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.