I need to talk about my Nmom, and I’m finally ready to. raisedbynarcissists

Additional Trigger Warnings: Eating Disorders, Self-Harm, Profanities

This is my first post here, even though I’ve commented before and read all the rules. Please let me know if I have missed something or broken any rules. I’m not a writer and this might have weird flow. I just need somewhere to finally talk about everything.

Let me start off by saying that I am now happily married and have put myself through counseling that has helped me stop with my self-destructive tendencies. Over the holiday season, I finally realized that the reason I am so hesitant to talk to people about what I’ve been through stems directly from the fact that my Nmom hammered it into me that I was not allowed to tell anyone about the “bad things” in my family. I couldn’t talk to friends or family, and she refused to get me into counseling for all of my life with them. On that note, I am finally ready to talk about everything that has happened, and I think this is probably the safest place for me to do so.

So. Here are the skeletons in the closet.

All my life I’ve been a tomboy, and wanted to wear jeans and tee shirts, but my Nmom wouldn’t allow me to. She would hold me down and force me to wear dresses, or lock me in my room until I agreed to change. She would “accidentally” throw out my favorite clothes and only buy me pink and frilly clothing, or dresses and skirts. She refused to let me cut my hair, and when I cut it myself I was hit with whatever was in reach. I’ve been hit with:rulers, a flashlight, a wooden spoon until it broke, and much more. As we all know, this made me feel like I didn’t have control of my body. Additionally, I have always been very small for my age, so everyone would just pick me up and move me around even when I protested. And protest I did. I’ve always been stubborn and smart and had a sharp tongue. It served me well in school, because I stood up for myself and eventually won state and regional competitions for debate and literature. (This is only relevant because my parents HATED that I stood up to them, while my older sister was the nice one who never fought back.)

When I was about 8, my Nmom found out that my father was having an affair. When I was 9, they separated for about a year and a half. While my dad was out of the house, my mom would tell me things like, “That bitch isn’t even pretty! She’s not as skinny as me! The only reason (dad) is with her is because she sucks his cock! You know, that’s the only way to keep a man in your life. To let them stick their cock wherever they want.” At 9 years old I barely had any concept of what that even meant. All I knew is that my mother was telling me that the only way to retain love was to lose bodily autonomy.

At this time I was struggling with being bullied in school, and my mom would laugh at me and tell me that she wasn’t going to do anything to help. “It’s your problem! You know you have a mouth on you! You probably deserved it!” She would say things too like, “I wish you had never been born. If you had been a boy instead then you wouldn’t have to worry about this. Boys are better. I always wanted a son.”

My older sister had a friend who was a few years older than her, so when I was 9, he was 15. He had a bad home life and would come to our house all the time. My Nmom would say, “Oh what a wonderful young man. I wish he was our son.” She’d “joke” about wanting to trade me for him, and she constantly told him how much she loved him and how her Home was always open for him.

When I turned 10, my father (who was still out of the house) didn’t call, or visit, or send a card. He did come and pick my sister up for her birthday, but when he moved back in and I asked why he missed mine he said, “it just wasn’t worth having to deal with Nmom,” We fought a lot at that time, and I remember one day I was curled up on my parent’s bed, sobbing and screaming about how they didn’t care about me, and my dad said, “you’re right. I only came back for your sister’s sake.”

My parents were trying to make things work, so they would go out all the time, and my sister would be out with her friends. That left 11 year old me home alone. Now, in our state that is illegal. So, they hired my sister’s friend (the one who was “like a son” to them) to babysit me.

You can probably tell where this is going.

Let’s skip the details and say that it happened for 3 years. Finally, when I was 14, I got strong enough to not CARE if anyone loved me. If that was what “Love” was, I would have no part of it. I didn’t care that he was likely right and that if I told my parents they would choose him. I didn’t care that no one else ever said they loved me. I just... didn’t care about anything anymore. In fact, I didn’t FEEL anything anymore. The last attempt I made to feel something, I asked my dad for a hug, he said no. I asked my mom for a hug, she said no. I asked my sister for a hug. She said no. I hugged a refrigerator because it was warm and hummed, and I just.... broke.

I started to cut. For 2 years I was cutting at least weekly, but usually more. I didn’t even try to hide it. And, no one noticed. I stopped eating. And no one noticed. I was turning 16, weighed 90lbs, but because I stayed a straight A student, and I pushed myself to run 2 miles every morning and do 100 push-ups and sit-ups, my Nmom would brag to her friends about me, while constantly tearing me down at home for everything. I wasn’t getting 100% in my classes, I wasn’t keeping my room clean enough. I talked back and would disappear (to the library lol) for hours. She couldn’t trust me, and I was worthless.

When I turned 16, I finally told them. I don’t know, I guess it was a last attempt to try to feel that they cared. I told them about the sexual abuse, I showed them my cuts, I showed them that you could count every rib and see every bone. They responded by taking me to another country and threatening to leave me there.

I don’t know why they didn’t. I assume that Nmom realized that she would have to explain why I disappeared to her friends and family, and that would have been too embarrassing. So back I came.

But, even knowing what he did to me, my parents kept inviting the abuser back into the house.

My parents paid for my sister to go to a private university, they paid for her apartment, gave her a car, and paid for every school expense along with giving her spending money. I kept pushing myself as hard as I could, and when I graduated high school I earned a scholarship to a university that paid for everything school related and gave me a stipend. My parents decided to move, and they told me I could live in the family home, if I took care of it and paid rent. My sister graduated college the same year, and she moved back in to the house, rent free. She was finally going through a rebellious phase, and yet for some reason she took it out on me.

She started dating the man who had abused me. She knew about everything, and yet she invited him into our home. He would be there when I went to bed, and when I woke up. She gave him the code to our door so sometimes I would get home and he’d be there alone. I couldn’t handle it. I decided that I needed to move out.

I mean, I was taking care of a house, cleaning up after my sister, going to university full time, and working. If I was going to do all that, what was a little bit more money to live on my own rather than take care of her? So, I moved out.

And I realized that.... it wasn’t normal. What had happened to me wasn’t normal. I’d make offhand comments to friends who would look at me like I was crazy. I realized that I didn’t know how to handle conflict. I put myself into counseling (yay debt!) and... I started to heal. At 20, I stopped cutting. But I would relapse sometimes, I admit that. I also slept around an awful lot. I can see now that it was my way of attempting to reclaim my sexuality. But I also stopped that. I would only see my family at Christmas, and everyone would say things like, “oh wow! You are so lucky! Having parents fly you to (their country now) for Christmas!” And I’d smile and agree. But once I was there the awful things would start. Disparaging my job, my choice in my major, the fact that I didn’t have a 4.0 anymore.

I usually relapsed after these trips. But I stuck to it. I made myself keep getting help, and I started to be.... okay. In my last year of college I met my husband, and we knew on our first date that we were going to get married. We were engaged about 2 months, and married a year later. We’ve now been together for over 3 years, and I’m learning how to fight in a healthy way.

He encourages me to address everything that has happened. In fact, it’s because of my abandonment issues that I realized I needed to be more open about everything. He is so wonderful and he doesn’t deserve my lapses when I push away out of fear.

But, as the last thing before I end this lengthy post, guess what my mom said the first time she met him in person? She said, “Oh! Wow, he looks just like (abuser)!”

He doesn’t. Fuck you mom. Fuck you.

Submitted January 25, 2018 at 02:36AM by Aoeletta http://ift.tt/2GaBl65 raisedbynarcissists

Flashback of the day raisedbynarcissists

I read that excel sheet post and it reminded me of a similar experience I had.

As a teen, N and I lived in a microscopic apartment. Not only did I not have my own room, I didn't even get a bed. I slept on armchairs pushed together each night.

The apartment was so tiny that it didn't even have a full sized refrigerator, and the tiny stove and sink that passed for a "kitchen" was fitted into the 5 foot hallway between the bedroom and the living room.

Space was a priority, and even the smallest thing out of place made the whole kitchen feel cluttered and chaotic.

Both my N and myself HATED doing dishes. As a child, the dishes were always my chore because my N cooked-- "when you do the cooking, I'll do the dishes, but you're too young now". I started cooking at 4 and was a decent cook by 10, and Since my N hated cooking and was usually on weird diets, I did 90% of the cooking by age 12ish-- the other 10% being takeout and frozen dinners.

I was still stuck doing the dishes but as I got older I challenged my N on this since I was doing the cooking and dishes. Not only this but my N preferred my cooking and often made special requests, like apple pie at 10am or ground turkey stir fry at midnight. My N didn't want to take on the dishes because "you eat so much more than I do which makes more dishes," I countered that I usually rinsed and reused the same bowl all day. After lots of teenage bickering, my N agreed on a compromise: we would each clean any dishes that were created or used in anything that was solely for us and that for shared dishes, whoever didn't cook would do the dishes.

This worked fine for a while, until one day.

My N had requested lots of individual dishes that day including some baking. This generated a lot of dishes. My N left the bedroom, saw our tiny sink AND some counterspace taken over by dishes, and my N began yelling and shouting about what a disgusting fat lazy slob I was. She tiredherself out and went back to the bedroom, so I took out the one bowl, silverware, and glass I had used as well as the bakeware because my N had offered me a piece of it even though it had been all for her. The sink was STILL FULL of Ns dishes cups etc.

I brought my stuff into the bedroom and told my N that these were ALL of the joint dishes AND my dishes. She asked (rhetorically) where all the other dishes had come from, and I listed back all of the things she had asked to eat that day.

She shut up and did those dishes.

In the end she foisted all the cooking and cleaning back onto me :-( but the moment was good while it lasted!

