I've never connected the dots before between my health issues and my upbringing, but there must be something to it.
I'm now a year and a half into my 'recovery' from a lifelong OCD habit of hair twirling and pulling. I NEVER thought I'd be able to stop, but with therapy, meditation, and time, it's actually happening. Woohoo! :)
Thankfully, I have a mild case of psoriasis, which is pretty much treatable. This has also improved quite a bit in the past year or two. I remember the doctor asking me if there was any way I could remove stressors from my life, and at the time, I thought, "Huh????" But it IS possible, and it DOES help.
I've always been anxious and hyper aware of the emotional states of the people around me. This can be a good thing, but can also be a chronic source of anxiety/depression. Does anyone else out there feel this way?
My brother has had a slight stutter all his life.
Thinking about all of these phenomena makes me think, once again, that I'm NOT crazy, but my upbringing certainly was.
NOT THE 'THROWN CLEAR' (thrown clear into a lamp post, but what the heck…) HYPOTHESIS!!! Oh GOD if I had a cent for every time I've heard that old chestnut!
Ugh, just take her out for a few nice long drives why don't you..? x
My husband says she was always that way, but it's gotten worse in the past five years or so. My suspicion is that in addition to being an mega narcissist, she's also bipolar, either that, or she suffered permanent frontal lobe damage from being thrown through car windshields not once, not twice, but three times. In her way of thinking, seatbelts trap you inside the car, which may catch on fire if there's an accident. Not wearing a seatbelt allows you to be "thrown free," as she puts it. Being thrown free sounds lovely, and sort of exhilarating, except for the part about crashing through the windshield.
But anyway, that's MIL: stubborn, illogical, grandiose and triangulating like it's her full-time job. A full-time job that she loves.
As an example of her refusal to recognize when she's wrong, about ten years ago, she told me that one of her friends had stage two cancer of some kind. "Stage three is death," she intoned melodramatically.
When I politely pointed out that she was incorrect, and that there are people living with stage four cancer (not feeling super-great, but living) she ignored me. Later, I heard her repeating the "stage three is death" thing to someone else.
Fortunately, her friend's condition improved, and she's still around today, but you'd think MIL would be interested in learning that something she believed to be true was, in fact, incorrect, and then changing her narrative to suit the facts. But no, because that would mean she was wrong about something and she can never be wrong.
For someone who proudly describes herself as "an academic and an intellectual," she is very close-minded. Even before dementia started making inroads on her brain, she was very resistant to learning new things. Conversely, she has a horror of seeming "stupid," so she either ignores her mistakes or stubbornly insists that she's right.
For instance, the device that her boyfriend uses to improve his respiration while recovering from pneumonia is called a nebulizer. She calls it a breathalyzer, which is unintentionally funny because her boyfriend is n alcoholic of the falling-down-drunk variety. When I tried to explain the difference between the two, and what the nebulizer is supposed to be doing for drunken boyfriend's lungs, she cut me off with, "I don't care about all those tubes and things in the human body."
And then she pouted. For someone who's walked around in a body for coming up on eighty-one years, her ignorance of what goes on inside it is astonishing. She insists that eating Mexican food causes miscarriages, because she once had a miscarriage after having eaten some tacos or arroz con pollo or something. When I suggested that maybe her miscarriage was caused by something else, because if eating Mexican food makes women miscarry, eventually there would be no more Mexicans, she just gave me a snotty look.
My refusal to pretend that she's not always right about everything (I always tell her gently when she's wrong about something I think might be important, but most of the time I just let it slide) is part of the reason she calls me "The B*tch." She always insists that she didn't really say that, and I must have imagined it. I kind of like the title.
My SIL's MIL, interrogating my son at dinner, called clear across the table: "Are there any *coloured* children at your school?" He said to me later on: "God knows what she'd have said if she knew I slept next to one…"
Lovely lad from the Ivory Coast whose first day at the school I will never forget - half-sobbing, he said to his mother "… mais ces tiroirs sont tous petits..!" If the inadequate storage for his Lacoste tennis shirts was all he had to worry about it wasn't too bad a start.
My great aunt, my very favourite one, raised an interesting linguistic point, though. When she was a gel, where she came from (then, Calcutta) one would NEVER have used the word "b-l-a-c-k" about people - this would have been considered extremely rude. Now, being the switched-on and amiable person she was, she kept up with these things and was always careful to use whatever term people themselves preferred. But once she got to 97 and was living in residential care in Sussex, things had come almost full-circle on her and the 'correct' description was one she could not bring herself to utter. I am sorry to say that the compromise she settled on was "blackie" - full marks for trying, but 0/10 for social ease. Only it makes me think: what is our generation going to do if, God help us, the n-word should ever become normal again? We'll never be able to say it.
