Game Over, Samantha

So, Samantha called yesterday at a time she knew I wouldn't able to answer and left voice mail asking about meeting with me in person, because e-mails just aren't a good way to communicate and it's better to talk in person, blah, blah, blah. Her voice was very flat, in fact, it sounded as if she was trying to fake being down, or perhaps was being forced to do something she didn't want to.

Foolish me agreed to meet with her this Friday. I sent her this:

I wasn't sure when I saw [her fiancee] what I wanted to do so I didn't talk to him about meeting you, and since it's rather late to be sending text messages or calling, e-mail it is for the moment. I've thought about it, and feel that I said everything I wanted/needed to in my last e-mail. However it seems you've got more to say and as long as it isn't just a rehash of your last e-mail to me I'm willing to listen. [emphasis added]

I suggest we meet some place neutral. I'd prefer some place nearby that I can reach by walking or hopping the bus down [Street Name] Starbucks, [Local restaurant], [Local restaurant], or something like that. Anyway, just give me a time and place and I'll be there.

This is what I got back:

Yes, I would like to meet. And I feel it's best if we both go in there with open minds and not just assuming we know what the other will say.  I think this is extremely important, and I would hope you thought so too.  If you come unwilling to listen to what I say (and same goes for me listening to you) then we won't get anywhere.  I think it's important to understand that now. [emphasis added]

How does [Local restaurant] at 1pm tomorrow afternoon sound?

I noticed immediately how she wasn't listening to what I said. I said I was willing to listen, as long as she had something new to say. I read her e-mail, I don't need to hear the same bullshit in person from her. But what does she do? Directly ignores my willingness to listen, starts preaching about open minds and not making assumptions. Doesn't say a word as to if she has something besides her previous e-mail to discuss. She just equivocates about it, trying to get me to have an "open mind" so she can be all wounded when I don't want to hear the same bullshit from her e-mail again. Meeting's off. I am so not playing this game with her. So a revised version of the last letter I plan on sending her was dispatched.

In view of your equivocating response, it seems to me you have no intention of taking responsibility for your recent behavior. If you try to dance around my boundaries in e-mail, I cannot trust you to respect them in person either. I have no assumptions, only what I am willing and not willing to listen to regarding this matter; and I am not willing to listen to your last e-mail again, in person. If that is all you want to do, if you cannot commit to more than just repeating yourself, then we have nothing discuss.

I said I was willing to listen, if you had something new to say, and you completely ignore that and talk about assumptions and having an open mind instead of addressing the matter directly. It makes me doubtful of your intentions; you are not listening to me now and I do not feel like you are interested in listening to me at all in person either. I feel like you want to get me alone to verbally beat me into submission and that is not a position I am willing to put myself in. I am no longer comfortable with meeting you tomorrow.

So, thank you for proving my points for me and for attempting to violate every healthy boundary I have established. I didn't talk to you sooner on my own behalf, that is my fault and I am sorry for it. I own that, but it does not excuse your own behavior. My door is always open if you are ever willing to respect my boundaries, to take responsibility for your actions, to own your share in this, and to be honest. However, you do not sound ready for this in either your voice mail or your latest response. If you ever are ready, understand that I will not be able to meet with you alone.

Please return the spare keys to my apartment, my book “[Title]”, our pizza stone, and if you happen to be the one who still has it, my sister’s book “[Title.” You are still welcome to work out with [her fiancee] in our gym if you are comfortable, as it would be unfair to exclude you from working out with your fiancée if he wants to keep working out [DH].

Also, [person] had given me the book he borrowed from you to return for him on the Friday before last, but I accidentally left it at [Friend B]'s. I can retrieve it for you, or if you like, you may contact them directly.

If you no longer wish to involve me in your wedding, I understand. I will respect your decision and will not be offended.

Thank you,
[Adela Alba]

Waiting for the rest of the shit to hit the fan. If she won't make up her mind on if I'm in or out of the wedding before the end of the month, then I will make up her mind for her by officially withdrawing. The only way to win is to not play the game.

Game over, bitch.

Post Letter Analysis

Since I will not be engaging in any JADE (Thanks Quercus), I thought I'd get it out of my system by dissecting her letter here on my blog.

I was going to write an email back and respond point to point, but after reading it all again I don't feel that it's necessary. [But I'm going to do it anyway for the rest of the letter]

I want to point out just a few things that I felt were an attack on my character which were harsh, unfair, and untrue [See? Just like I said she would!]: I would never say that about [DH]'s degree, especially since [her fiancee] has almost the same degree from the same institution, and I think both of them are extremely intelligent; also as I'm looking to go to that school, I don't think that there is anything wrong with it.[Yeah, now that you're thinking of going there. I hope they don't let you in.

I do not think you are boring and have never called you boring, and I would not share thoughts like that with people who are our mutual friends because that would be rude.  [Really? Because not one, but two people heard you say it.]

I don't know where this rumor about the math started, but I find it extremely offensive.  I have never ever lied about anything like that - my mother taught me to be an honest and trustworthy person and I would never do anything like that, especially not with other people's money.  You guys always entrusted me to work out the bill, and if there was ever an issue it was purely by mistake.  [Really? You still owe us $100, but you claim to have paid it. We decided it was too much trouble to argue with you about it since we were friends and all.]

The fact that you can even think that about me really shows how I was wrong about what you knew about me. [Yeah, you were wrong about what I knew about you. You thought I didn't know any of this shit and never would.]

The fact that all these things you mentioned are what people have said they thought about me, and you don't trust me at all over them - you take their word over mine, shows me how you feel about me as a friend.[Yes, how dare I believe somebody besides you. You, who couldn't even keep the promise you made to me to get your cholesterol checked when you went in for your physical exam. You who in the next lines will be lying through your fucking teeth. Please, tell me why I should trust you again? When you're willing to talk about our friend's weight behind their back to me, why shouldn't I believe you'd talk about me behind my back, too?]

 As for leaving you for an acquaintance, the only time I remember cancelling plans with you was to hang out with my sister when she was dealing with post-partem depression.  [Really? I have messages that state otherwise. Something about how you wouldn't be able to see her on her birthday Saturday so you were going to have lunch with her instead of keeping your plans with me. But I didn't even bring that up, you did. And you completely ignored the documented example I gave you.]

And to comment on my relationship with [her fiancee] seems out of line - everyone has their quirks with their significant other, including you - and I have never made a comment no them because it was not my place.  [Attacking the example, not what it represented. I told her she reacts poorly to criticism, for example she yells her her fiancee when he tries to correct her form when working out. She completely missed the point.]

I didn't realize you had so much built up against me - I had assumed that if you had anything you would talk to me about it. [Yes, I should have talked to her sooner. But that doesn't give her a free pass for her poor behavior. That is my share and I own it.]

 To blame me in this situation for being not easy to talk to is simply you guys passing off any responsibility on to me. [Wasn't blaming you for it, just stating a fact. I was talking to you now about it, quite reasonably too, and look what your responded with.

No one has tried to talk to me since that time a long time ago, and I have changed quite a bit since then. So to blame me being confrontational is simply hiding behind all of you not wanting to come out and say it, but all discuss it among yourselves. [Trying now. You haven't changed much at all, honestly. And yeah, you might want to consider how you being confrontational affects how people treat you.]

I never considered you a back up option, and I assumed you would understand that I had less time as we got older and things were finally going the right way for me. [So things weren't going to right way for you before? What does that say about us then? It isn't about how much time you spend with me or the rest of us, but the way you act and the way you bail on us.]

That's all I have to say.  As you were so negative in your email with all of your "I will not" and "I won't stand for", I'll do the same.  [I was telling you my boundaries. If you can't handle them, that's your problem. Not mine.]

I will not let what happened last time happen this time. [Really? And what happened last time? I recall everything worked out and we all were able to get along again.]

You tell me how I can get back into everyone's good graces? It's your terms or nothing?  There are guidelines and parameters that I have to abide by? [All I told you was to talk to them. I can't imagine how you expect anything to change if you sit around and do nothing. And I only told you what I would and would not tolerate and that I wouldn't be your middle man anymore.]

 I am your best friend, or so I thought, and I thought I was on equal footing.  I didn't know it was your rules or nothing.  I didn't know I didn't get a say. [Equal footing doesn't mean no boundaries. Equal footing means respecting each other's boundaries. Blind loyalty is not equal footing and you clearly expected blind loyalty from me judging by how outraged you are I believed what others said.]

If you feel so indifferent about our friendship that you can say this is how it will be, take it or leave it... then I suppose I thought we were something different than we are.  I will not just go only by your rules, I thought we were equals in this relationship and I thought we both had a say, that there would be compromise - not just me following what you want.  So if it really is your way or the highway, I feel like with that attitude you are pushing me toward the highway. [Sounds more like your way or the highway. I told you we could talk, even get the group together. But you don't seem interested. If your rules our blind loyalty and putting up with your abuse, then please, get on that highway and don't come back.]