Submitted January 18, 2018 at 01:33AM by rbnthrowawayrbn http://ift.tt/2mGtxQO raisedbynarcissists

finally took the red pill((TRIGGER WARNING))X-post from justnofamily raisedbynarcissists

I really have no idea how to do this,but I will sum it up the best I can.So my older sister,SIS,is a golden child in the eyes of my JNM and Im the scapegoat.My older brother,who lays low,is actually adopted,but hes 11 years older than me and im the youngest so that makes no difference.Hes still my brother.My dad,ED is a pastor so I grew up in a very religious family.They both were also alcoholics who get us grown kids to buy their booze for them.I use to do drugs,but got clean at 22 following an overdose on synthetics.Thank god.I didnt start having a relationship with my mother until I was clean,mainly because She told me after the overdose,that it was the drugs in me,and how i never could see clearly....which oddly enough i see now at 28 with 3 kids and a wife who grew up in a similarly narcisstic environment.My sister,who keeps in daily contact with our JNM recently had decided she couldnt take it anymore.In all honesty,none of this would have occured,nor would I be on here now posting this,had she just chose.....to answer her phone.No joke.My JNM has a tendancy of nightly wine binges in front of the computer,and calling SIS to either complain about people in the church,or if shes sauced enough,tell us the story about how she was raped by a family friend when she was 5......in detail......down to the uterine complications it caused later in life.We both had heard this story since we were 13.This has been ongoing for years,until back in september,my sister made a bold decision,a life changing,daring,no takesies backsies decision...to not answer the phone.This resulted in JNM and ED almost suffering a complete breakdown in their programming and re-awakened some shit.They began bashing sis to me when they would come to my house,completely ignore my kids,want me to get their booze,and go on and on about how shes always had a chip on her shoulder and she always holds grudges.She played the robot agreeing with JNM all the way or else she herself was subject to amazingly harsh things.Such as the time when she was pregnant and JNM was freaking out on her about the dishwasher and SIS began to spot,and asked JNM in a calm voice if she could stop screaming at her because she was mcausing her stress.JNM looked at her and said,and I quote "If you lose that baby,thats one you,not me."I was there and i witnessed it.She got pregnant at 18 and I was 15.So now I basically tried to play peacemaker all these years later and that resulted in them bringing up old habits and trying to play scapegoat with me,but now that i have a family,Im 28 years old,and I play in a metal band,I finally grew a spine,and after my dad screamed at me on the phone after i spent 3 hours trying to tell JNM we were worried about her health and her drinking,I wrote a letter.I apologize for the length,but my SO encouraged me to post to this thread.There is so much more in this saga.I plan on posting more but for now here is the letter,with explanations for certain events.If anyone has questions I will gladly answer to the best of my ability.I give you part 1 of my unamed life saga.

 Letter 

Dads a hero.All I ever wanted to be was my dad.I wanted to be a preacher,a coke truck driver,a soldier,and my dad was all of those things.The first time i ever saw my dad ANGRY,was over a messy room.When He stormed in and screamed "Get this Damn room cleaned up"!This guy elbowed my beauty and the beast picture and shattered it,glass going everywhere,then I had to get on my hands and knees under my bunk bed and clean up my mess,and broken glass.Do you remember?It was super bowl sunday 97 or 98.I was upset that we didnt go to aunt and uncles house for the superbowl gathering they were having. I loved that picture,I can remember when they brought it home,SIS of course got Belle,but thats ok,I wanted the beast anyway.He was my favorite.I remember bringing this up to mom years later and her response was "Your father cried himself to sleep that night"...so did I. You see,there was a flawed human behind that,and as a Father myself I can understand the consequences of my actions and Learning how to say Sorry,Then make a real hard effort to never allow myself to go to that point ever again.Make sense?You only get one shot with your children,so make it count because the outcome will NEVER be on them.But it will be on you. I dont think you started out with bad intentions,you just lost your temper....like any normal person does. Dont like the past being drug out all these years later,I know.Neither do I.But If you want to know me,you must continue.Or feel free to say "Thats a bunch of crap",or throw it in the trash,whatever helps you sleep at night. Shall we continue? Like it or not,Yes....You did say the following,and I quote,"If you died tomorrow,we wouldnt have the money for a funeral,we would just dig a hole out there and throw you in it"....Understand this was in 2001 or 2002,and Mom was on one of her Im unhealthy and have high blood pressure,Im gonna die trips.Yea I heard you screaming it at ED for days before.Guess that was his way of trying to get through to me about my unhealthy habits as a 12 or 13 year old boy.I know this because,Thats the night of my first scar.One of many to come.It was SIS who found me,My room was still where the nursery is now.So i went through the bathroom to the sewing room,found a knife,and proceeded.She walked in on me and flipped out,and the only thing I could get out was DONT TELL THEM!DONT TELL THEM!....and she helped me get it clean in my bathroom,got me a long sleeve shirt,and I spent the next 2 weeks avoiding you two.Because I knew If you saw,I would get in trouble,or get scolded that it was an attempt at getting attention....but I didnt want attention,I just wanted to be left alone. Something you may not realize is that Im not the only one who "REMEMBERS".

There were two.

(Background info for anyone confused.My JNM was the head nurse at a prison and extremely health concious.I was overweight as a teenager,so I spent alot of time on blood pressure medicine and was at a doctor every month.Honestly i wasnt considered morbidly obese but she pushed for this and that and made it happen.One day I tried to get a couple grapes out of the fridge and she proceeded to empty the entire refrigerator out,told me to "Eat Up" and walked out leaving me to clean up the mess.)

This was Around the time of the grape episode,but you already know about that.If not,then I guess you chose to forget all over again. It was also around this time I found the booze,a cheap bottle of mixed long island ice tea hidden away neatly in your bathroom closet,right beside the box hanger thingy full of pills.I was too scared to touch it then,and when I went back a few days later it was gone...But out of pure chance,I found the box of bud light in the closet,in a black bag,under a blanket...Yes I was a nosey child.You guys actually made it easy considering with dad working and mom doing the nurse gig,YOU WERE NEVER HOME.We both got bored,easily.I can remember thinking,god if dads a preacher,and he drinks,Then its ok.When i finally got up enough courage to go steal one,I waited til you were gone,made sure the coast was clear,SIS got in the shower and I zipped straight to the closet.I started with one,but wasnt impressed,so i went and snatched 2 more.As time went on I learned the time intervals,I even developed a formula.One box of beer will be gone in 2 days,then another will appear.Occasionally the long islands would appear,and i would carefully drink just enough to not be noticeable.

You were hiding booze in your closet,I hid booze in mine.

I can remember the day I realized my mom truly despised me. It was when she said "God help any woman whos stupid enough to marry you, because you are a chauvinistic PIG,just Like your father.I was 13.It's convenient to not remember alot of things,isn't it.That was also the darkest period that has cast its perpetually devious shadow over the entire family,The DIVORCE(seperation)(marriage trouble)(prime example of when two adults decline in their ability to come to a reasonable concensus).Or as I like to call it,the T.S. in P.T.S.D.

(Background Info.My JNM quit her job at the prison after only a year because she appearantly had a break with reality,im not really sure,but that resulted in JNM and ED getting seperated and JNM was prescribed anti-psychotics,and anti-anxiety meds on top of muscle relaxers and a gaggle of other things,all while nursing a nasty habit of 6 glasses of red wine a night,the cheap box kind "For her heart condition" as well as being an unstable narcissistic man hater,which sucked being the only other male in the home.My SIS was the golden child,but only in the eyes of JNM,Shes actually pretty cool and supportive.My JNM moved out and we were left home alone all day while ED worked.We were home schooled since 1999,or actually took out of school and educated ourselves,she didnt enjoy the "schooling" aspect of it.While they were seperated my JNM downed a gallon of wine and a bottle of heart medication,got her stomach pumped,spent some time in a psych ward,then skipped out on the marriage counseling and therapy so she could come home while the two of them acted like nothing ever happened.And we werent allowed to talk about it.)

See because when she came home,we had to remain silent.We couldnt do anything to rock this boat,else they may go off again.Lets just say that between the two of you,YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR THE VENOM AND HATRED YOU SAID AND DID TO EACH OTHER WHILE YOUR TWO CHILDREN WERE LEFT UNATTENDED WHILE YOU EXACTED YOUR SICK FORMS OF TORTURE AND HELL ON EACH OTHER.We were in the middle,being played like pawns in a twisted game of cat and mouse.SIS Had to obey and agree with every word mom said,dad drank and mowed,mowed and drank,and when mom was going off on ME,He was soon to follow suit,albeit not as melodramatic and unhingedly off color,but he had his own way of striking where it hurt.

I could go on forever,not like i havent already,But this brings me to what I need to say...The Truth.

Ive forgiven all of the things you did,Ive never forgotten.ILL NEVER FORGET.Who could.

Ive forgiven it all,but Not the gun.

(Background Info.So yeah i was 21 years old,had been out on my own since 18,but suffered a devestating breakup and lost my apartment so i had to move back home temporarily.As the letter indicates,alcohol was only a secret to the church folks,but my dad was getting me drunk at 15,a while after i began sneaking booze.The first time I got drunk with him we killed a 30 pack together,and did this numerous times.Even going to church the next sunday,both of us hungover.Anyway,I had planned a small get together with a few friends,3 to be exact,my gay friend,my straight man whore friend and my life long buddy.We had a cheap bottle of vodka and needless to say at this time,oct 2010,we werent light weights.My dad came home around 10 pm and my mom was sitting in her room,not far from mine,on the computer drinking her wine.My dad walked into my room,said hey,he was going to bed,and we told him so were we,we had a long day of hanging out the next day.As we were settling down,someone accidently knocked a broom into a wall,this resulted in my dad coming back in,FAR more angry and wrathful.He was very aggressive,and started to push me and got physical,so I shoved him out of my room and tried to close the door,with my friends and I holding it shut.I honestly had never seen him act like that,especially not infront of people (conservative southern baptist family).Now remember,yes we were drinking,but my gay friend didnt drink,and the vodka,by no means was gone.My parents are by no means racist,but my mother is particular about ones sexual orientation.Im straight and always have been,but my gay friend is my friend,hes a good guy and always has been,so of course we thought maybe his presence was upsetting JNM and she sent dad,ED, in as an attack dog.But regardless we figured it was over,until the door flew open again,and there was JNM,glass of wine in one hand,.38 snub in the other,pointed right at my freakin head.This gun had a hair trigger and was always kept loaded,and trust me when I tell you,THIS MOTHERFUCKER WAS LOADED,hammer back and all.She backed me up against the wall and screamed "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!".We booked out the side door and by the time we were outside,there was the cop.He went in,came out,said I wasnt allowed back in or I would be arrested,No idea what JNM had told him,and that was it.I was homeless just like that.)

