Where is home for you? What do you consider to be essential for a place, perhaps a thing, or even a person to have for you to feel at home there, with it, with them... How would you finish this sentence - Home is where........ Is it where the heart is, wherever you lay your... Continue Reading →
This is a wonderfully written and concisely expressed perspective of what it is like to be the adult child of a narcissist trying to share your experience… in this case in an environment which should be safe for you to share openly without having to deal with the usual prejudice or inability of others to empathise, a place supposedly populated with those who understand, or at least know to keep quiet if they don’t understand because they’ve been through something too and might known what it’s like when others ply you with platitude tea and sympathy.
I should add a warning: for those who are children of narcissists, please be careful while reading this, your head may come loose from too much nodding. You might also be inclined to bang said head against a hard surface as it might trigger a well known frustration.
Thank you for sharing.
ps. Something in it made me chuckle when I read it late last night, can’t recall what it was this morning, I think it may have been that bit about what happens when someone dies.
My father died recently and it brought everyone I’d been avoiding for years (especially my mother) out of the woodwork, and all the chaos they bring with them. Even if you could feel grief or loss… there’s no time for you to feel it in the kerfuffle others cause.
We were born into a culture of idolising our mothers. People expect us to sit them gracefully on a pedestal, regardless of what they did, or who they became. When a mother and child’s relationship breaks down, there seems to be a predisposition to place the blame on the offspring.
I appreciate how difficult it is for those from functional backgrounds to understand how I could cut my mother off in the first place. People imagine the scenario to be fraught with a wide spectrum of grief. Their lips utter the words without thinking, “But, she’s your mother.”
As soon as people realise my experience is not as they imagine, they view my attitude with a mixture of suspicion and sympathy, their eyes say it all, ‘Awe, poor man… surely he must feel loss’. Many of them say, “But, she’s your mother.”
“Why don’t you try something different,”…
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. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope,... Continue Reading →
Sitting there so solemnly, A lady full of grace, In the Louvre gallery, With a smile upon her face. I wonder what she's thinking, As she looks out at the crowd, Some people think she's winking, Others think she's proud. . When I was about 9yrs old, my English teacher set us a task... Continue Reading →
Leonard Leslie Brooke . Recently I’ve been catching up on one of my favourite TV series - Once Upon a Time. It’s an entertaining show for many reasons. The writers are having fun writing the scripts and storylines, and the actors seem to be having fun playing with what they have been given. Delving into... Continue Reading →
A very thought provoking post from a great blog and blogger, expressing an issue which can affect all of us, one way or another, when we’re faced with sharing ourselves, our stories, with others, especially when sharing our very personal and painful experiences.
The question asked is one which is difficult to answer.
Those are the best questions to ask, but the hardest ones for which to find just one answer.
Thank you for sharing!
SO… I’ve pretty much worked through the emotional part of gearing up for my series next month. There is one final stumbling block that I really can’t get myself to address. I’m sitting here poised and ready to share my story with the world at large and I haven’t even really told my family. I’m sure at least one of my younger sisters has figured it out just because she follows me on Twitter where I post most of my private…er… well more private than the blog thoughts. I mean it’s eventually going to come to light so it’s not really an issue so much as the fact that I haven’t told my parents.
They are completely in the dark about it. Nary a clue that something so devastating has happened to their child. Of course just about everything I tell them in my life comes as a complete surprise…
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This is a beautiful story of the spirit of Christmas and humans.
I’m linking this to today’s Daily Post prompt: Getting Seasonal. I hope the author of this doesn’t mind.
The Daily prompt asked: The holiday season: can’t get enough of it, or can’t wait for it all to be over already? Has your attitude toward the end-of-year holidays changed over the years?
If I answered this from my own experience… but so much of this time of year is about understanding the world beyond yourself, how this season affects those who are around you, in all the diverse layers which surround you, and what it means for them. What it means for others can change what it means for you too.
Enjoy, best wishes and thank you for sharing your spirit of this season!
My mom, Nancy, is posting a different Christmas memory for 12 days. She gave me her blessing to repost them here. It’s amazing how a life story can be told through the lens of a certain day.
Seventh Christmas Day Memory
(As most of you know, Phil was shot and killed June 9, 1984 while serving with the VA National Guard, and Philip/PJ was born 5 weeks later on July 15th.)
