Hi friends. In my last post, I explained how bullying narcissist parents force weird fawn responses on their scapegoat child. Now I'm going to explain what some of those weird fawn responses are. I call them weird because they don't translate well into normal society. They only function to maintain the dysfunctional parent's narcissistic fantasy of grandeur, entitlement, lordliness and exalted ubermensch status which they believe puts them above rules. Fawning gives us traumatized kids a tool to try an navigate the crazy our narcissist parents put us in. But in everyday life, these fawn responses have the opposite effect of making us vulnerable and exposed.
Trauma-o-meter scanning Traumatized kids aren't called traumatized for nothing. We have endlessly been subjected to torture, neglect, terrorizing, scary people, danger, humiliation, chaos and confusion. This has developed a trauma-o-meter in us which is constantly scanning for potential threat. We continually assess and reassess, amending ourselves to be whatever might ward off the blow. We treat simple situations like war zones we have to keep a village safe in. Which looks pretty awkward at trivia night at the pub. But we've had to be on alert for too long to stop now.
Effusively (giving, being) too much. Traumatized kids who've had to give, surrender and provide too much, become too much. We don't dare leave our self-effacing subservience at our effed up family door. We feel compelled to be for everyone whatever they want. And it's not by choice as much as habit. We were conditioned like vestal virgins, to serve. And serve we do, with gusto. We anticipate and rush to provide. We can't not respond to texts in case someone's feeling are hurt. We do and do. And it never feels enough because we were told it wasn't enough. It is. And if the people we do for now don't think so, they can do without our giving. We have that choice now to do what we want and feel comfortable with. But old habits die hard.
Thinking only of others not ourselves. I mentioned before that we were conditioned to anticipate. My dad, who served no one but himself actually told me that I should "leap joyfully to serve with no thought of reward." Even good job was withheld lest I get "vain." And did I ever. Now, a form of this is in the Bible. But what he neglected to say is that we ALL should serve. The version he implanted in me was that this applied only to Marilisa. So I now do not know how to think for myself. Or should I say I don't give myself permission to because Jack didn't. And none of my parents did. This doesn't work well in daily life because people sometimes feel off put or patronized when someone attempts to "think for them." I get that. What we're doing is more thinking of, being too considerate at our own expense.
Unable to think for ourselves. Like the previous one, we also weren't allowed to have feelings, needs, opinions, wants, ideas or successes. We got used to parroting which weirdly makes us the butt of jokes to people who shoot their mouths off on everything, predominantly subjects they know nothing about. I've been mocked for this because supposedly this meant I didn't know. Oh I know all right and a hell of a lot more than you. It just wasn't safe for me to say it.
Shape-shifting to humor. Another scripture my dad loved to wallop me with was "be all things to all people." Except that 1) he was piss poor at modeling it. 2) It sounds good in theory but doesn't work in reality. So yes, it's good to weep with those who weep. And help where we can. The problem comes in where we pretzel-ize ourselves to placate disagreeable people because we think it's our job. I realized I did this all the time when, confronted by yet another example of toxic masculinity, I immediately fawned when he lashed out at me. And then when his spleen was vented, he went on as if he hadn't just publicly screamed at me. So now was the time when I would normally shape shift from groveling apology to gratitude that he had forgiven me. In short I would have laughed it off and acted all friendly-happy normal to make him not feel so stupid for being a jerk. I do this all the time. Apologize for things I didn't do, to bullies who then exploit it. To salve their pride. I was proud of myself in this instance I did not kowtow when he said "you're alright." I said yes, I am but you are not. You are aggressive and out of line and I'm going to report your behavior." (Yes it feels weird, I'm new to this confidence thing.)
Tripping, falling We literally become clumsy and accident prone because we're so used to bending. We are out of balance because don't walk fully on our feet. We tiptoe and tread as lightly as possible. We're terrified of waking our dad who has no problem waking us out of a sound sleep to yell at us. When people barge past us we jump out of the way. We stumble along the edge of the path so folks can hog the sidewalk. And then apologize. I'm actually practicing not moving and not gonna lie it doesn't feel bad.
Fawn smile. We're afraid a lot. We've had to be. So we developed this ingratiating, placatory smile that says "I'm so sorry for being. Please don't hurt me." Now what's weird is that this has the opposite affect on the arrogant bullies. It makes them more aggressive. Fawning brings out their wolf. And they will sneer and say mutter nasty things, never out loud because bullies are cowards. But loud enough so you know they have you in their sites. What's funny is how not smiling works much better. I've been practicing my dead pan, non-dodging walk. If a guy walking toward me is glaring (you know the kind that think the entire aisle is for their fat asses). I just glare back and I don't move or look away. And they always look away first and sometimes even give me the fawn smile 😆😆And I still don't smile back! No nastiness, no words. Just no smile.
