When I was 14 years old I met my first love. He was 18 and he was big, strong, smart and beautiful. When I turned 15 he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was smitten and for a couple of months it was pure bliss. Within that year, he slept with my best friend, my cousin, and many others. I stuck around for months, hoping he’d come back and he would throw me a few crumbs from time to time and then off he’d go again. I gave him my heart and my innocence and in return he gave me heartache and sorrow. My very first relationship left me feeling broken, unwanted, unlovable, flawed and not good enough. It was a feeling I was very used to, a feeling that I had carried around with me my whole life.
Looking at my life backwards, it makes perfect sense that my first relationship was really a reproduction of the dysfunctional dynamic that had developed between my mother and I. All of the pain and hurt was a manifestation of what I had been taught, as a child, to feel about myself.
When I was studying Psychology we read and watched many experiments with monkeys. In some experiments these poor little monkeys were taken from birth and kept all alone with no contact with other animals or people for 6 months. The experiment placed the isolated monkeys in a play area with other monkeys, who had been together as playmates since birth. What happened? The monkey that had not learned or been taught any social skills was in absolute terror, backed into the corner and in obvious distress, as he watched the others running and jumping and playing, as young monkeys do.
He had no idea how he should feel, or what he should do. He didn’t know if he was safe. Instead he was anxious and completely terrified. They repeated the same experiment over and over again with different primates and the exact same thing happened. So they could safely make the statement, that if x happens -then behavior y and z will follow every time, with every monkey.
The same thing happens with other primates – like us. We know if children are emotionally abused or neglected you will usually find fearful, anxious youngsters, who have an impaired ability to trust, have low self-esteem, prefer to be isolated from others and have problems in their adult relationships.
This usually manifests in different forms of substance abuse, early and risky sexual behaviors and there is always the possibility that children from abuse will repeat the cycle and abuse their own children.
As a 14 year old, I felt so unloved and unwanted at home that I went looking for any type of love I could find. That need and longing for acceptance and affection took me to men and situations that I was not mature enough or prepared to handle.
My upbringing was shame based. There was no communication, just a feeling that any attempt at a discussion was unwanted and unwelcome. When I began menstruating, my mother didn’t talk to me at all. She handed me a pad and a book and we never discussed it. We didn’t discuss boys, boundaries or birth control. I was going through the most difficult time in my life without any support or guidance and I was completely unprepared for adolescence and life.
Author Sharon Wegscheider-Cruse identified four distinct roles that children assume, to survive emotionally dishonest, shame based and dysfunctional environments. Robert Burney author of, The Wounded Soul, tells us that, “Some children maintain one role into adulthood while others switch from one role to another as the family dynamic changes (i.e. when the oldest leaves home, etc.) An only child may play all of the roles at one time or another.”
“Golden Child” – “Family Hero”
This is the child who is “9 going on 40.” This child takes over the parent role at a very young age, becoming very responsible and self-sufficient. They give the family self-worth because they look good on the outside. They are the good students, the sports stars, the prom queens. The parents look to this child to prove that they are good parents and good people.
As an adult the Family Hero is rigid, controlling, and extremely judgmental (although perhaps very subtle about it) – of others and secretly of themselves. They achieve “success” on the outside and get lots of positive attention, but are cut off from their inner emotional life, from their True Self. They are compulsive and driven as adults because deep inside they feel inadequate and insecure.
The family hero, because of their “success” in conforming to dysfunctional cultural definitions of what constitutes doing life “right”, is often the child in the family who, as an adult, has the hardest time even admitting that there is anything within themselves that needs to be healed.
“Acting out child” – “Scapegoat”
This is the child that the family feels ashamed of – and the most emotionally honest child in the family. He/she acts out the tension and anger the family ignores. This child provides distraction from the real issues in the family. The scapegoat usually has trouble in school because they get attention the only way they know how – which is negatively. They often become pregnant or addicted as teenagers.
These children are usually the most sensitive and caring which is why they feel such tremendous hurt. They are romantics, who become very cynical and distrustful. They have a lot of self-hatred and can be very self-destructive. This often results in this child becoming the first person in the family to get into some kind of recovery.
“Placater” – “Mascot” – “Caretaker”
This child takes responsibility for the emotional well-being of the family. They become the families ‘social director’ and/or clown, diverting the family’s attention from the pain and anger.
This child becomes an adult who is valued for their kind heart, generosity, and ability to listen to others. Their whole self-definition is centered on others and they don’t know how to get their own needs met. They become adults who cannot receive love, only give it. They often have case loads rather than friendships – and get involved in abusive relationships in an attempt to “save” the other person. They go into the helping professions and become nurses, and social workers, and therapists. They have very low self-worth and feel a lot of guilt that they work very hard to overcome by being really “nice” (i.e. people pleasing, classically codependent) people.
“Adjuster” – “Lost Child”
This child escapes by attempting to be invisible. They daydream, fantasize, read a lot of books or watch a lot of TV. They deal with reality by withdrawing from it. They deny that they have any feelings and “don’t bother getting upset.”
