The Adult Child Of a Narcissit

Oxford dictionaries define the word narcissist as, “a person who has an excessive interest in, or admiration of themselves.” Narcissists think the world revolves around them. They are often described as ego-driven. A therapist told me that leaving a narcissistic relationship, or removing that person from your life, is one of the hardest battles we have as humans (it has been a year since speaking with my mother). Being an empath makes that even more difficult.

I didn’t know my biological father growing up. The men that attempted to fulfill that role never stayed. My sisters (all 5 of them) had relationships with their fathers, while I did not. When relationships went south, it was my fault. My step father was verbally and physically abusive, and that was my fault. I would ask about my dad a lot as a young child, but her choice in men was not my responsibility.

When the childhood trauma came, I felt like she was protecting me from harsh reality. Looking back, I know that she could not go through pressing charges. It had nothing to do with me; she was scared. I cannot fathom turning someone else’s pain, especially your children’s, into your own.

Music helped me escape. Grade school brought opportunity for friends. I started playing the horn and excelled. It brought solace and control to my life. Routine and structure finally became tangible. As I got older, I got better. Private lessons, competitions, and concerts filled my days. At one point, it was my fault we struggled financially, because those things required money.

Alcoholism is a huge part of this story. Friends didn’t come over after school; she was usually drunk by then. My sisters and I would watch TV and I would make dinner. If anything disturbed her, switches would be flipped. Power, TV, etc. would be cut off. Sometimes my horn would be locked in a closet as punishment for something I did. There were several professional groups in which I played, during my senior year of high school. Borrowing horns from my band director was the norm.

As an adult woman, there is unrelenting fear of being alone. When there is turbulence in life, I must apologize, as anything that occurs must be my fault. There is guilt; when a relationship fails, or even when I make a minor mistake. I should have done better. These mistakes may be taking too long to cook dinner for a guest, or forgetting something at work. We all deal with being our own worst enemies, but the child of a narcissist takes the cake.

My patience is extremely low. If a text doesn’t get answered, it’s because I’m not important enough to warrant a reply. If not invited out with friends, it’s because they don’t like me. I’ve done something wrong in most situations, because, it’s always been my fault. The need for structure is obsessive. Everything in life needs an itinerary. The week is planned and if one task or event doesn’t follow that plan, the world crumbles. Expectations are set, and then resented.

Relationships are difficult; fear of failure fights with hope in long-term companionship. Things go well and I wonder when the “other shoe” is going to drop. Often I will drop all the baggage on a potential partner’s lap, to see if he can take it. It’s a game of poker, and I’m all in. Here are my cards. Will you fold, or accept the challenge? One of us inevitably walks away. They can’t handle me, or maybe I self-sabotage. They don’t know how to emotionally support someone who has a need for validation. I was raised by a woman who would move across the country over a man. It has made me a flight risk. I cut and run. I start arguments. The littlest of things make me cry and wonder what is wrong with me, asking myself why I’m so unsuccessful in love.

It is a daily battle to feel “enough.” Nothing has ever been enough. My mother never told me I was beautiful. She never reminded me of my inner strength. It was always, “Do better.” Creating these personal thoughts of support internally is nearly impossible. Believing in something that never existed in my life is like fighting a bully. “You’re beautiful, but not as beautiful as her.” “You’re smart, but look at this person who is your age; they’re doing so much more with their life.”

Acknowledging these emotional behaviors is the first step of improvement. Retraining the heart isn’t easy. It takes work. It takes a village; surrounding ourselves with cheerleaders. I’m so fortunate to have a tribe of empowering, strong, women in my life. Sometimes it takes being told, “You are beautiful,” to buy in. We have to hope for a life without insecurities. Some days it works, some days it doesn’t. This life isn’t a sprint; it is a marathon. There may be something to the saying, “slow and steady.” My eyes stay focused on independence from guilt and emotional insecurities. It’s believing those around me love me for who I am. It’s living a life without internal doubt. Keep trudging this path.

We are enough, just for today.