I would really not like to end over 20 years of friendship, but if everything you listed in your past email is really how you see me, then we obviously have not been the friends I thought we were all this time. [Sounds to me like you only value the length of time we've been friends. I was honest and authentic in my e-mail to you. If anything, you are not the person I used to think you were. We literally have nothing in common but the past.]

You may feel however you feel.  I still cherish our friendship, and I still love you.  If you feel like you no longer want that, then that is your choice and I accept whatever decision you make. [Thanks for permission. However the choice was yours, despite what you say here, and you've already made it. You already made the choice to end this friendship when you sent this e-mail. And you don't love me, you are confusing love and need. You need me. You need me a hell of a lot more than I need you, and this is gonna hurt you a lot more than it hurts me. I know how insecure you are, and you're losing a rock you've held onto for 20 years now. Let's see how well you swim without me.]

This is the draft of the last letter I intend to ever send her:

Thank you for proving my points for me and for attempting to violate every healthy boundary I have established. I didn't talk to you sooner, and that is my fault. I own that, but it does not excuse your behavior, especially now. My door is always open if you are ever willing to respect my boundaries, to take responsibility for your actions, to own your share in this, and to be honest. In the meantime, please return the spare keys to my apartment, my book [Title], our [cooking object, and if you happen to be the one who still has it, my sister’s book [Title]

Also, [another friend] had given me the book he borrowed from you to return for him on the Friday before last, but I accidentally left it at [FRIEND B]'s. I can retrieve it for you, or if you like, you may contact them directly.

If you no longer wish to involve me in your wedding, I will respect your decision and will not be offended.

Thank you,
[Adela Alba]

That's it, except maybe to arrange the return of my things and her book, that's the last communication I plan on responding to. I expect some rage or backpedaling in the near future when I send my response. Any further response will be met either with silence or a broken record version of this final letter. Right now I am letting her stew in her own juices for a bit and enjoying a swift move from karma. Her car was broken into and trashed by people looking for high end speakers that weren't there. They even cut her seat belt. Can't say I feel sorry for her though.

Laughing and Crying at the Same Time

I've never experienced this before. I've never laughed and cried at the same time. Hey TW, you know how you asked me to think about what I was getting out of responding and continuing this bullshit with Samantha? The knowledge I made my best effort, confirm my suspicions she was a narcissist once and for all, and that there would be no chance of reconciliation.

She gave it to me just a few moments ago. I might add my comments about it later when I can stand to read it again. Here it is for you all:

I was going to write an email back and respond point to point, but after reading it all again I don't feel that it's necessary.  I want to point out just a few things that I felt were an attack on my character which were harsh, unfair, and untrue: I would never say that about [DH]'s degree, especially since [her fiancee] has almost the same degree from the same institution, and I think both of them are extremely intelligent; also as I'm looking to go to that school, I don't think that there is anything wrong with it.  I do not think you are boring and have never called you boring, and I would not share thoughts like that with people who are our mutual friends because that would be rude.  I don't know where this rumor about the math started, but I find it extremely offensive.  I have never ever lied about anything like that - my mother taught me to be an honest and trustworthy person and I would never do anything like that, especially not with other people's money.  You guys always entrusted me to work out the bill, and if there was ever an issue it was purely by mistake.  The fact that you can even think that about me really shows how I was wrong about what you knew about me.  The fact that all these things you mentioned are what people have said they thought about me, and you don't trust me at all over them - you take their word over mine, shows me how you feel about me as a friend.  As for leaving you for an acquaintance, the only time I remember cancelling plans with you was to hang out with my sister when she was dealing with post-partem depression.  And to comment on my relationship with [her fiancee] seems out of line - everyone has their quirks with their significant other, including you - and I have never made a comment no them because it was not my place.  I didn't realize you had so much built up against me - I had assumed that if you had anything you would talk to me about it.  To blame me in this situation for being not easy to talk to is simply you guys passing off any responsibility on to me.  No one has tried to talk to me since that time a long time ago, and I have changed quite a bit since then. So to blame me being confrontational is simply hiding behind all of you not wanting to come out and say it, but all discuss it among yourselves.  I never considered you a back up option, and I assumed you would understand that I had less time as we got older and things were finally going the right way for me.

That's all I have to say.  As you were so negative in your email with all of your "I will not" and "I won't stand for", I'll do the same.  I will not let what happened last time happen this time.  You tell me how I can get back into everyone's good graces? It's your terms or nothing?  There are guidelines and parameters that I have to abide by? I am your best friend, or so I thought, and I thought I was on equal footing.  I didn't know it was your rules or nothing.  I didn't know I didn't get a say.  If you feel so indifferent about our friendship that you can say this is how it will be, take it or leave it... then I suppose I thought we were something different than we are.  I will not just go only by your rules, I thought we were equals in this relationship and I thought we both had a say, that there would be compromise - not just me following what you want.  So if it really is your way or the highway, I feel like with that attitude you are pushing me toward the highway.  I would really not like to end over 20 years of friendship, but if everything you listed in your past email is really how you see me, then we obviously have not been the friends I thought we were all this time.  

You may feel however you feel.  I still cherish our friendship, and I still love you.  If you feel like you no longer want that, then that is your choice and I accept whatever decision you make.

Samantha's E-mail

I will now share and provide my own analysis. I haven't send my response yet, but I will soon. Please, let me know what you think of this little gem! My comments are in bold.

THE LETTER: Subject line is "Hi"

I was pretty upset by what happened yesterday.  Not only was a floored by [FRIEND A]’s attack at me, but I was hurt by your response to me.  I know it’s not about taking sides, but I thought you could be there for me, at least.  I know you were [busy with something very important], but I felt hurt by your response.  You could have just said “Hey, I’m [busy] right now and can’t talk” and I would have understood… but what you said hurt. Really? I don't think you'd understand if I'd just said that. I think you would have complained about how I wasn't there for you! How could I be so curt and brief with you? For the record, in my response I basically agreed with Friend A's interpretation of events, said I was busy with something unquestionably important, and that I wouldn't be taking sides.

I’m not saying that I’m perfect and have no wrong doing ever [Which totally absolves me of any and all guilt in this], but I don’t think I was wrong in this situation.  And I feel that… whenever you come to me with problems or arguments about those friends, or your family, or anybody. I don’t tell you that I think you’re wrong, or side with them – I say I understand and commiserate with you.  So when I’m supremely upset about something one of our friends say to me [Apparently you missed the memo, Friend A hasn't been your friend for a long time], and I go to you and you agree with them? Yeah, I’m pretty hurt.  Especially when it’s over something so petty and insignificant [She has no clue what any of this is really about].  I feel like I’ve always been agreeable when it comes to your problems, even if I don’t always necessarily agree with you or think your response is silly (just as you said you thought what I did was “silly”), but I feel like that’s not my place and that’s not what you need – you need someone to be on your side, and say “Yeah, that sucks!” – which is what I do [No, I would rather have a friend who would be honest with me. Clearly we have different ideas of what a good friend is.].  So, to have you not do that made me feel pretty betrayed.  I thought we were there for each other in support whenever we needed it, regardless of the other things going on. [Regardless of if you have something incredibly important to do that can't wait. See why I think she'd complain if I had just said what she claims I could have?]  It really stung.

As for what actually happened, I am honestly shocked that it came to that with [FRIEND A].  No one has said a single thing to me about anything, except for now when someone blows up at me on a public forum – you can understand why I’m slightly perturbed at that.  I don’t think it’s fair to me.  As I said, everyone has a certain topic that they talk about often, I don’t think it’s fair to attack me for mine.  In no case have I ever insulted anyone or not come because of food [Really? You insulted Friend A when she was eating red velvet cake. And my sister.].  I’ve asked to make sure it’s okay if I bring my own food.  I bring my own sweetener so as not to cause issue.  It is my way of life that I choose and it affects nobody, so I really think that’s unfair.  So I made a joke about it? [It was a joke, it's all your guys' fault for overeacting! I am absolved any and all guilt! She really doesn't understand that this isn't about her diet.] Everyone in that group has some topic that they continually mention or joke about, why can’t I? It wasn’t at the expense of anyone. 