There we were in Fredericksburg having our first Christmas after Phil was killed. I took on the all the tasks – determined that Christmas would happen for the children just like they expected. Wrangling a Christmas tree brought me to tears as I dragged it home and struggled to get the dang thing to stay up. I baked, I shopped, I prepared for the stockings, check /check /check – everything getting done on my list. I knew I could…
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. . ’Tis the season to be… reminded of the ghosts of Christmas past. This season has always been dark for me punctuated by garish coloured light, a Winter of discontent for the malcontent. The tree is a family one, the lights are tempers flaring, the baubles are grievances, the star, the angel, the crowning... Continue Reading →
. . If a wormhole opened up before you offering you a trip to a possible alternate universe, would you step through it? What if that wormhole offered you the ability to travel back in time in this universe, would you take the leap? If you hesitated so long that the wormhole collapsed in on... Continue Reading →
. . One of the signs which apparently gives a narcissist away is a fragmented personal history. When they tell you about their life previous to meeting you; You’ll get highlights which put them in a good light. You’ll get the typical - all my exes were psychos. . . . . You’ll get dramatic... Continue Reading →
I am a child of Narcissists.According to me..Sometimes listening to others,is not a good thing..Being a child of Narcissists,According to experts is not a good thing to be.According to other children of Narcissists, this is not a good thing to be.According to me this is not a good thing to be....But how did I come... Continue Reading →
An absolutely beautiful post! A thoughtful observation of a slice of life… one which I think we can all relate to, I know I certainly do.
This captured moment. A moment lived in the here and now (which is now a there and then), a moment to be lived over and over again thanks to our ability to take photographs of our memories, and our human need to hang onto the past and remind ourselves of it.
Do we capture moments because they’re the only way we can prove that happiness exists and is not just a fleeting figment of fantasy…
But what if one person’s captured moment of happiness is a captured moment of distress for another?
Such is life. Random chaos disguised as order… little rows of photographs in a photo album. Smiling faces… but are those smiles real or just cheese for the camera, for those who will see this moment, those who have lived it and those who have not.
Another gem from a blog full of gems amassed into a treasure chest.
Thank you for sharing!
At the park, the family waits for their turn on a swing. The huge contraption has two benches that face each other so the family can all sit together–knees to knees –and sway back and forth. Mom and daughter take the side facing the sea. Dad holds the toddler son. The son gapes from under a blue hat, horrified by the structure now caging his mother, and not in the mood to join her.
Dad climbs up anyway as the child screams and cries. Dad tucks the squirming boy in one arm and takes a picture of his wife and daughter with the other. Then he passes their camera. The child sobs on, facing his mother as she mops up his tears, but the father seems to think his son is only warming up to it the experience. Dad wants pictures with the coast in the background. The mother seems…
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When I first started blogging about my experience of Narcissists, I was hesitant in what I said. There were many reasons for my hesitancy, all of which were part of my personal wound. The major one being that I had spent so long trapped in silence that I wasn't sure if I could speak... Continue Reading →
Beautiful, poignant, and a wonderful expression of all the facets of relationship and being human.
A powerful post!
If you ever wonder why people blog… this is why. Sometimes it’s the only way to give voice to things we find hard to say otherwise.
Thank you for sharing!
I decided to not publish the rather extensive detailed account of how I made the official decision to distance myself from my own mother last night, during a life event where a child (no matter the age) needs a mommy most.
Instead, you do things that truly hurt my feelings. Like sending me text after text how I hurt you and that I’m “so blind to you” and that “I am really missing out” while checking in my father at the VA ER with my son this afternoon. Literally; and without exaggeration.
I decided not to publish my last evening’s semi-rantish post, but I also don’t deserve to continue to be antagonized over and over after explaining where I was and asking you to let me feel like I just have the support from my mother.
In fact the one relaxing moment I am allowed to take is dedicated towards…
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This is simply… a stunning post by a beautiful soul with a way with words and self-expression which draws you in, welcomes you and takes you on a journey… one which you may be reluctant to leave but very glad you took.
Traveling likes this, in location, in time, in memory, in person… walking in someone else’s shoes for a while… is so evocative and truly, deeply touching.
It makes you ponder yourself, your own life, people, places, memories, shoes… in a poetic and appreciative way.
Thank you for sharing!
“Just, I don’t know…kick it in.”
“I can’t just kick it in. What if I break it?”
My boyfriend and I are standing at the door of an abandoned cottage. I know the walls are whitewashed, but they now appear a sinister mossy green colour after years of neglect. The thatched roof is on the verge of collapse and as I look up, I spy a small tree sprouting up from behind the chimney.