These children grow up to be adults who find themselves unable to feel and suffer very low self-esteem. They are terrified of intimacy and often have relationship phobia. They are very withdrawn and shy and become socially isolated because that is the only way they know to be safe from being hurt. A lot of actors and writers are ‘lost children’ who have found a way to express emotions while hiding behind their characters.
It’s difficult to read these roles, because I see myself in every one, except the first one, ‘The Hero’. I also see my siblings in these roles. My brother Andrew was the hero – I actually used to call him golden boy, because he could do no wrong. Michael was the peace maker, the placater, because all he wanted was for everyone to just get along. John was scape goat, he’s an alcoholic now. He’s so far gone, that none of us talk to him anymore. He had it the worst out of all of us. I am bits of the last three: the scape goat, the placater and the lost child.
Do the work
The purpose of this isn’t to throw yourself a pity party. The road to healing has to start here, because if you don’t know what’s wrong you can’t fix it. Shame based and emotionally-dishonest families have no idea how to communicate in healthy ways. They don’t teach boundaries, self-care, or the ability to express yourself freely. They hinder all of these things.
An exercise that I did that was really therapeutic, was I thought about all of the healthy ways of being, that I wasn’t taught as a child. For instance – I wasn’t taught healthy boundaries with friends, co-workers, or lovers. So, what I did was I looked at all of my current relationships with everybody and when situations came up that made me feel uncomfortable, I didn’t just ignore it, like I would have in the past. I spoke up and made my wishes known. I added consequences for crossing those boundaries and I made sure that I followed through with those consequences.
I taught myself to stop avoiding conflict and to learn how to communicate. I was awful, so awful at this. In the past I would ignore people if things got unpleasant – this is what I was taught. . I would usually be passive-aggressive when dealing with conflict. I had to teach myself how to be direct. I learned that being direct made everything so much easier for everyone. When I first started this practice I kept thinking, “What the heck was I so afraid of?” The more I practiced saying what I meant and meaning what I said the easier it got.
There were other silly things like, my mother was a neat freak and was always on me to be neat and clean up after everyone. A part of me hated her and I rebelled by being messy. As an adult, I had to teach myself that it’s important to be neat and how to go about doing that. That rather than have several dishes in the sink. I wash them as soon as I’m done with them, or put them in the dishwasher. I never let them stack up I clean them as I use them.
As a young girl I used to love long hair. All the girls in my class had long luxurious locks, but not me. My mother almost sadistically used to cut my hair so short it was like a boy’s haircut. I would cry and beg and plead, but she would always make it my fault and off came the hair. When I got older and became in control of my own body, I grew my hair so long and it’s still long to this day. I realized I had an unnatural fear of hairdressers, but people need haircuts, I had to teach myself to let go of the fear that I created and that I can have my hair any way I want, long, short, medium length and it’s all alright.
Take a look at your own childhood. Do you fit into any of Sharon Wegscheider-Cruse’s childhood roles? What things were you not taught as a child that has caused you problems as an adult? Have you done the work by acknowledging and then releasing unhealthy behaviors and replaced them with healthy ones?
Take some time today and do the work.
Your Comments!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Savannah…thanks “SO MUCH” for your insight and sharing. Your story fits right in with mine and i’m very glad to have found your site. Keep up the good work…and THANKS for helping us fellow victims of Child Abuse.
I could have written this myself. From the desperate need of love and attention during adolescence to the hair kept short in childhood.
Hi Sav, love your blog! I started as a hero, did a bit of placating but gave up out of its futility and eventually turned into a scapegoat. Somewhat lost too.
Reading you traumatic hair story made me recall mine, which was in a way opposite of yours. When I was 4 I decided to grow long hair.
By the age of 10 I got tired of it and wanted it cut – not necessarily short but something that I could handle myself. I was dependant on my mom for brushing and braiding it, because first I was too little to do it, and then it
grew longer than my arms. But my mom would never allow me to do it – wouldn’t take me to hair-dresser’s and in addition, instilled fear in me that hair-dressers would cut it ugly. She used it as a control tool.
Every morning she had this sure opportunity to dump her frustrations and anger on me, when I came to her for help with my hair. While doing it, she would scold and reproach me for whatever, while pulling and jerking my hair. And of course, it would get worse if I talked back…
And I stayed in this long-hair prison until 16. Everybody was telling how lovely it was, but I could never enjoy it, because I felt restricted and punished by it and helpless to manage it by myself and/or get away from my mom’s negativity.
I love my hair now, and wear any style I want. My peculiar “hair behaviours” are that I’m not eager to see hair-dressers often – don’t like changing hair-style, and that I can tolerate accessories (clips, pins, bands) or even head gear only for a short time, after which I get very uncomfortable and if I don’t let my hair loose, get a headache (no wonder, after so many years of abuse….)
Well, I can live with this, I don’t think there’s anything unhealthy about these behaviours, but recalling my hair-abuse made me feel uncomfortable in my body. It feels like those painful memories just stored up somewhere deep inside. How do I release them and get rid of that emotional charge that is still there? Thank you for provoking it, I
thought I was over it, but now I know that not completely.
