Narcissists Faced With Their Narcissism

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“At the name of {narcissism} each one of the children felt something jump…inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.”

Ah, forgive me for paraphrasing the great C. S. Lewis from The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. But that’s how it is when you first learn about “narcissism,” isn’t it? You either feel liberated…or angry.

That moment came and went for my Family-of-Origin this week when they finally found my website and blogs. Oh, it took them ages to find it. Their uncharacteristic lack of curiosity was most vexing.

But they finally found it. The word spread like wildfire. They spent hours on the site. I hoped against hope that light might glimmer. That “narcissism” might be to them as it was to me…a “delightful strain of music.” A candle flickering at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

So I spoon-fed them the delightfully liberating truth about narcissism in my articles, often quoting their own gossip about each other as evidence. Yes, I’m sure it was mortifying. As mortifying as the “weird” life they forced me to lead, the abuses I bore, the secrets I kept.

 But they refused to take the hint. Hint, did I say? More like a frickin’ sledgehammer!

Like the dwarves seated in what they imagine is a dark barn in Lewis’ The Last Battle, my relatives preferto remain in the darkness of narcissism, striking out at me but too terrified to risk peeking out to see the meadow of healing surrounding them.

“You see,” said Aslan. “They will not let us help them. They have chosen cunning instead of belief. Their prison is only in their own minds, yet they are in that prison; and so afraid of being taken in that they cannot be taken out.”

That’s that. Did my duty. Conscience is clear.

I’m now officially an orphan…and it feels frickin’ amazing! It’s as if someone took a sponge and washed away the last thirty years. I’m free for the first time in my life and the sensation is intoxicating!

Have you felt it? Do you know what it’s like?

My context is gone. I feel reborn. Decades of mind control have fallen away. I’m not the person they tried to make me, the vices they projected onto me, the shame they downloaded into me. I’m ME! I may go get my nose pierced and dye my hair hot pink with utter disregard for what “they” would think and what “they” would say and how “they” would judge me.

I look around my home with new eyes. My eyes. No more clairvoyance. No more fear. No more vicarious judgmentalism.

I hug my husband with more ardor and treasure my friends with more enjoyment.

I feel even happier than the day I burned up my High School diploma from the misery they called “homeschool.”

The books are right, you know. The books about narcissistic parents. Should’ve believed them! But no, I just couldn’t quite believe my sweetie-poo-pie mother would have the audacity to shame me, order me about and SHOUT in typing a message to me today.

I’m amazed that in her sixties, she still can’t get off her abusive Mommy’s titty, cut the apron strings,see through the manipulative crocodile tears and lies and brainwashing, stop being played for a sap and refuse to obey Mommy/Brother’s orders. I’m flabbergasted that she’s chosen to show empathy to the mother who’s caused her untold pain over extending empathy (rather than accusations) to herabused daughter she claimed to “love” and “adore” and the only person to ever help her heal from anxiety, panic attacks and agoraphobia. I’m incredulous she apparently doesn’t want to learn and heal from decades of being the victim (and sometimes perpetrator) of narcissistic abuse, after her previous excitement when I taught her about codependence. Quite disappointed in her really.

And I just couldn’t quite believe I never had proper parenting, proper love. Now, I believe it!

If you’re in this boat too, well, believe it. Narcissists aren’t normal parents and they really can’t love you properly either. If you’re No Contact, stop hoping for that miracle reconciliation. Ain’t happenin, Honey. Sorry to say it, but all the books are right. The “cracks” of anger and cruelty in your family’s otherwise “perfect” persona are the truth. Believe the cracks…not the persona.

But it’s okay. Freedom is more delicious than love, especially a toxic love.

Truth is my drug, and I am so addicted. The creative juices are flowing and must not be quelled for narcissism is an epidemic and millions need healing. They shall not be quelled, for I refuse to shut up. And they cannot be quelled, for the First Amendment right to Free Speech finally belongs to me along with my other long-withheld God-given rights: Life! Liberty! And the Pursuit of Happiness!

lewis

source;http://blogs.psychcentral.com/

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