tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post2901861268215064807..comments2024-01-02T23:04:02.489-08:00Comments on The Narcissist's Child: Make your own Holiday Miracle! Sweet Violethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08321094659806702782noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-28804005939297013852018-10-08T09:26:58.377-07:002018-10-08T09:26:58.377-07:00My last Christmas with my FOO was married by their...My last Christmas with my FOO was married by their selfishness.<br /><br />At the time, I was dividing time between them, my boyfriend (who had a flawed, but a more family-like unit) and a shift job in a cinema. Since I didn't drink, I often worked late Christmas Eve and was working early Boxing Day because everyone else wanted to drink. I didn't mind because I got extra money (Boxing Day and New Years Day were time and a half) and fewer people (because everyone else was hungover!) I told them in advance a courtesy that I was going to his house after Christmas Dinner and come back after work on Boxing Day, but no, they told me on the day that I wasn't allowed to until I washed up with my brother, who called dibs on drying the dishes after I washed them, saying I didn't chip into the family enough.<br /><br />I was livid. I was the only one working full time.<br /><br />In the end, after talking to my boyfriend on the phone, I set a timer, and when it went off, I left. When my brother protested I told him, "You don't have someone putting their Christmas on hold until you get there," and left.<br /><br />It was worth the lip I got, as it was not the first time my FOO expected me to drop plans with no notice to the other party. I told them when I came back that if they wanted me to postpone or cancel something they need to give me prior notice.<br /><br />I haven't been in that house for Christmas since. I kept contact to a minimum, but this year I went NC after I decided I had enough of the toxicity from my mother. I've been successfully NC for three months now, and I look forward to another Christmas of food and gifts that have meaning.Samanthanoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-70430283371554360192017-09-25T10:59:03.010-07:002017-09-25T10:59:03.010-07:00Yes. every Christmas up to age 36 was fake. Load...Yes. every Christmas up to age 36 was fake. Loads of presents (things SHE wanted me to have of course, NOT what I would have truly wanted. Fake smiles and thank-you's - oohs and aahs - gotta play the game. We are a happy and united family, smile for the camera. I figured out early on that a pile of presents and one day of #sort-of# togetherness did not make up for the year of misery that preceded it! I was 36 when I put my foot down and told my mother that I was having Christmas in my home with my three kids and friends. She hit the roof. As usual, - didn't speak to me for several weeks, and when she did it was to inform me that "I had ruined Christmas for the ENTIRE family????? well, not my family! Had very enjoyable Christmas's ever since........Teresahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11572321140511070455noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-31999620169855562732014-12-18T07:01:35.496-08:002014-12-18T07:01:35.496-08:00Boy, this is all very familiar! Same exact thing h...Boy, this is all very familiar! Same exact thing here.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-67015205313625178082014-12-18T07:00:04.245-08:002014-12-18T07:00:04.245-08:00He passed away a few years ago, but I figured him ...He passed away a few years ago, but I figured him out before that happened, thankfully, and was able to amend my expectations. It was a very bizarre epiphany to realize that all this time I had been blaming myself for our interactions at the holidays, and there was nothing actually wrong with me-- it was him. It was a huge weight lifted off of me, since everything wrong with everything had always been my responsibility. I have since been able to have Christmases with other people who are grateful for what I give them, delighted I care, and care about me in return. Initially, it was surprising. "Is this what other people got to have at Christmastime? I had no idea!" Now I don't look to the holidays with dread.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-78255428683990273442014-12-17T12:45:22.726-08:002014-12-17T12:45:22.726-08:00After I went no-contact, I joined a Christian chur...After I went no-contact, I joined a Christian church that did not observe Christmas due to their belief Jesus was never born on December 25th. It was a cult, but I did not know it at the time. In retrospect, the affiliation proved to be enormously helpful in eliminating seasonal depression of the way I wished Christmas could have been. <br /><br />Every Christmas, for example, my NM could not wait to bring to my attention the fact that my father threw out the gift I gave him. “Go look. It is sitting on top of the trash under the flip cover.” It took me years to realize that it was her who threw the gifts out as part of her continuing smear