Monday, March 18, 2024

How I'm detoxing from gaslighting by hearing the abusive word salad for what it was

I've been posting a lot about parental gaslighting I experienced from all four parent figures (including two stepparents). I pondered yesterday how I could be so awful as they said, yet be loving, while they were such "good parents" and unloving. You probably can see the flaws in this but it's taken me a lot longer to get up to speed. But now, after learning about concepts like narcissistic abuse, gaslighting and word salad, I see how they maneuvered it. 

I asked why it was so important to them that I feel badly about myself (like suicidally so) and why they would want me to if they loved me?  I found the answer to those questions when looking up narcissistic abuse. And if I'm honest, the answers are both scary and a relief. 

So number one answer. They didn't love me. They resented me. They loved themselves and the false image of themselves they'd created. That they were all-knowing, above the rules, the hero, the protagonist and eminently good and wise. Jesus, Aeneas, Jupiter all rolled into one. To bolster that archetypal and mythical image, they needed to cast someone as not only the villain of the piece but also, weirdly, the fixer of everyone's problems. The scapegoat.   

As paranoid as this sounds, to me, it was in fact all four, each with his or her own spin. I, as a child through adulthood, went along with this "shared fantasy", sharing a with each, their different, yet still narcissistic fantasy. It was exhausting. One narcissistic parent is a challenge. Four is an epic saga! It was like working in a restaurant with a huge menu, trying to cater to everyone's predilections, peccadillos, needs and expectations. Oh and these changed  without warning, too. They kept the target moving, just out of reach. They leveled it up, adding more and more, challenges but removing tools. 

How did they do that? My dad's way was with gaslighting word salad and parentified role reversal. He dripped hypocrisy. He was weaponized neediness personified. Bearing in mind I still had to juggle everyone else, including his wife, kids, my mom, stepdad and their kids, I had to counsel, heal and fix my father's every problem. 

He would tell me that I was prideful if I felt good about something. He routinely gaslit me into thinking that I was the cause of his wife's problems. And his. But also that it was my job to fix them all. And that God commanded that I obey everyone's every whim.  But I shouldn't feel good about it. I should just do it all and not look for reward or even thanks. 

So I didn't. But but then I was told I was falsely modest and showing off. So I didn't say anything except thank you for the criticism. But that was interpreted as sulking. I was too sensitive and should accept criticism better. So I sucked it up even more. But now I was "too critical" and made him feel guilty all the time. And his parents were too critical (when they suggested he do things like get a job and care for his family) So he was expected me never to complain because it made him feel bad. So bad he frequently told me he was planning suicide but there was nothing I could do about. God forbid daddy feel that. So little girl hopped to every hoop he set in hopes of making him feel better. It never did. 

He just kept serving up the word salad. And piling on the expectation. And rewriting the narrative. And moving the target. And I kept feeling worse and more frustrated with myself for not being able to work out just what was expected. Pretty soon I was more suicidal than my dad only I wasn't talking about it. That would make him feel guilty. 

Now, why would parents do that? Well, normal healthy parents wouldn't but in narcissistic parent, it makes perfect sense. A narcissistic parent is jealous of their target child. They tell themselves that they have golden kids who can do no wrong and one junk one who can do no right (the target). And they are jealous of hell of that kid. Because throw what they will at them, they just keep taking it. They realize that the bad kid is in fact, pretty resilient and successful. And good-hearted. 

When I went to college, he scoffed and dismissed it, saying college wasn't for everyone. I breastfeed my babies and his wife couldn't. I made no comment and certainly no judgement, even though I know now it was more wouldn't because then she couldn't pass off so much responsibility (including sleeping with them) onto me. My dad's comment "well, not every woman is a cow." Pig. Sorry but that's needed to come out for awhile. When I had a second baby he faulted me, saying Molly would always be jealous and resent me. She wasn't and didn't. And he didn't let that concern stop him from having more kids which consistently prioritized over me, expected me to raise and scapegoated for their misdeeds. I could not win for losing. But I kept on loving him and letting him do this. 

And this resilience fills narcissists with resentment and anger and possible shame (I didn't see much of that but I'm told that's what's behind it).  So they have to sabotage the kid, to bring them down a peg or two. Or 26. To knock them off this pedestal they're supposedly on. My dad said that God told him I needed discipline to keep me humble. What he practiced was humiliation. Mind, dad himself was incredibly arrogant and would go nuclear if he felt the littlest bit of humbling, even if no one caused it.

Oh, I was also, he said, judgmental. Now this man was possibly the most judgmental I've ever met. What was sin for others, namely me, was God's will for him. He could do no wrong. It just wasn't possible. You know the narcissist creed: 

That didn't happen.

And if it did, it wasn't that bad.

And if it was, that's not a big deal.

And if it is, that's not my fault.

And if it was, I didn't mean it.

And if I did, you deserved it.

I think he actually believed that God spoke to him and him alone. That he got my dad's permission to be God and that the rules did not apply to him. For me, he made up rules as he went along. And then told me they were from God. Dizzying. 

As this was the man charged with my spiritual, physical and emotional well-being, I believed every lie he told. My father-in-law spotted his bullshit at the first meeting. But I didn't realize it till I was 59. But then I grew up being indoctrinated and gaslit by it. 