Hi Savannah
Some advise would be appreciated. I am a little confused in what kind of relationship I am in. My husband and I have been in a relationship for 14 years now. We have a child under 10yo. He is 46yo and I am 51yo. At the time we met he was married but was having problems with his marriage and he was my boss at work. Over a period of approx. 2 years we talked a lot at work and got to know each other but there was nothing else, I wasn’t interested in him at all. Towards the end of this time he left his wife and went back to her several times and also started a “fling” relationship with me. I was not interested in getting with him and told to not leave his wife for me but if he did it was a choice he made. My history is prior to him was one of being involved with married men as I was always looking to be loved which I understand a lot of this came from my relationships with my brother and dad. Since working that out I have no desire or interest in married men. My husband finally left his then wife and we got together living in another state initially. During this first year, he tested me with so many things to see if I would stay with him. For example: dressing up as a female, taking drugs and wanting me to take them. I have to say that I was pretty naïve when I got with him and was opened up to a number of things I had never experienced before. Some of which were fine and other which were not. With the things that I was not fine with he states that “I don’t accept him” whereas I state “I don’t have to like everything you do so your not accepting me”. We have now reached a point in our relationship where my husband is still wanting to be accepted and his way of acceptance is in the terms of “sexual” which has been an ongoing right through our relationship. Without being too crude, he wants me to watch him pleasure himself anally, thinks culkhold is acceptable behaviour to send the wife out to sleep with other men. He has always had a problem with being accepted, initially wanting to be accepted by all including his parents but now as he puts it “my wife does not accept me sexually as she does not want to participate in what is my core of who I am perverted or not”. Over the years with sexual experimentation which I was all new to, I have worked out what I like and what I don’t. He states that I deceived him and led him on when I allowed the above to occur whereas I looked at it as never having tried this before and was experimenting but don’t wish that lifestyle. Talking to him I have discovered that this is his history with every girlfriend and ex wife of them going out and having sex with another person. His belief is that “this is who I am, I like anal performed on me and have done it since I was in my teens and I like my wife to have sex with others as long as she comes back to me. His preference is to worship me and for him to be submissive as with further talks he finds that having sexual penetration hard as “I can’t get the rhythm or it takes a lot out of me” so by me going elsewhere it takes the pressure of him. Some additional information over the years he has been quite angry with me at times he has felt not accepted that I have shut down. He likes to talk about the same things, mainly sexual, looks at porn regularly, looks for approval from his parents. Approx 18 months ago I finally agreed to going and having sex with a younger man without fully understanding at the time what culkhold actually was. I thought this is what he wanted and I wanted to please him. After that night which didn’t go to his plan, he states that I made that night about me. Had I known what I know now, that night would never have happened. 4 months later he had an affair behind my back for approx. 5 months. He still states he loves me but hates me for what I did to him that night. My question is how do I deal with a man that believes that his core sexual is to be satisfied anally and culkhold is ok. I feel like I am going crazy around this guy and crave a normal sex life. It is a bit like, if we didn’t have to have sex, our life would be great as the other areas of our life are fine. Advise of any description would be appreciated.
DD you really only have 3 options:
1. You don’t participate sexually with him at all (this could mean you have an open marriage, allowing him and you to sleep with other people, or you end your relationship and you move on)
2. You participate fully with him sexually (this will no doubt make him happy but not you – I don’t recommend this option)
3. You compromise (have a conversation about what is and isn’t acceptable to you sexually and what he is looking for and you find somewhere in the middle that you’re both comfortable with).
Those are really the only options. I know you have tried to talk to him and he gets defensive and makes it all about him. The bottom line is you have do what’s best for you and what you’re comfortable with. If he insists on it being his way or the highway – well then you’ve got some decisions to make.
My gentleman (and he behaved in every way like a charming gentleman) entered my life with roses just as my father was dying, and executed his discard eight months later just after my mother died. He came to the funeral despite my asking him to refrain from getting involved further if he was not fully committed to our future plans – we had had a disagreement in which I had stated in no uncertain terms that he was being ‘too pushy’ and unsympathetic to my needs at a time when I was under exceptional family stress (five deaths in the family and three grandchildren on the way after difficulties with pregnancies) – he came anyway, insisting that I needed him to be there (I didn’t, I’m a widow, I’d had the practice!) and behaved in every way like the gallant Knight and Prince of Support, impressing everyone with his immaculate execution of the role of Chief Mourner’s Escort and Wise Counsellor.
He was, in fact, already online seeking out his next narcissistic supply, and just a few days after the funeral commenced the Devalue/Discard cycle, becoming critical and impatient and announcing that he would be moving out at the end of the month (he had moved in quickly to be nursed and supported through a digestive illness and pain and to rehabilitate after a hip replacement – guess what – I’m a health care professional and very generous spirited and caring – one more lame duck in my life didn’t seem one too many at the time, and there were so many gentlemanly and apparently lovingly suggested plans for a caring, cared-for and loving long term peaceful future – marriage was even mentioned as a future possibility – dear readers, this old girl was love bombed and I fell for it!.
