I Have Something To Say

Those who have survived abusive childhoods at some time or another have run into someone (or many people) making banal excuses to explain away their experience. "Parents aren't perfect." "They were doing their best." "Just wait until you're a mom or dad." While it's true that no one is perfect and most people don't intend to hurt their children, these excuses wound children of narcissistic parents at their core. These sorts of trite phrases are often used by narcissistic parents to manipulate and dupe others into believing their child is the unreasonable one. It is not possible to ever reason or win an argument with a narcissist. In order for the child of narcissistic parents to have any identity at all, they must get far away.  While it is considered "normal" for most families have some form of dysfunction, narcissistic homes are especially toxic. The following are some common differences between "normal" parents a...

When I was a child, I had no tools or language to understand the abuse that was happening to me. What I did know was that I was constantly misunderstood. My parents often accused me of doing things I never did and punished me for not doing things that were not mine to be done. I didn't know what projection was, but I was constantly accused of having malicious intent when there was none. In order to survive, I stuffed my anger and made sure to never even think a cross thought about my abusers. I attempted to be perfect, which is, of course, impossible. I became hypervigilent in anticipating the needs of others. I became the cheerful servant, like Cinderella, daydreaming about a kinder and gentler world. Also like Cinderella, I didn't understand why, in spite of all my best efforts, my family hated me so much. I thought it was some flaw of mine that I was so misunderstood. When I grew older, I tried in vain to communicate with my abusers. I honed all the skills to write and ...

When I was thirteen, my father burst into my room while I was doing my homework, and demanded that I follow him outside. He lead me in the dark to the steep, empty hillside behind our house to point out that "some guy" could see right into my bedroom window. He then berated me for half an hour because my shades weren't drawn. Never mind there was nothing back there. Never mind whoever wanted to spy on me would have to jump a fence, climb a hill, and navigate their way through trees and poison oak in the dark. "Somebody" could potentially do it, and I was in trouble for not preventing it from happening. As per usual, I absorbed the blame. It wasn't until a few years later that I realized that the "someone" who would go to all that trouble to watch me through my bedroom window was himself. My father did many sexually inappropriate things to me and around me for as far back as I can remember. He used to walk around the house naked when my teenag...

I grew up in an extremely dysfunctional home with a raging, alcoholic, narcissistic father. I still carry a lot of pain over the traumatic memories of his irrational outbursts and propensity to punish me for imagined slights. I struggle with an overbearing sense of responsibility and need to be blameless as a result of his abuse. But recognizing the ways he abused me and my subsequent hangups are pretty easy to identify. Though painful, my father's overt behavior is not as difficult to process as the other forms of abuse I experienced. The hardest is emotional neglect. The constant baseline in my home was not angry outbursts, it was neglect. It was the chronic, constant expectation that I would not cause any trouble or upset by having needs of any kind. If I did attempt to be seen or heard, I would be punished. My parents were experts in emotional neglect and covert abuse. As a young child, I was expected to require minimal upkeep. My physical need for food, clothing, and shel...

One year ago today, I created my very first post, I Have Something To Say.  This was a huge milestone in my recovery for a few reasons. Because of the type of abuse I experienced, I had a huge mental and physical block about speaking up publicly. The knots in my stomach, lumps in my throat and overall panic came from a very real history and experience of being punished for telling the truth. When someone has been silenced and de-humanized from a time before they could even speak, it creates seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Ironically, I have spent much of my adult life learning how to write and express myself in creative ways. And yet, giving a voice to the parts of me that were abused were so blocked, I couldn't admit out loud what happened, let alone write about it directly. Too much misplaced guilt and shame prevented me from integrating my identity as an abuse survivor into my professional life. Sure, bits and pieces leaked out. I would casually mention to friends I tru...

It's been nearly twelve years since I went no contact with my covert narcissist mother, thirteen for my malignant narcissist father. After a lifetime of trying to reason and cope with the abuse, I made a choice to leave in order to survive them. I am now a voluntary orphan. It's been the hardest and best decision of and for my life. Being human, there is nothing that makes no contact with both biological parents easy. It goes against all of my biological, physiological, and social programming. I am perpetually broken-hearted. I long for connection and understanding from my narcissistic parents, past, present and future. Alas, there was never, is not, and never shall be. I ache for the child in me who missed out on not having loving, safe, supportive parents. I ache for the adolescent and young adult who had no positive parental example, no guidance, no support of any kind. I ache for the grown woman with kids of her own who struggles forward, hoping to carve a better pat...

I have often been labeled a "quiet" person, which always takes me by surprise. My mind runs so loud and fast, I sometimes forget that the constant clatter in my brain is not what others hear. It's true that I often don't often call attention to myself, though it's never because I am without thoughts, ideas, or opinions. For a number of reasons, I am usually more likely to opt out than speak up. Here's a few. Sometimes, I'm too traumatized to speak. When a new memory reveals itself, I often go numb. Usually this happens when something that was buried in my subconscious makes its way to the forefront of my mind. While all trauma gets stored in a part of the brain that doesn't have access to language, many of my traumatic memories are from a time before I could speak. It's especially difficult to put these feelings and experiences into words. Instead of fight or flight, I freeze. I am stuck in my body, fully aware but trapped in a protective shel...