campaign. Holidays were filled with sadness. There was always someone who was not worthy to sit at NM’s table, making the day a miserable event as we ate our dinner in silence. For years, that person was my father, later alternating with my sister. I knew one day it would be my turn. And when it was, I resolved to never spend another holiday with the NM witch again. Aunts, uncles, brother-in-law, sister-in-law, have all had a turn at being scapegoated throughout the years. Imagined grudges and/or unexplained silent treatment held for months or years at a time. Given enough time for the injustices to mellow, all of her victims would succumb to her syrupy sweet charm and get roped right back into her sinister web of evil. She was good at recycling her victims. No one ever seemed to learn or have enough backbone to walk away permanently. <br /><br />I married a Jewish man, so Hanukkah replaced Christmas. The joy has returned to the holiday season.<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-70535908928476594422014-12-17T01:53:23.262-08:002014-12-17T01:53:23.262-08:00Yah...I got a lot of those "knock off" t...Yah...I got a lot of those "knock off" things, too. Her attitude was "Nobody can tell the difference and I save $XXX!" Well, other people COULD tell the difference. Barbies didn't hit the big time until after I was done playing with dolls, but you can bet I would have been given a cheap knock off if a Barbie had been on my list and every other little girl I knew would be able to tell the difference. Mine also tried to make a virtue out of her stinginess. If I had the knock off Barbie, NM would have told me "Well, it's better because it is different and not like every body else's." <br /><br />I also got the admonition about being ungrateful, coupled with a threat to take it back and leave me with no present at all. An object lesson in learning to be grateful for crumbs while everybody else gets to sit at the feast table. I don't recall NM ever stinting on gifts for my GC brother...just for me.Sweet Violethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08321094659806702782noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-39305842260025630402014-12-17T01:04:35.564-08:002014-12-17T01:04:35.564-08:00Narcissists are notoriously poor gift givers. The ...Narcissists are notoriously poor gift givers. The lack empathy for the feelings of the person who is to receive the gift, so it is virtually impossible for them to choose appropriately. And they don't care about your feelings, so even giving them a very detailed, specific "hint" doesn't help. They don't care about anyone but themselves.<br /><br />My NexH was much like your father...no matter what I did, he would find a way to fault it and suck the joy right out of it. It was where he got HIS pleasure...from the power to control the feelings of others, and nothing confirmed that power like knocking the wind out of someone's accomplishments and disappointing their expectations. The only thing you can do to please people like them is to try harder and harder so that your crash...and their corresponding pleasure...is bigger and bigger. Your defeat is what pleases them, and willingly playing that game is a guaranteed way to feeling bad all of the time. I went NC with that husband...divorced him and haven't heard from him in over 25 years...no more playing that game. Now I am married to someone who appreciates my efforts...even small efforts...and it makes all the difference in the world. <br /><br />Your father isn't going to change...he gets pleasure out of his sadistic little game, so why would he? So you are the one who must change...and it sounds to me like you've got a handle on his behaviour and won't be the fall guy for him any more...which will lead to a much happier life--including Christmases--for you. Good on you!Sweet Violethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08321094659806702782noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-14281756344439622072014-12-17T00:45:07.018-08:002014-12-17T00:45:07.018-08:00I used to identify with Cinderella. I was obsessed...I used to identify with Cinderella. I was obsessed with fairy tales as a child because I often identified with the beleagured heroine in many of the tales. In retrospect, I suspect I was looking for a story that could give me a clue how to deal with my NM...how to change her into the loving mother I so wanted. Over the years I think I have read every fairy tale, obscure or well-known, that has ever been printed in the English language...and the only solutions to the dilemma were magic or the fairy tale equivalent of No Contact. <br /><br />Your point about people rooting for the daughter figures in these fairy tales as opposed to the pressure on the real-life victims to reconcile with the abusive mother is well taken. It just goes to show how little the average person understands about the lives of those daughters. I also find it interesting that in virtually all of the fairy tales, the mother figure is not the real mother of the daughter, thereby preserving the myth of the loving mother. Interestingly, in some of the tales, the original version casts the real mother in the role of persecutor...in the original Hansel and Gretel, it was the mother of the children who advocated abandoning them in the woods, not a step-mother.