The worst part of when your moms about to kill you,is how time stops. Life didnt flash before my eyes,but a memory. I remembered the story mom told me long before,about her abusive EX. How he held her against a wall and had a loaded gun to her face,then his friend stepped in and got it. I remember looking up over the barrel and seeing my dad. The Coke truck driver,the preacher,the soldier....and he looked at her,looked at me,and stepped away. Even though no shot rang out,no bullet entered and exited my head,even though the back wall didnt get painted with my memories in a bloody spat,I still died that night.The little boy that mom always says was so sweet,how much she missed him.How she didnt recognize this monster that I had become.The nice,respectful,kind,generous,big hearted child,was gone.You killed him.I'll never get him back...neither will you.

I could have pressed charges. If I let my friends tell the cop what you two had just done when he showed up,Both of you would have been arrested. And if you dont believe me,There were 3 witnesses to it. Dad struck first.I can still remember mom saying that she thought i was beating my father to death,so she panicked. No you were drunk and probably on some kind of pill. What kind of psycho does it take to assume the worst in their own child,to religiously believe that he would do that.So you grabbed the gun,left the room,BUT HEY,dad was already out of the room cause I shoved him out while he was playing george foreman to my face.With the door closed,my friend who was in the room with me,looked at me and said you okay bro?Just then,with a loud BANG,in strolls her,the mother I could never talk to,the mother who began hating me years before,the mother who we were all suppose to appease,but unlike ALL the times before,she didnt come in to violently shake me awake,only to tell me to "Get my ass back in bed",....she had a gun.

(Background Info.One of JNM's favorite games to play when I was a kid was "Got back to bed".She basically would wake me up to tell me to go back to bed because she thought i was faking.This happened multiple times.)

This was it. Its all been one shitty ride and heres the climax,the most poetically tragic way to die. Poe couldnt have written such a black masterpiece,The irony wasnt lost to me however.Its not like I wasnt suicidal for 8 years.Its not like I hadnt put that very gun to my head when no one was around.So if this is it,what a way to go.The perfect fake face for the church family twisted and contorted into the very hand of satan himself,gone with a .38 snub.But it was him.Her I expected it from,but not him.He didnt even have the balls to grab it to save his own child.His boy.After all,We never rock this boat do we,no matter what.Even when the numbers of the church fall,no we keep our face.Even when the cops show up,no we keep our face.Even When we watch movies together,or eat pizza,or go on vacation,no we keep our face.We dont rock this boat.But I have good news in all this.I still love you.I loved you enough to tell my friends to not tell everyone about it.Deep inside I knew,If that got out,Pastor ED would be finished.Even when you guys threw me out of my home,blaming booze and not yourselves,when you told me i couldnt come back when i called 2 months later outside the restaurant i dishwashed at,freezing and homeless,on the streets of the town i call home.I just wanted things to work,but you were too busy pacing floors and praying to god because you knew i was gonna be dead from an overdose or end up murdered because of the lifestyle I chose........chose.But not once did you ever turn the mirror inward and look at yourselves.At least not when we needed you to.

I was 22 years old before I could talk to my mother,so overjoyed that I was off drugs!Now its the old Son!HE's back....AND HES SAVED!!!! YES THANK YOU GOD!.....

And as you said,those drugs kept me from being the real me.So i was under the influence and couldnt be kind to you,but now its all good.I remember thinking,WOW.I can finally talk to mom and dad as an adult,and not feel judged,not be yelled at,not feel like blowing my brains out! All I had to do was VALIDATE THEM that it was all on me.And I Believed it.

but i didnt.

It was a nice fantasy.

it was a good dream.

Dad buying us a minivan,giving us cash,helping out. All i had to do was keep buying them booze.Thats the only time they come over anyway. Yeah,see I TOLD YOU THEY WERE GOOD PARENTS! Mom paid for the wedding! Dad showed up unexpectedly with a huge freakin tv! An awesome guitar.....again! And my how wonderful they truly are with the grandkids. Yes sir.My parents finally had my back,and I Finally feel approved of. I Feel love......i think.....do I?

What is love. Is it a measure of gifts? Is it how long I can keep mom on the phone,just listening to her voice? Hearing that calm tone and not the high pitch,banshee scream that still jarrs me awake at night from time to time,even to this day? Is it sitting on my porch with my father,talking with him about workmans comp and how they are being treated unjustly? What is love. If its what I feel for my adopted children,of my wife? They are seperate emotions I cannot compare,nor register simultaneously. But I know this,I have one rule to parenting that I never had to set with myself,It was instinctual... NEVER...NEVER make them feel the way I was made to feel. Make now the best times. And always fight for them,not with them.

I accepted these gifts as your apology in a weird way. which isnt fair to you,but not to me either. However im not ungrateful,and to believe I am Is truly exposing just how false your perception of reality,and your children can be.

And now here we are,You guys are still sneaking around getting us to buy your booze,because your not grown up enough to buy it yourselves out of fear that someone from the church will see it.But its ok to send us out,its ok if they think the kids are dysfunctional,just as long as brother ED and JNM come out the other side clean.Right?I would like to challenge you two to stand in front of the congregation and tell them yourselves about your "STRUGGLE".After all it wasnt two months after I got clean that you had me do it.And to a full house none the less.Why?So I could reach someone out there?Was it for you,or god.Because if it was for god,he would have compelled me to do it.But I would do ANYTHING FOR YOU at that time.We finally had a relationship!Thats beyond unhealthy,thats abusive.(Background Info.About 3 months after I had decided to get clean,JNM decided I was to be the primary speaker at their church and directed me to go into detail about how hazardous and scary my life was,but that god had saved me,look what he can do for you kind of things.I of course agreed because after all it was the first time i actually felt that I had a relationship with my mother.I also have long hair and tattoos,so it was like look what a miracle god can work.Not that im opposed to that belief,but afterwards I felt very dirty and never quite got over it.)Yet we still love you,and we forgive that because,well thats what family does,Right?Even when you show up on my porch calling her a hypocrite,or she gets drunk on the phone and calls you a hypocrite,or when both of you talk about SIS and BIL and the incredibly fine line they have to walk in order to not arouse suspicion that something is awry.When my father stands on my porch of my home and goes against the very grain of the word he preaches sunday after sunday.When the man looks me in the eye and says what he says about my brother.Oh yea dude, dont think i wont cup check you on that one.MAN TO MAN.(Background Info.My ED showed up one day for another run of the mill booze runs and decided to use the opportunity to talk about my adopted brothe,his step son,like a dog.Saying shit like "He never called me dad.He doesnt respect me.Which IS NOT TRUE.I am a step dad to 3 awesome kids and I just could not get where he was coming from.) But then theres all this worry about SIS.The mere fact that you assumed something was wrong and she was mad at you and she needed to get over it,BEFORE YOU EVEN SPOKE TO HER,spoke volumes about how twisted your view on reality has been over the years. So in your brilliant mind,you honestly believed that you could bash your own family and we wouldnt speak to each other?In your words,"Why cant we just sit down like adults and iron this out"."If you love someone,you tell them your concerns"...

Oh but we tried.

Im trying now,and by the time youve made it this far either your blood is boiling,or your stupidly fixated on one key event 4 paragraphs ago under the delusion of "I never said that",or "I dont remember" but regardless,we still love you.We still want to come around.But whats important now is that you two take the longest look in yourselves youve ever had and make a CHOICE. Your not too old to do that.Your "HARD LIFE" doesnt give you a free pass,because ours didnt. Im not the doped out,aggressive bully youve always made me out to be.Im not the goofy immature 28 year old who acts like he's 15 all the time.Im not stupid...but I am pretty broken,I'm beautifully broken. Now,as someone who truly loves you,WAY WAY WAY MORE THAN EITHER OF YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO UNDERSTAND,I expect not better,but the best.I expect EVERYTHING YOU HAVE to go into changing your lives for the positive.To come out of this darkness that youve been living in.But more than that,I expect you to look at the two of us and recognize everything that is you.Now fix it.....or don't.

 End. 

Again Im sorry for the length,and I plan on future posts,if anyone has any questions or had a hard time following (trust me its my life and i still cant follow it),feel free to ask.

Submitted January 12, 2018 at 01:31AM by mattikus713 http://ift.tt/2Fr4yJJ raisedbynarcissists

Did anyone else's parents force you to protect them at all costs? raisedbynarcissists

My parents used to do drugs sometimes. They both smoked pot, which isn't really bad in itself, but they did it constantly. Dad experimented with heroin and opium, and both of them snorted coke once in a while. They were both paranoid by nature, and I think the drugs made them more paranoid. Keep in mind, neither parent was a full-time junkie. Dad was just an alcoholic who did hard drugs on occasion for fun, and Mom was a stupid, sleezy pothead who thought it was cool to be stoned most of the time. They grew their own pot, but bought their harder drugs from people they should have never trusted. Several times during the 90s, Dad wound up owing his dealers money, which he could not pay back. He and Mom became afraid that their dealers could kill them for owing money. They told my brothers and I their fears, even though we were all less than ten years old at the time. They told us that if we ever saw any strangers come around our house (which was in a fairly secluded, rural, forested area) that we were to lead them away from our house - and them. They told us that the people might shoot or stab us to death, but if we died protecting them (our parents), we would granted a place in heaven.

