Upside Down World

When I was still in contact with mother we used to go places and do things.  Whenever she was with me I felt out of sorts.  I could be sitting there talking to someone, Mother would pipe up with some nasty comment about me, to me, clearly to try to embarrass me publicly.  I don't think I need to tell you what she would say, as I don't want to try to remember either.  The emotion is too strong, still stings.

A few weeks ago I was out volunteering, sitting with a group of ladies, and all I can hear in my head is that I'm lousy and everyone is going to know it.  That simple.  

I asked mother once why she would do that.  Her response was, "Well, you think yourself so smart, so high class.  It's good to put you in your place."

One time while in contact with mother and she was with me, I was putting on nice shoes and I was struggling with the strap.  Not really struggling but attempting to do the buckle and I didn't get it on the first attempt.  I heard this witchy laugh that would curdle milk.  I turned and looked at mother and she laughed louder.  Then she turned her head and walked away.  I wore running shoes that day instead.

I was feeling out of sorts this past Sunday trying to get myself to go to church.  I didn't go.  I was having a hard time with shoes.  I go to a lovely church where everyone is dressed up and I like to as well.  Sometimes though, I need to put on running shoes.  I really have a need to put on simple running shoes with jeans and a tshirt.  Mother would like that.  Not high class, so I am in my place. 

It's funny how I talk to a lot of people about this and they say it is obvious signs of bipolar disorder. She's good, she's bad, so it kind of makes sense.  I don't have any knowledge of bipolar disorder (not really) but I did know a few people with this condition.  Once they are on the right cocktail of drugs they are better.  And, I can't figure this thing out without that one playing on my mind.  But comparing MN behaviour to bipolar disorder seems like such a reach.  One thing I do know about bipolar disorder though, is that they are OBVIOUS.  They will do horrible things sure, but they will do them right in front of you and they don't know better.  Such is not the case with my MN mother.  

For a brief moment I allowed myself to think, "Why is she here, when is she leaving to go home."  I think I had it with her that day.  Was there ever a time she was good to me?  Oh, I felt it.  I felt that she was good to me at one time.  She would come over and help me organize and clean.  Things I just tend to not do.  At that time the laundry would be washed and stay in a basket, for a week even. Mother would come over and fold it and put it all away.  

Or when we were kids and we ran out of milk and someone asked for milk.  I saw this painful look on her face, she was hurt because she couldn't give us any milk.  Don't these thoughts drive you nuts? ACON's mothers never loved us, but I tend to waffle over the whole thing, like we need to dig right in to find evidence that she really cared.  She did a lot of sacrificing so we would everything we needed.  It seemed like it.  It seemed like it?  

I want to believe she cared.  I'm not heartless, of course my mind would be scrambling for anything to grab a hold of.  That thing that makes us all feel safe.  Mother was kind, and loving.  Of course, I can see some evidence of that.  But can I really?

The mind will believe what it wants to, that we are safe, even though we don't feel safe.  Although she was the engulfing narcissistic mother she never made me feel safe.  

This is the song she used to sing to me:

I can't listen to it to see if it works.  I assume its the right song.  I had picked it out months before to leave a nasty message on Youtube.  I was so angry back then, I listened to it then left a message on there saying this was the song my mother used for narcissistic supply.  That one or another version, I can't remember.

I don't remember how old I was but I wasn't school age yet.  I was younger than four years old.  But clear as day I can remember this song, turn around when you are two, turn around when you are four, turn around when you are a young woman walking out of my door. I ran screaming after mom, "Don't no, I would never leave you."  All I would see was her back.  She sang this song over and over then turned her back then walk away then I would scream no I won't leave you.  She would go into another room and then I had a hard time finding her.

Sigh, I can still feel those emotions. It was horrible, and I couldn't stand it.  I kept thinking I couldn't get any older, and what if mom was to die?  Mom can never die, she has to live forever, I can't imagine her ever dying.  I don't know what got me to thinking of mother dying.  But it sure felt so real to me then.

This is what my engulfing narcissistic mother did.  I was in agony and it made her feel good.  To see her young child in torment.  It was a game, and although I was feeling horrible, it took care of her addiction, the need for supply.

But she also would hit me.  She was very cross.  Those were extremely violent times and it felt like it would never stop. Out of the blue it would happen, some misdemeanor that the day before was ok, but not this day. This is exactly what she looked like during those times:

My Mommy

Well, except she didn't have blonde hair, she was a brunette.  This picture might give away my mother's identity though, shhh, keep it a secret for me please.  Yes, I am serious.  This is exactly what she looks like.  I am sure mother posed for the drawing of Butthead.

