rewriting history

This past week in session, my therapist suggested something very profound to me: I may only spend one hour per week in therapy, but my therapy isn’t limited to that one single hour.  I can be my own therapist during other hours during the week, and instead of listening to the introjections in my head that stem from my upbringing, I can start listening to introjections from the therapist in my own mind.  Talk about an empowering idea!

One thing that has been incredibly helpful recently - aside from writing almost every day on this blog - is rehashing memories of dealing with my parents through conversations with my amazing husband.  For the entire duration of the twelve years that my husband and I have been together, we’ve been trying to figure out strategies for dealing with my parents, meaning ways that WE can change our behavior to better accommodate their difficult eccentricities.  The idea that my parents likely have NPD takes this burden off of us, in that there is absolutely NOTHING we can do to improve the situation.  A reconciliation between two conflicting parties necessitates that everyone meets in the middle.  In the case where one conflicting party has NPD, there is no possibility for reconciliation because this party will NEVER budge.  And why?  Because NPD doesn’t allow for the possibility that this party may have ever done something in error.

Our topic of conversation over coffee and donuts this morning had to do with writing history.  Something that hit me: it’s no wonder that cult leaders often suffer from NPD, because narcissistic people often write their own stories - their own mythology - with a religious-like zeal.  They are always at the center of their mythology, and like a god, the world centers around them, their feelings, their whims, and their own motivations.  I started thinking about how my own parents have created mythology about their own experiences, and questioning the history they have written around me.  Granted, I don’t think that any history can be completely objective, as it’s always somewhat slanted toward the perspective of the person writing it.  However, there is something to be said for a simple “accounting” of actions that occurred.  The following paragraphs are some examples of my parents’ narratives regarding our family and our interactions, followed by an accounting, and then my own possible interpretation taking their NPD into consideration.

Example one:

My parents’ mythology: Jen was a brilliant child.  She started reading when she was only 18 months old!  She had a genius level IQ at a young age.  She loved attending science camps, and working with her science toys and microscopes.  Two things seem really weird to us: she never believed that she was brilliant, which is strange because we constantly told her that she was (she obviously just didn’t listen!).  The other weird thing is that she decide to become a musician.  Why would she waste her intellect by quitting her amazing job?  And then she just followed her husband because of his job, dropping everything that was important to her.  It’s such a waste of her abilities.

The accounting: Jen did have good scores on IQ tests, but those are simply a measure of potential in certain types of logic-reasoning situations, not really a measure of intelligence.  She may have recognized a word or two from the newspaper as a toddler, but it’s not like she was reading chapter books and COMPREHENDING them at that time.  She did play with science kits, but that’s only because what her parents bought for her for Christmas and birthdays, and it’s what was available in the house.  She actually really wanted to be a musician from a very young age, and has accounts of this written in her childhood diaries.  Mom and Dad did say things about her abilities with her science kits, but since it wasn’t what she enjoyed (only what was available), she always felt like her own interests weren’t valid, and so her self-esteem suffered as a result.  She did like going to science camps, but it was only because she got to escape the house for a while.  She never really did all that well studying the material presented in the classes.

Jen did relocate with her husband to a new city; her job in their old home was not a good situation, as she was grossly underpaid and she didn’t really want to be a teacher, desiring instead to work as a freelance musician.  She only took that job in the first place to help provide for her husband during his own job search, and the job provided good health insurance benefits.

My interpretation: my parents wanted me to be special, so that they would consequently feel special.  They wanted to tell anyone who would listen how special I was, so that it would reflect on them, making them seem like they were amazing parents.  They thrive on empty praise, and “kiss ass” behavior.  When my husband and I made a big decision to move across the country for my husband’s new job - which makes him incredibly happy! - they lost their source of narcissistic pride: the fact that I was a community college professor.  They couldn’t brag anymore about how well I was doing, since being a freelance musician doesn’t register as a respectable career in their minds.

Example two: 

My parents’ mythology: No one in the family cares about us.  Our relatives forget our birthdays all the time, and never send us cards.  We reach out constantly, sending gifts to all of our great-nieces and nephews, but we never receive a thank you card.  Our own daughter is neglectful, as she is difficult and doesn’t respond to our phone calls or text messages.  She doesn’t care about us, and she is very selfish.

The accounting: relatives do keep in touch with Mom and Dad; in fact, several in-laws have visited on multiple occasions throughout the years.  They aren’t the greatest about remembering birthdays and anniversaries, or even calling regularly, but when Mom and Dad are in town, these relatives do tend to drop everything to hang out with them.  Let’s be honest: sometimes when you have tons of relatives, it’s hard to keep track of a lot of dates, especially if you’re someone with a bunch of grandkids, whom you’d likely tend to prioritize in a different way than an older brother or sister.  Mom and Dad do send gifts to a lot of younger relatives, but they’re all incredibly busy raising children and working full-time jobs, just trying to make ends meet.  Moreover, it might make some people feel uncomfortable to have a distant relative spend a bunch of money on odd juvenile gifts; you might feel like you have to do something in return, and these people set the bar really high for financial expectations in gifts, which you might feel uncomfortable spending yourself.  