Mom was way worse about this than Dad. These are the literal words she used: ''You three kids are to lay down your life for me, if anything happens. If anyone tries to hurt your mother, you are you die before they get to me.'' I can't tell you how much all this scared me, growing up. My brothers used to actually puff up with pride at the thought of dying for our parents - they started acting like bodyguards from a young age. That mentality never really left them. But I didn't want to die for the horrible people who physically, emotionally, and sexually abused me every day.

My parents' fear of being murdered for whatever reason (because of owing money, or whatever) never left them. They divorced when I was 12. Mom stayed in the derelict cabin we grew up in, while Dad moved into his own apartment, in a slum across town. I lived in both places at different times. When Mom abused me too badly, I would run to live with Dad. When he abused me too badly, I would run back to Mom. Both my parents would force me to sleep in the same beds as them, even into my teens. I later found out this was because they were afraid of being attacked at night, afraid of their houses being broken into, and they wanted me close by to protect them at the first sign of trouble.

I remained their unwilling guard until my late teens, when I ran away. Especially for Mom. Accompanying her everywhere she went if I wasn't at school or work, and sometimes having to skip school or work to escort her somewhere. In about 2006, Dad moved back into the cabin, and she moved into her own house in a different slum in a different part of town. Crime was common there. She used to like to walk laps for exercise on the large track outside the elementary school she worked at. She only had time to do this at night, and always forced me to go with her. Once, a huge, tall guy, built like a refrigerator on legs, came bursting out of the trees, off the path, a few yards in front of us. Mom screamed, because she thought the guy might attack us. She shoved me at him as hard as she could, so hard that I fell onto the pavement - and ran all the way back home without stopping.

The guy didn't attack me. He didn't say anything to me either, just looked confused and plodded away.

Those aren't the only times my parents forced us to go to great lengths to protect them at all costs. They told us that was what we were for. They raised my brothers and I like guard dogs, even whipping us and abusing us to make us tougher.

Anyone have similar stories? Sorry about the wall of text, but I was awake all night with flashbacks about this.

Submitted January 04, 2018 at 05:16PM by RHRam http://ift.tt/2CAJfXr raisedbynarcissists

A pile of Christmas trash raisedbynarcissists

I want to share a slightly lighter, comical story about my utterly batshit crazy mother and my family's holiday experience at her house.

As a background, we have in the past been NC or VLC and currently riding at low-ish contact and mostly faked friendliness. I stay in touch because she's the only link I have to my low-functioning autistic brother and she isn't actively hurting me or my loved ones -- right now. But she has always hated my now husband and has only very recently regularly acknowledged that he or my stepchildren exist and aren't going away. This probably has something to do with the fact that we are now married and expecting our first child, and my mother's first grandchild.

So I threw her a bone and offered to do a belated christmas at her place with my whole little family and my brother. She was so excited and asked what she should get for the kids. I said, you know mom... presents. Just go to Kmart and get a few trucks and books and puzzles, they'll be happy. I could tell she was already pawing through boxes in her basement in excitement for what she could pass along.

I'm wondering if this is a narcissistic trait or just a trait of my crazy baby boomer generation mother. But my ENTIRE life she has been incredibly attached to THINGS. She isn't quite a hoarder but her home looks like a museum dedicated to our family history. She has weird oriental art, mismatched 1800s furniture, oriental rugs in every room, and every odd and end from whatever family member you can name. All these sets of china, silver she is always polishing, old clothes. She saved her mother's wedding dress and tried to get me to wear it at my wedding. It was atrocious. And my entire life she has expected me to inherit both her love of old shit and all of the old shit during her lifetime or when she dies. Before I broke my ties with her one of the many times, she had already managed to pass along a number of basement furniture items that I was being forced to move from place to place for pretty much no reason. When I got married, I said no more and started moving/dumping/selling everything we didn't want or need.

When she found out she was FURIOUS. Her main dumping ground, her only adult child with a home big enough to store the shit SHE didn't want to store, was getting rid of her precious things. The fundamental concept that if you give someone a gift, they can do whatever they want with it is lost on her.

And yet, more shit kept coming. Every phone call was "Oh you said you guys are looking for a bunk bed for the kids? I have the queen bed you were conceived in in the basement, you can have that! It's very nice it was made by the Amish... what do you mean you don't want it?? It's very nice! We paid a lot of money for it!" This would inevitably lead to anger and a pouting fit from her for a while.

So our Christmas rolls around. I drag my poor nervous family over to her house/museum. The kids are confused that they can't touch the giant marble elephants on the tables. They have to use coasters or get dirty looks. She's put the youngest toddler in a high chair from the 1800s that looks like it's about to knock him over and he's terrified. She draped a towel over the 8-year-old's dining room chair to protect the sacred chair and caused much offense in the process. I'm having flashbacks to my own childhood where I could never put my feet up on the sofa, the area under my dining chair would be inspected for crumbs, and I could only use certain towels in the bathroom because most of them were "decorative" only.

But then ladies and gentlemen, it's time for presents. We gave her nice, thoughtful gifts. An ornament with our baby's ultrasound image. A fancy sous vide. And she has given us enormous piles of garbage. My stepdaughter was such a trooper. She put on her sunniest face and performed the best display of acting I have ever fucking seen. Upon receiving my 30 year old American girl doll with raggedy hair and a dirty face she grinned and pretended to love it. The creepy paper dolls my grandmother painted decades ago, squirreled away in a corner of my mom's basement, now wrapped and presented to this poor child. An Operation game with a taped up box that my mom admitted "has a lot of missing pieces". More creepy dolls, where in god's name has she been keeping all these creepy dolls? My stepdaughter hasn't touched a doll in years and these little horrors certainly aren't going to get her back into the doll game.

For my three year old stepson? Old, stinky books with old stinky book smell. Piles of them. It could be worse, I suppose.

For me: baby clothes. Oh, that's nice, you might think. Maybe she actually went to a baby store and picked out some cute onesies for her new grandson? That's what my in-laws did. But of COURSE NOT. She gave me multiple sealed plastic packs of my brother's baby clothes from the 1980s. 30 year old baby clothes. Not just one or two special items, but nearly ALL of his baby clothes. So if I ever want to dress my son in a vintage sailor apron with matching hat, I have that covered. Oh wait, I don't, because we tossed them in a dumpster on the way home. And if she ever finds out there will be hell to pay.

But the crowning jewel this whole evening is what she gifted my husband. We have been together 5 years. In that time his parents have showered me with thousand dollar vacations, piles of holiday presents with everything I could have ever asked for, and more dinners out and in than I can possibly count. My mother has never given my life partner a damn fucking thing. His first EVER gift from her was... a used mini refrigerator. She bought it 11 years ago, used it for a bit, stuck it back in its box in a corner of her basement and then finally thought yes, that would be an adequate gift for my only son-in-law as he prepares to be the father to my only grandchild. She even bothered to wrap it and put a bow on it. Isn't that incredible?

Submitted January 03, 2018 at 03:07AM by Lepidopteria http://ift.tt/2qfe6nv raisedbynarcissists

NMom and NStepdad Perma-cancelled Christmas. raisedbynarcissists

Three Christmases ago my mother, who had demanded that Christmas Eve be spent at her house for the last 20 years, got pissed off at my NSister-in-Law for what amounts to "taking her for granted". It was a touch more complicated than that, and involves the fact that my NSister-in-Law is also, well, a Narc, and thinks the world revolves around her family and her traditions and everyone else becomes second-class citizens in her view. But even with that, Christmas Eve was always at my mom's house. It was a given.

So my mom gets pissed off at my Sister-In-Law about some imagined slight too far involving yard work, and decides to cancel Christmas. Her excuse was "she was working on the trim and the house wasn't presentable". Ok, fine. I did not make the 6 hour drive because if she was too stressed out to host Christmas, she was too stressed out to host company, I spent it with my partner. At this point she still will accept visits from her two grandchildren (who, I might add, live less than 3 blocks from her).

Suddenly after this, she cuts out my brother's entire family, not just the NSister-in-Law. Even the kids. This is not the first time my mother has taken perceived intentional slights from children and taken them deeply personally, as if children should be held to some beyond-adult standards of decorum. She did, after all, very dramatically stab a refrigerator a few dozen times, and then went on cooking strike where we were only able to eat cereal for 2 weeks when my brother and I did not appreciate her meals enough one day. Because 8 and 9 year olds are always the most grateful of creatures.

It is, however, the first time that my mother decides that NSister-in-Law is coaching the then 6 year old to get my mother to hang out with NSister-in-Law's dad, include him as "part of the family", so that her family could trump one of our family's traditions. Ok, right, Mom. The 6 year old is part of a Machiavellian plot to get you to hang out with someone who's just mildly annoying who just lost his wife and needs to be distracted with good cheer and somehow any of this is planned and not the 6-year-old just thinking out loud like she does at all times. And somehow the thought of spending a few hours with someone who is just irritating is a massive betrayal on my brother's family part. But her paranoia aside, I digress.

The next Christmas flies by, same thing. "I'm working on the trim", etc excuses. So again, I don't come down, my brother comes to me with his wife and kids. We have a fine time. But still I am puzzled why my mom has cancelled Christmas for the 2nd year in a row. At this point I am fairly mad, and do not come down because she is now cold with me every time I talk to her. I ask her several times if she wants me to come down anyway, but she does not.

Turns out every time the kids go over to talk to her she is turned away. If they leave her presents, she sends them cold, impersonal letters back. At this point I am the only one who has talked to my mother in more than a year.

This year turns around, I don't even hold out hope that our tradition will carry on because now it's not the trim that is the excuse, it's that the dog is old and has separation anxiety and it's too stressful for him. I ask my mom about my ornaments that I have had since 1983 that I have never been allowed to take to my own home because of this family tradition, nor was there really a reason to. Several had been lost (most likely because Abusive NStepdad possibly threw them away to be an asshole and then denied it which has been the fate of many a sentimental thing in the house...it is then blamed on either me or my brother). I want to replace the lost ones. So she tells me "oh you can just take them with you when you visit". Ok cool.