<br /><br />But we don't live in a fairy tale, unfortunately. There is no handsome prince coming to rescue us, no helpful fairies, no magic to give us the advantage we need to vanquish evil. We have only ourselves and our own determination. The theme of resolution in all of the stories came down to one thing: getting away from the abuser and starting a new live on their own terms. And that is a solution that works today, too.<br />Sweet Violethttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08321094659806702782noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-88344885457770697982014-12-16T14:25:00.672-08:002014-12-16T14:25:00.672-08:00Enjoyed your post. Like yours, my NPD mother envi...Enjoyed your post. Like yours, my NPD mother envied others money and prided herself on pinching pennies. My Christmas gifts were bought a flea market when I was an adult. I do love flea markets, but always? As a child, I wanted a Barbie doll and what I got on Christmas morning was the "Barbie" knock-off. When I was a pre-teen, all the craze was a "CPO" jacket. When asked to make a list, I asked for only that. I told her where to purchase it, and pointed out what I wanted. My NM indicated that is just what she did. All excited, I openned it only to find a "CPO" knock-off. If I showed any disappointment, NM woud accuse me of being ungrateful and let me know how she had sacrificed thus making me feel guilty. Meanwhile, GC brother got a new drum set, the exact snare drum he wanted for band, even down to the right blue color. Ahh...Christmas memories. <br /><br />I have been NC for 6 months. The last time I heard my NM's voice, she screamed at me in a rage, "I don't have a daughter!" Yesterday, she sent me a Christmas card with a 4 x 6 professional photo of herself. On the back of it she writes, "taken for the church directory." Yes, I will enjoy only my husband and my daughters for Christmas this year. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-33507112061905168432014-12-16T12:30:13.691-08:002014-12-16T12:30:13.691-08:00It IS funny how similar the tales from Narcissists...It IS funny how similar the tales from Narcissists' kids are. As a kid, I knew not to ask for anything for Christmas. Whatever I asked for, I likely wouldn't get, or I would get some vague super-cheap approximation that fell apart or was already broken when I got it. I got a LOT of things from the clearance section, that were "as is" and pretty much unusable. Like an electronic keyboard that wouldn't work unless I turned it on and off 30 times in a row. But hey-- they got to tell people they bought me a keyboard for Christmas, so it was a win for them!<br /><br />After my mom died-- my mom who did have empathy-- the holidays got much worse since it was just my dad the Narcissist and me. I learned swiftly, I could have a decent Thanksgiving OR Christmas with my dad, but not both. Not without some bizarre drama from him, or black moods that came out of nowhere, even after a pleasant day.<br /><br />Christmas gifting was all designed to make a point-- the point that I was not worth the trouble. He would go to flea markets and pick up things the vendors had put in the trash, or in the 50 cent bin, and then give them to me-- of course telling me that's where he got it. Or if it was a nice enough item, it might be something he would have considered keeping for himself, or telling me, "Well, it's nice, but what was I going to do with it?" (The spirit of giving, right?). He would pre-read books he gave me. They might be on subjects I was interested in, but he would then have to know more about that subject than I did. And tell me all about it before I could read it. He had to be the teacher.<br /><br />In a few cases, he wrote POEMS about the little things he'd pick up-- and then recite the poem to me-- going back and pointing out all the clever parts I might not have fully appreciated during the first reading. Christmas was my time to be a captive audience. People would say how nice it was he wrote me a poem, and it was hard to explain that the poem had nothing to do with me.<br /><br />If anyone stopped by during the holidays, then I was summarily ignored while he suddenly began to ask the newbie questions about themselves and what they were doing-- something he never, ever did of me. He made such a big deal about a book a friend of mine was writing-- how clever and how good her book must be-- when I'd been writing for years and had finished a book of my own and he never even wanted to speak about it or even acknowledge it existed. Little did I know, he was just sucking up to a fresh audience member.<br /><br />Gifting him was a sad event, too, because I would try so hard to find the right gift for him, and even when I thought I had it, he would say virtually nothing as he opened the gift. Once I spent time bidding on a vintage Buck Rogers raygun, because he had had one as a kid and lost it, and had been looking for one ever since. I snagged a beautiful one and I was so excited. Surely he would love this! Surely this was the ultimate gift!...