The First Time

My mother is a malignant narcissistic psychopath. They very seldom get diagnosed as they do not see themselves as needing help. The people they are around end up thinking that something is wrong with them and not the malignant narcopath. In the meantime they leave a long trail of destruction behind them resulting in years of therapy, and sometimes the damage cannot be completely healed. A malignant narcopath, a term with which I will refer to her from now on. A lifetime of counseling and therapy, and deep therapy over the past 5 years. In the past five years I have met regularly with a psychiatrist, cousellors, therapists, pyschologists, sexual abuse counselors, anxiety counselors and workshops, PTSD therapists and will be starting Eye Movement Therapy to unwire the wrong wiring caused by my MNM. A narcissist is mainly consumed with themselves and it becomes malignant when it goes beyond that self-absorption and they start to see others in the world around them as worthless, and having no value. They are a means to gain a purpose. To be used and discarded. This makes them harmful, evil, and extremely dangerous. When you add sociopathy or psychopathy to this combination you have some who is extremely self-absorbed, don't see people as having value or feeling, and now with the psychopathy they themselves do not feel emotion. Physcopath/sociopathic beings are cold-hearted and any emotions and feel no guilt or remorse. They believe the are better than everyone else and deserve more than anyone else. You are not a separate being from them, but are an extension of themselves, so what they feel, you will be damned sure you will feel it. They are among the most evil and most dangerous humans on the planet. There goal is to destroy you.

Despite much advice to go No Contact with my malignant narcopath mother, I have decided otherwise. One of my counselors discussed a mature and healthy way of going about it and gave a me a long list of do's and don't's. I have broken every one. It is very difficult to maintain boundaries with a conniving, skilled, manipulative, unfeeling, mind freak. Psychiatrists themselves are told to have no more than one or two narcopaths as patients as they are so draining and manipulative it would be hard for the psychiatrist to stay balanced and keep his boundaries. They will suck him in, chew him up, and spit him out. I am very aware of what is going on with MNM and meet with one of my professionals at least once a week and more if necessary.

Just recently, my MNM who was attempting to show that she can demonstrate motherly concern asked if I had been sexually molested. What a laugh! At sixty years of age she asks me. Why, because she wants something from me. She wants me to believe she cares as she does not want to die alone. If she shows me that she cares then I won't leave her alone. Yet when I am with her all I here about is how deathly ill she is, how she can't cope, how hard it is for her, and on and on and on. Over and over and over until I just want to scream "SHUT UP!!"

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to ask, but I did anyway. Our conversation went like this:

Me: "Which time?"
MNM: "You mean there was more than once?"
Me: "Yes."
MNM: "By the same person?"
Me: "No."
MNM: "Who then?"
Me: "Many. The first time I was six. Mother, why did you tell me that there was a man molesting children at the post office. You said if he touched me I was to let you know and if I didn't I would be sorry I hadn't. By the time you told me that he had already been molesting me so by your rules I was already in trouble. You knew there was a child molester at the post office and yet you sent me every day to get the mail."
MNM: "I don't remember."
Me: "Don't remember what?  Why you sent me? That you told me that? What don't you remember?"
MNM: "I just don't remember. So, did he touch you?"
Me: "YES!"
MNM: "How?"
Me: Growing more frustrated "With his hands!"
MNM: "Where?"
Me: Really agitated, "Where do you think?"
MNM: "Did he penetrate you?"
Me: Furious and disgusted by her questions "What on earth does this have to with anything? You sent me to the post office where YOU knew that there was a predator and made it impossible to tell you. You had no right to do that, you should have protected me and not sent me into harm's way."
MNM: "What was wrong with the people in the post office, why weren't they watching?"

See, she made it someone elses problem. It was the fault of the people at the post office. She also never once said she was sorry she did that, or that she was sorry it happened to me. She didn't reach out to comfort or console me. Her line of questions only served to make me remember it in a very disturbing way. I felt dirty all over again.

Me: (I have no idea why I am still talking to her). "The man told me there was a little bird and asked if I would like to see it. It was down the side of the building where the trees and bushes were. That's how he got me and why no one saw. Mother, did you know someone knew what happened. One of the kids from school must have heard or seen it happen because all the boys in school would taunt me. They would as "Can I see your little bird?", "Can I play with your birdie?". Do you know how awful I felt? How ashamed and embarassed?  I was humiliated and you sent me there when you knew!"

MNM: "Well, what can I say? Things happen."

End of conversation. No accountability. No sorrow. No sadness. No empathy, compassion, comfort, love, sorrow, grief, emotion. Nothing. I was left as empty as I had been 54 years earlier. Abandoned. Alone. Wanting her to save me, to comfort me.

I have mourned all my life. First, because I believed the lies my MNM mother told me, and lastly because I know what she is. That she can never tell the truth and that she can never love. I have found comfort for my troubled soul in God. He sustains me and holds me close to heart when I cry.

Matthew 5:4
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (NIV)

Escaping the Fear

What mask shall I wear for you?

There are many things that come to mind to write about. Some things I feel are embarrassing or shameful, yet they are part of me. They are part of my voice that had been silenced and they are part of my rage that could not be expressed. Any emotion, except the one my MNM wanted; was disallowed. The words "Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry!" or "Smile, smile, smile." resound frequently in the confines of my mind. MNM do not allow emotions. They don't fit into their ordered world that revolves around them. Anytime I had an emotion it was quickly squashed. It didn't matter whether is was a good one or a sad one. All were stepped upon and trampled until I could no longer recognize what it was. If I cried I was told to "Buck up", "Toughen up", "Shut up or I'll really give you something to cry for.", "Crocodile tears!", "What a baby, would you like my thumb too?". Additionally, I would be accused of trying to solicit sympathy, attention, or attempting to "weasel" out of something.

I recall being very excited once about something I had achieved at school. I no longer remember what it was as that memory was taken from me as fast as it had arrived. It was effectively and efficiently knocked out of my memory banks as though it never happened.. I can home and I was so so proud and so excited and finally thought my MNM would be proud of me. I would be worthy. I would be deserving. She would finally love me. That unfortunately is the gift these people have. They keep you coming back for more. They make you believe that something different will happen if you just try a little more, put a little more effort into it. The truth is, nothing will ever be enough, and everything is never good enough. The words spoken to me that day seared themselves over the memory so I can't see it. I am only left with the fleeting feeling of joy and how it quickly went away.

"You really thing you're something, DON'T YOU?" she screamed. Over and over, right into my face where I could smell her hot breath burning up my face. She didn't give in until I muttered a pathetic sobbing "No." This only made her angrier. Of course I though I was something or I wouldn't have come home with the smile on my face and smugly (her words) reporting my achievement. Then the words that still burn...

"You think your shit don't stink, don't you?  Well let me tell you what you really are. You are Queen Shit of Turd Island. That's why you can't smell your own shit!"

You can never be better than they are. Never. If you want to be great at something you must let the MNM be better. She has to get the majority of the spotlight, and she will take credit for any small mention of you made in passing. If you should rise above her be prepared for her claws to reach out and burst your balloon. Nothing is sacred and nothing is too evil. She will use slander, lies, blackmail, humiliation, and anything that will work to knock you off your "high horse" or "pedestal". You cannot and will not succeed without her being first in the lime light. First in everything.

After all, she gave her life for you. Or so she thinks. Jesus has told me otherwise.

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.