I Have Something To Say

One of the biggest mistakes I see victims of narcissistic abuse make is to feel sorry for their abusers because their abuser is "mentally ill." This is wrong. Narcissism is not the same as mental illness. While someone with a mental illness might inadvertently cause chaos around them due to their mental state, most of them sincerely don't mean to hurt others. Many mentally ill people struggle with shame caused by their desire to be there for loved ones when their mental illness prevents them from doing so. It's important to understand that a narcissist does not feel this way. A narcissist willfully chooses to harm others. They are in control of their behavior, as evidenced when they put on the charm to manipulate people into thinking well of them. When they act in an abusive way, they choose to do so on purpose. Narcissists, psychopaths, sociopaths, and those who make up the cluster B personality disorders are notoriously responsible for the bulk of physical, ps...

As I sort through the formative moments of my past and reflect on where I am today, I am amazed. For some reason, even when I was very young, I knew that what was happening around me was wrong. For some reason, even though I was traumatized, I chose to go a different route with my life. For some reason, I survived. I am grateful to be alive. And yet, being a survivor has its own challenges and problems. There is no happy ending for childhood trauma. I can get perspective on the basic needs I was denied as a child, I can heal my brain, but I can't get my childhood back. In fact, healing means that every day I am realizing more and more the gravity of what was stolen from me. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the people in my life I have today, but having good people in my life now does not negate what horrible people did to me when I was a child. One of the most difficult aspects of the abuse I experience is that I am a lone survivor. I have come to accept that ther...

  I was in a meeting where a mediator was trying her best to stay impartial to a situation where a large volume of well-documented verbal and emotional abuse had occurred. She was a trained professional, but professionally speaking, she didn't want to be in a position to take sides on the issue. She offered the worn-out platitude, "Well, there are two sides to every story..." I let it slide the first time she said it, but when she said it again, I stopped her. "Actually, when it comes to abuse, there are not two sides. There is abuse, and there is the recipient of abuse. The recipient of abuse is not at fault for the actions of the abuser." Her jaw dropped a moment, then she nodded slowly. She knew I was right, and in this moment, a light went on. The situation she was mediating was not about two people having a disagreement. It was about a serial abuser attacking someone else who had done nothing to provoke the attack. She couldn't stay impartial. It ...

  "I'm not sick, you're sick!" This is what my brother barked at me, eyes glowing with contempt, when I confronted him about his behavior. After a psychotic episode in his twenties, he had been diagnosed Bipolar with Delusions of Grandeur, but rejected the diagnosis. His outward behavior ranged from catatonic to aggressive, and always anti-social. He was also a hypochondriac, until, conveniently, he saw a self-proclaimed exorcist who healed him of all his diseases. He then believed he was a prophet, and was performing his own exorcisms and faith healings on anyone willing to let him. "He's not sick, you're sick!" This is what my mother shouted at me, indignant that I would suggest my brother could use some psychological help, and maybe meds. She had a long history of enabling an abusive, alcoholic, narcissist, one of the many sick men she kept in her life to take care of. My brother now lived with her, rent and responsibility free. A psycho...

When my grandmother died, I found some papers from the 1940s from a psychiatric institution, along with a few letters. I asked my uncle about it. He told me that my grandmother's sister had been hospitalized, and then died from a lobotomy. My grandmother felt guilty. She was the one who authorized the procedure, so she never talked about it. He added, in my grandmother's defense, that my great aunt had been "out of control," so there was "nothing else to do." I'm not sure what constituted "out of control." The only example I was given was that she would take off her clothes and run outside, which of course mortified my family. This information haunted me for a few reasons. At the time I had several family members, still alive, who struggled with serious mental illness. Yet this was the first documented evidence I discovered about it. It was all around us but never discussed. We no longer lived in a time where lobotomies were considered an ...