My husband came home late last night to find me curled up in my favorite furry blanket, staring at the wall. He has found me like this many times before, often on days like this one, where I process a new traumatic memory in therapy. "Can I get you anything?" he asks. "A better childhood," I reply. He nods and sits next to me. He knows I want him near, but I don't necessarily want to talk about it. It's exhausting to explain trauma to someone else when it's raw, and besides, it's not so much the event itself but the fallout from it that needs care. At the moment, that means I'm tapped into a deep well of sadness for the child in me who was neglected, terrorized, and so unloved. This is a productive sadness. It's progress. I have earned enough breakthroughs in recovery to know how important it is for me to fully feel this sadness. The old me probably would feel shame for being upset about something that happened so long ago. The old...

I have always been a perceptive person, able to see any situation from the point of view of others. Growing up, I never understood how I could see my parent's point of view, but they could never see mine. And the (not so) funny thing is, their point of view was always skewed in their favor. If they were upset, it was my fault. If I was upset, it was my fault. If they were offended, it was my fault. If I was offended, it was my fault. See the pattern? When I was blamed, which was inevitable, I would take responsibility for my part, and then some. Even when things were not my fault, I could trace the line of reasoning back to how they could potentially find fault with me, and I would even take responsibility for their false perceptions. For example, one time, in a rare act of generosity, my parents took my friend and I to see our favorite band. My bestie and I were understandably excited, and screamed and cheered throughout the show. It was two hours of sheer joy, for which I la...

Recently, Arc of Hope , an (excellent) child abuse recovery and support network on Twitter added me to a list titled "Abused Kids/ Child Abuse Victim Army." Seeing myself associated with being a victim of child abuse sent a shock through my body. It might sound weird, but it felt like a new revelation. Now, one might think that someone with the Twitter handle @AbuseSurvior, having over 10 years of no contact with her abusers, who has been been blogging about the nature of abuse for several months now, with scores of posts and a steadily growing audience might be used to the idea by now that she was abused. But seeing this struck me in a new and different way. Here's why. It was external validation, by people who "get it," that it really happened. Growing up, not only was there no one else to validate that the emotional, psychological, spiritual, and sexual abuse happened, but the very nature of the abuse meant that I was brainwashed into doubting my own f...

I went no contact with my abusive parents many years ago, but my mother, a covert narcissist, still continues to hoover me in. Hoovering is a strategy characteristic of Cluster B disordered people wherein, like a vacuum cleaner, they try to suck people back in to their manufactured drama. It is yet another form of manipulation and control, often thinly veiled as "caring" or "concern." When I went no contact, I moved away and left no forwarding address, on purpose. My mother has managed to get hold of my address with every subsequent move. Sometimes she manipulates other family members to get it. At first, she played innocent, as if I must have "forgotten" to give it to her. Other times, she has used the "poor me" approach to gain sympathy from the other flying monkeys in my family, who were all too willing to sell me out. (They are no contact now, too.) The thing is, if there was a real emergency or if she wanted to have a real conversation ...

Recently, I wrote about the ways "It's not that bad" has kept me from owning and validating the true cost of my traumatic past. There have been times I have envied those with physical trauma because they received all the validation and support that was denied me as a survivor of psychological trauma. There are plenty of abuse survivors with far more dramatic stories than mine. Surely, we've all been in situations where someone else's story of calamity and misfortune has humbled us. Ironically, for many, holding on to the misplaced shame that their own story of abuse isn't "good enough" to be validated because more terrible things have happened to others is exactly the trap that keeps us silent and perpetuates the cycle. Acknowledging trauma is about acknowledging one's own perception. It's not something someone else can determine or validate for you. The greatest goal for an abuse survivor is to be able to own what actually happened to t...

I spent much of my childhood invisible. It was easier that way, as the alternative was to be blamed and punished for imagined faults and shortcomings projected on to me by my narcissistic parents. As an invisible person, I created other universes in my imagination which were not quite as sad and lonely as the one I was born into. To this day, my inner life is vivid, and I often prefer spending time "inside" to the more mundane realm of daily tasks and activities. Perhaps it is my inclination to disappear, to blend in, when the external stimuli overwhelms me. Perhaps I still hold on to the unconscious belief that I don't deserve to take up more space than I do in the hearts and minds of others. Perhaps I am simply so used to living this way that I don't see how to do it differently. But I long to be seen. I long to be seen in a way that tells me I am loved. I long to be seen in a way that tells me I am understood. I long to be seen in a way that tells me that it...

