Living with a narcissist or two in the family is like living buried under concrete. There is no breathing space, no way of growing. It’s a stunted life, and should – in the general nature of things – be considered chronic abuse – a life lived with a narcissistic mother (or father, or caregiver) but it’s not.
Why is that? Because narcissists are so good at being the GREAT PRETENDER. They are so good at reflecting an image to the world that they are ‘faultless’.
This weight of concrete on top of me is still with me. I’ve lived with it for decades, despite trying everything to burrow my way out.
I’ve tried a) having my own secret life as a writer, b) moving away, c) going no contact d) trying to ignore the Narcissist and not let her get to me, e) well you get the picture…….
But that weight of concrete is with me every day, every waking moment. I wake up and feel buried by her (my mother’s) presence. The ‘buried’ feeling is under my skin, my every waking moment, and even in my dreams.
If I don’t contact her, my narcissistic sister goes into a rage. If I do contact my mother, I tiptoe around her every mood which changes from phone call to phone call. If I visit her after abandoning my ‘no contact’ attempts, I spend my time with her utterly, utterly buried under the weight of her ‘concrete’ personality and the whole world (my siblings) who pander to her every whim, and I feel dead inside.
Love Miranda xx