Foe of mine

Being a child of a parent who is narcissistic sadist is something awful. But the much worse situation is when one is a member of a narcissistic family. It's not so rare, and the people who are aware that there is something wrong with their clan are in very complicated circumstances. They have two options - stay with the family or run away. The first alternative means they probably won't have the chance to heal their wounds, to be themselves, to live a healthy life, full of love and happiness. If they choose to escape the gulag euphemistically called family, they should be prepared for the war. And since they are fragile human beings, usually weakened by the ordeal they came through, the fight for their own well being seems way too hard for their nervous system. 

Well, this is my reality. 

On the one side of the barricade, they - predators, united against me, angry people, prepared for doing really nasty things to me. Things they call love, common sense, and observing God's commandments. They have assembled everyone they could: in-laws, friends, even secret lovers. Every single attempt to convince me I am a terrible person is justified in their eyes. These persons are backed by Church, neighbors, my 'friends' and teachers from my school. 

On the other side, me. Just me. Some people told me, "you're not alone; we are with you." But once I was openly attacked by some family members, I found allies in people I didn't expect.

It took me too much time to understand why my non-mother's sibling and their spouses (and spouses' sibling) are so fierce and united in their campaign. She and they don't even like each other, they were permanent enemies, plotting and accusing one by another of real or imagined things. But this is how NPD families work - they join the forces against a common foe. In this case, the adversary is me. And this was also a mystery for me. They act as if my decision was a threat. For it is.

NPD families are built on lies. Many lies. The person telling them the truth is dangerous and should be silenced by all means. The lies are like glue for the fiction created many years ago by our ancestors - it makes the impression everything is in the right place. They don't believe in these myths though. In their guts, they know that everything is wrong. Just like me. They simply don't know that living in truth is possible. 

Is it you or is it me?

The biggest paradox of people who were not loved by their mothers (and they are not aware of this fact) is that they never become fully independent human beings. It's not only about being immature. It's about being a part of somebody else's body and mind. And this is the main reason these people deny anything bad happened to them from the hand of the mother. Admitting that the beloved mom, this fantastic person, contemporary saint, is, in fact, the merciless abuser is something beyond their ability. 

The mechanism is simple - unborn and newborn baby is so dependent on the mother's love that he or she is a part of her body and mind. And once the love is not provided, the person stuck in this very early stage of development and cannot move on. There is, of course, a way of solving this problem by replacing the figure of the mother by someone else, by some kind of authority who supplies the child with whatever it needs. But let's be honest, no one sees such a necessity when the mother seems to be so fabulous. Besides, she would never give up on the best mean of showing off as the best parent in the world. 

For the child, saying that mommy was bad is equal to disintegrating whole the world, for if she is a terrible person, he is too. If she didn't love him, he had never existed. 

Searching for Gold in a Pile of Dung

So how does the fact that you had the non-parent similar to my non-mother impact your life? 

Just imagine this: you were a victim - abused, sometimes 'used', neglected, maybe beaten - but you grew up without knowing the truth; you are convinced that the person who loved you the most couldn't be your abuser; you don't connect your problems with mental health or addictions to the possibility that you were not loved whatsoever and that you live in tremendous lie, backed by the family, society, church and yourself. And now, you are a grown-up person, making stupid decisions no one with a span of sanity understands. 

One of the most ludicrous choices is marrying the person who... doesn't love you. Yet, it is not so ludicrous if you'd know the truth, for this is what you've learned: to see love where there is no love, to search gold in a big reeking pile of shit. You dig and dig, you are dirtier and dirtier, but you don't give up and you find these efforts as a proof for your stamina and strong character. 

It's sad. It's pathetic. My heart, however, is full of compassion for these souls, because their feelings, unlike 'feelings' of the narc scumbags, preying on them, are genuine, and the pain is a hundred percent real. I'd like to tell them not to look gold where there only can be dung found. 

Ugly Truth

It is hard to accept that the person you love the most hurts you. We try to 'protect' ourselves from this fact so we are finding millions of reasons why he or she is doing so. These reasons are supposed to protect the beloved one, to explain why he or she treats us like that, to justify his or her deeds. And the last thing we want to think about is that this very person makes us harm because he or she finds the ultimate pleasure in it. 

That's right - pleasure. 

Not so long ago, I've learned that these people, who like causing pain and, at the same time, feel attached to the victims, are called sadists while psychopaths are those who like hurting others but don't have any particular emotions towards them hence their victims are so often killed. That's why I say that my non-mother is a sadist, not a psychopath. She thinks she loves me because she experiences huge distress while I'm far away from her. And since she believes in it so hard, almost everybody believes her.