<br /><br />It wasn't. He went silent, then mumbled sadly about hoping he would have found one of these cheap at a flea market or thrift store sometime. I had stolen his joy of the hunt. I ruined everything.<br /><br />So every holiday we would part and I would wonder how I had failed him so badly when I tried so hard to find things to please him, I would spend a week going over it all, over and over, wondering WHAT I did to make him so noticeably disappointed in me. When all along, it was designed so I would fail. There was nothing that would please him. He would make sure of it.<br /><br />Such is Christmas with a Narcissist. I have to remind myself of these things whenever I begin to doubt myself that is, in fact, what he was. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-64622382927882053262014-12-16T11:48:56.972-08:002014-12-16T11:48:56.972-08:00Just wanted to clarify I'm not encouraging mod...Just wanted to clarify I'm not encouraging modeling one's expectations off of fairytales or Disney movies. But it is interesting how if you roll those three stories up into one you have a fair approximation of the dynamics with my mother ... A mother figure who treats you like crap while treating your siblings or stepsiblings like gold, who isolates you in order to control you ... And who, when you do escape, tries to suck you in with deceit to damage/destroy you.<br /><br />As much as our society glorifies maternal relationships, we're fed these types of stories from childhood. And I don't know anyone who rooted for these mother and daughter figures to be reconciled. So really, it emphasizes that the only differences is that our mothers are good at lying. If people really *got* how bad they are, they'd be rooting for us to get away just as much as we secretly are inside.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4333405565931840271.post-4348896870334723092014-12-16T11:32:37.367-08:002014-12-16T11:32:37.367-08:00Funny how similar the experiences of ACoNs are. I ...Funny how similar the experiences of ACoNs are. I don't remember very many Christmas memories either. I do remember that my father and mother always found a way to ruin Christmas by screaming at me over nothing the night before. I remember being a nervous wreck from the same pressures you describe to not do anything to embarrass mother in front of the grandparents. My mother was not as malignant as yours, so I wasn't mistreated in front of grandparents, but I was completely ignored and talked over by every other family member for the entire day. When I visited my husbands' nephews' Christmas celebration as an adult it was a revelation to me that Christmas might ever be about the children and could ever involve interest in them and asking them questions! I was not denied Christmas presents like you, but I was made to feel that I never deserved any presents. My diary entries from that time of year were always peppered with hopes of getting presents and shock I actually did, and I used to bend over backwards thanking people for all these undeserved gifts to a rather depressing extent looking back.<br /><br />Great list. A lot of this is so applicable to my life right now. I really fall into the trap of measuring my life against books/movies. I need to remember that if I am going to do that - I should instead compare myself to fairytale stories - Cinderella, Rapunzel, Snow White - for the family dynamics are much more accurate. Would we really be pleased if those movies ended with their heroines sitting down for a family meal with mom/stepmom?<br /><br />One thing that has helped me with guilt, is remember that everything is a trade off. We do not have limitless energy and time, and NMs sap these resources faster than usual. If we are unable to prioritize our own wellbeing over other peoples', then we need to examine the help we are tempted to give. If we are running ourselves ragged trying to please an unpleasable person, does this not prevent us from becoming as fully happy and successful as we're capable of? And does that not deprive our friends, spouses, children, pets, of something? What about the causes and charities out there that you care about?<br /><br />If you're a happier, healthier version of yourself you'll have more love to put out there. If you have more money or time because of the lack of stress in your life, then you will have more of those things to put to a worthy and enjoyable cause. And who is really more deserving of all that love and time? The people who treat you well, beneficiaries of charities you care about ... or your abusive mother? Obviously this is not the main reason for not feeling guilty for cutting contact/rejecting invitations. But I think it helps demonstrate why catering to your emotional health is the right choice in every possible way ... even in selfless ways.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com