The most comforting thing I can share about this debate is the expression on the face of a black fellow student in a sociology class where we were discussing offensive and acceptable racial terms. 28 years old, he had been freely using the word "y*d" to describe members of his own beloved soccer club since he had been able to talk: it was only at this point in his life that he found out what it actually, or at least originally, meant. Aghast doesn't even begin to describe it, bless him.
My mother has a problem with lady vicars, and with gay marriage, getting more entrenched as she gets older. She was surprised but not disapproving ten or so years ago when a former colleague of hers wrote to say she was having transgender therapy and hereafter wished to be known as Martin. Mother said "I just don't know what to say to her. Him." I wonder if, since then, she's trying more to keep to the agreed line in her marriage - my father died 14 years ago, and his views on gender and sexuality were, er, unreconstructed to put it politely. Do you think your mother might be recalling similar norms from her marriage? Thinking your dad must have been right all along, because of some headline she's seen? I guess in a way it could be a sort of nostalgia for him, whereas when she was a young woman she was looking to the future for her children. Which is to her credit, btw - pity it didn't stick with her!
I've noticed a few comedians lately - I mean professional comedians, I'm not being disparaging - bewailing their parents' and grandparents' "casual racism" as an ugly leftover from the past. I think the socially accepted approach is becoming to sigh heavily, to disagree naturally, but not to feel responsible. You're NOT responsible.
I wonder what percentage of murder victims are black? … but somehow I don't think getting disputatious with her is going to help.
My NPD mother, who grew up in the South and raised us in the South, never let us speak negatively of African American people--even tho' my dad was/is a racist. I mean, we were spanked and punished if we did. Now that she's 84 and crazy, her dr's are saying that she only has EARLY stages of dementia. As we were on our way to 1 of her dr appts last week (1 of 2 neurologists), we saw several police & ambulances ahead. It looked like 1st responders attending to an auto accident, but Mom said, "It's probably a black person who killed someone." I said, "Mama, PLEASE!" She knows that I'll correct her and that I HATE it when she talks like that--even tho' I know it's the dementia. Her response was: "Well, you don't read the paper like I do every day." (Unfortunately, I moved back to the South for THIS!). I said, "You DO realize that white people kill too?!" She said, "Yes, but at least 90% of murderers are black." I get nauseated just thinking about it....
She didn't care for my reply.
She also has no sense of humor. Absolutely none.
I don't like her, and she doesn't like me. We're polar opposites. Instead of confronting me and clearing the air, she tells lies about me to everyone she knows, her favorite being that I'm a drug addict. I take Sumatriptan for migraines, but it's non-narcotic. I take nothing else. But she's told everybody that I eat Vicodin like candy. What the heck? Every time I'm around her, I get a migraine that makes me feel like my head is full of shards of glass and razor blades. She, in the meantime, is healthy as a very robust horse, except for the dementia.
Much, much later I realized what was going on. I found out that there are tiny muscles in the middle ear that tense in order to muffle loud sounds and when the person has learned to anticipate a loud sound, the little muscles will start tensing before the sound starts. This is a totally unconscious process designed to protect the ears. It is particularly effective in the young.
By my forties I outgrew this baffling hearing quirk or so I thought. At least, it stopped in any noticeable way. But maybe my hearing function dulled down a bit just because I was older and the little muscles became less effective.
For the sake of your health, and of your relationship with your partner, may I suggest that you pack up and get out of there? There is, in fact, no need for you to hug all this misery to your bosom- the situation won't get better, only worse, and will make you even more paranoid as other people aren't going to be of the help that they could so easily be......there truly is no need whatsoever for you to justify your every action to your mother- you are a person too, and entitled to privacy and respect.......and you are getting neither....
Not enough sleep, and Fibro- headaches don't help! I wish you a clear mind, and the strength to help yourself. Let's face it, no one else will!
Today I dropped off some ginger ale she asked for on my way back from shopping. Every time I visit I'm tired, "nervy" and don't feel well for a couple of days. Only visiting every week or two now.
Daughterdeb, I'd never considered my mother as someone who was particularly self-controlled or regulated, but it is very true that she is unable to respond to the needs of others -- unless it serves her own immediate needs in some way. And then that relationship is very dysfunctional, of course.
Selflessness is a good antonym, as well as empathy and most OCD patients are guilt prone and overly conscientious from having Narcissistic parents. The list of health complaints of children with Narcissistic parents are hair loss, psoriasis, biting nails, bad nerves, speech impediments, heart palpitation, heart, under and over weight.... and worse yet "self-hate"
Hang in there. Although it may not feel like it. Ypu got alot of love and support from those on this site.
Every week I sit in the waiting room and see sad old faces. Worn out people dragged from doctor to doctor prolonging life that they are already tired of living. And the zombie-like faces of the young who accompany them out having given up their own lives, burdened down, enslaved in servitude to old people that medicine keeps alive prolonging anguish for old and young alike.