Oh, I too believe she suffers, for the only moments of true pleasure for her was when she had the opportunity to hurt me. My pain meant she was in control over something, probably the only thing in her miserable life. But after those years without her around me, when I was washing off my soul of her venom, I realized that this wasn't just about control. 

I don't find pleasure in tormenting people, especially children. In fact, the thought I could have hurt anyone is terrifying. I literally cannot sleep, dwelling on words I said that could have done harm. And the longer I am good for myself the more stunned I am how she could be so cruel for so long, and that this cruelty was escalating and evolving withing years, adjusting to my age and needs (e.g., she stopped beating me when I was a teenager but she started leaving me alone at home for days and was constantly mad at me for no reason). Like I said, now I know it was nothing but pure pleasure for her.

I call it 'ugly truth' because for the people like my non-mother the truth is something utterly bad. They want to have control over a weak and dependent human being, and there is no better one than own child. They don't see anything wrong about what they do and how their emotional world is functioning. They feel entitled to such behavior. The truth that they are the evil person is unacceptable.

Contemporary Witches

Why is it so hard to accept that there are mothers who don't love their children? Why this fact is so inconvenient for most people? As if telling it loudly was something awful. 

Well, the awful truth is there are bad or even evil mothers but the worse thing is being silent about it. Silence makes the following generations have no chance to live a better life, for the lack of true mother's love impacts the quality of life in the whole society. Just as one priest told me: the world is so screwed because there are stupid mothers in it. Period.

It is not about some kind of witch hunt, even if I call these specific women witches. It is about improving the situation and the situation is that millions of women are nowadays ready to kill their children before (or even after) the birth in the name of 'free' choice. 

But on my radar, there are women pretending love. The contemporary 'saints', with the mission to be devoted to their beloved children and, not so often, to the whole world, full of poor souls. These women, however, are not able to love anyone, either themselves. They are narcissistic witches, casting the spells on everyone around them, and few see their true faces. You cannot say that they are narcs, without being condemned by almost everyone. Believe me, you cannot!

And this is an odd thing - how people can be so blind? And the most peculiar thing is how is it that we, the children of these witches, stay in such darkness for so long, even all life, when only the truth may help us solve our various problems. This is the ultimate witchcraft!

I see them everywhere. The creations of bad mothers. If they don't become narcs themselves, they most likely have mental health issues, they are not able to sustain stable relationships, they break the law, overuse drugs and alcohol, commit suicide... And sometimes, they are so stupid that nobody can believe this is possible. People look at them, nod the heads and say: 

"How can he/she be such an imbecile?! His/her mother was a fantastic person."

Why don't you love me?

One of the biggest milestones on my way to recovery (which still is an ongoing process) was the discovery that my non-mother simply hates me to the bone. It took me so many years to accept this obvious fact because of at least four reasons. First, Stockholm syndrome. Second, her constant lies, so common among narcs. Third, social discourse. Fourth, so-called religious upbringing. 

But, since I came to this realization, I started asking myself a plain question: WHY? And again, I fell in self-blaming and looking for the explanations within myself until I remembered how I hated someone else to the bone without any particular reason. No one was more surprised by this feeling than I was. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Now it's clear that people with 'narcissistic wound' (not necessarily narcs) may have this compulsive need to direct the hatred toward one or more people. In their minds, there is, of course, a good justification for that which, in fact, doesn't have a lot in common with common sense. But... we must hate someone just like we were hated, usually by our own mother. 

However, there is one big problem here. In most cases, we don't know that our beloved mom hated us. We do not accept the reality, for it might have destroyed us. Whereas, it is quite the opposite. 

It's easier when people are aware that the mother never loved them. You may think that bearing this knowledge is something terrible but unawareness is much worse. This is like living with a big secret that is tormenting our subconscious and nervous system. The body knows that it was hurt and that there was no love, yet the intellect tries to dupe it. 

For my non-mother, I was the perfect scapegoat to transfer her hatred, anger, and accusations. She could blame me for everything she desired because it was allowed by her non-family, church, society, educational system, etc. She could feel the relief whenever she wanted, thus her changing moods, bursts of anger coming out of nowhere, inconsistency in the value system. Nobody knew she hated me. Nobody knew she never loved me. Nobody knew she was a real threat to my health and life on a daily basis. She was 'safe'.