So, where does that leave me. Pretty raw. I'm skinless. A mass of vulnerable human goo. I don't know where others stop and I begin. I'm in constant CPTSD. I hear voices in my head. I see dead people. My dad and his wife send their flying monkeys from beyond the grave. But for all this Pandora's box of trouble my dad has willed me, there is the one tiny little pixie, hope. She comes in the form of my loving husband, family and friends who believe my story. She's still pretty small but every time I write a post or get affirmation from loved ones or listen to podcasts detailing narcissistic abuse, or practice an act of self-care, she gets louder. Hopefully, someday, hope will drown out those screeching harpies in my head. I deserve some peace. 



How I'm avoiding narcissistic abuse by believing someone when they show me who they are

So yesterday I wrote about how I'm relooking at things my parents gaslit me into believing I did and which were wrong. Today I'm going to share how I'm overcoming narcissistic abuse by believing not what people tell me but show me they are.  

I told you all about the incident when my stepfather verbally and physically assaulted me because I couldn't find my baby when I came to pick her up from their house. He had fallen asleep and assumed she was on the bed where I'd put her for her nap. She wasn't and I was worried. I was not angry and did not act angry. I did not accuse anyone of anything nor even think to. My first worry was that she'd fallen off the bed because she was beginning to roll. I explained this but he would hear none of it and blasted me. For worrying about my baby. I immediately felt guilty because that's what I do when someone gets mad at me. I believe I've done something wrong. Mind I still hadn't found the baby. 

So that was odd enough. But what happened afterwards was terrifying. In desperation, I went looking around the block and found my sister taking her for a walk. When I returned, was he pleased that we'd found her? No. Did he apologize for yelling at me for being worried? He did not. He had been chewing on it and telling himself a bunch of shit and was in a towering rage. With a bunch of weird gaslighting word salad, he accused me of not trusting them, of being a bad daughter, of taking advantage of them. Of mistreating my mom. This from the one who has routinely abused and hurt me, since we met.  

I'm sobbing the entire time and babbling incoherent apologies. But as with all narcissistically abusive bullying this only fed him. Finally, he pushed me out the door, with the baby in my arms, and said "take your kid, get the hell out of my house and don't come back."

I was so terrified I think I wet myself. I went home in shame. I don't think I even tell my husband the full story. Which is probably good because he would have gone over... dealt with it. Anyway. That's also not the weirdest part of the story. Bill always was a little unhinged and this was not out of character. It was my mom's response. 

So you're probably wondering, sheesh, what did she have to say about all this? She must have been furious with him, right? Nope. Did she tell him to get out before she called the police? No. Did she apologize to me? No. Did she say "honey,  maybe it would be best to stay away for your safety?" No. Did she even make an excuse for him (bad enough)? No. She found a way to weaponize this for  her own narcissistic ends. And she did it with her very own special sauce, where she screws us all but has us blaming each other.  

Grammy Dearest made it all about her. First, she was sad she wasn't going to get to see her granddaughter because of him but he was within his rights to abuse me because it was his house. And she ever-so-fake-gently reminded me that, after all, I had caused the problem and insulted them (?) And that I wasn't welcomed over until "Bill was ready." These three words alone enrage my husband. So she told us what each wanted to hear, or well, what Bill wanted to hear and I guess what she thought I wanted to hear (that she'd miss my daughter, so generous of her) then completely backpeddled and ran us down.  

But she was the one that was hurt. Shame on us for putting her "in the middle." I find that people who say that have frequently put themselves there and enjoy it very much or aren't really in the middle at all as they've already taken sides. The one caught in the crosshairs was me, having the misfortune to get stuck in her spider's web of crap. 

But that wasn't the most bizarre part. That came later when he wrote me a note to apologize. My mother loves to tell how Bill has barely a 4th grade education and his handwriting is "childish." She gets extra narcissistic bonus points by making him look stupid all the while appearing so benevolently tolerant of his "ignorance." It's still not the weirdest part. 

I treasured that note because I knew it wasn't easy to write, both physically and emotionally. Backing down is not a forte of Bill's. A few months later, after my mom had been to church and was a on a religious-high, said her minister shared how his kids had told him what a great legacy he'd left them. She wanted to know what legacy she'd left me. 

Cricket. cricket. Now I was still under the illusion that my mom was essentially a caring mom, just misunderstood and that I was a wretch. But I wasn't that deluded that I could answer her question without some mental gymnastics. I couldn't say the truth which was "legacy? abuse, exploitation, neglect, manipulation, gaslighting, take your pick." So I cast about for answer which would appease her. 

I tried to explain how I admired her non-judgmental acceptance of people (lie, my mom is one of the judgiest I know, but anyway I believed it at the time). I don't remember how it came out but I used the example of Bill's letter in his sweet handwriting. Oh yeah, I remember now. I somehow linked it to the way she was humble enough to apologize when wrong. 

So she never apologized, he did. And she never admitted she was wrong. And that wasn't what she was looking for, anyway. Which was I guess, what a fabulous mom she was. Or maybe it was just the set-up it appeared. In retrospect, I now suspect she was trying to back me in a corner and that no answer would have been right. 

So my response wasn't great. But remember I'm trying to avoid the elephant in the living room without breaking my neck on her ice rink question. I asked her not to tell Bill only because I didn't want him to misunderstand. And obviously it was hard to find a way to say that a letter endears you because it took effort, without sounding patronizing.  I said, do you know what I mean, a lot.