Panic Attack. Traumatized kids were indoctrinated into the narcissistic cult of fear. Everything was exaggerated, particularly the many ways we were told we failed. Innocent childhood things were turned into federal offenses. Dad didn't just get annoyed, he raged. Over nothing. His wife sulked and pouted. Mom was the queen to be obeyed and there was hell to pay if you didn't give her what she wanted.. She blatantly neglected her child for her own convenience. She smiled fondly at abuse. Outrageous shit happened. So we learned to overreact and rush about frantically at the slightest thing. We look ridiculous because we are constantly anxious and hypervigilant. But don't judge. Just be glad if you don't get us because it means you didn't have to go through what we did.
Short circuiting. Traumatized kids get their wires crossed a lot. Because someone was always messing with our circuit boards, flipping switches, making it lightning, shutting out the lights and scaring us. We are confused and bewildered a lot. We can't concentrate or think clearly for all the gaslighting we've experienced. We live in fritz mode. We've tried and failed to keep up with their every lighting change. And now we babble incoherently a lot because the switch is stuck on.
Never turning off. Traumatized kids are on call 24-7-365. Added to being expected to be everything to everyone, we're always in uniform and in character, as the human dispenser of all good. We check in with everyone, asking continually "are you okay?" What can I do? What do you need?" We can't sleep till everyone else is asleep. We rise before and go to bed after everyone. We awake at the slightest sound. We have to hit a wall before we stop.
Foundering. So this one is a result of too much fawning plus flying. Some of us have broken our trauma-o-meters or had them broken for us, from overuse. We feel responsible for everyone and are exhausted. We've been trying to rescue swim us all out of the rip tide. Like an opossum. We're taking on water, getting more battered and barmy. Sometimes we find a spar and are able to get respite to keep swimming. But we never sort out why we're in the riptide and why we're carrying everyone. We may actually even be safe. But we can't see it. We feel stuck in a nightmarish trauma loop.
Mask becomes the face. And there is no us behind it. For us, life imitates art. We've gotten used to amending our faces to sad with the said, commiseration with the angry, interestedly listening to the boring drone, patiently supporting the ranter's rant, crying and begging to be forgiven for whatever thing they're pissed about, soothing the petulant, rejoicing with the winner, comforting the loser. But our facial muscles forgot how to be sad, happy, angry, for ourselves. We've confused them with all this masquerading. We're always the cheerleader, the student, the assistant, the booster, the provider, the carer. And they are all just acts in our one-woman band. But behind our masks is another mask.
Trauma grimace. We've held in tears and shame, we've bit our tongues to prevent saying something that will anger someone, we clamp our jaws to keep from screaming. We worn so many masks that those facial muscles I mentioned have become an overstretched rubber band. We laugh when we're hurt. We cry uncontrollably because we've been too controlled. Our face is a mishmash of exhausted, confused expressions. I used to have a facial expression chart in my classroom to help children understand what they are feeling. But it's too late for me. I could only feel what I was expected to. And for our pains we're now...
Cartoon face. We look fake because no one ever allowed us to show real emotion. We were told what to feel. We struggle to be genuine because we genuinely don't know how and because none of the emotions we were made to register were genuinely ours. We were clowns painted with weird exaggerated smiles or frowns. And THEN to top it all, my parents found a way to humiliate and shame me for the clown face they created. When I struggled to find the correct one, my dad would say I was showing off. If I couldn't stop myself crying, he'd say I was looking for attention. When I'd clamp my jaw shut to keep from saying anything to upset him, he'd say I had an attitude or was rebellious. REBELLIOUS, ARE YOU KIDDING ME!! I do every blessed thing you demand of me. I wait on you hand and foot. Much more cheerfully than I should be. Much more cheerfully than YOU ever do anything. The one with the attitude problem is you. You pout and sulk and rage at me more than you talk to me. No wonder my poor face is confused. And the result of that is the saddest one of all.
Dysregulating. I won't sugar coat. This one is terrifying to witness. No one should have to. But if you think that's bad, try living it. I get a sick stomach remembering. It's nothing short of full on emotional nuclear meltdown when we get pushed too far. I have screamed, sobbed, hit myself, bit myself, lashed out, hit others, wet myself, broken things. I'm rightly very ashamed. Though I have worked very hard to master it, I wish I'd been able to sooner before anyone had to see and be traumatized themselves. But I will say, it doesn't come without a lot of provocation. And most of the hurt I did to myself. I stayed glued surprisingly well for all I've lived. And sadly, it happens with people who are safe and who will love me through it, never at the ones who caused it. It comes from having had to humor and please unpleasable people. You can only hear so much shaming, antagonizing, baiting, provoking, criticism and you snap.. You can only feel so much shame, failure, guilt and bafflement without spilling over. Which is really bad. But what's worse is the people who are supposed to love you, putting on you all their crap. It's hard enough to deal with wrong I have done. Having to fix other people's wrongs, that I cannot control and didn't break, sends me over the edge.
THAT is what malignant, arrogant, malicious coercively controlling narcissist parents do to their children. It is their legacy. It's what I think the Bible means by the sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children. Not that we repeat what they do. We suffer the consequences of their sins.
In my next piece, I'll talk about ways to overcome these fawn responses.
Love ya'll,
mar
No comments:
Post a Comment