she tightly wound my bangs in foam curlers to make my hair look just like one of her favorite doll, but I stupidly thought this would impress her.

Instead, she knocked me down with this one line. I remember having enough wits about me at the time that I asked “Why would you say that? Are you saying I’ll never be that beautiful again?”

She corrected me. “OAD that was a compliment. Don’t you know how to take a compliment? You were on swim team, and your hair was so highlighted and skin so tan from being in the sun. You were so skinny. Here look at this picture. See how beautiful you were?”

And she removed my swim team picture from the fridge and shoved it into my face.

There I was in my team suit, posed on the diving platform with a big happy smile. Yes that summer before freshman year had been kind to me. All summer long I had participated in synchronized swimming with my closest childhood friend. The class took place a noon in the peak of the Tucson summer. I slathered my pale body head to toe with sunscreen and surprisingly I tanned instead of turning into a lobster. Of course, all thanks to Mother who bought the obnoxiously expensive san tan lotion. My diligence in applying it did not play into the equation.

And yes, my already long blond locks were kissed with the sun. A few weeks later, I joined the high school swim team and whittled my 5’ 5” and growing frame down to a size seven and 127 pounds. Meanwhile, Mother Nature was just waving the wand of womanhood, sending my child body into transition.

In a way, Mom was right. Those events that supposedly brought upon my peak of beauty in my mother’s eyes would never happen again. Her “compliment” set an impossible bar of beauty – 127 pounds, size 7, perfectly tanned and highlighted hair.

I thought for the longest time “Well, that’s it.” And from that point on whenever someone complemented my appearance or congratulated me on loosing a few pounds I would think “Yeah – but you should have seen me when I was 14!” (Sounds completely rediculous just typing it) I always viewed my mother as the be all and end all opinion on every matter concerning me. After all, she told me “No one will love you like I love you” so that must mean her opinion meant more than that of my friends or other “outsiders.”

Any time I decided I needed to lose a few pounds, 127 was always my goal. I didn’t matter that I was now 5’ 7” and had the body of an adult woman. Nope, it was either 127 or it wasn’t good enough. I had to recover the body of my former prime. Some things were easier – I could pay lots of money to get my hair highlighted and get a spray on tan. Achieving the former weight and clothing size was a loosing battle.

Short of starving my self and living in the gym, that just isn’t going to happen. I have a love affair with food … ok scratch that … addiction to food. And even before marriage and kids, I didn’t spend every spare minute in the gym. After college I did hire a trainer and a nutritionist. I shed 25 pounds and was in better physical shape than even when I was that 14 year old “bombshell”, even if I didn’t weigh any where near 127 and only managed a size 8.

One night, I was prancing in front of the mirror and I realized something. Although my body was turning into the shape I thought I wanted (scratch that – one my mother would once again consider beautiful), I didn’t recognize myself. So much of my identity is tied up with being on the slightly pudgy side. There was something a bit off setting about seeing hip bones and muscle replacing the protective layer around my middle. I realized I had to be comfortable in my own skin, and if I was comfortable in a size 12, then that was fine.

Even though I learned that there is a comfort zone for me, that one backhanded compliment still stings 16 years later. As I go head long into my other New Year’s resolution (exercise more and eat healthier) I have been reflecting on that comment, the effect it has had on me, its nastiness, and the fact that it just plain isn’t true. The only thing I owe myself was to be the healthiest size 12 I can be.

I won’t deny it, the 14 year old girl on the verge of womanhood did look amazing! Reflecting back on other events of my life, there were many other times I felt or looked just as beautiful – or maybe even more so. I was beautiful that day my band mate told me I looked like a Barbie doll – and a year later when I went to prom with my high school sweet heart. I remember feeling so cute and confident in my tennis uniform, slamming the ball at the net during matches (much more so than that ackward, self conscious 14 year old in the swimsuit). Even though I ended up with a body I didn't recognize the summer after college, I looked and felt amazing then too.

There’s no denying that my husband thought I was beautiful the afternoon I walked down the aisle to marry him. You can just see it in that one picture we have where he is leaning far to the side, beaming, just to watch me. And hands down, the most beautiful I’ve ever felt was when I had a red turning purple, scrunched up face, with sweaty hair, in a hospital gown, bringing my son into the world.

I now know Mom was also dead wrong. As far as beauty goes I haven’t peaked. There is another component to beauty that cannot be seen in that old picture. It’s the part that comes from within. It is learning to be comfortable in my own skin and once I do that, the confidence will show on the outside. Beauty is also about being a beautiful soul, something I will work for to the day I die. I know I’m no where near my peak in that department.

Knowing one is beautiful doesn’t come from outside sources, although I must admit, external validation is mighty nice! What I am realizing is some of those compliments I received in the past were not based solely my outward appearance being pleasing. They were expressed by people close to me who valued who I was on the inside too. They got the whole picture.