If I have done something that’s harmful to someone, I’d rather people just tell me [Because she reacts to criticism SO well.]. This is not the first time something like this has happened to me from this group, and I have a terrible feeling it won’t be the last.  If someone has an issue with me, say it. Don’t blow up at me over something so ridiculous, especially in front of other friends of ours. I know you didn’t do this, but I’m just explaining my frustration with it [I am trying to justify my behavior to you so you will take my side].  Also, I’ve seen [FRIEND A] maybe twice since her wedding… so I don’t even understand where she can be getting this information about what I talk about so much, unless other people are talking about how I annoy them behind my back, which I also find extremely frustrating.  I don’t particularly want to be back in Jr. High and the star of all the girl gossip. It doesn’t make me feel good.[Yes, people are talking about. Because they can't talk to you. Oh, and you were the star of the gossip, huh? It was a pretty big school, I don't recall anything traveling behind much beyond your own clique.]

I know I haven’t been around as much as I used to, and I don’t know if that’s an issue that bothers people.  I’m sorry. I really am sorry that I can’t be around like I was before.  I literally do not even know how to find the time.  I’ve already left behind multiple friends who I didn’t feel were worth the time after Aric and I started dating and merged our friend groups and families, there has just been so much going on that I just can not make it around as much – trust in the fact that I see your group more often than I see any other group of friends, excluding maybe my own family. I don’t even get down time to just relax at home anymore. I’m not complaining, I like my life now – I’m just explaining how things have changed.[Clearly, we should feel privileged she makes any time for us at all! That she hasn't dropped us! Poor her, always so busy! If she sees us more than anyone else, I can't begin to imagine how little she sees her other friends. Poor baby has no time to relax, but oh she isn't complaining! She loves all the fucking attention.]

As I said earlier, I’m not perfect and I know I’m not always the easiest person – but I don’t think that means I deserve whatever it is that’s happening. [I admit I am flawed, that absolves me of all guilt.] I’ve been a good friend with everyone for a long time [Really? Nobody else thinks so. Friend B described you once as a "friend of a friend" and Friend A has only tolerated you all these years for my sake.], and I’d appreciate it if people would treat me as such and just talk to me privately if there is an issue [They must come to me, even now that I know there is an issue, I will not bring it to them. They are responsible I am never responsible!]. I feel like things here just build up so much and then I get lashed out at, and how am I supposed to know there’s even an issue if everyone just talks amongst themselves about it but not with me?

That’s about it.  I just wanted to get out how I was feeling.  I’m glad you think you did well on your [what I was busy with].  You know I love you, and you’re very important to me… and I never write these kinds of emails, but it’s just been eating at me and I wanted to.

THE END! So... Your thoughts, my fellow bloggers? If you'd all like I can post my revised response.

The Letter I'm Not Sending. YET.

After an explosion on facebook when Samantha was finally called out for her BS by a person I will call Friend A for now, she immediately messaged me on facebook. I explained that I would not be taking sides. She didn't seem to like that and went on about how things aren't fair, blah blah blah. You can get the gist of what she said to me from the letter I just wrote. I'm not sending yet, but if she pushes me about this situation I will be giving her a copy for sure.

Dear Samantha,

I’ve taken a lot of time and put a lot of thought into how I would like to respond. I never said I was offended, and as far as I am aware, no one else has ever said they were offended by you following a diet. You seem to assume [FRIEND A] speaks for the whole group, and that is a faulty assumption. I don’t believe anyone is offended, only that they don’t need/want to hear about it every time we make dinner plans. We all know about what you can and can’t eat. I’m sure we all assume if we aren’t making something you can eat, or if a place we are going doesn’t have something you can eat, that you can and will do your own thing or find something else on the menu that you can have. Just like my sister doesn’t say “I hate [food]” every time we make [food]. She just asks if we need her to bring anything and brings her own food with her. We all know she doesn’t like [food] and we all know she will take care of herself. There is no need to bring it up again and again.

Life is unfortunately not fair. The things everyone else “incessantly” talks about are things they have in common with each other. However, just because you don’t share that interest doesn’t make it unfair that others talk about it. These things are also constantly evolving. Your diet is not; the rules of your diet do not change, the only noteworthy development is probably changes in your weight, which you are free to mention and will likely be congratulated on, even if most of us feel your diet is an unhealthy means to obtain it. [Series of topics my friends and I regularly discuss] and so on, are always developing and evolving and at least one person in those conversations shares interest in the topic. [FRIEND B] and I were interested the other [weekday] in hearing about your wedding plans and we listened to you speak of them at length. Including when you so rudely demanded [FRIEND B] not go to [vacation] when you didn’t even have your wedding date confirmed with the venue. Not to mention your tactless talk of money in front of would be wedding guests. It’s one thing to talk about it in front me, a member of your bridal party that way, but it is uncouth to be demanding money in front of the people you intend to invite. Maybe you have forgotten to the story of [FRIEND B]’s cousin’s bridal shower, who specified in the invite “In lieu of gifts and money tree will be provided” and how [FRIEND B] sent them a gift with a tag that read, “In lieu of a money tree, a gift has been provided.”

What it boils down to is no one besides [her fiancee] seems to share interest in your extreme diet anymore; you have told most of us all we need to or care to know. You are free to like it all you want, but no one is obligated to want to listen. There are, I think, no interested listeners left in “this group.” I also don’t believe you’ve been asked about it as much as you seem to think you have been. For example, nobody asked you about your diet when [insert example of her bringing it up without being asked]. Yet you felt the need to tell [person] about your fasting and to tell [person] how if you can do it, [person] can. I found that quite condescending, by the way.

[FRIEND A] certainly could have handled it better, but what’s done is done. I do not condone her actions but I understand where she is coming from. She has apologized to [DH] and me for bringing this all out on his [facebook event page] and she understands that I will not be taking sides in this. That’s all I really need from her regarding the situation at this time.

I don’t personally see a pattern of “this group” exploding at you, nor do I care to pick apart it’s [many, many years] of history to try and establish such a pattern. However, if that is how you perceive “this group,” then perhaps you do not belong in it. You said yourself you have “too many friends.” It is okay to grow apart.

I’m sorry I cannot take your side, but my perception of the situation is not the same as yours, nor is it by job to fix things for you, which I can’t help but feel you are indirectly asking me to do with your previous messages. It is not my job to fix things for anyone else either; despite the previous requests of some for me to step in and speak to you about your increasingly irritating behavior, well before this outburst from [FRIEND A]. If you or they wish address this and your relationships, it must be done without me as a mediator or intermediary. The only advice I have is that you take a long hard look in the mirror and reflect on your own actions as of late before you go pointing your finger at all my other friends again.

 

If you would simply like to talk about how you feel or would like my perspective, I am ready and willing. However, I have firm boundaries. I will not sit and argue details about who is right or wrong, I will not take sides, I will not tolerate nitpicking over examples I give, I will not allow you to dismiss the experiences of myself or others just because you do not agree with them, and I will not stand for you to disparage “this group” in front of me.

If, after reading all this, you no longer wish to involve me in your wedding, I will respect your decision and will not be offended. On such a special day, you want your closest friends with you, and if you no longer feel I met that criteria I understand.

Sincerely,
Adela

Taking Love Away

I realized last night that I have internalized a particular behavior of my NM's. When she would be angry at me, when she would rage because I had done something wrong or bad, I would feel unloved and unloveable. She would take her love away from me at those times, her love was utterly conditional.

And now when I don't do as well as I think I should, or I make a mistake, I take my love away from myself. I stop loving myself in those moments. She taught me to hate myself. When I was a child I knew she was what made me hate myself, though I didn't have the words to really explain it. Some how along the way, I forgot this as I grew up and became an adult. Unknowingly I took ownership of her hatred for me at those times and made it my own.

I've mentioned this in comments before, but it's about time I posted it here. When I barely nine years old, I wrote this in my diary:

Dear Diary,
I'm going to kill myself cause of mom and dad! (I hate myself!)

That was it. I think my father simply got lumped in with my mom at that time because he was a parent, and I didn't realize back then that he had no idea just how awful it was for me. I actually have mostly good memories about my father. Anyway, I don't remember anything in particular that caused me to write that diary entry, all I know is it must have written it alone in my room, angry and/or crying, like I did all my diary entries. But it spells the truth so clearly.


When I read that page in my old diary now, I can see what it is really trying to say. "I hate myself because of my mom."

This song, "Sorry to Myself" by Alanis Morissette, is perhaps the story of myself, although the only person who has perhaps been crueler to me is my NM, but she's the one who taught me to abuse myself. I really have treated myself worse than I've treated anyone else though. I have more compassion for strangers than I do for myself usually. I need start being kinder to myself and loving myself no matter what. I really do owe myself the biggest apology.

For hearing all my doubts so selectively and
For continuing my numbing love endlessly.
For helping you, and myself not even considering
For beating myself up and over functioning.

To whom do I owe the biggest apology?
No one's been crueler than I've been to me.

For letting you decide if I indeed was desirable
For myself love being so embarrassingly conditional.
And for denying myself to somehow make us compatible
And for trying to fit a rectangle into a ball.
 