During that final month, he served me the Silent Treatment, stayed out till 4am or overnights and for a whole weekend, lying and withholding communication, even when the truth/proof was presented to him so frankly that telling the truth would have been easier. He reacted with childlike narcissistic rage – how could I not trust him, what hope was there for reconciliation without trust etc – well ‘profile last updated two weeks ago’ readily accessible on an open browser was a clue! The word ‘abusive’ really got him going – how sharp my tongue was, he said, and he was counting – six times already! I said it was normal for people who had been treated with deceit and disrespect to be hurt and angry – a sharp tongue was maybe not the best way, but it was one normal human way to express it. There were more ludicrous denials. They’re not that good at covering their tracks, narcissists, I discovered – it only takes a little simple detective work – it’s the disbelief when you find that you are on the right track that seems to take longer to process- cognitive dissonance, I think it’s called in the trade! I asked him to leave sooner, and he was indignantly furious, no-one he insisted had ever thrown him out of anywhere (oh yes they had!) but he returned for the last few nights insisting that he needed to be there to pack his things, and in the end I decided it was actually easier for me to play the game for three nights and get him to play gentleman again in terms of moving furniture etc – and I kept hold of a useful sofa!
Ten weeks on, we still have possessions to exchange, and on a recent meeting to discuss this, the old chemistry was apparently still there (though I’d done the reading by then and knew I was hugging him as an abandoned/unloved/bereaved child, while he was hugging me as a string-along narcissist keeping me as secondary supply while he wooed his next target), he was telling me he still loved me and to ‘give it some more time’ – ten days later on the telephone he was cold as ice and announcing he had met someone special and that I was no longer welcome to visit his home – he had hoped to keep me as a friend but after that call, my sharp tongue in an email was now counting at eight times which he didn’t think was very friendly….I pointed out that even my enemies hadn’t lied and cheated as much as he had!
Since then I’ve quietly gone no contact – our remaining possessions can go wherever, to the moon and back, for my self respect is of greater value. Clearly I was a willing/gullible victim, already a conditioned people pleaser and a perfect target at a time when I was distracted by my parents’ demise and my complex relationship with them. He lied to his previous partner when he met me, a ‘boring’ lady who actually sounds quite sparky and brave and must also have been similarly devastated – she’s been discarded by him three times – and has had many short term relationships and at least five different addresses in the last three years – all dressed up with lies. I thought I’d done my homework with this guy – but he is a true thespian and a great pretender – I think he believes it all himself.
It’s not so easy, despite my brave words and now being well informed and feeling I have had a lucky escape – and thankfully for my long term mental health, it has all come to light in a relatively short, if too intense, time. It has been one more loss at a time of already huge losses, and it has been hard not to feel I’ve lost my dignity and sanity also, especially as I still seem to miss him!
I said to a friend who is a psychologist: I’m not missing this man in the sense of respect for him, nor with affection, but despite knowing he is a trickster and a charlatan, and, shame on me, calling him these to his face, I’m still missing a deep attachment and furious with myself at still feeling it. It’s like an addiction, and I’ve never been aware of being addicted to anything before, so what’s it all about? I’m 64, my former partner is 71, surely we should know better at our age?
Her answer: “You are pining for an unfulfilling relationship, because it’s your template, which you were conditioned by your childhood to resolve.”
So – one is never too old to learn and grow – but the difference is, while there’s breath in my body and common sense in what’s left of my brain, I can still learn and change, while it’s unlikely that he will ever relate differently. I hope his new lady learns fast and gets out before she hurts – I now understand why he has no friends and almost no meaningful rapport with his adult children. I feel sorry for him – inappropriate sympathy, I know – but I still have to work at feeling constructively about no contact. It seems only human to think of difficult relationships in terms of putting them right, as I tried to do with both my parents as they died. Walking away without looking back is new territory – hopefully by the time it’s my turn to reach the next world I’ll have perfected the art!
Thanks for the useful blogs and posts.
Gosh, where do I start. Sitting here ready this article am here crying. Have been together/married to a narcissist for 42 years. Marriage broke down approx. 2 years ago and have divorced, and… guess what… met up with another narcissist/unemotional available man, which lasted 1 and 1/2years. Yes, the on again, off again merry-go-round. I finally ended this relationship as it didn’t seem to be progressing, although he did all the usual stuff narcissists do like putting you on a pedestal, telling you how wonderful and amazing you are (by text), but then as soon as the pressure is on, like me wanting to meet his family, he disappears for a few days. Anyway, all seems to go back to my relationship with my father. As a child he used to lock me in a cellar at night with no lights, tell me how stupid I was and never show any affection AT ALL! He used to beat me till I was 18 and the I decided I had had enough and packed my suitcase to leave home. I remember my mother saying to me as I was leaving “you know if you leave this house you can never come back” (comforting, hey for an 18 yr old). So there I was out in the big bad world on my own with no one to turn to, and I guess that’s why I ended up with my husband/partner of 42 years and put up with what I had in the past and it at least someone who I thought would at least maybe just a little love me as my father should have when I was a little girl. But it is/has been hard to keep strong. Becomes very exhausting.Have to beautiful children who are grown up now and who I am very proud of and have given them as much love as I could. So, yes, have tried to give to my children what I never had and am still looking for. Thank you for your enlightening articles.
I was all these children, as a result of first having a narcissistic mother. Then from the age of 14 help my dad raising my baby sister after my mother left.
