Ok, I can't draw it. There is no options here for draw. Very well. I'll explain it to you. It simply is a circle with two dots for eyes and a squiggly mouth. Now as I look at that picture I'm embracing it, telling it not to feel bad, its ok to be embarrassed. Now, I should really look up that word. Is embarrassed the same as shame or humiliation? Or, are they they different things?
Lately, don't know if I told you this yet, but lately, I've been feeling low. Call it what you will, I believe this is a process to something else. Something is going to be healed or I'm going to have a revelation.
Now this is a random thought for humiliation, my feelings are all over the place. I feel horrible. Oh well, we feel what we feel, we shouldn't be trying to block it. Pain has a purpose doesn't it? It has to go someplace. So I'll just feel where this place goes.
Humiliation was the tool mother used mainly for narcissistic supply from me. Humiliation was my lot in life. I had to feel it dreadfully and that look on my face made mother high. It was her drug of choice. That caricature, was a picture of me all scrunched up trying to not feel anything. My thoughts went elsewhere.
As I embrace the caraciture of myself, I can't help but feel love. Does this mean that now I do love myself flaws and all? What is love? Is is that gooey feeling?
No I tend to feel that love goes hand in hand with respect. Self respect. I think I'm releasing that feeling into myself for the first time. Seeing as that I blamed myself for everything that went wrong with my life. But it wasn't my fault. I look back now and, my gosh, I see where I did so much that was right despite my circumstances. I was responsible, I never cheated anyone. I even supported others. When I look back, I can see now, what a big deal that is.
Not that I'm all boastful. Of course, I still need a saviour for my sins and that is what I have Jesus for. But still looking back on my circumstances I was awesome.
I had thought I was raised to be the golden child in that whole growing up in a narcissistic household, but that's not true. I was raised to take humiliation, over and over again. A scapegoat for pain. Seeing as I was so spoiled by mother, for giving me so much, she loved me so much, all she wanted was to see me as successful. And all I did to her was disappoint.
She got a lot of humiliation supply from me. She probably had to, she was incapable of feeling humiliation. The opposite of humiliation was significance. And that was what she was trying to steal from me, she had that goal in mind, this was a mind gaming method. Gaslighting is where the truth is sticking clearly in your face and you are denied that truth, you are to see the opposite.
Fear and panic rose up inside of me. And why not? If significance is what she was trying to steal then fight or flight had better kick in. Significance is the actual hard wiring, and if you don't have it then you would have died in a culture less civilized.
Now, I'm writing this without thinking much, just going with my emotions. I've been feeling terrible lately, just trying to see what's up with me. So when I opened that book and saw that caricature, it told me something rather interesting. This pain I'm feeling right now is due to the fact that when my aunt and I talked a few weeks ago, she made me very aware of something. I'm feeling a little sorry for my mother. My judgement became cloudy.
Here is what I also have written down in my book, after my awakening:
The brainwashed victim does not consciously change his value system, rather the change occurs despite his efforts. He is no more responsible for this change than is an individual who "snaps" and becomes psychotic. And like the psychotic, the prisoner is not even aware of the transition.
So, yeah, I have been going all over the place with this. Where am I going with this? I think I have a plan.
When my aunt talked to me that day and said this and that, and I was all hard and then proceeded with my day and didn't feel one iota of negative energy. I actually forgot all about it. But I think I did feel something, but I blocked it out. Now, it is some weeks later. My butt glued to the chair, and I feel completely lazy. It is not like me to be lazy. If I am sitting down and can't get up, some depression has hit me and I need to try to feel my way through it.
So I guess I am feeling sorry for mother. She has had an abusive childhood herself and it was bestowed upon me to be responsible for things beyond my control, that happened way before I was born. And it feels that it is unlikely mother was a narcissist, there were worse people in my life that took total advantage that I was a targeted source of supply. Mother wasn't like that, she didn't try to hurt me, but she did. She found ways that were clever. It was happening during my formative years. When I became an adult, mother was insufferable, no one wanted to be around. For sure when I was younger she had people around her, she was liked more.
See here is the key issue. Mother wasn't as bad as the narcissists I later encountered. Seeing as she formed me this way to take abuse from every predator in life, and looking back and seeing her as "mommy", is strange. She didn't always hurt me. Many times I would be watching tv after school and she would make me some toast and she would go back in the kitchen to make supper. These were the times I remember the most. The times she was mistreating me (humiliating me, like I mentioned in early portions of my blog), I remember the least.
So how does it fit together then? These two pieces. It became lost on me, but not forever. I remember it now. But, I still can't really remember what happened more the bad or the good. It has not been a year yet in my recovery. Perhaps I will have every memory restored. Perhaps that's why I cannot get off my butt.
Now back to the aunt. She did not deny anything. Sure mother is awful, but its ok. I am to let it roll off my back. See it wasn't my imagination playing tricks on me, mother was bad. So how does someone do good things for me then? For now, I believe it is a trick of my mind, or the work of a very successful gaslighter, my mother.
But I always encountered humiliation and I was to sit there and take it, it was my responsibility to do that. And I'm not sure if mother were to call here, would I pick up the phone. I wouldn't. I would let my husband deal with her. That part of my life is over, even her voice would terrify me.
Mother was never there. Not a real mother. Not the one who cares about you. This creature doesn't really exist, its just a figment of my imagination. If she chose to disappear through her own child abuse, then that is her choice. This is nothing but a predator. I separate myself from having any more responsibility for her.