Jack shoulder-charges into the door again. It doesn’t budge. Shoulder and ego bruised, he turns to me. “You know technically, we’re breaking and entering here.”
“Calm down Sipowicz,” I snap, “this is my grandparent’s house. I have every right to be here.”
As a child, this was my favourite home to visit. I use the word ‘home’ because it was a home in every sense of the word.
Located miles away from a main road…
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Today is one of those days where the sublime is juxtaposed against the ridiculous. I was in the garden hanging out laundry, paying more attention to what my hands were doing than what my feet were up to in the undergrowth of the garden, when lo and behold, something sticky and squishy against the... Continue Reading →
A beautiful story of a memory which is vividly alive to the senses.
Thank you for sharing!
A trip back in time will definitely take me to a day in Harda. It’s a tiny town at the heart of Madhya Pradesh. Unnoticeable railway station, shabby outdoors, pathetic roads, and yet an amazingly calm and earthly demeanor that makes you feel at home.
I first met this place on a wet day. Me and my brother were to appear for an entrance test at our first convent school. It was tough – for English was never our forte. They kept talking to us in that foreign language all the while getting us to appear for tests in Mathematics, Science, and English. I don’t remember the marks I scored then, but the principal seemed pretty satisfied with however we had performed. I remember dad buying our books, notebooks, and our uniforms from their stationery shop. I remember the parking, the church, buildings under construction, ducks, birds, green color of the…
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A Victorian Family Portrait via The Independent My mother once told me… That as a child she used to imagine what being loved and loving would be like. One particular memory stood out in her mind. Not a single memory of one incident, but a memory of longing and yearning which coloured an incident which... Continue Reading →
Photo by Cheri Lucas Rowlands via The Daily Post Before I learned to do anything else, except eating, drinking and sleeping, I learned to swim. I was a lucky baby. My parents had a house with a pool. It was a big curvaceous pool, with tiny shimmering mosaic tiles of varying shades of blue,... Continue Reading →
When I was a child my mother used to tell me Japanese folklore stories. Her favourite story was - O Tsuru no Ongaeshi - The Grateful Crane. There are two versions of it, one with a young man and one with an old couple. I was told the latter version. It is the tale of... Continue Reading →
An ivy leaf family... working together to climb and spread and take over man made structures. Doesn't the dried leaf look like it has an Om symbol on it. The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge is Family. I enjoy entering photo challenges, the prize of doing that is in the creativity which it inspires. But... Continue Reading →
The title of this post comes from the first two chapters of the book - Going Mad to Stay Sane: The Psychology of Self-Destructive Behaviour by Andy White , and the author has a blog - Andy White – Narcissism and The Fruits of Suffering. It is one of my favourite books as it explained... Continue Reading →
I’ve written a lot about Narcissists this year. Both my parents are Narcissists, and although I have been estranged by personal choice from them for over ten years, they returned into my life due to my father’s death which occurred at about this time last year. So much of what I have written is... Continue Reading →
This post was inspired by some of the things which you have said to me. I hope you don’t mind, and I hope you can see how much you inspire me. What would happen if you went into therapy to try and heal the issues that the Narcissists in your life have caused, and your... Continue Reading →
“Most men fear getting laughed at or humiliated by a romantic prospect while most women fear rape and death.” ― Gavin de Becker, The Gift of Fear: Survival Signals That Protect Us from Violence Men just can't understand, even when they try because men do try very hard to understand women (they do and it... Continue Reading →
Daily Prompt: Sad But True Tell us about the harshest, most difficult to hear — but accurate — criticism you’ve ever gotten. Does it still apply? This prompt prompted a long path of thought with many other paths meandering away from it. As much as I enjoy following as many thought paths as possible at... Continue Reading →
I absolutely LOVE this week's Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: DNA! It hits my sweet spot! Choosing what to write when there is so much from which to choose and which I could write... here's what I chose: Smiling is Suspicious Someone - a beautiful soul on Twitter - said to me recently that they... Continue Reading →
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0L1hD5OlPtw George Baker - Little Green Bag What's my favourite toy? I had too many toys as a child. I was the spoiled only child of two wealthy Narcissists who had many sycophants who paid homage to the child to curry favour with the parents. I did not want toys, I wanted love, but since... Continue Reading →
What do you want? is one of those questions which I ask in my mind so often that it could be considered a mantra. It serves several different purposes and means various things to me. Some of these are superficial, yet they are not trivial because they are the outer manifestations of the inner conundrums... Continue Reading →