I took on all these roles after and the damage that occurred prior to her leaving set me up as perfect narcissistic fuel for the narcissists I always chose. my therapist is helping me deal with this now and since junketing the last narcissist moving great paces to final heal the damage.
The last narcissist was like my mother of the extreme variety He considered being french made him an expert on emotional behaviour to the point of authoring a book on the subject, which now reads like a perfect narcissistic conditioning tool. The therapy has help me recognise the tricks and nuances used my these people and how the conditioned me was so usefully feed this type of personality. Also taught me to be very vary not to read self-help books or books that are not written by trained schooled experts.
Trying to work beyond the conditioning, subsequent repeated narcissistic damage and beyond these roles is hard work. There are days you would like to slide back and think what if I had done differently or life had been different. issue is I know that is would have been if I still had the same narcissistic mother and perhaps worse if she stayed. Fortunately I had a good dad and now with my psychotherapist I am moving ahead, a lot quicker than I could imagine and growing as close to the person I should or may have always been.
Also a big thank you to Savannah as her essays have also help me to see the points my therapist has been illustrating more clearly
In general I don’t like bringing back my childhood demons. Mostly, because I think sometimes people go back too often to their childhood and blame anything and everything on the past. But… like anything else this takes some skill. An occasional, honest look back can be an eye opener.
I just re-read, “Ending a Relationship with a Narcissist: The Art of Detachment” Yep. They are vengeful creatures–trying to get everyone on their side (including my daughter and her friends). Ride the wave. Focus on me. I’m having a friend over for lunch. :)Step by step.
Such sad stories we have. Kids not loved. And, I, being the caretaker, instead of feeling sorry for myself, feel terror that maybe I somehow neglected my child. I know I didn’t, but my insecurity and fear surfaces. I am working hard now on focusing on ME: identifying MY wants and needs and trying to fill them. Because that never happened. I also have recently finished re-reading “The Drama of the Gifted Child,” by Margaret Miller. I think my having read that in my 30’s was one thing that helped me realize that the way my mother treated me (and she in no way was any type of a classical narcissist) needed to be changed. I listened to my daughter, respected her feelings, and let her be herself and take responsibility for her own life. “Love & Logic” was my bible, so intellectually in know that I did a fairly good job of mothering, yet my insecurity surfaces over and over. She is now 18. She is even doing well, from all appearances; we talk about issues and feelings, but I guess I am so hurt by the unintentional hurt from my mother that I fear that I may have unintentionally hurt my daughter. Even though that isn’t even realistic. You may remember from last week that she said that she “is on Dad’s side”. My friend reminded me that this is “teenage nothingness” but I am so insecure that it sends tears down my cheeks. OK, so I know that I AM NOT MY MOTHER. I am a warm loving person. I need to nurture myself. I need to get to the point where I am not desperately seeking approval from others. And I cannot put my focus on my 18-year old daughter; I have to focus on taking care of my self now. Love her as always, but my work is now to take care of myself. Which brings me to the issue of my ex-husband narcissist not respecting my boundaries. Last week you may remember I found him in my house making dinner. I sent him away and was very clear that he was not to come into my house univited, even if my daughter was home. Yesterday my daughter and I were visiting a college, and when I came home I found that he had entered the house (yes, I had left the door unlocked because I was loaning him a pan and I said it would be on the table just inside the door. He came in and brought his and my daughters hunting gear in and put it out to dry bcause they had left it out in the rain. After 26 years I somehow expected him to respect a boundary that he had agreed upon? Forever hopeful, right? I have yet to address this, and I think I will simply address it by NEVER leaving the doors unlocked. To top this all off, my daughter tells me that I’m the one with problemsand waht difference does it make if Dad comes in the house and does nice stuff? Remember, “teenage nothingness.” I will set an example of how to hold a boundary , remembering that our kids learn more from what we do than what we say. She does not have to agree with my boundary (again I find myself looking for approval, support) but it is my boundary and I will set it and hold it. But of course I worry about her: she was raised by a narcissistic father and a codependent mother. Not the best situation. She saw “toxic love” between her parents. What can I do but to keep loving her unconditionally, maintaining my boundaries, and be there for her, and keep my eyes and ears open for any signs of abuse in her relationships? And take care of myself. That might be all.
This week’s post was a really rough one for me to read since it resonated with me so much. This must have been difficult to write. Thank you so much for sharing your experience and journey with us, I appreciate your openness and insights.
My mother is a Narcissist. My brother and sister coped with it by becoming overachievers, perfectionists and extremely successful (the Family Hero) whereas I’m the Scapegoat. It is textbook – I’m the only that rebelled, spoke up and said that there was something very, very wrong with our mother and the family. To this day, I am still disliked by her and the extended family because I’m the only child that disobeyed her. My brother still won’t discuss or acknowledge what happened to us. My sister realized it in her late 20s, and became severely depressed and still struggles with it now, and she’s in her late-40s.
My mother really set me up for failure in a lot of ways and honestly, there is a special place in hell for mothers like mine. She’d give every “wicked stepmother” in fairy tales a run for their money. There are probably loan sharks out there that are more nice and nurturing than my mother. She messed with my mind at the most critical times of my life.