I found a great quote on the increasing toll eldery are having pn society on NPR. Sandra Tsing Loh said of her elderly father, “He is taking everything! He is taking all the money. He’s taken years of my life (sitting in doctors’ offices, in pharmacies, in waiting rooms). With his horrid, selfish, grotesque behavior, he’s chewed through every shred of my sentimental affection for him…He’s destroyed my belief in “family” as a thing that buoys one up. Quite the opposite: family is like the piano around Holly Hunter’s ankle, dragging me implacably down.”
Perfecty said!
I have been hair twirling and rocking to self soothe since I was a toddler. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve rocking, and hair twirling gives me a cascade of great curls, so I consider those features instead of bugs : )
More recently, the last six months or so, everytime I have to physically attend to him (weekly), I have a searing pain in my right side which lasts 4-5 hours after I've returned home. The next day after said visit, my concentration is cloudy, I feel like I've been physically beaten, and I experience a general malaise.
@looloo I completely agree with what you said about boundaries and compassion for yourself and being less able to fake it. I was way late in figuring out these were not normal responses to having to deal with one's parents and the whole narcissistic/boundary thing, and find myself waiting/longing for the day when "something happens" and he can be placed.
I am caring for my mother she has Parkinson's she is married to my Step-Dad he is always on his computer and I cook for him also and serve them both I am a full time caregiver have been for about 5 1/2 years. but 4 years of that time it was just in the winter then I would go back home and work.Which was 7 hours away including a ferry ride. But not last winter but the one before my Mom ask me to stay along with my partner he was okay with that but now he cannot find work so we are in a bind I receive little pay from my Mom we are in debt and quickly sinking. Sometimes I wonder if I am able to do this job. I get so very tired of hearing the same thing day in and out especially her nagging and religious taunting I said oh my goodness the other day and she went on and on how goodness mean's God and I am saying his name in vain my Step- Dad does some things to help but needs constant direction it's just more handfuls of stress my partner and I pack up and close our house down a year and a half ago and we are in our motor-home on my Mom's property I have siblings that live an hour away once I ask my sister if she could help me for a couple of hours like vacuuming because my back was in pain she freak out and said that our Step-Dad's daughter can come and do it I just said no worries I was hurt because it was me who needed the help? Today was rough I had to clean mold in my motor-home in the bedding area when I was on a break I went into the house to get something out of the dryer and my Mom is going on about a hand towel for her husband I said Mom your laundry is all clean and folded and he can get it himself I am busy and it is my break I was very frustrated when I said it then she was mad at me and wouldn't talk to me or tell me why she was upset so I said sorry for being impatience but man what is wrong with them just go to the freaking closet and grab a hand towel I am not a slave.even if I am trying to have a bodily function she is calling me then I hurry there is so much more I could wright a book don't get me wrong we have good times together but they are stressing me to my limits and I am feeling guilty and having resentment. Help with advice and reassurement.I also suffer from OCD and Fibromyalgia Myofascial pain syndrome neck and back accompanied by fatigue, sleep, memory and mood issues. Yes seen my doctor and on med's
@lynne - yes, lifelong PTSD, lifelong higher stress levels, need for recovery and to protect oneself. I have to steel myself for the upcoming move and tell the social worker and psychiatrist that I cannot do this again. We moved mother from her apartment to an ALF, she lasted there 6 months, moved her to an excellent ALF, she started complaining about this and that but has been there 3 years now. The last 9 months she has been impossible, and has been in a geriatric psychiatric hospital since February, with us waiting to find out what to do with her ALF apartment. They have now decided that she needs to be in a mental heath facility I agree and that could have come sooner, frankly, so I will be meeting with the staff next week to discuss the options for her and once again we will have to dispose of some furniture etc. and move the rest to her new unit. Truly, I have other things I would like to do with my time and energy and other priorities in my life that have been put aside, and I can't do that any longer. I will be 77 this summer and time is flying by. I hear you about your mother talking about you going back to those hellish years. Mother had the temerity to suggest that I leave my home, my sig other, my kids and grandkids here and rent a unit in the same AL she is in so I could look after her. She has had these kind of ideas for years. You know what my answer was!
What was it Erma Bombeck said about cherries and pits? Look after you, do what is good for you, be as humane as possible to your narc parent, without harming yourself. ((((((((hugs))))))))
Each time I visit she asks if I REALLY like living where I do and wouldn't I like to move?. I think in her N demented mind she thinks I might just love to move back to where we were, live in her gloomy, freezing cold basement, go nowhere, see no-one and wait on her hand and foot 24/7. You're kidding me right?, 2 country acres surrounded by fields and forest, peace and quiet - I love it. The mere thought of going back to that living h**l makes me shudder and feel ill as well as d**ned angry!
Seems to me that your only choice may be to go no contact and even change your phone number if you have to. Sounds harsh but you will never make an N happy and they will keep sucking the life out of you until they die.