Narcie The Narcissist’s New Year’s Eve

Have a Happy New Year everyone!

These days I quite like this time of year. I don’t do very much, just chill at home doing sweet FA.

When I was younger, and forced to spend X-mas and New Year with my parents, or later on just with my mother because the royal We was not speaking to my father (something for which he was rather thankful)… this time of year was all about narcissist drama, Drama, DRAMA!

If you have or had a narcissist in your life then you most likely know exactly what I mean. This time of year it’s as though the narcissists get super-charged. They get super-stressed and act out their super-stress all over the place, jizzing over everyone within their radius (and that’s often more people than usual because they’ve emotionally blackmailed people into joining them in their misery).

Luckily I don’t recall too many of the New Year’s past spent with one or both of my narcissist parents. Perhaps because it was the same old shitstorm repackaged and gifted again and again and again.

I do have a vague blurry memory of one New Year’s Eve spent alone with my mother. I convinced her to go out to a restaurant which had organised a party for its diners.

I do know why I did those kind of things, but sometimes I would pretend I didn’t know why and then ask myself: Why are you doing this kind of thing!? You know it’s going to be hell. You can’t stop it from being hell!

I just thought it would be less hell if other people were around, but I was lying to myself. And it was actually more hell because my mother would see all those people around us having fun and this would darken her mood even more than it already was (which was miserably dark due to all her dreams of a perfect life having shattered into tiny painful shards and X-mas and New Year’s made those fragmented parts even more cutting).

I think in some twisted way I was testing her, confronting her with her own lies (what a stupid thing to do if that was what I was doing).

One of the things my mother always yadda-yadda-ed on about was how social she was, how much she loved parties, people, and how she was the life and soul of the party.


there is always a but…

I never actually saw her walk her talk.



At every party or social gathering we went to she would not socialise, she would not talk to people, she was definitely not the life and soul of the party. She would sit or stand stiffly in a corner looking disapproving and uncomfortable, and I’d be stuck there with her being her ‘chaperone’ and ‘companion’, listening to her bitch about what a terrible party it was, how the host was doing an awful job, how the drinks and food were cheap and dreadful, how she knew no one there and had no intention of getting to know these not good enough for her strangers, how she wished she hadn’t accepted the invite but she felt she had to (get out once in a while because poor her she was a social butterfly who never got to fly and it was all everyone else’s fault).

She was always mentioning these friends she had, but… I don’t think I ever saw any of these friends. Okay one or two would turn up out of the blue once in a blue moon, and I’d want to pinch them because… but then they’d be gone again.

My mother is a narcissist, my mother is one of the loneliest people I’ve ever known.

I used to feel sorry for her, feel the need to help her, save her somehow (I used to think I was saving her from my father, then from me, but actually it was herself she needed saving from)… but it was a pointless feeling. Unless it’s point was to keep me trapped in her self-made hell of drama, Drama, DRAMA with her.

The problem with narcissists like my mother is that their happiness is a dream so big and ideal, so reliant on things being just so perfect, exactly like they imagine they could be if only everything was a certain way and everyone was who they had to be, that they can never be happy until all their ransom demands are met. And ultimately even when the demands get met, they seem to prefer to be a hostage to their misery. Their misery is in some ways their real happiness and happy place.

One of the things I learned from my mother, from living and dealing with her and her moods, her drama, Drama, DRAMA, her misery, was… that it is indeed a choice.

It’s up to us individually to decide, choose, whether we’re going to enjoy something or be miserable about it. Or how to handle those times when we’re genuinely sad, or genuinely happy.

My mother could take a tiny moment of mad, bad, or sad, and stretch it out so that it would last for weeks, months, years. If it began to fade, decay, try to go its natural way, she’d inject it with some formaldehyde and stretch it out some more. And she could ruin a moment of good, happy, fun, in two seconds, usually by deciding that it just wasn’t as good, happy or fun as it could, should be. It’s remarkably easy to kill joy.

My mother couldn’t see it as being a choice, at least not her choice… she was always blaming others for making bad choices for her and ruining things for her.

She was a prisoner, looking out at the world through a window, seeing everyone else having everything she didn’t have. The door wasn’t locked (and if it was she could have climbed out the window), she could have gone out and joined that world outside and all those people out there.

But she never did.

She just talked and talked and talked all about what would happen if… but if never happened.