Her mouth said she did but her manner said otherwise. Oh she agreed that the letter was an effort. And reiterated his immature handwriting. However, she signaled disappointment and I felt uncomfortably that I'd let her down. I realized that later. And it should have clued me in that we'd be revisiting this like the dog's dinner. However, I wasn't very good at listening to my inner voice then. I thought she'd taken her tribute and gone home satisfied. But no. Heads would roll. 

So as you know about revenge, it's best served chilled. She waited months. And then, when she'd stolen something from one of my kids (yep, you read that right) and I asked about it, BLAMMMO!! She who prides herself on being so patient and not an angry bone in her body, went nuclear. I have never seen her so angry and certainly never on my behalf. This was to distract from the real problem which was theft from a grandchild. 

With a lot of word salad, she screamed, "yeah well, you know letter you said Bill wrote you?? You know the one you made fun of him for his childish handwriting? (What??) The one you  mocked him about? (Double what??) You called him an ignorant hillbilly! (WTF??)  He says he never wrote it and YOU ARE LYING!!!" Talk about revenge topped with gaslighting and triangulation for afters! 

I had said none of those things!! SHE did!! And if I had why would she tell him if not to shame him? I had tried to answer her stupid-ass question and gotten kicked in the ass for my pains! I asked her not to say anything to him and she promised. And I literally had hard copy of the letter for the longest time, till I lost it. I got to hand it to her. Backstabbing us both, simultaneously while making us feel guilty for making her do it and still appearing as the pretty one. Damn, she's good.  

The only thing that gave her away, and which showed me her real agenda and prevented me from taking this one thing myself, was her vicious anger. If she could just have kept up her sucralose-sweet, ice princess stuff, she'd have won. I still believed the gaslighting. I thought it was a fluke. But through this chink in her armor, she let Medusa out and once seen, you can never unsee. 

So what did I learn from this. That covert narcissists are awesome hiders. But their meanest is their truest self. And believe who they show, not tell, you they are. Also if a question is impossible to answer safely, don't. Say, I'll think about that and get back to you. Then never do. Don't trust trolls with sensitive data. Also, Medusa isn't safe to look at face to face. Use a mirror. Don't take everything as written. Consider the source. Because after connecting the dots, a lot has proved to be false or from a hidden agenda. Also trust your version first. And if it looks and smells like bullshit, don't step in it. 

How I'm detoxing from toxic shame by relooking at things through a clear lens

 


Hello friends of this blog on how I lost 100 pounds without gastric bypass surgery. In my series of weight loss challenges, this month is March Un-Madness. I'm working to break out of the madness of toxic shame in my brain from parental narcissistic abuse. I'm writing a ton about this because it's all very fresh in my mind. And I've discovered a lot of new insights. 

It's only been the past few months that I've begun to understand and accept that what happened was narcissistic abuse from the four people who styled themselves as my parents. Armed with this awareness, I'm relooking at experiences with a different lens to see whether things that happened actually were my fault as I was told or if there was a different, more accurate version of events. 

Several that I'm relooking at are times when "Bill" the man who was presented to me as stepfather got very angry with me. She met him when I was 10. Prior to them getting married, he lived with my mom. He moved into our house almost immediately after they met and he had lost his job. Mind, he wasn't laid off. He was fired for hitting a supervisor. So he clearly had some rage issues which my mother glossed over by blaming everyone else. He was misunderstood, framed, he had a rough childhood, yada yada. 

I believed these things and being a very intense empath, people pleaser, I felt very badly for him. I never held him accountable for the awful things he did and said to me. I believed the lies he told about me. And he exploited that continually. From the moment they hooked up, he began ordering me around, calling it "his house", randomly raging at me, threatening me, sexually harassing me by calling me names mocking my breast size and telling filthy jokes. He had a dirty mouth and a dirtier temper. 

 My mother had a foster care home and I had to sleep in the top floor with four very special needs children ranging in age from 6 months to 4. He and my mother had a bedroom in the basement. They never got up with the children or even heard them. That fell to me. He would watch TV all night long and the blaring would waken me or keep me awake. I slept very lightly, had a lot of nightmares and walked and talked in my sleep. He would mock me while I was still sleeping which caused more bad dreams. 

If he was awakened, he go into a rage usually directed at me. He blamed me for a lot of things and I lived in constant fear of him. This too was weaponized. He would rant and name-call, screaming abuse at me so that he got me to believe that I was guilty of the things he said I did.  He was proud of the fact that he instilled so much fear in me and gloated over it. I have believed almost to this day, that this was right for him to do and that I deserved it. Understand I would NOT have thought this was proper treatment for anyone else. Only me. 

And my mother reinforced that belief by never once contradicting him or stepping in to defend me. She just quietly approved and would often join in the laughter at my expense. She said she had to respect  him because "he is my husband." They weren't even married yet. And she insisted that I "respect" him because he was my stepfather. Respect that did not go two ways and which usually constituted me pretending some kind of abuse wasn't happening. 

She says she was afraid of him but I don't think she ever was. She has manipulated and triangulated our relationship and does to this day. She pits us against each other by telling what I now realize are lies about the other and making us feel sorry for her. She orchestrates situations where she is a victim of one of one of us and then lies to the other. She eggs us on to be in conflict. Which for me, looks like feeling sorry for and worrying over her and for Bill, looks like violent and vicious rage toward me. 