And as far as outward appearance, if I just keep following my path of treating my body right, I know the best is yet to come.

The Narcissist: A User Guide (free E-Book now Available)

Hands down, the hardest part of discovering I had a narcissist in my life was deciding what I was going to do about it. I didn’t ask to be in a toxic situation, I’m being told it is not my fault, but nonetheless I have to do something about it. It is not fair, it sucks and it hurts because the relationship was with someone I love, who gave me life – my mother.

Because of all the feelings tied up with the NPD person, the first instinct is to try to save the relationship. Healthy people try to use reason and compromise. The narcissist only uses tactics that preserve their false self. There is no winning. In fact, your use of logic, explaining your feelings and an expression of your desire to change may only prove to do one thing: Make the narcissist a better narcissist. They play dirty and the last thing you want to do is give them ammunition for their drama gun which has you fixed in its sights.

Eventually, I discovered first hand something I’ve heard over and over again “You can’t change other people, you can only change yourself.” Never has that statement been truer. Even though you are not the narcissist, you are the other half of the equation – the supply. Remove the supply and they can’t feed off of you.

But… how?

Navigating your way through all the information on NPD can be daunting. There seems to be many definitions and explanations, but only brief mentions of setting boundaries or limiting contact. Personally, I felt lost and out of control when staring at my options. It felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff and I didn’t know how far the fall was going to be and how bad it would hurt when I landed. My only option was to jump.

It seems like a simple answer – choosing health over insanity. However, staring down into the abyss of the unknown – even if it is supposedly better for us – is anxiety provoking. No matter how much the NPD person tries to convince you otherwise, you are going to survive. Look at it more as a jumping with a parachute. The more you know and the more support you gather, the stronger and more effective that parachute becomes. Eventually you will make a gentle landing on the other side.

The parachute is not built alone. We find the self esteem building validation we seek in trusted family members, our spouses, our friends, and others who have gone through it before. We reach out to strangers over our blogs and discussion boards and find support and friendship. As one DoNM often puts it “Welcome to the club nobody wants to be part of.”

If our club was to have a welcome packet – it should include Betsy Wuebker and Lori Hoeck’s new (free) e-book, The Narcissist: A User's Guide. Betsy and Lori’s collaboration is based on years of first hand experience with narcissist. At 29 pages long, it is a crash course in narcissism, but it touches on everything someone about to make the jump to emotional freedom would want to know. Going beyond a definition and validation of what you are experiencing, Betsy and Lori provide guidance to help you answer the most common “How?” questions:

• How can I know if I am dealing with a narcissist? (Chapter Two)


• How do I interact with a narcissist? (Chapter Four)


• How do I know if I should leave the relationship? (Chapter Five)


• How do I protect myself from narcissistic relationships in the future? (Chapter 6)

The value of the advice given is that it is aimed at making a positive change in you, rather than dwelling on the person with the disorder. It is taking control of what can be changed and accepting what cannot.

I feel Chapter Four: Strategies to Negate a Narcissist, is a must read for anyone who is considering confronting their narcissist. Explaining why standing your ground is your best option, the authors also offer tangible examples on how to set boundaries. In my experience I hardly knew what a boundary was when I decided to set them – so having these types of examples early in the process would be valuable. There were a number of statements that I found to be inspirational and just reading them aloud made me feel more resolved.

This chapter also set expectations in that boundary setting most likely will not change the narcissist, but it will make you feel better and will give you the control over the relationship you have never experienced.

Chapter Five: When it is Time to Leave prepares you for the backlash of leaving the relationship. If I have learned anything in the past year, it is that narcissists typically respond in a similar manner when they lose their supply and use similar tactics to get you to re-submit to them. They use FOG – Fear, Obligation, Guilt – to corner you back into the role they have designed for you. You are a puppet in their false reality. Realizing you can abandon that role is freeing. Knowing what to expect helps you to keep your resolve to choose healthy relationships.

Speaking of narcissist typically all behaving alike, Chapter Three: How Can I tell I’m Dealing with a Narcissist? provides insight to their secret weapon arsenal. This is useful reading for those of us who have a narcissistic parent. We typically only understand the dysfunctional relationship and only recently discovered it is not OK. As such, we require help knowing what to look for so we can avoid similar relationships in the future. I especially appreciated the interview questions which detailed a typical healthy response and a narcissistic one.

As far as avoiding narcissistic relationships, recognizing the narcissist is half the battle. Chapter 6: Avoiding Future Encounter addresses the change we make in ourselves so we don’t become targets. It is a long road, but this is also the rewarding part! Changing involves building our self esteem, confidence, and building healthy boundaries around our emotions and physical beings. It is feeling the pain and facing our fears so we are no longer vulnerable. This is the work that improves our quality of life. The more successful we are at this, the less tasty we will seem to hungry narcissists looking for supply.