  1. Well said! I remember the last time I visited my FOO for the holidays(about 8 yrs. ago now), there was Drama! One sister took to screaming, walking around the house one room to the next, with a slew of people following her and “calming her down”… I don’t recall what initially upset her exactly, it was my fault of course. But in those moments, my mother had let it slip, how she LOVED the drama, that it was the only time she felt alive inside…in that moment, I realized how opposite we really are, I love peace, harmony, and that was counter to what my FOO were striving for. I didn’t realize till then, how they were creating drama. It really shows how much our world is a reflection of our inner-states. Which was so liberating for me at the time. Thank you for another brilliant post!


    • Thank you for sharing 🙂

      That’s a great insight your mother let slip. Sometimes narcs tell you the truth, and if you can see it for what it is, you can turn it into an aha moment for yourself as you did.

      They need the drama, without it they’re at a loss.

      Peace, harmony, calm, quiet are unnerving to them and stress them out, and the drama seems to relieve the stress for them. It’s weird to think about it, all those times we try to make them feel better, end the drama, calm things down are actually stressing them out even more.

      It’s wonderful to be free of it, and good to remember it from time to time to remind ourselves of what we’re not missing.


  2. Dear Ursula, enjoying your blog. Wow, your last post…goodnight, you were a little child at the time! Have a great new year & much joy in your writing and drawing. Whoops, cookies are done, godda run.


  3. Great post dear Ursula! I wish you lots of good comics and drawings in 2018 and happy Capricorn season (and Saturn there) as well!


  4. Happy New Year! Happy Birthday Month! 😀

    It still amazes me how much your mother is like mine. Every time I think I’m past the surprise, I get surprised again. My mother also didn’t do well socially. She came across as stiff and condescending but really she was scared and intimidated. She was afraid that all those other boys and girls were better than her. The only time I saw her happy and at ease was when she was in England visiting with her siblings. She was much less difficult to deal with too, much less of the drama, Drama, DRAMA. I still don’t understand why she didn’t just move back. There was little to hold her here and at the time her oldest sister (whom she got on well with) needed some help.

    Great drawing – the self-imposed victimhood, the drowning of her sorrows.


    • Thank you muchly!!! 😀

      I’m going to take a shot at a guess – Your mother couldn’t ‘go back’ in the same way that she couldn’t ‘move forward’, because as a narc she was stuck in a rut.

      Chances are that when she met and married your father her family were all “You’re making a big mistake” about marrying a foreigner, moving to a foreign land. And being a narc your mother wanted to prove them wrong, and prove them wrong by showing them how it was not only not a mistake but the best thing ever!

      But also because she was a narc her family’s view that she was making a ‘big mistake’ would have plagued her and played on her mind, influencing how she ended up seeing things.

      When she finally decided that her ‘marrying a foreigner, moving to a foreign land’ wasn’t the nirvana she had hoped it would be, when she decided that it was all a big mistake (because it required that she adapt and work with her new life, new people, new environment, etc… rather than for things to magically and miraculously be wonderful all of the time, and for everyone to adapt to her), she had nowhere to go with that decision.

      She couldn’t go back because that would be admitting defeat, admitting she had made a mistake, crawling back to her family and proving them right. Narc pride is stubborn.

      She couldn’t move forward either because she didn’t want to. It required too much from her.

      So she got stuck in the purgatory limbo which humans are so adept at creating for themselves, and which narcs in particular are super gifted at making and getting stuck in forever, dragging others into it to keep them company in their misery.

      Going back would also have required confronting that ‘England’ wasn’t what she told everyone in Canada that it was. ‘England’ couldn’t have been all that great if she jumped at the chance to get out of there. Problem was that Canada wasn’t all she needed it to be for her either. Because a narc brings themselves wherever they go and that… that’s the real problem. They can never live up to who they want to be and how they want to live, and they can never admit that it’s them and not the places or people around them which is the problem.

      And because they can’t admit that they’re the problem, they can’t access the solution which comes with admitting that. So they’re stuck, no matter where they are and with whom they are.

      ’tis a sad story.


      • Thank you very much for explaining this. I really hadn’t thought of it like that before although your interpretation makes complete (and weirdly logical, from a narcissistic point if view) sense.

        It’s amazing to me how you have to be a Gumby doll to figure these people out. Nothing is straight – it’s all such a manufactured coverup. And you’re right, they do tend to be really stubborn and you can always probably start there to try to get your answers.

        It is a sad story. Our mother’s could have had so much more satisfaction out of life. But then again, they don’t let themselves consider that too much.

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