Time and again, she has stood by while he tore me apart. She allowed him to kick me out of "his house" (he still wasn't working) when I was 16. This was and still is illegal. My husband tells me he never understood why I was okay with it. I told him I had it coming. That's what I've always thought of his every rage...that somehow I deserved it. Even though I would never and have never treated someone remotely like that. On the rare times I confronted it (twice to be exact), she once got furiously angry with me and sicced Bill on me. The second, she lied, said she didn't remember and that it didn't happen and it was Bill's fault. Yes, a lot of contradictions. 

I believed all that dreck right up until recently,  when I began questioning my parents' version of events. In one instance, they'd been caring for my baby for an hour or so.  I had come to pick her up, got worried because I couldn't find her. He was asleep, woke up, saw me frantically looking for her and lost his shit. It wasn't just that he woke up and got mad. He amped up all the time I was looking (finally found my sister had taken her for a walk). By the time we got back he was incandescent. He screamed that I didn't trust them and was a despicable person and "take your kid and get the  hell out of my house!!" 

Then he pushed me out the door with MY BABY IN MY ARMS. I was crying and apologizing. I've inwardly cried and apologized ever since. I've felt guilty but have never been able to articulate what for. My front brain says he was out of line but my muscle brain gaslights me, saying "he was right to be angry, you deserved it" etc. But funnily enough it never says why or how I deserved it. Knee-jerk, toxic shame isn't very specific. It relies on generalizations, misunderstood feelings, lies, exaggerations, fear and generalized anxiety. Tomorrow, I'll post on how my mother managed to weaponize that for a nice narcissistic jolt. 

And because I was treated so shamefully and told so loudly and clearly how awful what I did was, I never dared to look at it straight in the face. I could live with myself thinking I'd done something so terrible, so unforgivable, so unspeakable, that I didn't speak of it. I hid from it like a monster I believed was in the closet. I lived in fear of what I'd find. 

But my dreams look at it regularly. I nightmare at least once a week, that I have done something so utterly bad that I want to end it all. But in my dream, no one will tell me what it was. They are just angry and disgusted with me. And I realize that they don't tell me because they can't tell me because I never did anything like that. It never happened. 

And also, I can't think anything that I would get so angry with my children or really anyone, for. I might be disappointed or sad or hurt or concerned. I would self-examine to see what I might have done to cause them to do this. I would think the best of them until, or if such time came, I absolutely had to admit they were wrong. 

I can't even get truly angry at my parents and stepparents for the hell they put me through. If I'm so awful how can I also be empathetic and caring and concerned? And if they're so right and just why are they so defensively angry about it? If they're such good parents, why do they expect the worst of me? How can good them be so unloving and uncharitable while "bad, evil" me loves to love and show charity? Why is it so hard to accept good things about me? Or as more usually happened, why lie, twist and distort to make me look and feel as bad as possible? I'll post more on the answers I found to that. For now, we'll look at the anger. 

The key lies not just in that they got angry with me, but HOW angry they got. And yes, I'm including all four parents in this because each in their own way was incensed with rage most of the time. What would produce at most mild annoyance, and usually nothing at all, in a rationale person, drove them speechless with fury. My father once, out of the blue, grabbed me and began beating me. He was so so angry that he was spitting. And it was so out of the blue that it shocked and terrified me and I wet my pants. It was like a random drive-by. If I'd done something so wrong, I'd have been prepared for consequence. 

So clearly, or maybe not clearly to me yet, but I'm working on that, this was not about me or what I'd done. It WAS a random drive-by that I just happened to get caught in. I did or said some innocent thing  that triggered deep-seated insecurity or showed them to themselves as the frauds they were. 

Because what I've realized is that they are not what they project. They are not right, just, caring and loving. My dreams are showing me them as they were. Judgmental, hateful, spiteful and mean.  I didn't do anything. It's just in their best interest to keep me thinking I did. To keep me questioning, ashamed and hating myself. To keep me  afraid to really look at what happened. It's so bad that I've been afraid to tell anyone for fear they affirm that I was that awful person. 

What's all this in aid of? To deflect from the truth which is that THEY were in the wrong.  That Bill was abominably wrong. That he was a cruel, ruthless, bullying coward who took out his whatever-shit-it-was on a mother and her child. His daughter. And that my mother, worse yet, stood by, watching and quietly approving this behavior. That my dad was furious with someone else, either himself or his wife, and took it out on me with his drive-by beating. 

So now, what's changed? I'm still not sure but I think it's that I'm looking at situations like this (and there were many) and correctly identifying both what actually happened and how I really feel about it. What happened, both with my dad's beating and Bill's verbal assault (with threats) is that an angry man harmed an innocent girl. 

Once I set aside their justifications, I could see what really happened and I realize there IS NO provocation, let alone one serious enough to warrant that. There is no excuse that I would give for doing that to anyone because I wouldn't do that to anyone. Or if, God forbid, I did, I would be so filled with remorse that I would apologize and make restitution to the end of my days. Because I realize that there is no excuse I'd make for myself, I realize there's no excuse I can or should make for them. 

That fact that they came unglued over nothing or something so insignificant is proof that they ARE unhinged. The fact that they got so inappropriately angry shows that I did nothing to warrant it. Because there's nothing I could do that would warrant such an extreme response. Even if I'd threatened to harm them or pulled a gun, if they were the good loving parents they proclaim to be, their first thought would be to protect me. That's what mine would be. Instead it was to punish. 

