I know, you might so "no child is ugly." And about every other child in the world, I would agree. But not about myself. I cringe to see photos of my awkward hair, silly clothing and chubby body. I actually thought to myself a few years ago "no wonder they didn't love me. I look like a fool." So that was heartbreaking but also a turning point for me to recall how I've always felt about myself. AND to trace back how they systematically made me look ridiculous to appease their narcissistic vanity and fantasized superiority.
After hearing a talk by Dr. Ramani on how narcissist parents criticize, belittle and mock their children to puff up their own egos, it occurred to me to ask Google AI about that. I asked "would a narcissist mother dress her child funny and cut her hair in odd unflattering ways?" and also "would a narcissist mother keep her child chubby so she doesn't outshine the mom.?" Kind of like Munchausen's by Proxy or Factitious Disorder where the mother presents false images of herself and her child.
And the AI results were a very clear "yes, she would." Then I noticed that many people on Reddit had commented on similar habits of narcissistic parents, to infantilize or make the child look ridiculous to contrast their own attractiveness. Instead of tennis shoes, I had to wear these uncomfortable loafers for play. And they make me clumsy. I was dead last chosen for teams in gym class. My mother bought cheap polyester shorts sets which made me look like an Easter egg, when kids my age were wearing cool
jeans and T-shirts. Family members gave me cute clothing but somehow, those always came up missing like so much of my stuff did.
And that was when my parents bothered to get me clothing at all. I remember wearing a lot of ragbag items and they didn't need to. There was only me and they had plenty of money to outfit themselves nicely. My mother prided herself on being "hot" wearing short mini skirts and go-go boots when no one else's mother did. It was uncomfortable to be around her in public because she would strut. But then weirdly, march us to church every week where she played the organ. She believed she was a minister, leading souls to God and preaching on sinful everyone else was. In her hotpants.
I had long, thick beautiful hair that my grandparents were so proud of. My mother had it all hacked off into a pixie haircut which just accentuated my chubby face. The stylist was grief-stricken and tried to persuade my mother to just cut off a little. But nope, 28 inches, gone. She told everyone that I had requested a shorter haircut for swimming. I believed her for the longest time until one day, I realized I had no memory of doing that.
She would feed me on Dunkin Donuts, Burger King and Colonel Sanders KFC and other fast food. Then the doctor said I was too fat and put me on a 1,000 calorie a day diet at 8. Funny she never took care of my real ailments till they were out of control. But she let a quack put her kid on a far too restrictive calorie counting diet. If he really did. Looking back it might have been another way for her to humiliate me around food and keep me tired and resource-deprived.
She would announce loudly what size clothing I wore in stores, asking me if 11 chubby would fit or did I need the 13 chubby. She would tell family members how I was so fat that the doctor had to put me on a diet. I don't know if anyone contradicted her or told her it was unsafe. If they did, I never heard. I jus felt uglier and uglier. I see now that her weaponized negligence and my rock bottom low self esteem made me a target for sexual harassment, molestation and abuse. Countless older guys (like 20 when I was 13) have played on my vulnerabilities and lack of parental care, to do yucky things. They made me feel special.
And in my generation, it was accepted practice for other kids to taunt and ridicule children who were "too thin" or "too fat." Girls, I think, got it worse than boys. I clearly remember Doug W. calling me "whale-o" and "blimp" and Bozo. I'd made matters worse by attempting to wear some makeup and when I gotten hit in the face with by a dodge ball (why the eff they let kids throw balls at each other with enough force to bruise is content for another post). I began to cry and my makeup ran. And Doug, who'd probably thrown the damn ball in the first place, started jeering at me. And no adult intervened. Including my parents. I didn't tell my dad because he never cared and would only have said I shouldn't have worn the makeup in the first place. Defend the bully against your own child, SMH.
Knowing my dad would have humiliated me, kept me quiet about egregious abuse, which he as participating in too. He had a comeback for everything. Because as Dr. Ramani reminds us, you can never win against a narcissist. It will always be your fault. They won't take your part, ever. Because that might make them have to look at their own culpability in your persecution. I can still hear the scoffing voices: you're too sensitive. You're lying, exaggerating, making it up, showing off, attention seeking. It doesn't matter what anyone does to you, you have to do the right thing (if that isn't a Molotov cocktail!)
Those voices have embedded themselves in my brain and now I keep myself ugly and stupid to appease my narcissist parents. I gaslight myself that it's wicked to feel proud of how I look. So part of how I lost 100 pounds was to work on muzzling my narcissist parents' gaslighting, And it is a hellish job to get 61 years of toxic garbage out of my head.
But I have to remember that it was in their best interests to keep me feeling ugly, fat and unlovable. It made me desperate for affection and willing to do whatever they demanded to keep them happy. If that meant getting or staying fat, so she could feel sexy next to her funny looking little daughter, so be it. If it meant dumbing myself down so he didn't feel insecure and threatened by my wisdom, he got it. If it meant playing the dancing fool so everyone could laugh, I did.
I did it for everyone. It was my job to pump up their pride at my own expense. I've bitten my tongue at outrageous stupidity. Partly out of fear or retribution, which from my parents was swift and harsh. But also out of misguided empathy. Unlike my narcissist parents, I don't like to see people feel foolish. I'll protect them. But it's my inner child who always took the brunt.
Dr. Ramani and other youtubers helped me see that. But at 61, it's too little too late. Ingrained habits take so much work to break. I'm suffering difficult healthy issues. Probably they were always there but were dismissed and devalued. And now they have taken up residence. I'm sick and sore and exhausted all the time. My resistance is low. I've been sick three times in the last month, I think from unresolved trauma.
I can't promise I'll find health. But I do appreciated Dr. Ramani a lot. I also give credit to my husband for relentlessly asserting that I was NOT ugly or homely. For going out and buying frames to showcase the few baby pictures that remain of me. For making me look at them and tell that little girl that she is beautiful. Little secret here, I don't know if I will ever be able to do that. Narcissist parent gaslighting is soooooo powerful. But I will practice.
So, how I lost 100 pounds, to bring it full circle. I lost weight prior to understanding narcissist parents. But I think I was beginning to get the picture. Whether I could admit it or not. In order to lose weight, I had to lose the notion that I was somehow responsible for ensuring they never feel insecure, fat, ugly or stupid. I took all that on myself because they made me do it. Now I have to go rogue and try new, things that are revolutionary and unthinkable. How I lost 100 pounds was to listen to my common sense for a change.
No comments:
Post a Comment