Hello, readers! How are you all? Well, I hope!
I come here today to talk a little about my own life experience. Before I begin, I’ll just warn anyone that this post will not be pleasant, as it deals with emotional abuse. This is your final warning.
Now that we’re past the warning, I’ll preface this by saying that I love my parents dearly, I really do. Even my mother. But she’s a narcissist. And being raised by her has damaged a lot of stuff in me.
This is by no means a comprehensive list, or particularly organized. It’s mostly me sharing some of the things that happened to me, things I didn’t even notice were not the norm while I was growing up.
- I was blamed for things I ‘did’ even before I was born. For as long as I can remember, she talks about how I made her suffer while she was pregnant, in an accusatory intonation. I also stopped nursing at 3 months old because I hated her, not because – who knows, I was a baby.
- I could never have anything nice. Any time she gave me something I loved, she took it away by forcing me to give it to someone else.
- I was never treated as me, but as a reflection of her. I had to be perfect, or else.
- I was treated so much worse than my brother, that at some point, when I was around six, I decided I had to be adopted. I just couldn’t believe someone would treat her own child like she treated me.
- She was always trying to change me. She ruined my hair with chemicals to make it straight. She wanted me to hide my developing breasts because ‘none of my classmates had them’. She yelled at me in front of the school if I had torn a bit of my clothing playing, because ‘I looked like a homeless person and she was ashamed of me’. She refused to even ride the same elevator as me and pushed me to the service elevator because ‘I was dressed like a maid anyway’.
- She used me to please others. I remember my body autonomy being stripped of me very early on. I was forced to hug people, and let people kiss me, to the point where I now hate being touched. I was also supposed to suffer to please others. Such as when I had surgery and my grandmother (another narcissist who had formally informed me I’m not her grandchild when I was around 6) decided to offer to ‘keep me company’ as soon as I came back from the hospital. Of course, her ‘keeping me company’ meant that every time I was trying to rest, she would call me to change the channel on TV or call someone for her, to the point where I was tired and in pain at the end of the day. And then my mother refused to tell her she couldn’t come back, ‘because it was gonna hurt her feelings’. I had to do it myself.
- She used to take my things and give them to her friends, even as an adult, as the time she had one of her friends stay with us for a few days and gave away my favorite house dress ‘because she liked it’. I got this one back because I called her friend and demanded my dress back.
- She used to covertly insinuate that I had an inappropriate relationship with my father. Now, I’ll admit that my dad did and does enable her. He’s been married to her for 40 years, so I guess it is to be expected. But he has my back, as much as he can, and we have a lot in common. So the fact that we often go to a nice little café – she never wants to go, even if we invite her – means something disgusting is happening between us.
Well… I think that’s it. At least that’s what I can remember now. I’m sure there’s more, but these are the points that stand out the most to me. What’s sadder is that, as a child, I didn’t see anything abnormal about all of that. I thought every mother-daughter relationship was strained. I thought I was bad – until I started meeting my classmate’s moms, and they started commenting on what a good child I was. I used to envy kids who had divorced parents, because if my parents would only divorce, I could live with my dad, because he would need someone to cook his food and do his laundry, after all.
I don’t really know why I wrote this post, to be honest. I just felt like venting a little, and well… any writing still counts as writing, right? Even if it’s intensely personal.
Now is your turn to speak. Is there anything about your own life you thought was normal just to find out it wasn’t, at all? Share with me in the comments!
See you on the next post!