I come up on Friday, stay with my brother for a few days and arrange to go over there on Sunday, because my mother has said "don't come over if you're only staying for a half hour, it stresses the dog out".

I get there. My mother has packed up all of the Christmas decorations. Including like 20 years of ornaments I had made her. "You're taking these with you" my stepdad chimes in with "it's you or the thrift store". "The next time you come you're taking your grandmother's Christmas village".

And you know what? The fucking trim that took 2+ years to redo that was the cause of the first two cancelled Christmases was NOT EVEN UP. It was sitting in a stack behind the dining room table.

The weirdest thing though: I also took a bunch of childhood stuff because they kept talking about how "everything must go", and in the top of the hutch while I was looking for something I found several years worth of holiday cards addressed to my niece and nephew. Easily 12-16 cards. All definitely had cash.

Submitted January 01, 2018 at 02:20PM by KilljoyMcCoy http://ift.tt/2qbStV0 raisedbynarcissists

I'm reaching the end of my tether... raisedbynarcissists

Hey r/raisedbynarcissists!

First off, I'd just like to express how grateful I am for finding this sub and how great it is to find that I'm not alone in having parents that are so self-centered and horrible to around.

This is probably gonna be long as I've been letting this stew for quite some time and I need to vent.

For background: I'm 23/f and currently living with my parents, I work 3 jobs (2 in retail and one voluntarily at a non-profit zoo) my parents charge me 2/3's of my paycheck from my primary job ($285) a month. I took up a seasonal job at a clothing store about a month ago so I could have extra money for Christmas. Since I finished high school, my NMom had been nagging me to get "a real job" (as part-time retail jobs aren't real jobs apparently - she works in retail herself for less hours than me) and I was applying to different jobs every single day and wasn't getting much back. To counter this, I signed up for lots of overtime at my primary job to get her off my back and to get away from her during the day.

Anyways, I haven't long got back from a shift at my main job, only to find that she's gone through my stuff and decided to make it her duty to lecture and insult me about my stuff and accusing me of having a shopping addiction. This coming from the woman who goes on vacation 5 or 6 times a year and ALWAYS buys new clothes to take on said vacation. She also owns about 30-40 purses and will always buy more when she's away, she'll also always buy a new outfit whenever she's going out with her friends. She's really hypocritical.

My dad has always been pretty laid-back and has always followed the path of talking about things to resolve problems but around 6 months ago, he was unable to renew the lease on the property he ran his business out of and began working from home. And since that, I really don't know what has happened to him. He's no longer the same person and has become exactly like my NMom.

He's always been an alcoholic but he's generally an all-round unpleasant person to be around. During the day he'll avoid/ignore me and if he does bother to acknowledge me, it's usually to bang on my bedroom door at 8AM and yelling at me for being lazy for sleeping in on a non-work day. Any food I'll buy, he'll eat it after getting drunk and then say that I shouldn't have left it in the refrigerator if I wasn't gonna eat it (wtf). But easily the worst thing he's done is open my bank statements. He's done it twice now, admitted it was initially a mistake but then goes through it and marks in pen purchases that he thinks I either shouldn't have made or he doesn't approve of. Both times he's done this, he can't understand why it's an invasion of privacy and pissed me off. I've now opted out of receiving paper statements because of this.

I also have a brother who is 10 years older than me and lives at my grandmother's house as she is now in a nursing home. He is 100% the golden child of the family. He recently had an investigation at work for damaging a car that he was working on and my NMom literally threatened to go to his work an confront the manager for bullying him...

Living with one NParent is bad enough but when it's two, it's just too much. I'm bipolar and I get anxious really easily. When me and my bf first met, he didn't get why I was scared of my NMom and the reasons I've mentioned above are exactly why. I've never been allowed to express my emotions without being punished and keeping my feelings bottled up is draining.

Sorry it was long, I just really needed to vent.

TL;DR: NParents are making my life miserable. NMom is selfish, never satisfied and a hypocrite. NDad is an alcoholic who doesn't understand the concept of privacy.

Submitted December 31, 2017 at 12:31AM by _Growlithe_ http://ift.tt/2EhStpw raisedbynarcissists

Protecting yourself financially raisedbynarcissists

So I was recently at my parents' and on their refrigerator, I saw a statement for a certificate of deposit, and a note with my name and social security number (?!?!?!) that said "add to account." I am a 33 year old and should not be listed on my parents' financial accounts! They have tried to do this in the past, saying I should be added to their savings account, but I thought they had given up on it. Is there anything I can or should be doing to make sure that they're not able to meddle with my finances having this information about me?

Thanks!

Submitted December 29, 2017 at 05:56AM by dfdcf1116 http://ift.tt/2EbZRCL raisedbynarcissists

How to sleep after BPD mum threw a tantrum? raisedbynarcissists

There was a lot of screaming, demands to 'call the police', attacking of furniture, attacking of my refrigerator

She went to bed instantly once edad agreed to her demands (to replace her room's bloated door under her room's leaking air conditioner with another door of the same make- which is going to bloat again from the water, which is why I kept saying it was illogical to do so).

I can't sleep. I need to because I want to build a functional sleep cycle. I can tell she is going to use edad against me in some way, I don't know what to do about this cloying fear. I'm not even sure the exact emotional reason why I can't sleep, probably that she will make my life difficult for me?

There are just so many alarm bells going off from every direction. The entire thing was just lies in every direction.

1) She claimed she wanted to have the door replaced so I wouldn't have to hear her singing- which was evidently not the case because she's never cared if we have to put up with it or not. Going by previous experience, the real reason is that she wants door locked because she has always claimed that edad will 'poison her in her sleep'

2) She kept shrieking about calling the police. But for what? I was trying to remove her from my room so I could get some sleep. Is this a crime?

3) She claims she needed permission from me to replace her door. I don't get this at all- she's a grown woman with her own cash stack. Furthermore when I was 8-12 years old she used to 'demand' permission to cheat on my dad from my grandmother and I by shrieking, throwing tantrums and making our lives infinitely miserable until we told her to just go ahead and do it- she would then use this to scapegoat the blame onto us.

I don't know how to sleep. I seriously am stressed out of my mind right now- I keep reminding myself that demands made by manipulation, lies and threats should never be met, but at the same time edad keeps insisting on acceding to her demands.

Submitted December 26, 2017 at 01:23AM by DamnAHtml http://ift.tt/2DPDXFs raisedbynarcissists

"gifts" from Ns raisedbynarcissists

I know it's still a bit early, but anyone else get some awesome Ngifts this year? I'm trying to just laugh about it - here is what I got:

• Random collection of spoons and a cup I used as a child that she found in storage
• A book that she accidentally ordered two of so she has been trying to 'get rid of' the additional copy (in her own words. She thought it was a funny story)
• A refrigerator odor eliminator
• A 'baby's first Christmas' ornament for my eldest child who is not a baby, nor is it his first Christmas

Anyone else?

Submitted December 24, 2017 at 03:43AM by Gumbolio http://ift.tt/2l5m2C6 raisedbynarcissists

What happens to your anger when you're not allowed to have anger? raisedbynarcissists

I'm trying to sort out and make sense of the behavior of my ex, who was raised by an addict and an ndad. He inherited his mom's addition issues, which is why I finally left, but I'm curious about some of his other behavior. I'm trying to sort the substance abuse behavior from the psychological damage and make sense of what I experienced in the relationship.

He was passed around a lot as a kid. Stayed with his mom's friends, who were using, and a grandmother, etc. His dad sort of left him with her. When he was with his dad, his dad was extremely critical. He suffered a lot of neglect. I think as a child he learned that certain emotional responses were not in his self-interest. That being upset or angry in any way... were just a kind of luxury he couldn't afford. His day-to-day situations were just too precarious for a kid who made trouble (acted like a normal kid).

I'm wondering how you all would predict that kind of self-moderating behavior would effect someone as an adult. How someone who wasn't allowed to experience anger or any kind of extreme emotion would process feelings as an adult. How would you expect that person to develop?

I know there was a period in his late teens/early twenties where he would do things like break into houses and pee in people's refrigerators, throw bricks through people's windshields, things like that. He now feels guilty about those things, which I'm glad about. I think it's healthy that he feels shame about that (while also understanding why he did those things.) But I don't think he's really discovered a healthy means of expressing his anger.

I don't think I ever really got close enough to him to understand what he does with his emotions. But I'd like to know. I'd like to try to find a way to communicate with him if possible. Anyway I don't want to be angry with him for things outside of his control. Any insight would be appreciated.

Submitted December 19, 2017 at 08:36AM by lala__ http://ift.tt/2kh6Zph raisedbynarcissists

Help! How to tell Nmom I don't want her at my graduation in May! raisedbynarcissists

I walk the stage for my Associate's in May; before I head to a University and start my journey towards an Bachelor's in Mechanical Engineering.

It was hard getting my associates because I struggled with depression (caused, a majority of the time by my psychotic, narcissistic mother and her behavior).

In the course of my lifetime, my mom has physically abused me, emotionally manipulated me, and gaslighted me.

She's ruined every romantic relationship I've ever been in, chasing each guy off within a few short years.