She strangely never put down my abilities or intelligence. What she has always been obsessed with, and still puts me down about, are my looks and weight. She is also overly concerned with who am I dating, becomes worried when I am not dating anyone and asks extremely rude, inappropriate and intrusive questions, oftentimes in public and in front of others. I still don’t know where to start with undoing the damage she caused.
As a child, I can recall her calling me fat and being overly critical of my weight, when I in fact was never overweight. She was also obsessed with my skin. I’d be in the third or fourth grade and would come home from school and wanting to tell her about my day or ask for advice about something. My mother would look at my face and dismissively tell me to go wash my face. That was it. I remember being 9 years old, crying my eyes out, begging my mom to stop calling me fat.
“You’re too sensitive.” “I never said that.” “How dare you call me a bad mom!” were her responses.
As I transitioned from a child to a young adult, I got her Narcissistic rage anytime I was exerting my independence, especially when it came to self care. The summer before middle school, I started shaving my legs and using deodorant (because I needed to) and she flew into a rage when she found out.
The rage was bad enough that I ran over to a friend’s house, crying, saying I just needed to get out of the house. I recall explaining to this friend that my mom screamed at me for using deodorant, and she was completely beside herself.
By the 7th and 8th grade, I started using makeup. I became obsessed with reading beauty magazines, and I spent all of my allowance on makeup and skin care. I had a girly look and was starting to experiment with dressing myself (I had zero say at all as a child about what I could wear, my mom dressed me up every morning).
At this age, I started to get a lot of attention from boys, which was new to me. A nice, popular boy who played soccer had taken a liking to me and started leaving me love notes in my locker (it was a completely innocent and age-appropriate crush). He’d try to talk to me after school or would even come around campus looking for me. I never reciprocated his advances other than smiling at him or talking to him. Poor kid probably thought I didn’t like him, but I saved all these letters in a drawer in my room and would read them over and over again, because it was really flattering and made me feel good. Any girl that age would have been on cloud 9 to have a popular boy like them! For me, it was hard for me to understand that someone LIKE HIM could like someone LIKE ME.
I came home one day and found my mom in my room with the drawer open. She was in my room, going through all of my things for no reason (boundaries). She read all the notes from this boy, then called me names and started hitting me. She was screaming that I was “kissing boys” when I had in fact, had been so withdrawn that I did absolutely nothing. A normal, healthy parent would have used this opportunity for a talk about sex, sexual ethics, consent and having autonomy over our bodies. I was shamed and beaten because a boy had expressed interest in me, and I also got grounded for a long time over it.
Something clicked and happened to me at this fork in the road, and not for the best, as I started high school.
I had a great, athletic body at that age (I played sports) but I was convinced I was fat. My dad paid for me to get a gym membership because I begged him for one. Somehow, I even got him to pay for one session with a personal trainer. I was 14 years old, asking this personal trainer how to get rid of “problems” on my body, when there was nothing wrong with me – and no one saw this as a red flag.
Instead of wearing the trendy clothes at that time, in high school I HID my body with baggy clothes. Suddenly, I didn’t want boys to look at me, whereas I enjoyed the attention from that nice boy in middle school. I had gone from a being a girly 12-year-old who felt somewhat OK about how she looked, to a young woman that wanted to hide. I got a pair of doc martens. I dyed my hair purple. I pierced my ears up and my nose and plucked out all of my eyebrows. Of course, this bothered my mother, too – not so much the terrible 90s grunge fashion, but the fact that I was hiding my body. But why wouldn’t I, when it was so fat and terrible to her in the first place? One afternoon, I was sitting in the backseat of the car and my dad was driving and she was in the passenger seat. My mother screamed at me at the top of her lungs, demanding to know why I “was hiding my breasts from everyone.” OK, that’s a super weird and creepy thing to talk about in front of MY DAD.
Remember that boy who used to pass me love notes? He still liked me in high school, too, despite the baggy clothes, piercings and purple hair I now had. He’d come and talk to me asking what was wrong – he could see that I had changed – that the old girly, sunny me was closer to the real me. I told him to leave me alone. I rejected all the other nice boys. Well, a senior who skipped school all the time, smoked pot, drank and really had no future took a liking to me. I started cutting class and not being myself to hang out with him. I remember one day, that nice soccer player saw me leaving campus with the bad boy. He looked sad. He finally gave up and I later saw him dating someone else on the girls’ soccer team. The bad boy wound up cheating on me, comparing me to other girls, talked about his ex all the time, and strung me along for most of high school.
I went away to college and couldn’t wait to leave. I had already been around the block with drugs and alcohol, but I was still scared of men. I did the baggy clothes and no make up thing until I was about 21 years old. I went on a study abroad trip to a beach city at that age, and only then did I start coming into my sexuality, my own body and how I looked. I finally started wearing makeup again, wearing girly heels and halter tops. I returned to campus and guys, may of them, started paying attention to me. I was finally starting to feel GOOD about how I looked.
I never went home to visit the whole five years I was away at college. When I called, I avoided talking to my mom. After graduation, I wound up moving home for a year, because I couldn’t find a job in that bad economy. This is when I started seeing a therapist once I got health insurance – after five years of no contact, my mother upped the ante on her abuse and my adult self knew something was VERY wrong with her.