To whom do I owe the biggest apology?
No one's been crueler than I've been to me.

I'm sorry to myself.
My apologies begin here before everybody else.
I'm sorry to myself.
For treating me worse than I would anybody else.

For blaming myself for your unhappiness
For my impatience when I was perfect where I was.
Ignoring all the signs that I was not ready,
And expecting myself to be where you wanted me to be.

To whom do I owe the first apology?
No one's been crueler than I've been to me.

And I'm sorry to myself.
My apologies begin here before everybody else.
I'm sorry to myself.
For treating me worse than I would anybody else.

Well, I wonder which crime is the biggest?
Forgetting you or forgetting myself...
Had I heeded the wisdom of the latter,
I would've naturally loved the former.

For ignoring you: my highest voices.
For smiling when my strife was all too obvious.
For being so disassociated from my body,
And for not letting go when it would've been the kindest thing.

To whom do I owe the biggest apology?
No one's been crueler than I've been to me.

And
I'm sorry to myself.
My apologies begin here before everybody else
I'm sorry to myself.
For treating me worse than I would anybody else.
I'm sorry to myself.
My apologies begin here before everybody else
I'm sorry to myself.
For treating me worse than I would anybody else

Collecting Friends

I was reading Jonsi's blog where she examines a series of tweets posted by her NSIL, when this part caught my eye:

"This very empty and lonely creature was created by a NM who taught her that in order to be loved, you need to have an endless supply of people to use friends; and that no amount of friends is good enough. DH was this way not so long ago; where he collected friends like insects for a third grade science project and proudly displayed them for years as a way to prove to himself that he was special: "See all of these friends I've collected? They all want me. They all need me. They all love me." In reality, he didn't have one god damned good friend in the bunch."

I've made the same assessment of Samantha. I've outright said "She collects friends." Even when we were kids, she always seemed to have so many friends. She collects them, she needs the attention, love, and affection. Then when she has won a person over, she moves on to the next target because it is never enough. Once she had reached the goal, you are to expected be beholden to her even though she no longer has use for you. But she is oh-so-sorry she has so many people to see and just doesn't have time for you anymore. She's just so busy, but you understand, right? Unfortunately for her, her next targets is one of my "real friends" and she is on to her. My friend isn't interested in becoming closer with Samantha; she's already been down the road I'm on and we've had some very helpful conversations about "best friends" like Samantha.

The sad part is, Samantha had good friends, "real" friends". She had me and had at one point, the other friends I've been talking about her with. The kind of friends who would be there if something was wrong and you called them at three in the morning. Friends who take you out for a meal when you're having a hard and sit and talk with until the late hours of the morning to help you through. Friends you can literally talk to about anything, friends who can have a good time just by being together at the moment. Friends who are like (a healthy) family. Samantha had them, and she pushed them all away. It's her loss in the long run, not mine.

The emptiness inside these kinds of compensating narcissists can never be filled. No matter how many people they try to drag into their void, it is never enough to compensate for their insecurities, the deep and gnawing self loathing buried in their hearts. (For the record, this description has no bearing on other kinds of narcissists, like malignant narcissists.)

Anyway, it makes me think of Jar of Hearts, by Christina Perri, which I've been listening to a lot recently. It's more about a serial dater, but the point still stands.

I know I can't take one more step towards you
Cause all that's waiting is regret
And don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore
You lost the love I loved the most

I learned to live half alive
And now you want me one more time

And who do you think you are
Running 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Who do you think you are

I hear you're asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
But I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms

And I've learned to live half alive
And now you want me one more time

And who do you think you are
Running 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Who do you think you are

And it took so long just to feel alright
Remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed
Cause you broke all your promises
And now you're back
You don't get to get me back

And who do you think you are
Running 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Don't come back at all

And who do you think you are
Running 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
Don't come back for me
Don't come back at all

Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?

You Think You Know Someone...

Simple Plan's "Thank You" seems to be particularly appropriate at the moment. Every time I talk to my friends about dear Samantha, I learn something new.

Apparently, she has been known in the past to make adjustments when handling the calculations for splitting the check when we'd go out in big groups for dinner or such. And by adjustments, I mean getting the rest of us to cover her meal without our knowing. Except, whoops, some people noticed the anomalies and her not putting in any cash.

I only wish they'd told me sooner. This was years ago and I can only hope she's stopped. Her parents would be so ashamed and disappointed if they knew she'd be stealing. They were like my other family and I know she didn't learn this behavior from them.

But I can't say I'm surprised, sadly. I won't be letting her handle anything like that at a dinner ever again. Not that I'll be going out of my way to invite her to any.

I thought that I could always count on you,
I thought that nothing could become between us two.
We said as long as we would stick together,
We’d be alright,
We’d be ok.
But I was stupid
And you broke me down
I’ll never be the same again.

So thank you for showing me,
That best friends can not be trusted,
And thank you for lying to me,
Your friendship and good times we had you can have them back

Yeah!

I wonder why it always has to hurt,
For every lesson that you have to learn.
I won’t forget what you did to me,
How you showed me things,
I wish I’d never seen.
But I was stupid,
And you broke me down,
I’ll never be the same again.

So thank you for showing me,
That best friends can not be trusted,
And thank you for lying to me,
Your friendship the good times we had you can have them back

When the tables turn again,
You’ll remember me my friend,
You’ll be wishing I was there for you.
I’ll be the one you’ll miss the most,
But you’ll only find my ghost.
As time goes by,
You’ll wonder why,
You’re all alone.

So thank you for showing me,
That best friends can not be trusted,
And thank you for lying to me,
Your friendship and good times we had you can have them back.

So thank you, for lying to me,
So thank you, for all the times you let me down
So thank you, for lying to me,
So thank you, your friendship you can have it back

Hello, Anger

I have discovered anger toward my N-ish best friend.I suppose I need to come up with a nickname for her for blogging purposes, because she's probably going to be a common topic of discussion from now until who knows when. Hence forth, allow me to introduce you to "Samantha".

Samantha is the same age as me and we have known each other since we were small children. Even back then she was selfish and didn't like sharing her things while I was expected to share mine. And I did, because my NM taught me to share. She didn't teach me how to stand up for myself, although I did learn to start doing that. Anyway, she was practically my only friend, and since our parents became friends I saw her often and it's probably because of our parents that we stayed friends.

Samantha was never thin. She wasn't morbidly obese or anything, but she was never tiny like I was. She has struggled with her body image and weight for most of the time I've known her. When we were kids, she didn't like that I was so little and yet ate sweets whenever I wanted. She hoped I would get fat when I got older. That hasn't happened yet. Of course I've filled out in all the right places and I'm not a stick anymore, but I love my hour glass figure and so does DH. Sure, I have my insecurities, but over all I think I am a decently attractive human being.

So since I opened up to my friends and E-Sis about Samantha and her behavior as of late, I've learned some fascinating things. One friend (who I've talked with about NM before and has a mother way crazier than mine) has only been tolerating her for my sake, although Samantha doesn't know it. Samantha seriously damaged that relationship years ago by being a shitty friend when that friend's father was dying. Another views her as more of a friend of a friend. A newer, third friend has noticed Samantha trying to become closer with her and absolutely does not want to be closer to her; she has been down the road I'm walking with a best friend before. E-Sis, for all her faults, can be very protective of me and wanted to punch Samantha in the face the other week for making me cry.

But best of all is the things I have learned Samantha has said to other people! She has disparaged DH's degree behind my back for coming from a less prestigious university as hers. Never mind the person she told this too has a degree from the same university as DH and that's where almost everybody in my group of friends got their bachelors degrees from, including me. Never mind that her fiancee has a degree from there. Never mind that fact DH makes literally four times as much as she does and that her fancy degree has gotten her absolutely nothing. It's more worthless than a liberal arts degree, seriously. Samantha had to lie on her resume to get a fucking clerical job. But in a case of delicious irony, Samantha is going back to college to pursue a degree in the same field as DH, and even more ironic is that she may very well be going to that very same less prestigious university the rest of us went to.

I also learned the reason why my bachelorette party was so boring and lame. Apparently I "like it boring". I didn't know not wanting to get drunk off my ass and not wanting any male strippers left lame and boring as the only party option left. Yes, she told one of my other bridesmaid that it was okay, that I liked it boring. Apparently they offered to help but she claimed she knew what I wanted. Fascinating, since she never asked me anything beyond what I told her about not wanting strippers. Dinner was fine, but after that we all went back to her place and she had no food and there was nothing to do. She started having a political debate and raising her voice with another guest and had the nerve to get annoyed with me for being unhappy about it! Raised voices are a trigger for me, you see. That happens when you spend your formative years getting yelled at. But it isn't just my party, she didn't know what to do after dinner for her sister's party, either. It was a fluke somebody suggested something fun to do after dinner. Samantha can't plan things well, especially things that aren't for her. Although with what she's been saying about her wedding plans, I'm not sure she can plan things well that are for her either. Well, in all fairness the bridal showers and baby showers she's done have been very nice and gone very well. But those have an easy formula to follow.