One of the best ways to spot a toxic person is to confront them about their behavior when you've been hurt. Toxic people will immediately act more hurt than you. They will almost always overreact and become extremely defensive at the slightest suggestion they did something wrong or malicious. They will feign shock  that you would ever suggest they do anything to hurt you. Not only will they minimize and deny any wrongdoing, they will twist the situation around to make you feel ashamed and guilty, hyper-focusing on a more "important" problem: their own bruised ego. How could you  ever  suspect them of doing such a horrible thing?! Bonus points if they need smelling salts after fainting from their perfectly executed melodrama.  The histrionics and high drama are a deflection from the truth. Yes, they meant to hurt you. No, they won't ever admit it, and yes, they will make your life a living hell if you try to hold them accountable for their own bad behavior....

I have always been a strong writer and communicator, but growing up in a home full of narcissistic abuse and neglect, it never felt like it. As a child, I was often heartbroken and confused because I thought my parent's inability to understand me was my fault. They blamed me for nefarious intentions I never had. They presumed malice that was never there. I didn't get why they saw my seemingly simple requests as something to be threatened or angry about. Direct confrontation was cause for extreme reaction and punishment, so I learned not to have needs for basic things like boundaries or attention. I tried to brush it off, but as much as I tried, the unmet need to be heard and understood never left me. Because I thought it was my fault my parents didn't understand me, I overcompensated. I set out to express myself with as much clarity as I possibly could. If I shared my thoughts and feelings, I was  very careful to not offend others in the process. I learned to explain m...

I am a highly sensitive person, and I often find myself in the position of understanding people better than they understand themselves. I often physically feel what others are feeling, and I can sense whether their thoughts are clear or whether there is a jumble of static in their brain. People who are not empaths are probably scratching their heads right now, but the empaths are nodding. My people get it, so much so, it's often not worth explaining to those who don't. People often want to talk to me, but I am sensitive to the people who drain me in order to make themselves feel better. They slather me with their problems that they have no interest in solving for themselves. Over time, I've learned to keep up pretty good boundaries and limit how much of myself I give to others. But then occasionally, a few slip through the cracks. Some people carry so much psychic chaos around, it zaps all my defenses. There is one such person who, from the very first moment I met he...

Holiday season is a difficult time for many abuse survivors, especially if their abusers are family members. Even survivors who have gone No Contact can be quickly overwhelmed by the social pressures of the holidays. They are surrounded by advertisements of happy families in sweaters, beaming at each other while they pass the gravy, and serving as a too-painful reminder of what the survivor never had. Everyday small talk turns to whether they are going home for the holidays, which almost always guarantees an awkward conversation. The constant reminder of what a family "should" be causes many, including me, to re-process through the stages of grief this time every year. For those who have not gone No Contact with toxic family members, there is the added tension and anxiety of having to manage the inevitable confrontations. The pressure to "be nice" around toxic people during the holidays becomes magnified as many abuse survivors are trained to absorb the toxic e...

As I mentioned in Abusers Are Weird About Food, the common denominator of abuse is control. Abusers will use anything within reach to control their victims, so the most common, everyday resources are typically the ones most used. Money is no exception. I can't think of a single case of abuse I know in which money wasn't used against a victim in some form. In my house, my narcissistic father often bragged about how he made three times more than my mother. We lived in a big (empty) house that they couldn't afford. He had lots of toys- a motorhome, ski boat, houseboat, new cars, etc. He surrounded himself with expensive hobbies. He had an expensive pool table in the game room and a dedicated dark room, but he spent much of his time in "his" brown La-Z-Boy watching "his" shows in the "family" room. Every area of the house was his, down to the grass we weren't allowed to walk on in the back yard. In spite of his "very important...

The common denominator of all abuse is control. Of course, it's no wonder that the things that are within our realm of control on a daily basis are also the things abusers want to control for us the most. My mother was a very thin, petite woman. She dutifully put a hot meal in front of my narcissistic father every night. As a covert narcissist, her choices about "healthy" food appeared well within the range of normal to an outsider, but they were far from it. She was fiercely anti-sugar, not out of love and concern for health, but because it was something I liked and enjoyed that she could keep away from me. We rarely ever had dessert, but carob instead of chocolate was the "treat." Or raisins. I actually have always liked and enjoyed natural foods, but her excessive control over my eating anything sweet backfired. As a child, I was obsessed about the opportunity to eat dessert or go trick or treating. I would go to my friend's house and down sugary c...

Here lies the dilemma of anyone who has been psychologically abused. When we pointed out what was not normal, we were told that we were wrong. When we got upset about not being believed, we were told we were overreacting. When we told the truth, we were told we were making it all up. When we tried to reason, we were told we were the unstable ones. Many of us were willing to be wrong if it meant keeping the peace, but, unfortunately, we were right all along. Some of us were children, and therefore even less likely to escape the gaslighting and manipulation our abusers applied to keep the status quo. Some of us grew up extremely confused in spite of our own impeccable integrity. Our abusers, always and purposefully a step ahead of us, went to our friends and family and whispered things in their ears to discredit us. Because we were so used to having our words twisted and our intentions misinterpreted, we expected to be misunderstood. Because it was often easier to absorb the blame ...