Friday, June 20, 2014

Finding my Face

I grew up without a face. I can hear the growing murmur wondering "How can that be? I wonder that too. How could that be? How did that happen?

It happens when you are raised by a malignant narcissistic sociopath parent. You never have a face and are merely a reflection of her thoughts and feelings, real or otherwise. You are the clown that performs in the circus of her life. When you cry and the grown-up three year old wants happy, well then you give her happy. When you are happy the grown up three year old is unhappy, well then your happiness will be taken away. Your toys, your clothes, your friends. All of it will be gone.

In addition they steal your mind and your thoughts. You cannot have a thought that will be different than the MNM (narcissist mother) for she is always the one that tells you what to think and what to do. When you speak up and fight back you are labelled the crazy one and perhaps will even be locked away. At any extent you become locked in the prison of your mind designed and developed by your NM. I used to hear "Don't you dare think about it because I will knock that thought out of you." Yes, so your mind and body do not like being knocked around so much, so they stop thinking and feeling, expect to think the thoughts that MNM allows you too.

This is where your self-esteem goes. You are allowed to think that you are stupid, unlovable, unwanted, filthy, dirty, don't deserve to live, damaged, a waste of space, a waste of air, you can't do anything that pleases, you can't do anything right. If you came home with straight A's it would be that you were trying to get attention. "Don't I give you enough?" Poor sad little Vinjette trying so hard to get attention when she gets all she needs here. Funny that you can put so much effort into working hard at school, but you still haven't learned to clean the floor properly, have you?" Then the arguing, the beatings, and the humiliations would start. My self-esteem was eroded like it had never existed. I have none and didn't know it. I just couldn't understand why I was so bad and so unlovable. I was doomed to lead a lonely and unhappy existence.

Then my heart. At first it was just broken and I cried to myself, I cried to God. I cried to the church, and I cried to my school. I cried to the police and I cried to the nuns. My heart was so full of pain and fear. No one believed me. Oh no! When a NM goes to work so does so well at using her bag of tricks. Gaslighting is one of the most common. While she was beating me for getting A's she left bruises. I went to school and told of the brutality at home. Gaslighter MNM puts on an Oscarly performance and weeps and wails, and gnashes her teeth, and will her tear stained face exclaims "I don't know what to do. She just keeps on tripping over her feet. The doctor says she need orthopaedic shoes but I am on a limited income and cant's afford them.". The beast woman then looks at me and puts out a loving arm and asks "Come here honey. Let me see where you hurt yourself. You should have told me so I could have helped you."  The conseller is happy that everything has worked out and looks at me and says "My goodness Vinjette, you should be more careful! And please, no more stories anymore. You only need to tell the truth my dear. No one will be made at you for hurting yoursef." My face long ago learned not to react. I learned long ago not to speak out. My shame is huge, my embarssment the same. My sense of injustice is roaring in my ears. I hate. I scream my silent screams. Over and over this happens until my heart no longer cares. I know I am nothing, no good, no one believes me. No one will save me.

Then next she steals your soul. I lived under the constant fear of death. Always MNM was going to kill us. I was afraid to sleep, to come home from school, to make a mistake, to just live. Yes, that is right. To just simply live. To live was to cause injury to my NM without trying, without knowing, and without doing anything. This is actually the last thing I have learned and was one of the most painful. MNM's are pure evil. They are capable of homocide, but their coupe d'grace is when they can commit homicide by someone else's own hand (murder by proxy) for then they can play victim and get all the desired sympathy the can feed on. I will write about it more but many times our NMN was taking us out. This was the day. Obviously something happened or I wouldn't be here. During my teenage years NMN would say why don't you kill yourself, that's all your good for. Better you than me, because believe me if I do you'll be wishing you had. Over and over. The cruelty was more and more frequent, or perhaps I just got tired. The real truth is my MNM killed my soul and left me a walking zombie where I no longer cared to live or die. I chose to die and took all her pills. What a victory for her and a bigger victory for God for he didn't let her win. MNM comes to the hospital to see me the next day in tears saying, "Oh my god I'm so glad you're here. I didn't know where you were. I was frantic with worry."

The games never cease.



2 comments:

  1. I'm so glad you survived your childhood--at least physically. You are a blessing to me.

    I once worked in a school when I watched a principal go into a rage at a kid who'd been brought to the office for bad behaviour. He'd been given some paper work at a desk in the office and proceeded to tap his pencil (or something similar), which was annoying--but no one went up to him and told him to stop until the principal came roaring out of his office, told the kid (junior high age), "You are a waste of everyone's time. I don't want to see your face again."

    I was horrified! After a few days of thought and prayer, I went to the principal privately to call him (fearfully but gently) on this behaviour and was told I'm never welcome in his school again either, LOL! I'm so sorry you had to live with this kind of treatment and worse day in and day out. Hugs!

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  2. It makes me wonder who broke him. His anger is likely because he feels so unworthy. I know my anger did. I tried (try) so hard but still fail to meet the expectations of others. I wonder why I can't find that "good enough" in me. Each time I hear a criticism it is like a personal attack on me. When younger, I'd rage outwardly, now it is inward. I would hurt others before they hurt me. It is so true that hurt people, hurt people. I feel sad for that boy too. What horrid words to be seared on a heart of child. Sometimes words blow away in the wind and sometimes they get delivered with a fiery hot arrow that pieces your heart and brands the words on your heart. I weep for all of them. Thank you Debbie for this reminder for me that my own words can stick in someones heart. I hope they get delivered with a sticky honey stick smothered with love.

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