Child of a Narcissist

I am the child of a single parent who was a Narcissist. I didn’t always know she was a Narcissist. I didn’t always know there was anything wrong with the way she behaved. I didn’t always know that she was not like everyone else. However, something felt off kilter, but I didn’t know what it was.

My mother trained me to tell her that everything she did was right. And when I did not agree with her, I was a bad daughter who betrayed her and then used guilt to keep me in line. A thought of my own was forbidden. Yet, my mother took credit for all my accomplishments. The fact that I've had so few accomplishments as an adult might have something to do with that. Who knows? The low self esteem that plagued me throughout my lifetime has made it very challenging to be a good student, employee, girlfriend and especially a mother.

My mother projected the image of the perfect parent who happens to have an imperfect child. She covered herself efficiently. She used her charm to control how others perceived her. The rare times I would speak out against her, people did not believe me. That gutted any credibility I may have had within myself confirming I was bad....defective. So I retreated into silence.
I am the child of Narcissist. It’s not her fault she had me, it’s mine.

I created this in 2005 upon my mother’s death in effort to bring tears that were not there.

To the real, imperfect, beautiful world:

For me and people like me, give us love, we long for that, but not the kind which constricts, censors and burdens, the kind which acknowledges we exist, which frees us to express ourselves, and which encourages us to reveal what we keep hidden.

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