And the fact that they are excusing and approving atrocious behavior shows them in their true colors: abusive, narcissistic, bullying bullshitters.  And it's all the proof I need to rightly conclude that I can now let up on myself and stop believing these terrible things about myself. I can call it what it was. I can hold them responsible for their own actions. I can admit that I am not ashamed of myself but of them. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. 



How I'm detoxing from gaslighting by questioning others instead of myself


Hello my dear friends of this blog on how I lost 100 pounds without gastric bypass or weight loss drugs. During this month, my weight loss challenge has been March Un-Madness. What do I mean by that? I'm working to end the madness in my brain from constant parental humiliation, exploitation, narcissistic abuse, neglect, manipulation, parentification and gaslighting about the true nature of those things. What does that have to do with weight loss, seemingly nothing but realistically everything. 

A large part of how I gained weight in the first place, I'm realized,  has as much to do with toxic shame and total lack of self-care, as it does with overeating or even food in general. Toxic shame stemmed from believed wrong messages about myself, my purpose, my motivation and my actions. I was indoctrinated, by narcissistic parents and people who were called my step-parents, into believing that I was bad, naughty, selfish, self-centered, dangerous, wicked, sinful and always, always in the wrong. 

And I was a good student. I internalized these sick teachings to the point that I perpetuated them within myself. I furthered my own "education" if you will, gaslighting myself into believing that I was not only responsible for others' happiness, I was the source of their unhappiness. This created not just suicidal thoughts but a daily, ongoing, state of mental and emotional suicide. This false narrative was killing me one moment at a time.

I have lived essentially my entire life in this slow death, save for the past few months. What changed is that I accepted that these things were done to me. I stopped making excuses for the perpetrators. I stopped telling their version of events (which I have learned is called the shared fantasy) and I started believing my own version. 

And that that's when the stitched up pack of lies that they'd woven into my memory, began to unravel. This brainwashing or gaslighting, began to reveal itself everywhere. The more I realized how many lies I'd been led to believe, the more I questioned and the more I question, the more lies I uncover.

And let me segue here for a moment. Realize is an interesting and appropriate word. Realize, a verb, to fully understand a fact, to make real. And not even, understanding fact as in juxtaposed with opinion. My realizations were separating real, true fact from lie, from that believed or shared fantasy I'd previously subscribed to. 

So where does that leave me if everything I'd believed to be true was essentially being shown to be false? What do you do when you see that your entire life with someone was a lie? It's like Sherlock Holmes famously said, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be true. Because it is utterly impossible that one person, namely, an innocent child who is trying with all energy to be the best she can be, could be the source of everyone's problems. It is flatly impossible that one person can be entirely in the wrong. 

Having said that, even as I write this, the flying monkeys are saying "you're exaggerating. They never did that. Or if they did, it wasn't that bad." And maybe it wasn't all the time. But it was consistent enough to make a kid think everyone would be better off with her dead. And inconsistent and mixed messages of love-hate, good-bad, etc., are almost worse. This is the narcissistic abuse that kept me coming back for more. Because maybe I would finally find a way to please, if I just kept trying harder. 

So we've eliminated the impossible and what remains must be the truth despite how improbable I found it. In this case, I would say that what remains in my brain, my version of events, SEEMS improbable because there were so many loud parental voices saying otherwise. They didn't share anything except a dedicated effort to sabotage me in their own individual ways.  

Sabotage? That's a strong word. But yep, I'll die on that hill. It was that bad. They emotionally gang-banged me, all four of them. They weren't even working together.  Each had his or her own flavor of bullying. Or at least I can't see the connection. I think this is why it so successfully effed me, because it came from all angles and in such varied and disjointed ways.  

But again, what remains? As improbable as it was, they had to be in some kind of cahoots. Or at least had some agreed-upon tactics. Some shared fantasy of me as the 4S model I've used: surrogate parent, surrogate spouse, scapegoat and staff. Because they backed each other, even the ones who weren't married. They only questioned the bizarre way each other treated me to weaponize, triangulate and themselves feel better about how they were misusing me ( the old, "well at least I don't do THAT" theme.) And you know how group-think works, "we right because we all agree we are." No thought of the devastation it was wreaking. And never has been. In fact, I've come to the conclusion that it was malicious and intentional. 

Yep, bizarre.  And bordering on unbelievable or so those who know about it have told me. Which is another weapon used against me, that kept me radio silent. The message that no one will believe you because there's no way we all could be doing it. Really?? Paranoid much, Marilisa? That's just you being "too sensitive." 

And it worked. Because I can see how unbelievable it looks and I can hear how unbelievable it sounds. Even the experts, say they've rarely to never seen a case of narcissistic abuse from all four parental figures. Even to me, it sounds like paranoia. But then I am the one who's messed in the head. Where I hear judgement and skepticism, I think what people are actually saying is "just wow that really sucks." I think it's like my son said, "you have people now, in your life, who believe you and who have your best intentions at heart. I know you don't believe in yourself, so let us believe for you." 

So again, I ask, where does the discovery of this web of lies leave me? Well, what do you do when you catch someone in a lie? First, examine motive. Was it done to hurt or protect? We've established that lies were told to keep me in an unhealthy place of abuse. Next, ask self, if one lie was told, how many other things were lies? 