While living with her as an adult, her obsessiveness and attempts to control me grew even more bizarre. One night, I had planned to go out with a friend for the evening and she was coming to pick me up. I waited outside on the porch and was on my cellphone with someone else. My mother came outside, saw that I was waiting to be picked up, and then SCREAMED at me to “use a condom.” In front of the neighbors and anyone who was walking by, and it didn’t matter that I was on the phone. I kept telling her I was on the phone and to please stop yelling, but she was a brick wall.
During that year that I lived there, she had also screamed at me for blow drying my hair, would cry to my dad at night in her room that I was fat, tried to force me to get the FIVE moles and freckles on my face removed, otherwise “no man will ever want me.”
She would demand to know who I was dating. When I was on my way out on a Friday night, she’d yell at me to “stop paying for men” – as though I was buying men drinks and dinner for attention (I wasn’t), as though that was the only way a man would pay attention to me was if I literally paid for it. One night, I told her I was meeting a doctor for a date (which was true), because she pressed and asked while I was getting ready. “You’re lying. No doctor would want to date you” was her response.
She also became extremely controlling at this time – she’d constantly call and ask me where I was. One night, I went to a friend’s house and didn’t come home – but as a courtesy, I let her know that I might not. I was paying rent and bought my own car – my mother had called my cell, screaming and demanding to me that I come home because “it was midnight.” To my horror, she went through my things and found my cellphone bill, and called random numbers on my call log, looking for me – several friends were woken up by her, and they had called me, thinking that maybe my dad was in the hospital hence why she was trying to find me.
These stories are just the icing on the cake of what my mother has done to me. Through nearly 30 years of this abuse, I was taught that:
#1) My self-worth was completely linked to how I look and what SOMEONE ELSE thought of how I looked; #2) Getting a man should be the most important goal in my life; #3) My feelings did not matter; #4) There was no point in setting up any boundaries because they would just not be respected; #5) It was extremely important to have everyone’s approval, especially a man’s and society’s.
I have serious, serious body image issues and was given a completely, distorted and inaccurate view of how I look.
Just last year, I was telling a new hairstylist that I needed a cut that would “fix my round face.” My stylist – who has years of training and no reason to be dishonest – looked at me and said “Honey, you have a heart-shaped face, what are you talking about? Your face isn’t round, at all.” This was earth-shattering information and I nearly cried in the damn salon. My whole life, my mom berated me for a having a “round, fat face” – turns out that actually isn’t even my face shape. And I believed this lie for over 30 years.
Thanks to my upbringing, I grew up to be an adult that:
#1) Is a horrible communicator. I have a hard time telling people how I feel about something or what I think, because a part of me assumes no one wants to hear what I have to say. When I was younger, I would change my stances on things, even my likes and dislikes, to please others. I was afraid of conflict and disagreement, because growing up, violence was a possible result of conflict. Thank god I no longer do this. This is still a work in progress. Even telling people “No” as an answer at work has helped tremendously with this, and using “I” statements: “I need this.” “I want you to.” I’ve gotten a lot better.
#2) Used men to validate myself, to validate that I was attractive. During and after college, I dated a string of abusive assholes and Narcissists (who also sought me out) but they all had one thing in common – they were extremely good looking. I sought these men out for how they looked, and I know now these men were creeps who sought ME out because they knew I’d be flattered by their attention. It was like getting a hot guy was proving to my mom that men like these were not out of my league, that I was good enough for them.
I went out with men even when my spidey senses said not to. I ended up caving and dating one guy, even though I knew he was bad news, because he pursued me relentlessly, and that attention felt flattering – when the level of attention he was giving me was really a red flag. This man, as well as my ex Narc, also wound up criticizing me and my looks and my weight. This didn’t feel foreign to me. I put up with it because it felt like home. *** I am stopping this. I left my Narc, am not dating right now, and now know how I deserve to be treated.
#3) Is extremely hard on myself and doesn’t feel as though I’m ever good enough. I tear myself down, a lot. When I make a mistake I beat myself up. I noticed I’m extremely hard on myself in the physical realm – when I was learning martial arts, for instance, I was very angry with myself for having a hard time learning certain things.
#4) My self esteem oscillates between good and extremely poor. Some days, to this day, I have a hard time going out in public for a fear of being judged or looking fat, especially when it’s an event where I know there will be a lot of attractive people or that requires getting dressed up for. If I am having a day where my clothes aren’t fitting right or I am not feeling attractive, I am tempted to cancel plans and stay home.
#5) Is shitty with conflict resolution. I would be extremely passive-aggressive when someone upsets me or let them walk all over me. Than after a while, I completely blow up at them. Luckily, I moved on from this and am working on setting and enforcing boundaries right away.
#6). I still struggle at times with self-care. Some days, I don’t want to take a shower. It’s too much of a bother to put make up on. I’ll go through phases where I’m inactive and don’t go to the gym. I’ll revert back to the old days of hiding my body. I’m large-chested and sometimes am very self-conscious of it. Instead of dressing like Christina Hendricks and owning it, I’ll dress frumpy to work. Some days, I don’t want people to look at or notice me, especially men.