I guess I do have a sense of humor tonight.  Guess I gotta, bringing this stuff up actually feels very horrible.  I still get stuck thinking mother was disadvantaged so she had to be tough.  We four kids must have been a handful, of course she got upset.

Mother did good things, I've mentioned some.  How about we do a little critical thinking?  I have devised this plan to figure it all out.  It is very scientific, I have gotten a team of psychologists together and this is the best it can ever get to decide how to figure out the mess of a malignant narcissistic mother.

First print this out:

Good Things Mother Did	Bad Things Mother Did

There should be another column, BAD THINGS THAT HAPPENED THAT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE MOTHER DID THEM.   Put that on a separate piece of paper you might need a lot of room for it and a lot of paper.

Now cross match the good and the bad things that mother did.  See which ones go together.  Can't do it?  Here, I'll give you an example:

Mother did my laundry - good, match that one with Mother said other girls looked pretty compared to me at my Grade 8 ceremony - bad

Yep, you got it.  Mother only did my laundry so I would go someplace for her to make fun of me.  It works.  It goes together.  How?  Well, she wouldn't dare let me go out in public without clean clothes so she could look all sacrificing while making her daughter feel like a complete ugly mess.  It wasn't mother's fault I look so bad.  You keep matching them up you too will see how they go together.

As for the other column,  BAD THINGS THAT HAPPENED THAT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE MOTHER DID THEM,  keep working on that one, hope you get it done someday.  And I hope this critical thinking has helped you become more aware of what had happened.  You're not going to match up all the things.  Some things you'll have to let go.  It's not going to always make sense. Welcome to the upside down world of a malignant narcissist.

It's just so sad.  Mother was gifted with a choice, she made the evil choice.  She actually WANTED to hurt me and make me suffer.  She chose narcissistic supply over me.  Yes, that is what she wanted. It's hard for me to understand why.  It is an addiction, yes but why?  Where is the heart, where is the feeling of love?  How about the compassion?  There are lots of those feelings but only for herself. She won't feel my pain. She doesn't care if I have to struggle through life as long as she gets a good fix of supply.  That is what she needed, not me.  I was only a vessel to get to that.

I need to learn to let go.  This isn't a person that means well for me at any time.  I have been no contact for 3 years and I hope there will come a day I can just put my nice shoes on without feeling horrible.

I have an obligation to myself.  To enjoy life to the best of my abilities.  I know even that will be hard.  At first I had to cope with what is lost.  What is lost?  Nothing. Because I did not have a mother in the first place.  But, it still feels like I lost something.  That's why acceptance has to be real.  Its not going to be logical for quite some time, but I can already feel it in my emotions.  What have I gained then?  Hopefully, my sanity.  And now, I may be able to deprogram myself.  This is so important.  To start with I'll have to pull away from these thoughts that mother did anything good at all.  That's right.  It was all programming.  My young mind was just getting started and it got taken over by an evil parasite, that never once would think of my best intentions, even though it SEEMED like it did.

I've had it with websites telling you how to get along with a narcissistic parent.  They acknowledge this person is bad but it's your mother and there are ways of being with them so that life can continue with them.  I would post their links if I had the courage.  I'm not into backlash right now.  Some are professionals in psychology.  I don't care.  Do my little critical thinking test, its much better.  I can see that my narcissistic mother never had a heart.

In fact, the best thing my mother ever did was tell me that she loves to see me miserable.  The mask came off and she did me a big favor by showing me who she really is.

That chart was just to prove that mother was into doing the good things so she could  continue to have a feast of captive source of narcissistic supply.  The good things she did was part of the mask. And no, she wasn't crazy, in fact she was perfectly sane.

Imagine what mother would say to me if she was a real human with a soul for just 5 minutes.  What I imagine her saying is this:  I didn't deserve my children.  I deserted you all, but I made it look like I really cared.  Now, none of you have eachother even.  I made you hate eachother, I made you all hate yourselves.  I tell you the truth.  My 5 minutes is almost up, so don't worry about what I will say to you after this time is up, walk away, run.  Stay far from me.  If I do call you realize its not your mother.  I hate to tell you that you never had a mother.  If I had more time we would go out in your nice shoes together.

Three years ago mother told me that she loves to see me go nuts.  She told me she likes to make me suffer.  Sometimes I think that is a cry for help?  Lately, I've been feeling that way.  Round and round again.

She is never going to awaken someday and decide to become a good person.  She wasn't telling me that so could reach out to help her.  I don't know why she told me that, maybe because no one else was around so it was another way to stick it to me.

Consequently the onus is on her.  Not me.  Yes that's right, I can walk away from this absolutely innocent.  That is my choice.