I almost forget these gems: in her maid of honor speech, she'd had a bit much to drink, but she made a joke about having control over me and took credit for the fact DH and I started going out. The truth of the matter is I just asked her what she thought of him before I asked him out. I'd have probably done it regardless of her opinion and the reason DH and I even met was because our similar interests brought us to the same club. Also, when we were in our late teens and her boyfriend had dumped her and her "friends" ditched her, our mutual friends and I consoled her and hung out with her and cheered her up. Apparently at some point I don't recall, she said something about wanting to be with her "real friends". Guess we didn't count? No wonder my friends aren't friends with her anymore!

Samantha also whines when she doesn't like something or doesn't get her way. She almost caused the friend who was tolerating her for my sake to leave her own bachelorette party with her stupid whining about how the place we were at didn't have anything she could drink on her crazy new diet (which she would not stop talking about). Even though the place did, she just didn't believe the matron of honor until she looked it up herself on her phone.This was after yelling at the bride to be for telling her to calm down when she wasn't getting along with another guest (who admittedly wasn't that likable to begin with, but that's not the point).

Now Samantha has her own wedding to look forward to, and from the way she talks, money is what she's really looking forward to. She wants to register for her honeymoon and that's fine, but she keeps talking to me about getting money, money, money from guests. Estimating how much she might get based the value amount of the gifts her sister got, and so on. Frankly after hearing it, I'm not inclined to give her any money.

Oh, and she canceled on plans two more times since my last post. I wasn't surprised. But naturally when she needed me to go dress shopping with her, she didn't cancel.

Now you have met Samantha and seen some of her shining examples of bad behavior. It paints a very nasty image, I know. But what actually makes it harder for me is there have been times she has been a really great friend. When I had "The Confrontation" with my mother (I really need to write a summary of that up for you readers), she came and picked me up and took me out and talked me through the rough parts that followed. When she went abroad she wrote to me and sent gifts, including a very special gift from a place I desperately wanted to go one day. I've been able to talk with her about my problems with NM and E-Sis and know what I say won't get back to them. We had a lot of fun as kids, too.

I'm angry. I know I have been wronged and I'm not going to take it lying down anymore. I'm going to use that energy to change how I interact with and handle Samantha, and whatever happens from there, happens. I'm hoping for a gradual drifting apart because I'm not interested a dramatic mess, and I already agreed to be a bridesmaid before I had come to all these realizations. Whatever happens though, I've got my real friends backing me up.

Narcissists Are Like Cockroaches

For every one narcissist you find in your life, there are dozens more you just haven't seen yet. Well, maybe not that many, but if you have one, you usually find another or so. Having been raised them, we seem to attract them to us in other areas of our lives. They are drawn to us, and we are drawn to them until we learn better. Although it was probably just bad luck that landed me a narcissistic neighbor, but I digress.

I write this because I have now realized my best friend, who I mentioned bailing on plans with me in my last post, has significant narcissistic traits. I wouldn't go so far as to say she has a full blown personality disorder (yet), but she is definitely a very selfish and opinionated person. These negative traits are being magnified by her current unhealthy fad diet, which is adversely affecting her serotonin levels. Serotonin being that wonderful neurotransmitter that not only helps regulate mood, but also appetite, sleep, and even bone mass. Basically she has lost the ability to regulate her negative traits, which were only a minor nuisance to me previously. Then again, perhaps they were only minor back then because I lacked insight into myself and my NM?

But it isn't just me seeing this. Her behavior has been irritating all our other mutual friends, and more so than usual in those who I have learned tolerated her only for my sake all along. They provided a fascinating and enlightening third party perspective on my relationship with my best friend. I am a much stronger person today than I ever was in the past, so I can face and accept the truth. My best friend has always taken more than she has given, and I let her get away with it. I just couldn't see it until now. Although it was much milder and more subtle before she started her crazy diet; there would be eye-rolling, will-she-ever-shut-up moments, but none of this severe stuff that made me dislike her and actively not want to see her or be friends anymore.

I'm not going to just cut her out of my life though, we have a long shared history that can't be replaced, and I know her better than anyone else. I know just how insecure she is, just how much she hates herself. I know that each and every put down, every piece of snide, irritating, or opinionated bullshit that has comes out of her mouth is just a pathetic attempt to make her feel better about herself, to fill that emptiness she feels inside. But I also remember the past year or so she was doing really well, growing up and managing her faults better. I hope maybe someday she will be that person again. So I will simply change how I engage her, lower how valuable her friendship is to me and the esteem I hold her in. How she behaves is up to her, but ultimately I expect a gradual growing apart that will be cemented by her if she ever moves out of state like she wants to do.

Too bad I realized all this shit before I agreed to be bridesmaid in her wedding next year. I sense an impending bridezilla.

Hair and Delayed Reactions

So I've been quiet lately and way behind on the blogs I read. I recently went off birth control and my body is going a little crazy readjusting. And then I found out I had bad knees that will eventually cause me more problems than they are right now. I thought they were just strained from over use, but no, turns out I have defects in my femurs and my knee caps are angled instead of straight. So I've been moody and depressed. But otherwise, there isn't anything exciting going on in my life and no new developments with NM.

However, I'm planning to get my hair cut and a new hair style. This is a big thing for me. My hair has been virtually unchanged since I was little and my mother decided it was too much work to keep the bangs/fringe trimmed because my hair grew so fast. It's not that NM never gave me the option to change it when I was in grade school and onward, but I simply didn't know what to do with my hair. So it's always just been long (often uneven at the ends because I almost never get it trimmed), and parted one way or another. I didn't even know there were hair style options that were wash and wear besides long and simple.

NM knows how to do her hair, but she wasn't inclined to teach me. She was only interested in braiding my hair because she liked to (and complains now how I often wouldn't let her). She'd buy E-Sis and I curling irons and curlers, but were clueless about how to actually use them and she didn't show us how to. For the longest time all I knew about blow drying my hair was flipping it upside and zapping it until it was dry (and ugly). I still don't know how to use a curling iron or curlers, though I'm interesting in learning now. It literally was not until this year that learned how to use a round brush to dry my hair straight and neatly.

Still, I'm a wash and wear kind of gal. I don't want to have to get up extra early to do my hair. So at dinner I was talking with a much more hair and fashion savvy friend about what would be a good hair style for me, and telling her how I was anxious and that changing it was a big deal for me. I almost wanted to cry just talking about it. I'm anxious because I don't know how a new hair style will look and I want to pick something that will look nice and that I will like. I don't want to be stuck waiting for something ugly to grow back out. And then E-Sis, who cares nothing about her appearance and has no sense of empathy, decides to chime in, saying to just not do anything drastic to my hair. I tell her when it's been unchanged for a decade or two, any change is big change, any change is drastic. Then at one point, she tells our friend that I'm "afraid of change."

Which brings me to delayed reaction part of this post. The woman who has never moved out of her parents home has the nerve to tell me that I'm afraid of change? Me, who has moved out, married, and traveled out of the country, is afraid of change? But I didn't react to that at all until DH and I left and he mentioned it. It would have hit me the next day on my own, he just sped up the process. Anyway, I seem to have delayed reaction to things that should make me angry or hurt. It's like I don't notice it right away, not until I examine things after the fact. Obliviously I smile and nod until later I realize that I'm offended. I don't know why it happens.

Perfect example: the other day a friend cancelled plans for this weekend that were made two weeks ago, because there's a surprise birthday party for a friend. Then she explains yesterday its for a person she's trying to become with friends with!? I was all like "Okay, cool" but today I realized that really stings! I could have done without my friend giving me that much detail about the reason. So becoming friends with that person is more important than honoring a prior engagement with an older friend? What am I, second string? Sure, Adela has and will always be there, right?  She'll be the fallback when you've got nothing else going on? She won't mind, she's always so accommodating!

Well not anymore, that's going on your permanent record, friend. Next time something like this happens I won't be so accommodating and I'll call you out your rudeness.