As for the daughter, Jen works a lot of hours.  Sometimes she’s just too busy to immediately return a phone call or text, and since she travels a lot for her work as a musician, sometimes she’s on an airplane or out of cell phone range.  Her financial situation isn’t the greatest, and while she and her husband are relatively stable, she’s not exactly in the position to refuse work.  As a result, she’s busy A LOT, and she prioritizes things to spend as much time as possible with her husband, a wonderful, supportive man whom she adores.

My interpretation: because my parents have NPD, nothing that anyone does for them - myself including - is ever enough.  They’re constantly looking for conflict, to find something “wrong” with any relative to make themselves look better.  Not everyone shows love in the same way.  Some people show love through making phone calls, others through purchases, others through spending time with loved ones, others through physical contact, etc.  My parents expect everyone to anticipate how they would like to be shown love and kindness, and expect everyone to drop everything to fulfill this intense need.  And when other people don’t operate under the same paradigm, they label these folks as “selfish” or “uncaring.”  That includes me.  They can’t even seem to comprehend the fact that my marriage is of the highest priority in my head...even after being married for TEN years.

Example three:

My parents’ mythology: Our daughter was a bad teenager, and she was extremely difficult.  She gave us no end of problems, and talked back constantly.  We did so much for her - we paid for her college, bought her a car, and supported her so much financially that we are in terrible debt.  She isn’t grateful, and never says thank you.  Today, the fact that she doesn’t speak to is in incredibly hurtful considering everything that we have done for her, and we can’t understand why she simply can’t just call us and tell us that she loves us.  It’s like a slap in the face!  She must be very mentally unbalanced and ill, and she needs our help to be a good person.

The accounting: Jen had a really rough time in school, because Mom and Dad moved a lot for work and she was constantly getting bullied.  She tried really hard to fit in at school and make that also coincide with Mom and Dad’s expectations, but it never really worked.  By the time she was about 13, she gave up trying and starting taking it all out on herself because she thought something was really wrong since it felt like nothing she ever did could make it right.  At that age she started vocalizing that what Mom and Dad expected caused others to make fun of her.  She had problems with drinking, cutting, anorexia, and other self-destructive behaviors of which Mom and Dad SAW the evidence, but refused to do anything since they were worried someone in the community might get word of it.  Instead, they told her to never talk about any of her problems at home or school to anyone; she wrote about this in her diaries, because of this rule.

Jen actually got a substantial scholarship to college, and while it didn’t pay for everything, it made an enormous dent in the expenses.  She also worked full-time on every summer and winter break, including overtime hours.  Starting her sophomore year in college, she began working multiple jobs to make ends meet, and in the eighteen years since she left home, she asked for financial help two times.  And both times, she repaid the debt ahead of schedule.  Ironically, Dad borrowed money from Jen on occasions, including one time where he demanded student loan money from her to pay his mortgage and then didn’t pay her back quickly, even though she was working full-time at a minimum wage job (while going to graduate school full-time) to support herself.

My interpretation: Being told constantly that I was a “bad kid” was so frustrating, because I didn’t really ever do anything THAT bad in the grand scheme of life.  Everything I did that was perceived as “bad” was really just a reaction to being bullied, hurting, feeling awful about myself, hating my body (because everyone, my parents included!) made fun of how weird I looked, along with intense feelings of self-loathing and inadequacy.  I got frustrated at age 13 with pleasing Mom and Dad, who told me things would get better if I just “played the game” and they never did.  When I spoke up for myself, it was met with a ridiculous amount of conflict.  I never was just allowed to be my own person, and my own emotions were constantly invalidated.  I was told incessantly that I was oversensitive and overreactive.  All of those experiences scarred me as an adult.  I never wanted to be dependent on them for anything and so I worked my ass off so that I would never have to ask them for any sort of help or assistance.  

I’m not a bad person.  Even today, I still love my parents, which is hard to believe when I go back and read through all of these blog entries!  I’m also very grateful for the opportunity to attend college.  But I do realize that I’ll never have a real relationship with them, because that would necessitate facing these mythologies and possibly re-writing our history together.  People with NPD don’t just suddenly do this, even when confronted.  I think my parents thrive on the idea that I’m sick because they simply can’t face the possibility that I don’t want to have anything to do with them today due to THEIR OWN behavior.  Me being sick is simply a convenient explanation.