The Narcissist: A User Guide becomes available today and can be found on either author’s website. This is a quick read, offering powerful strategies and insights that can help at any stage of the journey. If you have just discovered you are in a relationship with a NPD person, I feel this e-Book is a good starting point and provides excellent references for additional reading.

The authors


Betsy Wuebker(http://passingthru.com/ ) is an entrepreneur and a writer at PassingThru. As a very interested observer—always looking for the “why”—her encounters with narcissists in the workplace and extended family dynamics led her from observations to conclusions. Collaborating with Lori, whose insights and experiences are so remarkably similar, is a way to share these findings and tips in the hopes that others may extricate themselves from harmful situations and move on to healthier, happier living.


Lori Hoeck (http://thinklikeablackbelt.com ) is a writer and senior martial arts instructor currently helping people discover the power of physical, mental, and emotional self defense at her website, Think Like A Black Belt. Like Betsy, Lori enjoys exploring the inner workings of a topic—like narcissism or self defense—and then melding research and personal experience into actionable resources for others.

One Year Ago Today

This time, one year ago, our Baby Party had just started. At about this time, I remember being in the kitchen, talking to the wives of a couple co-workers about starting DS’s baby book. One of them who knew how mom and I would go to her scrap booking parties asked if my family was coming. I remembered replying “Oh yes, my Mom always makes an entrance.” I remember her giving me a puzzled look. “Let’s just say you’ll hear her when she comes.”

What I needed to have was a tornado siren sound when she entered, because after she stormed out, my emotions where strewn like debris all over the void she left. I fluctuated from guilt, to hate, to sadness, to anger, to regret, until I finally landed on determination. At 7:00 PM, in tears and with a broken heart, I decided I would have to change. I decided I would call a therapist because I figured I just didn’t know how to communicate with my family. I needed someone unrelated to me to tell me if I was really as bad of a villain my mother made me out to be.

Thank God I called and found her. I didn’t know to look for a therapist who specialized in personality disorders – must have been divine intervention I decided to pick her name out of the list my insurance company provided me. I don’t know if you ever read this blog – or if you still do – but thank you for pointing me in the right direction.

In the span of a year I’ve gone from striving for acceptance in my parents’ eyes to being satisfied with accepting myself. I’m not cured and I still struggling, but I am light years away from that broken hearted girl who thought she was the worse, most selfish person in the whole world for not opening gifts in front of everyone to appease her mother. It all seems so silly now.

But thank God for the journey. I have met some incredible people along the way – many on the DoNM boards, those who leave comments or email me through this blog, those who reached out to me to offered words of encouragement and those who said I was brave and my experience actually have helped them. I don’t know how to express how much it all means to me. I am grateful for each and every one of you.

It shows in my relationship with my husband. We are stronger because we stood together. I learned I could completely breakdown and fall apart and have someone support me. I never did that before, because I was to be the strong one and if I fell, no one would catch me. We are living life on our terms and no more do I ask the question “If we do this, will it upset my mother?” We have our standards, we live in an acceptable way, and we are happy. We have future dreams and aspiration with no strings attached.

It shows in my career. I am finally learning how to be assertive and got a thicker skin. Because I am sure of myself and don’t try to be 100% perfect all the time, I actually enjoy my job. And it is showing! Despite taking time off to have a baby and all the hardships with my family, I am actually excelling at my job. I have a career path and achieving milestones!

I still have intense moments of sadness on a regular basis. I will always have one mother, one father and one sister. I love them very much but I just don’t know how to fix us. Scratch that, I can’t fix us. I can only fix me. I do miss them. I do not miss the emotional roller coaster they take me on. I do not miss the work of supporting the dysfunction of ignoring problems and keeping up the happy family façade to the world. I do not miss addiction that never gets better – whether it is to a chemical substance, a person, or the drama that surrounds the whole dynamic. One day, I hope we can all work towards a healthier dynamic. Until that day, I can only concentrate on my own.

Ironically, I am going to a baby shower this evening. I am taking my DS with me. Maybe this is too much to put on someone who isn’t even one yet, but he is kinda like my superhero. It was my love for him and my desire to bring him into a peaceful world that propelled me to work for a change in the first place. There was something powerful that night as I stood there caressing my swollen belly and feeling him move inside me. The alarm clock had gone off and I couldn’t push snooze any more. I had to do something different, because the status quo was killing me.

The outcome isn’t what I had first envisioned. My first choice always has been for me and my family to come to an understanding and work towards change together. I’ve had to accept that may never happen. However, reality today is much better than the crazy making reality of a year ago and who knows what the next year will bring.