And that's what brings me to the point, rather roundabout LOL, of this post.  Once I began to accept the improbable, that the things that occurred were real and intentional narcissistic abuse, and armed with the loving support I now have,  I'm having to going back and question every bad thing I've believed about myself. I'm reexamining everything that was said and done that felt wrong. And even the things that didn't. Cuz we all know Marilisa ain't very good at recognizing pain and abuse. As one counselor said, "girl, you have a SCARY high pain tolerance." 

I'm filtering everything through the strainer of truth. And what is trapped, what won't fit, is the lies. I'm reevaluating every experience in light of this new awareness of narcissistic abuse. And what I'm discovering is that it's not rocket science. What they did makes perfect sense given their natures. Of course, they made it my fault. They would not accept responsibility. Of course they enslaved me. They are lazy and self-centered. Of course they gaslit me. They wanted to preserve this good thing that they had going on. Simple, really, when you look at it without the smoke and mirrors. 

Thanks for reading. I'll post more on this. 





Thursday, March 14, 2024

How I am healing from narcissistic abuse by being unforgiving


Hello friends of this blog on how I lost 100 pounds without gastric bypass or weight loss drugs. So I said earlier that I was going to post tomorrow on how I'm healing from narcissistic abuse by being unforgiving, but I couldn't wait that long. Cuz I think that some of you need to hear this right now. See, in my opinion, those of us who have suffered from lifelong narcissistic abuse from parents, start at the wrong place in healing. We worry first about forgiving the hurt, often before we've even understood or accepted that we WERE hurt. And this is further evidence of the parental manipulation, exploitation, abuse and gaslighting about those things. 

We do this because we were told that we had to. By church, other family members, sometimes counselors, etc. We are told that God expects this but He doesn't, not at this stage of the game, at any rate. And not in the way that way are told to. I don't claim to know exactly what God's definition of forgiveness is. But I know what it isn't. It's not saying "I forgive you." Just like saying sorry is not repenting. It's not exonerating, absolving, excusing or overlooking. It's certainly not "getting over it." And it's certainly, certainly not moving ahead in the abusive relationship as if nothing ever happened. This is an open invitation to an abuser to continue abusing. 

It's also not the victim's "duty" or responsibility to forgive. It's not something you can or should do immediately after very hurtful experience. It's not something you should do if the perp hasn't recognized, admitted, expressed remorse and made a dedicated, consistent effort to change.  All these fallacies are put about by the very people who are doing the hurting. 

Why? Because narcissistic abusers always make it your fault. Your problem. Your responsibility. No matter what they did, they will bounce the ball right back into your court. This deflects attention away from them and their vile actions. Quietly they say, well I may have done this or that and then loudly BUT YOU  HAVE TO FORGIVE ME!! I SAID SORRY! IT'S YOUR JOB!! It always comes back to you. 

And this is the problem with forgiveness, especially too soon. It puts the responsibility on the victim, not the perpetrator. It makes those of us who feel too much guilt and guilt for things we didn't do, feel even guiltier. We question ourselves...did I really forgive him? Am I sinning by "not forgiving?" And because we carry so much undeserved shame, guilt and responsibility we jump right to worrying about this. And we forget all about even admitting let alone acknowledging all the ways the abuse devasted us. 

And this suits the abuser just fine. 1) No eyes are put on them as the cause of the problem. 2) They don't have to stop the hurtful behavior 3) they now (in their twisted heads) have justification for it and 4) value added, they have even more shame to leverage. Pretty soon, they have themselves convinced that they never did anything wrong. Or if they did, you made them do it. Or if you didn't, you were wrong for not forgiving them (even though they never even apologized). With narcissistic abusers, you were always going to be in the wrong.  

Pushing forgiveness as promulgated by many institutions, especially churches, is just further abuse. My father weaponized the Bible, Christianity and God so thoroughly that I think toward the end he almost believed he was God. He certainly expected me to worship him like one. He tried to tell me basically that whatever happened, whatever he did, it was "covered by the blood." I.E. God has forgiven, absolved, washed away and forgotten everything he and his wife ever did wrong to me. 

I bought that bullshit for a long time because, first I was a kid steeped in his bullshit and second, as so often happens with delusions, it has an element of truth. Our doctrine teaches that God does forgive and forget. But there's a HUGE IF that my dad completely ignored. "If we CONFESS our sins." Which they did not. They did not see that they were wrong, despite violating God's law in many enormous ways. Like binding me up to burdens they didn't carry. Like telling me to honor them but forgetting that they were supposed to love and respect me and not lead me to anger. Like not just leading, but pushing and dragging me astray. Like exploiting me. Like blaming me for everything. Like parentifying me. Like gaslighting me. Like scaring the shit out of me so even now, at 59, thought of confronting them terrifies me. Like causing me so much pain that I can't sleep at night for the nightmares. 

My dad was masterful at twisting and repurposing scripture to suit himself. He had every angle covered, for himself, that he was golden. He claimed that because he said he'd confessed his sins to God, that not only should be good enough for me but that I was now disobeying God if I didn't (wait for it) forgive too. And say that it was all okay. If he was ever confronted, he just trotted out his pet defense that he was "covered by the blood." 

But it wasn't God he abused. It was me. God is hurt when we are hurt, but God is the only one who got the apology. So I'm confused. If he was wrong, why not apologize to the one he hurt in real time? Because he really didn't see he was wrong. He was covering his ass. People can argue all they want about how bad Catholics confess to a priest and good them go directly to God. Smoke and mirrors. Confessing only to God sins we committed against each other, is just a way to avoid responsibility we have to those we hurt.  It's fire insurance. 