Things she's done to me within the last two years, in chronological order:

• Alienated me from my sibling by pitting us against each other.
• I failed a math class(took the advanced course over the following summer, passed with a B), and she stormed into my room drunk and told me that because I failed I was a disappointment, that I clearly wasn't smart enough for my major, and should just drop out.(April/2016)
• During that same drunken rant, told me that she loved my brother more "because he isn't in her face all the fucking time". (April/2016)
• During that same drunken rant, she also told me if she could, she'd have had my brother first and then gotten sterilized. (April/2016)
• Threw 3 full glass jars of pasta sauce at me, which shatteted as they hit the ground, showering me with broken glass and left me bleeding, taken dry goods out of the pantry and thrown them at me, then proceeded to grab my face, drag me close to her, whisper "I wish I could hurt you", before bouncing my head off of our refrigerator. Why? Because I wanted to use my own money to buy McDonalds(September/2016).
• Stormed into my room, held me down by my ponytail, and punched me around my head, face, and back because my ex hadn't paid her the rent he owed her. (Jan/2017)
• Charged me because I told her I couldn't do something she wanted me to do on her timeline, she caught me by the hair, and ripped a two inch section clean from my scalp. (Thanksgiving/2017)
• When my dad grabbed her to stop her from hitting me, she bit down on his arm, and broke the skin. She pulled away, slapped the gray out of his hair, and then threatened to have us both tossed into jail for touching her. (Thanksgiving/2017)
• Accused me and my dad of having a prolonged, sexual relationship behind her back(he's my biological father)(Thanksgiving/2017).
• Denies having told me to drop out of school, and attempted to gaslight me. (Dec/2017)

Basically, I'm done with her shit. I don't want her in my life anymore, therapy hasn't worked(she just lies to them and makes herself out to be the victim), reasoning hasn't worked, compromise hasn't worked, and I'm done trying. I honestly don't have a need, or a want for her constant, overwhelming drama.

I have plans to go No Contact when I leave for College in Fall/2018, but my Dad still wants to make things work, and wants to uphold the "happy family" facade.

I don't want her at my graduation, especially given that 1) she told me to drop out, and called me stupid. Its clear she doesn't/didn't support my efforts to get an education, 2) she thinks me and my dad are having sex behind her back because he protected me from her beating the shit out of me.

Am I the asshole for not wanting my psychotic, narcissistic mother at my graduation? Is it easier to just invite her and then go no contact when I leave for college? I know there will be some blowback from this, because thats just how she is, and I'll have to live with her until atleast August 2018.

TL;DR: my mom is a psycho, I don't want her at my graduation. How to tell her that I don't want her there, knowing I have to live with her until August/2018?

Submitted December 13, 2017 at 12:39PM by kait_1291 http://ift.tt/2ylxaiM raisedbynarcissists

This is by no means an exhaustive list of my childhood memories of home – only the most visceral, those that epitomize 18 years of existence in my parents’ home. raisedbynarcissists

My earliest memories are marred with neglect. As early as the first grade I was responsible for waking myself up, preparing myself for school, and waking up my mother, who would begrudgingly take me to school - late. I would arrive at school with no lunch, and no money in my school lunch account. I would spend lunch begging my classmates for bites of their sandwiches and leftover chips; some teachers would notice and slip me a few dollars to buy snacks from school. At this age, it seemed as though the only time my mother had an interest in helping me, was in the shower. She would unlock the bathroom door from the outside, and peek behind the shower curtain, amused by my shock and embarrassment. Cooing like an attentive mother, she would “help” me shower – which involved her massaging my breasts while singing (“I must, I must, I must increase my bust!”) and vigorously washing my vulva – so much so that it would hurt me to urinate for the hours that followed. Soap would sting my vagina, where she’d gingerly insert her fingers to check for my hymen. “Good girl” she’d say “nice and clean”. When I grew old enough to prepare food for myself, there was rarely food in the house that could be packed for school. When I’d beg her to pack me lunch, I’d excitedly open my bag to see a tortilla, or maybe a single slice of bologna in a Ziploc bag. My requests for more food were interpreted as attacks on her motherhood, and left her in hysterics culminating in the conclusion that “if my lunches aren’t good enough for you, then you can make them yourself.” The issue of having food made accessible to me was never addressed. Again, I resorted to eating leftover snacks at lunch. While there was food available to buy at school, I had no money. My dad was making a high salary as an engineer, but that was, and still is, “his money”. Because of this financial abuse, my mom resorted to stealing bills from my brother and I after holidays and birthdays, enacting her own type of financial abuse on us. Sometimes it would be overt – claiming she’d pay us back, or mollifying us with, “I’m going to spend this on you anyway”. Other times money would just disappear. Confrontation was met with gaslighting - “I wouldn’t do that to you, are you sure you counted your money right?” This drove me to begin working under the table at age 13 - begging parents of my younger friends to let me tutor them. My swim coaches would let me “assistant coach” on the weekends for $20. It was enough for me to eat at lunch. Swim practice was my only solace – 2 hours a day without her. But on the occasion she decided to show up to a swim meet, she would use what she observed as ammunition, fragmenting my sense of self-worth by comparison to my teammates - a hallmark of narcissistic abuse. “Why aren’t you as fast as the other girls? As lively, as skinny?” When I was made to feel too insecure and inadequate to be around them – for fear they’d see me the way my mom did – I’d make friends with the boys, then be chastised for being too easy, a slut. One of my parents’ favorite things to tell me was: girls will never want to be friends with you, and boys will only want to fuck you. Equipped with this knowledge, at 13 I went to a birthday party with my teammates. An older boy came onto me, kissing me, and touching my genitals through my pants. I didn’t like it, but this is “what boys did”, this is what my parents had predicted for me. Other mothers who were present told mine that I was being inappropriate. I was berated for dishonoring her, for being a whore. I was never given the opportunity to explain that I was molested. (When I tried to confront them about this a few months ago, I was gaslighted, and my father’s response was not one of sadness or guilt, but a dismissive, “boo-fucking-hoo”). As punishment, my mother stopped speaking with me for 6 months, essentially forgoing any of her responsibilities for me – a tactic she would employ all my life. During this time, my father lived in the house but was often physically and emotionally absent, leaving my mother the job of parenting. I was responsible for finding rides to school and swim practice, and left to walk 4-5 miles when it was inconvenient for my friends parents to drive me. No one alerted me when dinner was ready and there would be no food left when they had all cleared and it was safe to come down. My mother’s harassment intensified – sometimes casual comments about how I looked or acted like a prostitute – other times she would tease me for the size and shape of my butt, and the presence of a chubby prepubescent tummy. Though absent for most parenting tasks aside from draconian discipline - characterized by violent verbal explosions and manhandling - my dad would join in for the sexual harassment; it amused him how much my butt jiggled when I walked, or how big my breasts were getting on such a small frame (“You would think that the size of your boobs would be proportional to your maturity!” - a statement I despised because it functioned to both sexualize and infantalize). As I was leaving the house one afternoon wearing a shapeless full length dress, my father told me he “hoped I got raped” so that I would “finally realize how people looked at me.” The reality is, it wasn’t other people who considered me deserving of sexual violence, it was my own father projecting that image onto me. I wondered if he looked at me the way he looked at the porn stars he’d watch – in the upper right hand corner of his computer screen - when he was helping me tie my shoes at age 5, or sitting next to me on the couch when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. I knew for sure when he hugged me with an erection this past May. This projection of me as a “whore” became especially problematic when I first contracted pink eye from classmates at age 14 – my parents denied me treatment claiming that if I didn’t want pink eye, I “shouldn’t have sucked so many dicks”. This perception of my promiscuity – in spite of never becoming voluntarily intimate with another person - served as the basis for my parents to bar me from leaving the house, a refusal to let me see my friends, and a near constant surveillance on my journals, text messages, and emails. My brother and I have found small microphones in common areas, and my dad brags about cameras he has posed at each entry point of my childhood home, programmed to text him with an image that triggered the motion sensors. He regularly uses this to monitor our comings and goings.