The First Epiphany

My first epiphany regarding my mother wasn't when I connected her with NPD. It came after a series of events too specific and identifying for me to be comfortable posting. In sum, a very important family decision was made with out me, I was given incorrect information by NM, and when I tried to discuss different options based on the incorrect information, I became the bad guy. To be fair I was acutely aware of being the dissenter and was on hyper alert for signs of attack. As such, I readily admit I am not entirely blameless in the situation that followed. Ironically, the initial ensuing conflict regarding my dissent did not directly involve NM, but she threw herself into because she loves to be a martyr. This, "The Incident" as I like to call it, was the beginning of the path that would lead up to "The Confrontation". If you are interested in the details of said event(s), you are welcome to e-mail me for more information and if I feel confident you are in no way associated with my family I'll share the whole blown out of proportion mess, the two straws that broke the camel's back, so to speak.

After basically being told what a horrible person I was and having my pain and suffering utterly invalidated by NM (story of my life), I had the epiphany over dinner with my best friend. The words of a wise professor came floating back to me. I don't remember them exactly, but it was something along the lines of  "When somebody tells you to stop crying or you're being too sensitive, it's because they can't handle your feelings." That your feelings are yours and they can't be wrong, nobody can tell you they are wrong because they are yours and only you truly know them, and so on. Suddenly, I realized I was not the one with a problem. It was NM's problem if she didn't like or couldn't handle the feelings I had. It wasn't my problem, it never was. It was hers, it was always hers. She, for whatever reason, could not deal with my feelings. I was practically giddy with delight at this realization. Well, there might have been a little wine involved in that, too.

Connecting those words with my NM was the first step toward the truth. I remember it very clearly, right down to where in the room my professor was standing when he said them. I remember liking those words, but not connecting them at all to NM at the time. When I did connect them, it was amazing, a weight I had carried all my life was gone. I hadn't learned the proper term for NM's behavior yet (invalidation), but I knew the concept. And knowing it was incredible. I wasn't completely ready to act on it though. That would come later, after I had connected NPD to my mother and learned more about it, when the second and final straw came, that I call "The Second Incident" lead me to confront her about about her behavior, especially her invalidation.

I Will Find Myself Someday

I mentioned before how important music is in my life. Music is moving and powerful, so I want to share songs that mean things to me with others, so that such music might help them as it helps me. This is a song that's fit me rather well for awhile now. I shared it with everyone at Kiki's (Re) Birthday Party, but I want to put it on my blog, too. I find the lyrics fitting, but hopeful, and the melody gives me a sense of promise for the future, of overcoming. It's called Back to Me, by Three Doors Down. Once more, I have bolded parts of the lyrics that touch me the most, which is almost all the lyrics, actually, so I'll underline some parts, too.

 

Lyrics:
I have poured out my heart,
And laid it right here for you,
And I've tried so hard,
That's the best that I can do,
Please understand I am not who I was,

You used to be all that I had,
Now you're just not what I need,
I've got to get over you and I know,
Then I can get back to me.

Tears forget, that's more than I can do,
'Cause they don't wash away,
All the things that we've been through,
I've put behind me my share of the shame,
We could call villains but it's all in vain.

You used to be all that I had,
Now you're just not what I need,
I've got to get over you and I know,
Then I can get back to me.

All of my life I've waited hoping,
Wanting you to see me the way that I am,
But now I know, that I'm not alone
Someone understands

You used to be all that I had,
Now you're just not what I need,
I've got to get over you and I know,
Then I can get back to me.

You've got to know that

You used to be all that I had,
Now you're just not what I need,
I've got to get over you and I know,
Then I can get back to me.

Then I can get back to me,
(Then I can get back to me)
Then I can get back to me

I did pour out my heart, or tried to anyway, to my NM during what I call "The Confrontation"... Which didn't work out so well. And I really don't feel I am the same person I was before coming to all these realizations about my mother and my childhood. I can't go back to who I was when I didn't see those things, it's impossible. What NM has, what she offers, it was once all I had, but now I know I do not need it. So slowly, ever so slowly, I work through it all, to find and reclaim my true self.

The Point Where Communication Will Always Fail

Attempts to communicate in an honest and sincere manner with a narcissistic inevitably will break down or shut down. There is, I believe, an exact point where the communication break/shut down will always occur. It may occur any time before this point, but if it hasn't already occurred, it will at this specific point. This is because what narcissists are literally incapable of what is required at that point to continue honest, open, and sincere dialogue. The cunning may feign possessing it in an attempt to control and manipulate, and some may be indeed be deceived, but it is no longer honest communication, ergo, even when the illusion of real communication is present, the reality of the matter is that communication has broken or shut down.

What is this magic breaking point, you ask? It is the exact moment you ask them to consider a perspective different from their own. This is literally an impossible task for them, just like it is for small children. The comparisons of narcissists to young children that many make are not exaggerations. Both narcissists and small children are egocentric. As such, they cannot possess empathy or take different perspectives. Children in theory grow out of this and learn empathy and understanding. I don't know if narcissists simply carry their egocentricity of childhood with them into adulthood, or develop it later, or if something else entirely causes it, but the egocentric adult is clearly lacking in the empathy and understanding department.

What does it mean to take another person's perspective, though? It's not to literally look through their eyes, and besides, most people can at least understand that they'll see different things if they are standing on different sides of a table. It is the ability to appreciate or respect the subjective experience of another person, even if it is different from your own subjective experience. I say "subjective" experience, because by default all experiences you have are filtered through your genetics, your past experiences, your mind set when experiencing something, and so on. Take taste for example. Some people love the taste of cilantro, some people absolutely hate it. Neither of them are wrong, it's simply subjective.

To the narcissist though, only their experience is right and it is the only experience that is real. It is the only experience anyone can have in their world. All others are false. All other experiences by other people are lies, delusions, misremembered, or are otherwise invalid. When you ask your narcissist parent to listen to your perspective, and how you felt unloved and terrified as a child, they cannot even concede that you might have had a different experience than they did. You are wrong and are not entitled to any thoughts or feelings based on such false experiences. Any thoughts or feelings that come from those false experiences are also false! And so all meaningful communication breaks down when you ask the narcissist even imagine what it's like to walk in your shoes. They can't, the only shoes that exist in their world are their own. They are completely incapable of doing what is necessary to continue healthy dialogue.

I do not doubt that my mother experienced herself as a very loving and devoted parent, that she experienced herself as loving and caring. She felt herself giving me love, and probably still does. And that's her experience, she's entitled to it and I won't deny it. But it isn't mine, and it isn't what I lived with and continue to live with. I carry it with me every day. I did not experience her as loving and caring, but often as terrifying. I will not say she didn't love me (invalidating her experience), but that I did not feel loved (my personal experience). However, I can accept that her experience wasn't mine, and when I confronted her I didn't even ask for apologies, only that she accept my experience was different, and that just because it wasn't the same as hers didn't mean it and everything that went with it was wrong.

She couldn't even lie, couldn't even pretend to acknowledge me and my experiences. Being right, being able to play the victim, the persecuted martyr, was too important to her, I guess. Although in all fairness I myself struggle with a narcissistic need to be right (probably because for so much of my life I was told I was wrong, wrong, wrong that I desperately want to be right). Though it's a flaw I'm aware of now and am working on, unlike my NM.

Music and Safety

Music is important to me. I've never learned how to play an instrument and I'm not a great singer, although that doesn't stop me from singing to myself and going out to karaoke with my friends. Often when I was growing up, whether I was cleaning or crying in my room, I would be listening to music and singing along.

Music was safe. NM didn't care what songs I liked or didn't, and I never played it loudly or sang loudly if she was home so that was never a problem. Through music and song I could at least partially experience the emotions I had to repress. For example, being sad was not acceptable-- liking, listening to, and singing with a sad song was acceptable. It's no wonder many of the songs I liked growing up were sad, angry, or about longing for something more/better. Anyway, it's hard to describe. It's almost  like I would vicariously experience the emotions of the music in place of my own or maybe it was simply one of the only outlets I had for my emotions. Maybe I displaced my emotions onto the song, so I wouldn't experience the discomfort of having the feelings I was taught were wrong. Maybe it was all of that.


Today, I still look for music that reflects those emotions when I am feeling them, but I am at least able to feel my own emotions, too, now. Music moves me, it helps me fully explore those emotions, relating my emotions and the song. Music is part of the story of my life and music goes with me on The Journey. So off and on I'll be posting some of the songs that I associate with myself, my NM, and my journey.

To start us off, "Between a Mother and a Child" by Chely Wright. I'm bolding parts of the lyrics that really resonate or fit with me and my situation. Also, I'll be out of town soon so I may be delayed it posting or responding to comments.