And the abuse didn't stop. So he clearly didn't even see it as wrong, let alone feel sorry.  And he didn't extend God's mercy to me.  He who didn't know the first thing about me, assumed he could read my mind and conscience. He was omniscient. And from Dad-god I got no covering in the blood. for me, it was the full hellfire and brimstone. He told me that I had committed unforgivable sins in premarital sex. I had not told him about this. He assumed it. Talk about your razor blade to the wrists thoughts. 

But he, on the other hand, had had many girlfriends and hookups without benefit of clergy. One was with 17-year-old girl when he was 34. I was 8. He used to take me to her house. So pedophilia, too. And since I was 5, he'd talk to me about how he often planned his suicide. If premarital sex is unforgivable, what does that make suicide? A lot of mixed messages live in my head. So many times I had to talk myself back from the edge. It's so bad that I can't stand the image of God the Father. That's been ruined for me. Poor God. It's not fair, tarred with the same brush. Hopefully, I'll find a way to unsee and unhear those unpleasant associations. 

So on forgiving narcissistic abuse? Why should we? It won't help us heal. That's just a sales pitch to make it look more attractive. Forgiveness is only to make the perpetrator feel better. It drives those of us with CPTSD mad. We should all over ourselves with every breath, already. Expecting ourselves (because we are expected to by others) to perform some magic act to make the abuse all better is torture. 

I don't even think forgiveness, as we define it, is possible. I cannot fix what I didn't break. I am not responsible for that. To try is to invite further pain. It gives an already self-centered person more room to make it all about them. It further arms already dangerous people. It gives manipulators something more to twist and confuse us with. 

But for all this, we pray in the Our Father "forgive us as we forgive." In God's mind, we must be able to forgive or He wouldn't ask it of us. We must be able to forgive safely because God doesn't want us further endangered. So the problem with forgiveness must be in our definition. Which of course it is, if we are getting it from abusive people and abusive systems. 

God says "your ways are not my ways." I take that to mean that many of  our preconceived notions about Him, His will and His expectations are wrong. And if they've been twisted by arrogant, proud, abusers who let's admit it, kinda fancy themselves God, they definitely are wrong. Dead and deadly wrong. 

Forgiveness in God's definition must be something good for us. It really does help us heal. So without further preamble, here's my idea of what God means by forgive. "To accept that the past will never be any different than it was." To accept that what happened, happened. To say, out loud, that what happened, happened. To not excuse, defend, deny, justify. And I also think that a part of forgiving, is knowing what we did and didn't do wrong. Owning what is ours and leaving to others what is theirs. For me, figuring out what ISN'T mine is the harder part. And then doing an authentic act of contrition (confess, repent, apologize and make amends) for what we did wrong. I'll blog more on that tomorrow, for sure. 


How I'm healing from narcissistic abuse by exploring scapegoating

 


Hello friends of this blog on how I lost 100 pounds without gastric bypass surgery or weight loss drugs. If you follow this blog, you know that  I've been issuing a series of weight loss challenges and this month it's March Madness. But as this month is unfolding, I'm realizing that it's more March Un-Madness or Stop the Madness. Because a lot of what I'm dealing with is addressing, or heck, just admitting, the CPTSD and PTSD madness created by systematic narcissistic from both parents and both step-parents. And as this is stream of consciousness blog, so to speak, what I deal with, you deal with. 

If you came to this blog to find out how I lost 100 pounds, you might be surprised to learn how much weight gain, obesity, etc., has to do with emotional issues. I certainly was. But the more I learn about CPTSD and narcissistic abuse, the more physical health issues I discover those two create. Currently, I'm listening to Youtuber Richard Grannon and he discussed links to sleep apnea, weight gain, out-of-nowhere allergies and immune system disorders, things I've struggled with. 

So that's why I discuss things that may seem unrelated to weight loss. Because part of how I lost 100 pounds was to look at these issues. Actually, the weight loss was just the tip of the iceberg and maybe even the least important way that I'm getting healthier. I'm seeing that often we get the wrong end of the stick. Or at least we only get part of it. Weight loss itself isn't the be-all-end-all. Because it always stems from some deeper emotional issue that needs to attention, too. Does the order of operations matter? Does it matter that I worked on weight loss first and am only now working on the emotional bit? I don't think so. Whether you walk, ride or drive to a destination, you still get there eventually. 

Why do I feel the need to defend why I'm talking about these things? That is part of the narcissistic abuse trauma. I always had to explain myself, in triplicate, why did or didn't do something. And the answer I gave was never good enough. I was tried, found guilty and "executed" before I even did a thing. And I know now that this was (and still is) because I was the scapegoat. A term which means, sacrificial animal. I've said before that I was sacrificed on the altar (pun intended) of marital bliss of both parents in their new relationships. 

If there was a job needed doing, it was mine to do. When someone was upset, hey, "maybe Mary could (insert thing I was supposed to do to make said person happy)" to quote my dad. Never mind how unhappy (tired, sick, hurt) it made me. My step-ma was notorious for weaponizing her "back problems" (I put them in quotes because what I realize now is that what she had was morbid obesity and chronic laziness). So I did all the vacuuming, mopping (hands and knees) and ironing. I had legitimate back problems not due to being overweight but from scoliosis and congenital hip dysplasia. But no one cared about that. 