#7). I hate being the center of attention. Having to speak at a meeting or having my boss call on me in front of everyone terrifies me sometimes. I know this is because my mother lived to humiliate me and constantly made scenes in public. I recall the way that people would stare at me – they were probably staring at my mother or felt bad for me, but I always felt like strangers were judging ME, not my mom, when she screamed at me in public, and it was such a debasing feeling.
#8). I’m very standoffish when I meet new people. I’ve learned over the years that many people at work or that I met for the first time were intimidated by me because I was so cold. Turns out my wall and bitch face was just really up. I have a hard time letting anyone in, or getting to know anyone.
I may have come a long way in the 6 months that I’ve left my Narc, but I have a lot to work on.
Again, sorry for the epic post. I am going home for a visit soon and have not been home in two years. I am going to see my dad because his health is not good. I’m having a lot of anxiety about seeing my mother and not letting her get to me.
I used to be the Family Hero & the Lost Child. As I grew into adulthood I became the Placator or enabler, attracting men that needed to be taken care of. I was never taught or encouraged to set boundaries or identify my wants/needs. At 56 after battling alcoholism and pill addictions, I am 6+ years sober and learning how to “take care of myself”. Setting boundaries is most difficult and causes stress because it is an unfamiliar feeling to say “no” to someone, especially men. It make me uncomfortable at first to set a boundary because I feel like I might hurt their feelings. What about my feelings? After the initial anxiety subsides, it feels empowering to set a boundary. I am still learning to be consistent and honest with myself.
I can also relate to when my menses started. My mother also did not discuss things. I learned about it and sex from books and friends. When my younger sister started her period (I was 15 and she was 12), my mother actually told me to have “the talk” with my sister. I took on the “Hero” role and educated my sister about her body. A responsibility that my mother relinquished to me. So sad and dysfunctional.
Wow its touching to read that i wasn’t the only one who thought of having a terminal desease when bleeding first started at the age of 10!! No initiation as i admire it in indigenous people, no celebrating of the beautiful daughter becoming a woman… instead silence, tampons and a horrible book on my table the next day….!! All of this gave me the feeling sth must be wrong with me, with my becoming a woman! What a shame!!! When my godchild started bleeding i welcomed her to the prescious circle of women and celebrated her! The same i did with myself some years ago!!
I think i took a mixture of rolls, my siblings 17 and 20 years i was blamed and shamed for ruining my moms plans of finally getting an own life! Everything was MY fault!! And of course i tried hard to save everyone in my family on my expense! Very similar to Savannah i rebelled against the neat trip of my mom by becoming messy! Thanks for the inspiration to ask myself what i do really want and that i can teach myself how to make my surrounding beautiful to admit that actually i love it when my nest is comfi and neat :-)) !! For years i am free of smoke and drinks and my setting boundaries gets really good! Recently i said stop to my brother who often is in a tantrum when he shouted at me at the phone… risking him not talking to me anymore!! He didn’t contact fot months and now slowly he is coming back! It felt sooo good to say STOP! Not against him but FOR ME :-))) !! Love Samira
I’ve paid thousands of dollars to psychologist’s to help me make sense of my willingness to return to my narssistic partner. Not once has my (dysfunctional) childhood or my relationship with my mother been discussed. You basically made sense of my entire world with this piece. Thank you. I have a long way to heal and am grateful that at least I recognise that I need to heal as, as you mentioned the ‘hero’ will deny his true self. Thank you again.
@Chickynic — Your therapist NEVER brought up and examined your childhood to figure out why you were with a Narc? I really hope you’ve gotten a new therapist. Eff that therapist.
My first period I thought I had cancer. Made all sorts of impossible promises to God and a few days later the ‘cancer’ stopped. But just like New Years resolutions the promises were impossible to keep and the cancer started again. Cycled like this for a while.
Shame based is an understatement. Colds and cavities were totally my fault thus an excuse for neglect and punishment. My first visit to the dentist happened when I was removed from the parents, even though my parents took good care of their own pearly whites. When strangers would comment about my teeth monster mother told them I bite dentists. Therefore the bleeding was something not to be shared, cancer would have been more punishment.
I was punished for being sick too. Never was i (mis)treated so badly add when i was sick. Oh you’re sick? Get up and do something! Why don’t you contribute around here? You’re so lazy being in bed! I’m talking with a serious flu. You’re sick?? You probably did something to make yourself sick, you’re so irresponsible!
Radvilla and HM that was so my mother as well. I lived so cautiously if stop a lot of interaction and avoid mentioning I was ill to my mother as I was threatened with being sent off to boarding school, so she would have attention distracted from her or her socialising. She marginalised me so successfully, that I never told my father and he was never aware he needed to catch me.
When I let this out during a therapy session it was my most traumatic session. Funny what sparked that session’s work on this was me reading Savannah’s essay on growing up with a narcissistic parent as mine was the extreme case right down to the legal action years later. Reading Savannah and other studies on narcissists was part of my homework, to help me recover from my recent traumatic episode with a consummate narcissist.
The trauma has led me to move on and see that my father was as much of a victim as I was, and that though he is no longer here I can do things that would make him proud. My sister fortunately had only my Dad from 20 mths old so she never had to deal with that damage.