I know you don't like me
Don't like the things I do
The saddest part just might be
That I don't like you too
You think you know my story
Well maybe you did for a little while
I guess that's the way it sometimes goes
Between a mother and a child
Oh a mother and a child

All my life you've reminded me
How you struggled nine long months
Your achin' back and your swollen feet
How you almost lost me once
You say you gave up everything
All the dreams you had
Told us kids we're the only reason
You stayed there with our dad

And you want me to cry for you
And you want me to feel the way you do
I'm sorry your life let you down
But the fault it is not mine
It's not supposed to be like this
Between a mother and a child

You want me to just agree
With everything you say
Call my dad the bad guy
Make him pay and pay and pay
It's really not my business
It never was or will ever be
But I know nobody's perfect
And that's counting you and me
Yeah that's counting you and me

I don't remember all that happened
Mama I was just a kid
But if it really was all that bad
Why do you wish I did?

You want me to cry for you
I'll never feel the way you do
I'm sorry your life let you down
But the fault it is not mine
It's not supposed to be this way
Between a mother and a child
Oh a mother and a child
You're my mother and I'm your child

A Good Cry

I've read a few books on the subject of horrible parenting. The well know Drama of the Gifted Child by Alice Miller, Toxic Parents by Susan Forward, and The Narcissistic Family: Diagnosis and Treatment by the Pressmans, which I highly recommend and you can read a review of here. Although written with therapists in mind, it's very informative and validating. In fact, it's the very kind of book I was thinking of writing until I discovered such a book was already written!

I mention this simply to illustrate my familiarity with the subject, beyond my personal experiences with my own NM and what was I was required to learn and study for my higher education. More importantly though, I bring this all up because one of the friends I mentioned in the post, A Validating Experience, who is also in the field of psychology, felt compelled to print and give me a copy of an article from the Wall Street Journal, entitled "Calling a Truce in Mother-Daughter Conflict" at an event where my E-sis was present despite knowing my preference for not discussing the matter at all in front of E-sis.

Fortunately my E-sis didn't see what was on the paper, so for all she knows it could have been recipe for the delicious dinner we had. Anyway, I am certain my friend meant well, but I was very uncomfortable receiving it and actually not interested in reading it because from the title alone gave me a bad feeling. You see, my NM and I have a kind of truce already; I have distanced myself from her and don't discuss sensitive personal things with her. We are capable of being quite civil and pleasant in each others' company.. What we are not capable of is having a close, intimate relationship because she cannot even begin to accept that my experiences and feelings are valid even if she doesn't like or agree with them. But the other night, after finally catching up on the blogs I read, I decided that since I was on the topic of NMs already to read the article before going to sleep.

Just to emphasize, this was a four page article from the Wall Street Journal of all places, written by a journalist who is in no way a member of any so called "helping professions" like therapists or psychologists, and who quotes only one or two people who are. Considering my friend's own higher education in the field of psychology and her knowledge of my personal and education background, and about the fact I have C-PTSD, I'm very surprised she thought this article would be useful or relevant in any way for me. I found it actually very invalidating of my experience, especially in light of the fact I had recently told my friend the entire story regarding my mother and me.

It was the end of the article that really did it for me, though. Where it lists "...ideas for how mothers and daughters can improve their relationship." - as if it were as simple as that little list makes it out to be! As if I hadn't already tried to "speak as an adult" to NM! Maybe for relationships where the mother is just irritating but genuinely cares for and loves her daughter, but definitely not for those where the mother was an abusive narcissist! I could rant on, but I would be neglecting the most important part, the true point, of this entry.

Right there in bed, with my DH next to me reading a book, I started tearing the article into pieces and bawling. Without a word he took me in his arms, and I did not refuse his comfort like I am prone to doing. Having been raised in an environment where I was taught I was not worthy of comfort and that it was wrong to feel anger, sorrow, or pain, I almost always push him away physically or emotionally when he first tries to reach out to me when I'm upset. Not only that, but crying often makes me feel more miserable than I already am, because I feel bad for crying, for troubling him with my tears, even though I know he is not like my mother. In fact, it's fairly recent development that I refrain from apologizing when I cry now.

But for the first time I can recall, perhaps for the first time in my entire life even, I didn't feel bad about crying and sobbing out my pain. Instead of making me feel worse, it actually felt good to be sobbing without any shame in front of another human being. I didn't even feel and have to suppress the usual urge to apologize for my sudden outburst. I didn't try to hide my face. And best of all, DH didn't ask me to explain what was wrong before offering me comfort, and I didn't feel like I had to explain immediately, either. I didn't feel like I had to try and justify my tears to anyone, even myself. Of course after I explained what set me off and he had already figured it had something to do with the article and my NM.

Unfortunately now I am left wondering how to politely ask my friend to refrain from giving me any more articles on my the subject.

Kitchen Knives and Classical Conditioning

Very early in my adolescence I developed a phobia of very sharp things. If I were to create a scale, the least fear inducing sharp object was scissors, box cutters would be in the middle, and the most fear inducing objects would be my NM's very expensive, very sharp kitchen knives. The biggest ones were the scariest, and without a doubt these were the sharpest objects in the house.

Before I continue, let me explain a little about how phobias usually form and work. Phobias tend to be the result of classical conditioning. One of the most well known experiments with humans in this area is the Little Albert experiment. To summarize, classical conditioning is when a Neutral Stimulus is paired with an Unconditioned Stimulus that elicits an Unconditioned Response, such as fear. After one or more pairings, the previously Neutral Stimulus will elicit the same response as the Unconditioned Stimulus without the presence of the Unconditioned Stimulus. Thus, they become the Conditioned Stimulus and Conditioned Response.

Poor Little Albert was exposed to a sudden loud noise and became fearful. This was an Unconditioned Stimulus and Unconditioned Response. When he had recovered he was introduced a white rat. Little infants have no natural fear response to little white rats like they do to sudden loud noises, white rats are a Neutral Stimulus. But then, as Little Albert approached the white rat, BAM, the horrible loud noise! Fear! After repeated exposure, Little Albert would become fearful whenever the white rat was introduced, even without the loud noise. The white rat was now a Conditioned Stimulus and he had a Conditioned Response to white rats. Not only that, it generalized to similar things fuzzy things like rabbits.

The most common phobias are for things that could be dangerous to our hunter-gatherer ancestors. Water (drowning!), heights (falling!) , poisonous snakes (generalized to all snakes), poisonous spiders/insects (generalized to all bugs), small spaces (trapped!), and so on. But we can become phobic of anything with the right conditioning. So how did I become afraid of sharp things, you wonder? Were they paired with an Unconditioned Stimulus and fear response in my adolescence? Yes and no.

The stimuli were all in my head, they never happened in reality. I had a strong urge to cut myself, although I never acted on it. And if I was going to kill myself, I was fairly certain I would do so by slitting my wrists. Usually I thought of using the kitchen knives to do so since as I mentioned earlier they were the sharpest objects in the house. Not only that, they were easily accessible, sitting on the counter in their knife block. Never acted on the urge to slit my wrists, either, but all these thoughts created anxiety for me, and they happened often enough that I developed a phobia of sharp things. These self destructive urges and suicidal thoughts, along with benignly putting away knives as a child were my only experiences with knives as NM had no interest in teaching me to cook, so I had no view of them as useful tools for cooking. They were simply sharp, dangerous things in my world once my self destructive thoughts crystallized into urges to cut and/or slit my wrists. I think the phobia was in weird way a kind of self defense mechanism against those self destructive and suicidal urges I experienced (especially when I was angry or upset), so I can't say it was a bad phobia to have. It simply became less useful and more of a hindrance as I got older. To this day I still experience the urge cut myself when I'm experiencing strong negative emotions, but I have since overcome my phobia through years of self imposed gradual exposure. I can handle the biggest kitchen knives now and even own a decorative sword! The only thing I don't do is hand wash our kitchen knives; DH takes care of that. Recently I did wash one myself, though, so that's another step forward.

Moving along! Now that I've established this background, their are two knife stories involving my NM, one of which involves the aforementioned phobia.

When I was about eight years old, and before NM had bought the really expensive kitchen knives, I was putting away clean dishes. Presumably my sister had loaded the dishwasher as that was usually how we operated. One loaded, the other unloaded, then we switched. Unsupervised, as always. The cheapo knives did not merit the care of hand washing and were always loaded into the silverware rack. A paring knife had put loaded with the blade sticking up. I picked it up very carefully with my thumb and index finger, but ended up cutting the tip of my thumb. First and only time I've ever injured myself with a knife. It wasn't deep, it didn't traumatize me, though it sure bled a lot. What did I do? Did I go to my mother? No. I was afraid, terrified even, that she would think I had been playing with the knife and I would be in trouble! I remember it so clearly. I bandaged up my thumb myself and pretended I had a paper cut when she asked about the bandage. She never asked to see underneath. I feel it speaks volumes that a wounded child was afraid to let her mother know she was hurt. You know what else tries to hide injuries from others? Wounded animals. I was like a wounded animal trying to conceal my injury from a dangerous predator! I realize now how NOT normal this whole situation was. Children are supposed to be able to go to their mothers for comfort and aid when they are hurt!

