- I was originally going to call this post "Just get over it", because I have lost count of how many times people have said that to me. Recently, even my own sister basically told me to "get over it", which is absolutely flabbergasting, when she is even more damaged than I am. But then she continues to live with Denial, because although it's a lot less comfortable than acceptance, it is easier. She's become accustomed to the discomfort of Denial, so the emancipation of acceptance seems too daunting. I get that. I really do.
While I have been able to accept that my mother's appalling treatment of me is due to the fact she is profoundly mentally sick and disordered, I cannot explain away my sister's treatment of me in quite the same terms. She is not a narcissist, and I do not think she is in danger of ever becoming one - although she is entirely self-absorbed, that self-absorption is based on self-destruction rather than pathological selfishness. Years ago, she and I had a good relationship. We grew up in solidarity and relative harmony with each other. I adored her, and I still do. I always will. Her betrayal - because that is what it is, aided and abetted by our mother, of course - has ripped the heart out of me. Things started going wrong between us when she discovered a predilection for alcohol, back in the late 1990s. When drunk, my sister can be an extremely nasty person - upfront-and-loud nasty, not insidious, 'under-the-radar' nasty like our mother. Escaping into alcoholic oblivion has been her coping mechanism. Every child of a narcissist needs something to help them cope or deny (usually the two are effectively the same).
My sister was very close to our dad - even closer than I was, because as much as I like the occasional drink, I find it impossible to consume the vast quantities that my dad and sister could. (Indeed, for me, it would be lethal.) After his death in 2007, my sister (who I shall refer to as Jenny) spiralled into an abyss of despair, and when her husband died three years later after a protracted and horrendously cruel illness, I think she must have reached her "maximum pain" threshold, because ever since, she has been a total stranger to me. I literally know nothing about her any more - nothing. She has chosen to stonewall me, and for every attempt I have made with her to establish contact (even after her betrayal), she has ignored me. Worse, she has ignored my children, her nephews. She had a baby herself last year, and the fact I will probably never get to know my beautiful niece is a crippling concern that haunts me every day.Should I accept some of the blame for this? Well, possibly. While I am big on communication, having been raised by a deranged, loveless woman for whom honesty and reality are anathema, perhaps I tend to gloss over the issues that really matter. At least, I used to. "The elephant in the room" was habitually ignored in our house; we merely tiptoed around it, pretending it wasn't there. The weight and breadth of the elephant increased daily, with every violent admonishment, every insult, every dismissal, every subtle dig, every narcissistic outrage. I am uncomfortable with conflict and confrontation. It deeply upsets and disturbs me, and Jenny has always been the same (although when intoxicated, she usually has no problem expressing and misdirecting her anger). Since finding out about NPD, however, I have been singing like a crazed canary, and for every person that tells me to "just get over it", I will sing a little louder. I am out of my cage now, and singing my heart out, and nothing but NOTHING will shut me up. I no longer care who I offend or upset with my honesty. I certainly don't care if I bore or irritate anyone who dares to assume that parental narcissism is "not that bad". And I absolutely don't give a flying fuck if my new-found propensity to be honest and open makes a few people feel awkward. I WILL NOT SHUT UP AND I WILL NOT GO AWAY.
There is a massive fucking great elephant in the room, and it is called PARENTAL NARCISSISM. That colossal pregnant elephant gave birth to big bouncing babies, which shat all over the place and destroyed everything in their path, and those babies were called Morbid Alcoholism, Domestic Violence, Emotional Abandonment, Self-harming, Drug Abuse, Suicide, Schizophrenia, Brainwashing, Depression, Delusion, Sadism, Projection, Denial, Anxiety and Complex-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. THEY ALL LIVED THERE WITH US. And we continued ignoring all of them, all the time.
Complex- Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which I affectionately call 'C-PTSD' (more about that later), and his little sister, Anxiety, are two elephantine gifts my mother allowed me to keep with me, always, throughout my adult life. They have trampled on just about every aspect of my existence. Drug Abuse stayed with me for a while (I actually quite enjoyed his company; he's good fun but only because I do not, mercifully, have an addictive personality); while Denial taps at my window most nights, although I will never let him in again.
Recently, I tried reaching out to Jenny, for the first time in a few months (I had promised her, and myself, that I would stay away, but I love her, goddammit, and I want to 'save her'). To my astonishment, she responded (redacted as necessary):- "...As for this lack of contact thing.. Quite honestly, the reason I haven't stayed in touch is because I'm just at a complete loss as to what to say. I find it all so exasperating. Rest assured I'm not in mum's 'manipulative grasp' or anything.. my relationship with her is just as difficult and dysfunctional as it ever was and ever will be, believe me. I keep minimal contact with her. She just sends me endless emails which I tend not to read. When I do see her she tries to pass on much unwanted parenting 'advice' of which I either completely ignore or go out of my way to do completely the opposite (if she's taught me nothing else it's how NOT to be a mother)... And she goes on and on and on about the situation with you. It's all so very sad and tiresome... I just want some peace and bloody quiet. I want to heal properly from the last 8 years, raise my little girl and hopefully be the kind of mother I always yearned to have.You and me are just on completely different pages in our mother-coping strategies and I don't appreciate you trying to bludgeon me with this stuff. You've let it consume you so utterly. Just let it go and start enjoying your life ffs!"
- My response (which she has read, but will not, I have no doubt, respond to):
"We are on different pages in everything, Jenny. In everything. I have not let it consume me - I DID let it consume me, for YEARS, and it damn near killed me. But now I am being open and honest about it. I am HEALING. Recovering. Slowly. Very slowly. I AM enjoying my life, because SHE IS NO LONGER IN IT. You say you want to heal from the last 8 years? It's longer than that sis.... much, much longer. It goes back to the early 1980s. I worry about you. I don't care that you don't need me to worry, I don't care that you think I am 'bludgeoning' you with stuff. That's not true anyway. I have kept my distance, in fact I couldn't really be more distant. WTF happened? To us? Don't pin all the blame on me, you know that's not true. Peace and quiet... yes, we all deserve peace and quiet. Don't tell me I've "let it consume me so utterly", as if somehow you are not consumed by it. We are both consumed by it. Both of us. Like Elle was. Like dad was. Don't live in denial. I am glad you are keeping contact to a minimum. I do not hate her, and I could never hate her. I love her deeply but I am so scarred by the past that I don't think I will ever feel like a complete human being. This isn't self-pity, it's honesty. I am doing the same: being the best mum I can be by doing the exact fucking opposite of what she did with us. Yes, being the "kind of mother I always yearned to have". ****** and ****** are vibrant, happy boys, and I dote on them. I hope one day they will get to meet their cousin. I love you Jenny. xx"
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