By the time I entered high school, I was involved in both club swimming and high school cross country, I was on track to be an International Baccalaureate scholar, all while working as a swim instructor to maintain some semblance of financial independence. With the notion that I was performing as perfectly as any 15 year old could, I thought I had mastered the art of existing undetected and would be able to quietly complete high school without stoking their wrath. But at 16, my dad’s periodic absences and overnight stays “at work” confirmed the suspicion that he was having an affair, launching my mother into a downward spiral of depression and mania. The depressive episodes left my mother functionally useless, lying nearly comatose in her bed for days and weeks at a time, highlighting the negligence that characterized my early life. The little food in our pantry became ever more meager, and some nights I would come home from school to find that every piece of food in the pantry and refrigerator was expired or molding. During bouts of mania, my mother would curse me for being alive, sometimes restraining me against walls to scream that if it weren’t for me, she would not have to stay with my father, and be a “martyr” to his treatment. When she had the energy to drive me to school or swim practice, her mental sky would be clouded with such bitterness and anguish that she would drive erratically, braking and accelerating violently, or swerving into other lanes. Through gritted teeth she would justify herself with, “I’m imagining I’m killing the other woman.” Other times I would be roped into being her therapist, listening to intimate details of my parents’ personal and sexual relationship, or be coerced into helping her search the house for evidence of my father’s affair. This is how I came to know that while we had nothing to eat in the house, my father was taking his mistress to concerts, and buying her a new phone and tablet. My mother’s inability and unwillingness to function during this time reified my role as de facto parent, both to her and my brother - a tactic I would later learn is common of abuse by a narcissistic parent. In my “outside life” I was working two, and sometimes three jobs – as a swim instructor, tutor, babysitter - to pay for groceries for me and my brother, in line to be captain of both the cross country and swim teams, and taking the most AP’s available to a sophomore. To the casual observer it would seem inconceivable that I was waiting to start my homework until 2am when my parent’s fights petered out – often too loud and violent to focus on anything else or drown out with music. I’d wake up for swim practice at 5AM, pick up the glass off the floor, put the furniture in its proper place, and try not to look at the bruises on my mom’s face and arms. My parents used this image of success to “motivate” my brother to do well once he entered high school. All it motivated him to do was attempt suicide – taking the leftover Tylenol+Codeine from my wisdom teeth extraction a few months prior. He told the school counselor it was a suicide attempt before my parents – and likely for good reason. When they found out, they berated him, crying “how could you possibly think we don’t care” and ”how selfish are you to do this to us!” My brother and I knew these were merely alligator tears – a week later it was as if nothing had happened. They continued to antagonize my brother for his less than perfect grades; inconceivable to them was the fact that his performance could be a result of our family’s instability and lack of emotional support. No one inquired into mental health care for my brother, and without our insurance cards, I was in no position to do so. The stress of mediating between my parents, acting as confidante to my mother, a mother to my brother, and a provider to myself, all while maintaining the image of a scholar athlete left me with little time for personal enjoyment or development. By my senior year, balancing now college applications and standardized tests, my grades began to slip slightly, leaving me with a C in AP Calculus BC as admissions were released. I submitted a letter to the Cal admissions department at this time explaining my situation so as to not have my admittance rescinded. While working in high school, I saved up as much money as I could, but since I was spending a lot of it on groceries and living expenses, it wasn’t enough to afford rent in Berkeley. I’ve been relying on my dad for rent and tuition, but part-time work at cafes, and freelance work (tutoring and babysitting) have allowed me to pay for everything else. Even then, my dad will sometimes forget to transfer me rent money, or claim that he can’t support me on a given month because the impending divorce is taking a lot out of him. This has put me in the position of covering my rent with my meager and often inconsistent income, leaving me without the ability to feed myself for days at a time, or buy myself proper clothes for the wet winter season. I thought that living away from home would allow me a healthier space, but the inconsistency of his support is incredibly taxing and disorienting, leaving me prone to bouts of debilitating anxiety, self-harm, and suicidal ideation. So much so that a former therapist of mine has diagnosed this reaction as “complex trauma” – made worse by the fact that I am forced to maintain contact with my family in order to continue attending Cal. While I would like to have the support of a mental health professional, my budget will not allow me to continue intakes with other therapists who will not be able to help me after the first few sessions. I am still in contact with my father because he finances my education, and I have not been in contact with my mother for nearly a year - though I was forced to spend time with both of them this past May for my brother’s high school graduation. That visit was immensely traumatizing; my cries for consistent support were met with ridicule and disbelief. Angered at the seeming implication of his inadequacy as a parent, my father threw me on the ground and restrained me - one hand on my shoulder, the other around my neck - so I would be forced to listen to a barrage of insults and threats. I was wearing a sundress, which had flipped up to expose my crotch when I hit the ground. My father’s eyes flicked between mine and my exposed crotch - never before had I felt so completely dominated. I made the decision then that I cannot be dependent upon my family any longer if it means continuing to put myself in the way of their emotional, financial, sexual and now physical abuse.

Submitted December 13, 2017 at 02:07AM by su-cculent http://ift.tt/2C84Jrw raisedbynarcissists

Ns and Food raisedbynarcissists

I seriously can't stop rolling my eyes at this.

(TL;DR version: If you're the kind of person who reacts like a little kid to food odors, then congratulations! You might be a melodramatic N. Like my mother.)

So last night, I went to a Christmas party. The hosts had a ton of extra food left at the end of the evening, so I took a plate home with me that I loaded up with delicious things.

Mother spotted the double-foiled plate in the fridge, and asked me this morning what it was. I told her, and immediately she told me to get it all into other containers because it was 'stinking up her refrigerator'. The funny thing is, I opened the fridge to get some milk, expecting to be hit by a wave of reeking garlic and other strong odors...only to find a slight smell from that aforementioned plate.

So I decide to put my leftovers into a couple containers for later. (Hey, I have lunch for work for a few days!) As I'm doing so, I'm trying to portion out some vegetarian alfredo I nabbed so I can nibble on it for lunch. Immediately, Mom starts in on food police mode, telling me I 'don't need to eat all that', I 'only need a quarter of that', if I ate all of it, I wouldn't get any dinner, blah blah, etc. Never mind there wasn't much of it to begin with, I apparently needed less.

So I take a portion (smaller than I wanted, bigger than she wanted), put away the rest of the food, reheat my portion and sit down to eat. Mom went outside to do yardwork, and as soon as she came back in, she exclaimed 'Oh My God', like it was some serious problem and not just a bit of seasoned, reheated alfredo creating an odor. And I was apparently not supposed to just toss the paper plate once I was done; I had to rinse it off and take it to the outside trash can so it wouldn't 'stink up her whole kitchen'. Again, keep in mind there is barely an odor from this small amount of food, plus we have windows and doors open for ventilation.

(Side-note: Does anyone else really hate people who make a huge fuss over food odors? Like, I hate sauerkraut. The smell is awful, the taste is worse to me. But I won't sit there and make a huge issue out of smelling it, I just deal with it until it dissipates. Apparently, Mom's too good to do that.)

Submitted December 04, 2017 at 01:54AM by RogueLadyCerulean http://ift.tt/2BG9DvO raisedbynarcissists

Ns and Food raisedbynarcissists

I seriously can't stop rolling my eyes at this.

(TL;DR version: If you're the kind of person who reacts like a little kid to food odors, then congratulations! You might be a melodramatic N. Like my mother.)

So last night, I went to a Christmas party. The hosts had a ton of extra food left at the end of the evening, so I took a plate home with me that I loaded up with delicious things.

Mother spotted the double-foiled plate in the fridge, and asked me this morning what it was. I told her, and immediately she told me to get it all into other containers because it was 'stinking up her refrigerator'. The funny thing is, I opened the fridge to get some milk, expecting to be hit by a wave of reeking garlic and other strong odors...only to find a slight smell from that aforementioned plate.

So I decide to put my leftovers into a couple containers for later. (Hey, I have lunch for work for a few days!) As I'm doing so, I'm trying to portion out some vegetarian alfredo I nabbed so I can nibble on it for lunch. Immediately, Mom starts in on food police mode, telling me I 'don't need to eat all that', I 'only need a quarter of that', if I ate all of it, I wouldn't get any dinner, blah blah, etc. Never mind there wasn't much of it to begin with, I apparently needed less.

So I take a portion (smaller than I wanted, bigger than she wanted), put away the rest of the food, reheat my portion and sit down to eat. Mom went outside to do yardwork, and as soon as she came back in, she exclaimed 'Oh My God', like it was some serious problem and not just a bit of seasoned, reheated alfredo creating an odor. And I was apparently not supposed to just toss the paper plate once I was done; I had to rinse it off and take it to the outside trash can so it wouldn't 'stink up her whole kitchen'. Again, keep in mind there is barely an odor from this small amount of food, plus we have windows and doors open for ventilation.

(Side-note: Does anyone else really hate people who make a huge fuss over food odors? Like, I hate sauerkraut. The smell is awful, the taste is worse to me. But I won't sit there and make a huge issue out of smelling it, I just deal with it until it dissipates. Apparently, Mom's too good to do that.)

Submitted December 04, 2017 at 01:54AM by RogueLadyCerulean http://ift.tt/2BG9DvO raisedbynarcissists

Thanksgiving Part Three: Nmom think I'm the other woman. raisedbynarcissists

This is part three!

Part One: http://ift.tt/2BnRbHd

Part Two: http://ift.tt/2j2aXBD

So, on the night of thanksgiving, Edad had his rose colored glasses firmly snatched off.

I woke up the next day(Friday), and the house was quiet.

A cursory glance of the driveway told me Nmom was gone for the day, but Edad was not.

While still in bed on social media, Edad stood outside my door and asked me if I wanted to have lunch with him.

I said okay, sure, because as a domestic violence survivor(not because of Nmom, I have had an abusive ex in the past. I am not all together unconvinced that the abusive, toxic relationship with my mom was why I didn't recognize abuse for what it was until it was too late.), I knew that I couldn't give Edad time to try to justify the abuse.

I had to remain factual, and blunt, and help him see the abuse for what it was, as well as see the manipulation from her afterwards for what it was.

We went to Culver's(Judge me. Their cashew chicken salad is a work of culinary genius.), and sat down.

While there, we talked frankly about the facts:

• Nmom physically assaulted Edad over something that, in hindsight, was minor. A plastic tote of clothing in a hallway is not a reason to bite someone. Twice.

• Nmom has a history of this behavior. Going back to my childhood she's been verbally, physically, and emotionally abusive. When I was a teen, she and I clashed often, and enthusiastically. Now, as an adult, she still hasn't learned that she cannot simply attack people. She bounced my head off our refrigerator because I wanted McDonalds.

• Nmom has become increasingly hostile. At first, Edad and I assumed it was because my ex boyfriend was staying with us. But when my ex left, things only improved temporarily. Things are clearly still escalating.

• There is zero excuse for the abuse, in any capacity, but most importantly the physical abuse cannot be ignored.

Edad was a bit riled up, and started showing me the text exchange between him and Nmom. Most of it was happening on her end, she'd send him maybe 3-4 messages in a row, and he'd give one word answers or a short sentance.

Then he started getting even more irritated about her wanting to divorce, and her grounds for divorce, but wouldn't tell me right away what those grounds were.

It took a little convincing, but eventually he glanced around the dining room of Culver's, then down into his plate before finally speaking in a subdued tone: "Your mother thinks that the reason I defended you, and have kept defending you over and over in the past, is because you and I are having a sexual relationship behind her back."

[Record scratch.] Uhhhh. What?

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. On a cracker. This bitch has lost her goddamn mind.

I couldn't even believe it. I asked him "What?" about six times because thats how many times he had to repeat it before my brain could comprehend the words that he was saying, when they were introduced in that order.

Nmom thinks I'm sleeping with my BIOLOGICAL father!

Are you fucking kidding me?? That would never happen, because first of all EW!!! and second of all, WHAT THE FUCK!!!

When I could finally comprehend what was being said, my blood ran ice cold because I realized this made so much sense.

• It explains why she's never treated me like a daughter.

• Whenever I'm around she's palpably angry.

• Me and my dad used to go to museums, and plays all the time, after every excursion, my mom would be stand offish, and mean.