Flash forward to sometime in my teens, probably around 15 years of age. By now I had a full phobia of sharp things, especially those expensive, sharp kitchen knives, which required hand washing. Although my NM didn't know the extent of my fear, she knew that I was afraid of the knives. I would usually leave them for somebody else to wash or put away and nobody ever made a fuss about it. One day though, for some reason, my NM decided to make a big deal about my not doing the knives. It happened in the kitchen, by the sink, probably when I was by the sink, which was in a corner. I don't remember what was said. I only remember her being angry. I remember being cornered, counter to my left and at my back was the sink, extending to the right behind me. Next to the sink were the knives, and I remember my NM holding one of the large ones with her left hand. She wasn't holding it like she was going to stab me or anything (besides, she's right handed so if she was going to stab me she'd have put it in her right hand), just holding it, her wrist resting on the counter as she held it, while her other hand rested on the counter to my left, trapping me in the corner. There was no way around her and she had a knife. I don't remember anything that was said, I don't remember when she let me go, only that eventually she did, but it seemed like forever to me.

I was terrified. Utterly, horribly, absolutely, terrified.

And I was in therapy at the time.

I never told my therapist about what happened. Crazy, right? That's how messed up I was. And I've never mentioned the incident to my NM since it happened. I doubt she would me believe me, either she'd say it didn't happen at all, or that she wasn't holding the knife. Or maybe she'd try to justify it by saying she wasn't pointing it at me. I don't know. It doesn't matter what she has to say about it. I know it was real, I know it happened. I will never forget the fear.

The Dishwasher was Infallible, I was Not

I mentioned in the post Rage, Yelling, and Tears that the dishes were a special area of concern with my NM. Some of her most terrifying rages were about the dishes, sometimes she would rage and sometimes she would cry and rage. Two overlapping areas in particular were dishes that didn't come out clean (and sometimes got put away dirty), and her precious copper pots and pans.

A dish that didn't get clean was never the dishwasher's fault, it was always the fault of the person who had last loaded the dishwasher. Of course that person wither either my sister, me, or both of us together. Sometimes she would check the dishes before running the dishwasher, and we would either be summoned to again clean a dish she didn't think was clean enough for the dishwasher, or she would angrily redo it herself. If a dish was put away dirty, there would be yelling about it when it was found. Or we hadn't loaded it "right" she would redo it herself and there would be lots of banging of dishes around while she went at it in anger.

By far though, the most common rages involved her precious copper pots and pans. Even when we got them clean she criticized us for using too much of her pot polish, she could get it done with far less, after all. Heaven forbid she find a one of those put away "dirty"! In fact I realize now what she often thought of as not clean enough was really water spots, or that it wasn't polished shiny enough... Anyway, she would start slamming things around and yelling and sometimes she would make my sister or me stand their and wash it again, criticizing us for using too much polish all the while.

The most loud slamming and banging of things typically occurred the pots and their lids were put away "dirty" or weren't put away "right", whichever way that was. Hell if I know. All I know is the smaller pans stacked inside the larger ones, but she had so many pots and different large ones and there was so little space where she stored them that it was difficult to do it "right"! Things would be clanging angrily as she rearranged them, she'd slam the cabinets shut, and yell or cry or both. This is where I feel the word "terrifying" is truly an appropriate description of my experience as a child with this. Her reaction was so out of proportion to the problem it was insane. And of course I felt it was my fault she was so mad, which then made me feel both terrified and like a horrible person. I just can't seem to convey the experience and how terrifying she was to me clearly in writing...

So I learned to hate doing dishes, although when I was a teenager I got better at doing them and when the dishwasher broke and we switched to hand washing them I usually got them clean. The truth is it wasn't the dishes I hated, but the association of them with my NM and her rages. I dislike folding laundry too, for similar reasons. How angry she would get when little five year old Adela was found to have shoved her clean clothes in her drawers instead of folding them! But of course my NM couldn't be bothered to help and make sure I did it. Ugh. Ridiculous to expect a five year old to learn to clean and fold laundry on their own, unsupervised, out of intrinsic motivation, but I digress, see Spanking and Learned Helplessness for more on my NM, cleaning, and developmentally inappropriate expectations of children.

Anyway, I realize I don't like loud noises not just because I have sensitive hearing, but also for the same reason I don't like angry voices and yelling. It triggers emotional flashbacks to when I was a child suffering my NM's rages. And I still don't like doing dirty dishes. Often I let the dishes build up and get overwhelmed by them, but I'm getting a little better and my DH is a huge help. Also we own nice non-stick pots and pans with tempered glass lids. And since I can't stack them inside each other, I hang them from a pot rack on the ceiling. The glass lids make less racket than metal ones. No clanging and banging and no need to polish them. I greatly prefer this.

I used to get irritated with DH when a dish came out of our dishwasher (once we got one) and it was dirty but have since realized I'm repeating my NM's irrational behavior and learned that a stupid dirty dish is nothing to get worked up about. Who cares if or why a dish comes out of the dishwasher dirty, it'll get clean the next time around!

Next time, more on dishes. Specifically my old phobia, kitchen knives, and my NM.

Recommended Reading: The Words To Say It

The Words To Say It is the autobiographical account of Marie Cardinal, a French woman who was born in 1928 in Algiers, the capital of Algeria, which was under French rule at the time. Her journey, although in a different time and place than many of us today, parallels are own.

When we met Marie, she is a 27 year old mother of three suffering from an illness, constant menstrual bleeding, that no physician has been able to treat. She feels herself going mad, in a constant battle with the "Thing". So unable to function, she is taken to her maternal uncle's sanatorium. The drugs make her sleep, but cannot relieve her from her suffering, they cannot stop the "Thing" from consuming her. As a desperate, last resort, she pulls herself together enough to be allowed to walk the grounds and promptly escapes with the help of a friend. Desperate not be locked away again, she takes up the recommendation to see a  psychoanalyst as a last resort, as they are known for being highly against institutionalizing their patients.

But we do not spend countless pages reading her interactions with the doctor. No, this is not a book about psychoanalysis, but what Marie learns about herself and her family, through her memories and actions over the seven years she is in analysis. It is beautifully written (and translated). One of the most important things she comes to understand is the influence of her mother, both unconscious and conscious. Her mother, who never wanted her. Her mother, who tried to abort her and told her as much, her mother, whose love belonged to a dead daughter, her mother, for whom she was never good enough. This is a story we all know very well, and it is Marie's story of coming to terms with and moving beyond it.

And that is why I recommend it. Marie's journey is fascinating and insightful, you won't be disappointed. But do yourself a favor and buy it used, because it's published as material for psychology students and thus as a textbook it costs a small fortune.

Here is an excerpt, Marie's memories of being pregnant with her first child and recalling with disgust all the things her very devout Catholic mother had tried to do to induce a miscarriage:

But to my mother, these signs of life meant only that she had not yet been able to kill me. Ah! What a nuisance! And it goes on for so long: minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. There is so much time to get to know the little one who lives inside you. Is there any greater intimacy or promiscuity? Did each of my movements inside the womb remind her of the odious coupling of which I was the issue?

So she swing onto her rusty bike and rode off into the wasteland of refuse. I hope you're having a ball in there, my girl, my little fish, you'll see how I am going to snap your spine! Get out. Take a look. See if I'm up to it!

She mounted her old nag, and giddap! Do you feel the battering ram against your hideous body? Darling! This'll work up a fine storm to shatter a little submarine! No? This'll make some some fine waves to drown the little diver! Well? Go away, you little shit, get the hell out of here!

Still moving? Here's something to calm you down. Quinine, aspirin! Sleep, little darling, sleep, little baby, let me rock you; drink, my beauty, drink the lovely poisoned brew. You'll see what fun you're going to have in the toboggan of my ass when you're well and truly rotted by drugs, drowned like a sewer rat. Death to you! Death to you!

At last, powerless, resigned, defeated, disappointed, she let me slip out alive into life, the way you let slip a turd. And what about the little girl/turd coming slow, face forward, towards the light she saw down there at the end of the narrow, moist passage, at the end of the tunnel? What was going to happen to her on the outside where already she had been so mistreated? Tell me, Mother, did you know that you were pushing her into madness? Did you question it?

What I have referred to as the beastliness in my mother is not because she wanted an abortion (there are times when a woman is not capable of having children, not capable of loving enough); on the contrary, her beastliness consisted in not having followed through on her desire to have an abortion. Then, in having continued to project her hatred onto me when I was inside her, and, finally, in having chosen to speak of her wretched crime, her weak attempts to murder me. It was as if, having bungled it, she were starting up again, fourteen years later, without risking her own skin, in comparative safety.