My childhood was good – solid, stable, loving environment. I am grateful for that – for having clothes, food, housing and parents who loved and took care of me. But something during the journey of growing up shifted how I viewed things at home.
I started seeing things I was oblivious to when I was younger. This is normal anyways – as we grow up and learn to observe things more carefully.
But I started to observe my parents’ relationship a lot more. How my mom always had to have dinner ready for when my dad got home. How my dad decided the majority, if not all, the things we would do as a family. Their relationship was what I viewed a normal healthy relationship should be like.
That is, until I got older.
Over time, I learned that my father was controlling, sometimes condescending, and although outwardly a very generous man he was very self-centered. There were many conflicts growing up, anger and issues I had with my father, that I didn’t express or pursue because my mother didn’t want me to. You see, any time I tried to stand up to my father or express opposing views, my mother would have to suffer his anger and monologue about it later – sometimes for hours at a time. When he had something to say, she did not have a choice whether to listen or not.
My mother always wanted us (my brothers and I) to avoid conflict. She’s never liked conflict at all. So for her sake, we would often button our lips when we wished we didn’t have to. At least, here, I can speak for myself that that was definitely true.
Looking back though, I think that I harboured a bitterness about that (or do I still?). I watched my father treat my mother like a second class citizen for a long time yet didn’t speak up – for her benefit. But sometimes I felt robbed, like if I could have spoken up and expressed myself I would have felt better. Or maybe I could have made a difference.
I feel the need (or rather, the importance) of letting go on many levels when it comes to my father. I am not sure where or how to begin even doing that. I don’t know how to forgive him. One of the main propellents of me starting this blog was to begin that journey – to learn how to let go and forgive. I’m hoping to do that, through writing and sharing my memories, thoughts and perceptions.
I know not everyone will agree with the things I have to say. But please remember, these are my memories and views and recollections of how I was affected growing up.
People who knew my father outside of the home saw the man he wanted them to see. Easy going, humorous, accepting of all. But at home it wasn’t like that. I would see things at home behind closed walls that never appeared outside of the home. Like how he gave orders to my mother, decided what she could and couldn’t do, sat like a king in his throne. He had to be in control at all times. I learned that when he wasn’t in control, he wasn’t very nice at all.
I didn’t learn until much later in life (in fact just a few years ago) that he was a narcissist. Okay he was never diagnosed with NPD – true enough. But when I started reading up on narcissism from several sources… I was dumbfounded. He fit the detailed description of narcissism to a tee. In all my years I never knew that my father’s “personality” had a label. Learning about narcissism helped me see and identify SO many things that went on in my parent’s relationship.
To be clear, I don’t feel that my father’s narcissism was ever targeted towards myself or my brothers. I think that’s why I didn’t see a lot of it until later in life. His narcissistic behaviour was always targeted towards my mother. When I finally saw and realized that, I felt such tremendous sadness. I was both sad and angry. Sad that my mom had to live with that. Angry that my mom chose to live like that.
But actually I’m not entirely sure that his narcissism didn’t affect me. In my teenage and later years I have memories of feeling really upset and frustrated at how he wasn’t interested in MY interests and things going on in MY life. I’ve even discussed this with my mom both recently and years ago. He was only interested in me if he could show me off somehow.
I have one specific memory where I see myself, my two brothers and my dad sitting at the dining room table. We were older because I remember we were visiting them (i.e. not living at home at the time). I clearly remember my brothers talking about things going on in their lives (I think college, Toronto life, etc) and I remember my father showing interest, asking questions etc. But I also clearly remember him totally glossing over me and what i had to say. That’s a memory that’s never left me. I will never forget finally coming to the realization that my father was not interested in me at all, beyond how I affected him and his interests.
For a long time, several years, I would just tell myself that I didn’t care what he thought. I mean, isn’t that a classic psychological defense? If I don’t care, it can’t affect me – right? I’m still in that frame of mind, but now I’m realizing that it’s not all that true. I did care. And I’m pretty angry about it. Angry that I was invisible to my father. Angry that I didn’t have the relationship with him that I wanted or that I needed.
But narcissism isn’t nice for any parties involved except for the narcissist. The narcissist will never seek help for NPD, because the very nature of narcissism prevents them from ever seeing or admitting that they have a problem. So in a way, when you are affected by a narcissist, are they really at fault? I want to learn how to transform my anger at my father to forgiveness. Even typing that makes my stomach roll. How in the hell can that even happen? Yet, here I am pursuing just that.
Until next time,
~KK