My Nmom thinks I'm the other woman.

Those words have rattled around inside my head like marbles ever since. My gast has never been so flabbered. I am shocked, shaken, confused, and disgusted.

It puts a sickly green tint over every interaction between my dad and I, even innocent things like him kissing my forehead or ruffling my hair.

My Edad is not a perfect person, he has never claimed to be. Over the years he has cheated on my mom quite a bit, no that's not okay, but if my Nmom had her choice they would have stopped having sex in 1997.

During Edads many affairs, there was one woman who my dad put himself between her and my mom when my mom tried to attack her. What my mom didn't know was that my dad thought the woman was pregnant with one of my half-siblings(the woman was not in fact pregnant at all, she was saying that to keep my dad around).

It's been a few days since this, clearly, here's a list of the things that have happened since:

• On Saturday(11/25), my dad asked Nmom for the keys to the Sonata. Instantly, she busted out the waterworks, and was extremely apologetic. She dried up faster than the Sahara desert when he explained that he wanted to update her IPass information.

• We have not exchanged cars.

• I have not spoken to Nmom since she accused me and Edad of sleeping together. I don't want her at my graduation ceremony in May.

• Edad has apparently settled into his fate, and I have neither the energy nor the patience to get him out while I'm in such a huge transition period of my life. Trying to pull Edad out of this mess will probably be too much for me, and prolong my own escape.

• Before I was undecided about NC, and even had hopes that my relationship with my Nmom might improve if we were on even footing, but as soon as I am no longer living here I plan to go completely, and unapologetically NC, with her mostly, and others if need be.

Submitted November 30, 2017 at 12:52AM by kait_1291 http://ift.tt/2BnRdij raisedbynarcissists

My Step-Monster and the ultimate 7th (and only) birthday party. raisedbynarcissists

Hello all!

I hope all of you are breathing some fresh air and finding your joy today. I've been reading a myriad of posts, from some seriously tough cookies, so their strength has helped me find some of my own. I've never posted here before, so please have patience, as I'm not entirely sure as to how formatting should be done. Welp...here it goes.

The year was 1981. My parents divorced 2 years prior (it was ugly) and were living thousands of miles apart. My father, a disgusting monster parading around as a human, had quickly remarried by this point. Now, his wife is what I referr to as a "light switch" person. One moment she appears normal, but in an instant, BLAM...presto chango...step-monster emerges. I was her favourite target of course. Being the only girl child in the house, it was an easy choice for her.

The day in question was my birthday party. It was a pool/swimming party that all of the neighbourhood kids were invited to. I was ecstatic as I'd never had a party before. So, everyone is there and I'm playing little hostess. Checking that all have drinks and towels etc. Having a lovely time actually.

Then I jump in to swim and notice a friend of mine seems upset. I swim to her and ask what's wrong as I'm genuinely concerned for her. Her replies to my many pleadings of concern was to hop out of the pool and dash into the house. Well alarm bells went off in my head, because I was warned about my guests not getting the tile floors wet. It was my responsibility to ensure this didn't happen.

So off I go out of the pool, grabbing a towel, half running through the sliding doors after her. Of course I'm drying myself with one towel and the floor with another. I raced down the long hallway and into the kitchen, which was around the corner. I completely passed through the side of the front living room, failing to see my friend that was sat there. When I entered the kitchen, my step monster was there and was responding to my inquiries regarding have you seen my friend. She asked me what had happened, so I quickly explained what occurred. Not two seconds later, my friend comes up behind me and completely disagrees with my take on the scenario. She claimed I was lying. That I was being awful and rude. It took about a millisecond for my step monster to pass judgment that I was guilty. In that minuscule moment, she grabbed a squared 1.5 inch by 1.5 inch, 2 ft length of wood that she kept specifically for beating me with, off of the top of the refrigerator. Then she went to town on me. She beat me about the head, face, back, shoulders, legs... anywhere where she could get a full swing at. Now remember, this all occurred while my friend was stood there in disbelief watching. When the step monster finish her handiwork, I had blood running from my nose and mouth, my head hurt more than anything I had ever experienced before then and I couldn't see correctly. I was literally a crying, bloody heap on the floor crouched into the corner trying to hide myself from the blows. The step-monster chucked the stick at me as she was breathing hard and she said "Now maybe you'll think twice about being rude". Then she sauntered out.

All that followed didn't include an emergency room visit for me, but rather incredible pain and 3 weeks out of school. I was unrecognizable to even myself. When the school threatened truancy, I was permitted back, but was in no way healed enough for them to not understand what had happened. The result is another sorry chapter that I hope to purge from my soul at some point.

For those that made it to the end of the telling of this fiasco, thanks for reading. The parental figures taught me what NOT to be, to my own children. I am a strong advocate of children...ALL children. Not just my own. In my 43 years on the Earth, I have never turned a blind eye, nor will I ever.

Lastly, FUCK YOU, step-monster. May you rot on your feet.

Submitted November 24, 2017 at 10:38PM by sunburnedbrit http://ift.tt/2zAdpJV raisedbynarcissists

For years I've hated my grandparents because I felt they were behind the messed up raising conditions of my mom...but for the past year have been NC from parents, living with grandma and she is the only person I ever loved and only person to have loved me raisedbynarcissists

I have great great memories with grandma from childhood and bad ones as well. As I got older I was smart enough to know how the world worked so to say, I had a terrible upbringing by my Nmom. And by my late teens I was able to connect her personality to my grandparents.

Fast forward to last year when I felt I really couldn't take living with mom another day. I moved with grandma, knowing she was just as bad except she actually would have essential human needs in her household, food, heat, garbage bags, refrigerator etc.

At first we were up and down as a relationship, and I always kept in my heart she is the queen of this dysfunctional family. But sooner or later, I accepted fully she loved me. And I don't fear her abandonment.

It's weird though because truth is, she is the one that raised my mom. But they approach me, nurture me and feel different about me. How is it that our relationship is so much better? Any comments or if you can relate, I'd love to listen.

Submitted November 24, 2017 at 05:46PM by davfromBK http://ift.tt/2A8VOWz raisedbynarcissists

Is this the community for me? raisedbynarcissists

So, I am a 20 year old college student who isn’t entirely certain whether or not my parents qualify as “narcissists”. I suppose the best way to break this down is to just provide perspective on both parents: My father is incredibly manipulative, emotionally cold, backward, and generally does a great job of making my life a living hell. He blames my mother’s depression on my refusal to believe in their SPECIFIC church doctrine, he routinely uses my girlfriend and “the family opinion” on her as a bargaining chip, has made it clear that I am a financial assett (I am fully expected to buy them a beach house when I become a doctor), he routinely denies my right to express myself as “being against the family”, he denies the existence of my mental illness (severe OCD) as “liberal nonsense meant to make his family look bad”, he goes from friendly to aggressive in the blink of an eye, he purposefully walks loudly when on the hardwood floor outside my room when I’m home because he KNOWS it gives me anxiety, he’s planning on drug testing me and taking me out of my college if I fail based on hunches (I use cannabis to help break compulsions, please leave your assumptions about cannabis use at the door (I should also mention that I have a 3.713 GPA, so I’m balancing it in my life just fine)), he has hit me before (though infrequently), and generally spikes my anxiety as a human being. My mother clings to me like a middle school girlfriend. She obsessively takes pictures of me doing mundane things, questions my faith in Jesus based on nothing at all, has installed a “shrine” to me above where I sleep in my room that I have repeatedly asked to take down (and been repeatedly denied), has 17 pictures of me on our refrigerator, including ones made into magnets, while only having 6 of my sister (who still lives with them full time). She refuses to let me do my own laundry, cries to my dad when I don’t call everyday, and generally makes me feel miserable as a human being. I hate this. I hate it so much. I want it to stop. I wish I was born an orphan, I hate how heartless that sounds but I honestly and genuinely envy those who were born to parents who either didn’t care enough to acknowledge their existence, or who just weren’t there. I want a life where I can shut my door. I want a life where hostile people don’t invade my space at the drop of a hat to “make their presence known”. I want a life where I’m not belittled for drinking our hometown’s semi-famously carcinogenic water. I want to know, Idk, do I qualify as having Nparents?

Submitted November 01, 2017 at 07:28AM by Red_giant_lion http://ift.tt/2z8ocJD raisedbynarcissists

nMom looking for stupid excuses to get mad raisedbynarcissists

My nMom came home today, pissed off about some shit, probably about her job where she actually has to pretend to be polite to people (and she often fails at that, too, I've heard her yell at people over the phone).

I was in the kitchen washing the dishes when she came home, so obviously she had to come pick on me like the emotional vulture she is, because I couldn't just walk away from her fucking bullshit.

She starts nagging me about how I'm "so lazy" because I didn't eat any of the leftovers in the refrigerator and cooked my own pasta instead. I just started breathing in and out slowly or I knew I was going to react and say some shit that would make her even angrier, but of course, nParents get mad anyway if they can't get a rise out of you. Then she complained about how I didn't cook pasta with the lid on, like that really fucking concerns her or like it REALLY MATTERS THAT MUCH how I cook something I ate by myself earlier on in the day. Then when I was done washing the dishes, she yanks the dishtowel out of my hand before I can do anything with it and yells at me about how "I never wipe the counter right". No matter WHAT I fucking do it seems I can't do it right? Because I already wipe the whole countertop area and the inside of the sink and under the drying rack like she showed me 490239 times but it's always just "still dirty". I just let her do whatever the hell she wants because there is no point arguing with her and I go back to my room so I can get away from her, but she makes me come back out and put the pan in the oven. I put it in the oven with the handle pointing right and she just SNEERS at me and says "you put it in WRONG", takes the pan out and puts it with the handle pointing left???? Like shut the fuck up, you're just looking for shit to get angry about right now.

Submitted October 25, 2017 at 01:02AM by spagooots http://ift.tt/2xkrMNb raisedbynarcissists