When one of the big 4 was angry, I was the target. When my siblings did something wrong, I was blamed. When there was a difference of opinion, mine was shamed and theirs was supported. All their combined personal culpability was placed on the scapegoat, me. In their view, I caused their fights. I didn't act like a "family member." I disobeyed. I talked back. I was in the way. They gave their new spouses carte blanche to use and abuse me. When my step-father mocked me and teased me for my breast size, my mother laughed along. 

But no matter how many sins they heaped on scapegoat moi, it was never enough. They still felt guilty and miserable. They still disliked each other. Their children grew up for the most part very irresponsible. These are just logical consequences. And it's also how I  know that it was narcissistic abuse and not good parenting as they gaslit me into thinking. The fact that it all went so horribly wrong. The fact that pour as we might, the black hole never filled up. Two of them have passed, never  realizing or admitting that it was their job to fix themselves, not mine. The other two will probably go the same way. And that's another reason I know it's narcissistic abuse. Their complete lack of responsibility or recognition that it was wrong.  

Why do I need constant reminding that it was abusive? That's the contradictory nature of such abuse. You begin to gaslight yourself and question every. single. thing. you. do. say. feel. believe. I grew up thinking that this was okay. I knew it wasn't okay for others. I did and would never do this to someone else. This created a cognitive dissonance in me for the last 59 years. 

But my 60th birthday present to myself is to get quit of it. And I'm doing that by accepting that I was the scapegoat. That the past is never going to be any different than it was. That they didn't love me or have my best intentions at heart. That when they said they did, it was just so much more narcissistic abuse. 

And the best gift of all? The piece de resistance? I am saying that it was wrong and that I won't allow it to be done to me again. Whatever that needs to look like, be it no contact or refusing or saying no. I will not associate with people who hurt me. I am responsible for me and NO ONE ELSE. (louder of those in the back). NEVER AGAIN. 

So this is how I lost 100 pounds. By detoxing toxic shame and fumigating the gaslighting and doing me and no one else. By becoming a little self-centered myself. So where does this leave me? Even as I write this, the spider's eggs that were planted in my brain are hatching. And their busy yelling at me that I should do thus and such to help my remaining parent and step-parent. That I need to reach out and confront them so that they can heal and get absolution, get ready for heaven, yada yada. (please note: it's still all about them.)  

Tomorrow I'll blog about why I'm not going to do that and why forgiveness is a bad idea. 



Wednesday, March 13, 2024

How I'm healing from gaslighting by recognizing covert narcissism


 Hello my friends of this blog on how I lost 100 pounds without gastric bypass or weight loss drugs. As you will know if you follow, I've been delving more into the toxic shame, parental gaslighting and narcissistic abuse I experienced. And the more I do, the more I find how much this has informed every, and I do mean EVERY aspect of my self. And in keeping with my March Madness weight loss challenge, I'm going to explore how I'm healing from parental gaslighting by exposing the madness covert narcissism induces. Because madness isn't just a cute sound byte. It's exactly how covert narcissism makes me feel! 

For the last 59.5 years of my life, I've lived in a fog of confusion about what exactly happened to me. From childhood on through to now, I've breathed the toxic gas, believed the lies and lived by a false narrative I was brainwashed into believing. I've done a lot of work over the years in mental health but never really examined or questioned any of this part of my life. I worked on me. I worked on current relationships, parenting, etc. I never worked on my so-damaged inner child. I tended the flowers but not the roots. 

So now I'm going deeper to find out just where this toxic shame and chronic guilt come from. And I see at every turn, evidence of parental narcissism. But still, the gaslighting causes me to question what I see. Were they narcissistic or is this just you misunderstanding, misrepresenting, EXAGGERATING and being TOO SENSITIVE again? 

Part of it is that while my dad fits the more classic pattern NPD (narcissistic personality disorder) with some anti-social and borderline mixed in, my mother doesn't. Her behavior is very...confusing. But also very backhanded, passive-aggressive and damaging. 

It wasn't until I watched a Youtube video by Richard Grannon that I realized that what I was dealing with, was fragile or vulnerable or covert narcissism. This is kind of a high-low, bipolar narcissism that cycles when it fails to get it's fix. This explains why the grandiose, exaggerated and hypocritical Bible-beating of "rules for thee are not for me" juxtaposed with pitiful, pathetic tales of woe. 

This sheds light on the outlandish and unfounded claims of poverty, hardship and victimization. This makes bizarre, impulsive and seductive behavior more understandable. This explains the Munchausen-ish mystery ailments which no doctor seems to understand. It puts the pie-throwing (in my face, really) the odd deafness with no medical proof, the feigned dementia-like acts, the wearing nightgowns in public in perspective. It addresses the hypocritical preaching against things that she commonly does herself. 

Just one of these behaviors might be explainable. Together they form a pattern of passive-aggressive, attention-seeking and cycling between overt and covert narcissism. When she's on a high, she can do no wrong. When she's in need of a fix, the false vulnerability is a ploy for pity. It's guilt-inducing, subtly shaming and utterly confusing. It's also a lose-lose situation for me. I'll never be able to fill the black hole and so I'm perceived and made to feel like I'm failing. It has created a false reality for me, otherwise known as childhood. 

Recognizing this is the first step. Next is reminding myself that I don't owe anyone fixing (lather, rinse, repeat). Now I need to keep working on identifying covert narcissism and not being sucked into the endless blame-shame cycle. 


Blog Archive